Court of Sunder (Age of Angels #2) - Milana Jacks Page 0,35

called the commander by his first name? Only Richard and Raphael and this man. Who was he?

When Raphael said nothing, the man continued. “May I join you for breakfast?”

“No,” Raphael said.

A sting pierced my forehead, and a dull ache spread from my temples to the bridge of my nose as if I were getting a cold. I sniffled.

“What’s the matter?” Raphael asked. He must’ve felt my pain.

The man plucked a white lily from the garden.

“I think I’m catching a cold.”

“Careful,” Raphael said to the man. “I will carve your face. It will leave scars.”

Whoo. What? I side-eyed Raphael.

“Relax,” the man said and stretched out his hand, offering me the flower.

Accept the gift, sounded in my head.

I reached for the flower, but before I could take it, it withered, folding in on itself. The man sighed and threw the dead plant aside, then wiped his hand on his pants. “Shall we stop pretending?” he asked.

“You shouldn’t have come while I have company.”

“Why? Do you have something you don’t want your company to hear?”

“Who are you?” I interrupted.

The air before the man shimmered. Before us stood an angel with obsidian wings and beauty the likes of which a mortal could never unsee. I shuddered from the pure sexual energy he projected.

“Lucifer,” he said, his voice masculine and feminine at the same time. “At your service.”

He would tell Raphael everything. The dreams, the marking, the deal we made. I tried to hide my physical reaction, slow my heart rate, appear calm, but I knew I couldn’t. Raphael would notice both my fear and arousal. Fearing Lucifer was normal, I told myself. It is normal and expected. I hadn’t known he could stir my body to arousal until now. But it came from him. He positively pulsed with promises of carnal pleasure.

“Stop it,” Raphael said and stepped toward Lucifer.

Lucifer smirked. “She lusts on a visceral level. I can’t help it. I advise you to mate with her often.”

“I advise you to exercise self-control. The novelty of it should keep you entertained.” Raphael tugged my arm and threw a hand over my shoulder, folded a wing over me, then walked at a faster pace, Lucifer keeping pace on his other side. I’d never been this close to Lucifer, the lethal enemy of our realm, and if I never saw him again, it would be too soon. Besides, I had nothing on me, not even a knife, and I hated walking around empty-handed.

“Love the work you did in the Court,” Lucifer said. “Mickey will hate it.”

I was fairly certain he was talking about the undead. “You also hate it,” I said. Bold, Nevaeh. Bold. Under Raphael’s wing, it was easy to be bold.

“Maybe. Maybe not. How’s your commander, by the way?”

“He isn’t my commander. He’s the commander, and I wouldn’t know, though I presume he’s well and strong,” I replied.

“I worry about him.”

Raphael stopped before the steps to the tower. “After you.”

Lucifer lifted and disappeared behind the hedge. Raphael and I climbed the steps leading to a closed gate.

“Keep your thoughts centered on me and your tongue on a leash,” Raphael said. “You’re doing well. Do not let him provoke you.”

I nodded. Behind the gate was a small private garden enclosed by well-trimmed hedges covered in flowers with massive violet petals. Lucifer stood before the flowers, his back to us, obsidian wings appearing midnight blue under the light of the waning sun. Soft breezes ruffled his chin-length black hair, and I wanted to reach out and tuck the stray hairs behind his ear.

Instead, I fisted my hands.

He turned his head so I could see his profile and smirked, then deliberately tucked his hair behind his ear.

Bastard. He could hear my thoughts. I’d practiced mental agility, but as the commander had said, sleep was essential for optimal performance. I’d only slept one full night last night, or rather, one full day, and I needed to double-check my mental shield. Everyone’s shield was different, and mine was round and made of steel with a Court of Command insignia engraved on it. As I inspected the shield, thorns sprouted from the surface of it, a single rosebud opening in the middle.

I glanced at Raphael, who had schooled his face into an impervious mask I couldn’t read. Could he reach into my head too? I swallowed, feeling helpless.

Raphael directed me to sit in a single chair beside a small round table. From a serving cart next to him, he picked up a covered plate and put it in front of