Archangel's Sun (Guild Hunter #13) - Nalini Singh Page 0,83
meet your sisters.”
Titus knew all four would love her. Not the distant and admired Hummingbird, but Sharine, as she was now. Brilliant with life and energy and with a subtle but undeniable sensuality of which she seemed unaware, but he’d very definitely noticed. The way she ran her fingers over different-textured surfaces from velvet to wood, the way she drew in scents, her eyes fluttering half-shut as she lost herself to the sensation, and the way she sometimes watched him as if she’d like to take a bite out of him.
Titus wasn’t unwilling in the least. He’d like her artist’s fingers to trace his body and learn his textures, grew hard at the thought of her drawing in then luxuriating in the scent of him, and as for the bite? He’d cup her lower curves and lift her up so she could take that bite directly from his mouth.
The woman was an inferno in a bottle.
No one looking at her would ever guess that she was millennia older than Titus.
His gut clenched again, his shoulders locking. He’d forgotten the age difference as they ate together, only now recalling the long life she’d lived. Far longer than his own. Such things didn’t matter among angels after a few millennia of existence, but for all intents and purposes, Sharine was an Ancient.
A beloved and revered Ancient.
Who’d made him itch to stroke the slope of her back as she passed him in the doorway, and whose laughter rippled over him like stroking hands. His cock had reacted to that same laughter, and to the light in her eyes as she listened to his tales of family with open interest.
She . . . compelled him.
Titus tensed. He was a man with strong carnal appetites, but he had those appetites under strict control. While he loved his mother, he’d seen her lead men around by the cock since he was a child—Titus had no desire to become akin to those lustbound men. No woman with whom he’d ever dallied had come close to wielding such control over him.
Picking up a grape from the platter on the table, Sharine parted her lips to put it inside, and his entire body hummed with need. He was half of a mind to sweep his arm out to smash all the food to the floor, then lift her up and sit her down on the table so he could feast on her instead.
Teeth gritted, he pushed back his chair and stood. “I must return to the patrol. It’s possible we may be able to spot and eliminate entire burrows of reborn while they’re resting.”
Sharine shot him a penetrating look. “Have you heard from your scientists about the reborn angel?”
“Nothing conclusive yet.” Stretching out his wings, he said, “If you don’t wish to work on your art, you’re welcome to use my library.” He was well aware he was lighting the wick of her temper, and yet, despite the danger she presented to him, he couldn’t stop. Crossing swords with Sharine was far too tempting.
Dagger eyes, exactly as he’d planned. “Is it safe to visit Charisemnon’s court?”
Snapping back his wings, he stared at his most uncooperative guest. “Why would you wish to go there?” He’d assumed she’d want to go out with a squadron—and they could use her abilities in the field.
“Not now—in the light hours,” she clarified. “I want to hunt through Charisemnon’s court for anything that might’ve been missed—notes about his experiments, other information.”
On her feet, she put one hand on the back of her chair. “You and your people went in as warriors, to clear enemy territory of dangers. You weren’t looking for notes or information on an angelic disease—and I’m not unskilled at hunting for information.”
Everything inside him rebelled at sending her to that place.
Seeking time to think, he turned to where he’d left his breastplate and other armor. He pulled it on today, complete with the shoulder, wrist, and back guards.
His fighters were tired, his people equally so. Sometimes, a symbol mattered. Sliding his swords into crisscrossing sheaths on his back, he came to a decision.
“If you’re looking for information on the disease,” he said, “it’ll most likely be at his border stronghold—he holed up there for some time prior to the war.” His mouth twisted. “I thought he was being a good ally, readying himself for the battle we all knew would come.”
“Yes, he would’ve kept his notes close by.” She searched Titus’s face. “That you didn’t immediately assume dishonor says much about you,