Angel Fever (Immortal Legacy #3) - Ella Summers Page 0,79

standing beside a massive bonfire. Sweat drenched my body long before we stopped walking.

We’d come to a house—or perhaps ‘fortress’ would have been a more accurate term. Sure, the building had obviously started as a house, but regular extensions had transformed it significantly from the original design.

The oldest part of the fortress was a small cottage made of brown clay, two levels high. A small wood balcony was attached to the upper level, right over the front door. The roof was round, almost swirly, like it had been poured onto the house.

The first extension was at least twice as large as the original house. Made with white bricks, it resembled a small castle, complete with a high tower. A wide hallway passage connected it to the left side of the clay cottage.

To the cottage’s right, also connected by a passage, stood the second extension. Its bricks were black instead of white, but other than that, it was a perfect mirror image of the left-side castle.

“Did you make this?” I asked Damiel.

“Only the two extensions.”

Only. Each of those extensions was many times larger than the original cottage. Damiel’s talent for being both very modest and very arrogant never ceased to amaze me.

“The cottage was to be our new home,” he said. “I waited for you, searched for you. After a while, I decided a simple cottage was not nearly magnificent enough for my Princess. So I turned it into a castle.”

I smiled. No one had ever built me a castle before.

“And then you turned it into an even bigger castle?” I teased him.

He shrugged. “For the first time in my life, I found myself with an overabundance of free time.” He captured my hands and led me to the entrance.

When the door opened, my jaw dropped. Every step I took deeper into the building only intensified my surprise. The high walls of the castle, each and every one from top to bottom, were covered in vibrant, life-size paintings.

I saw a picture of me with Damiel, standing in front of the bright red background of the Sienna Sea. Our first mission together. We’d only just met. Damiel was painted in dark colors, from his battle leather to his black wings. He looked positively frightening. Beside him, I glowed, lit up in a halo of heavenly light. I’d been a new angel back then. Righteous and naive, brave and unsure.

“You painted all of these?” I gasped, my wide eyes panning across the story panel of paintings.

“Every one.”

“They’re beautiful.” I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. “But you don’t paint.”

“I learned. I’ve had a lot of time on my hands these past two centuries.” He walked up behind me and set his hands on my shoulders. “I was alone here for a very long time. I knew that without you, I would go back to being that person again.” He pointed up at the cold, dark painting of himself.

We continued walking and came to the next wall—and the next painting. We stood before Darkstorm’s collapsing fortress, locked in a kiss. Our first kiss. The Diamond Tear shone brightly in my hand.

“So I surrounded myself with memories of you,” Damiel said. “These are the defining events that changed me.”

We went past the painting of us fighting off the army of Hive soldiers—the Swarm. He held the Sapphire Tear in his hand.

Then came our wedding.

And our journey to the Hive’s world. He’d captured the moment right after we’d teleported there. I’d fallen into the water. Damiel stood on the shore, reaching out to me.

I turned to look at him. “I don’t remember being naked in that sea.”

“I took some artistic liberties.”

“Ah, so that’s why your muscles look so big.”

He stood up taller and puffed out his chest. “I can assure you, Princess, my muscles are exactly that big.”

I chuckled.

“A demonstration can be arranged.”

“Ok, I believe you. Keep your shirt on, hotshot.”

He nodded. “I understand your concern completely.”

“Concern?”

“If I remove my shirt, you might faint.”

“Yeah, right,” I said drily. “Get the fainting couch ready asap.” I pretended to fan myself frantically with my hand. “Just the possibility of your losing your shirt has made me lightheaded.”

“Naturally.”

I snorted. The man certainly was fond of himself. Well, the fact that he was good at pretty much anything he put his mind to wasn’t doing wonders for his ego. These paintings looked like they’d been painted by a master artist, not a warrior.

I gazed up at the next one. The painting showed the Silver Shore, the most beautiful place