Angel Fever (Immortal Legacy #3) - Ella Summers Page 0,83

to the ecstasy, to him, to the destiny we shared. I shuddered, Damiel growled, and we both collapsed onto the bed, still and sated.

It was a long time before either of us tried to move.

“I love you, Cadence Lightbringer,” Damiel said, pulling a blanket over us.

I snuggled into his arms. “And I love you, Damiel Dragonsire,” I yawned, then drifted off to sleep, completely content for the first time in two hundred years.

27

The Gift

I was awoken by a gentle, ticklish caress rippling across my skin. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I turned over. Damiel’s face slowly came into focus—and he looked as pleased as a cat who’d just emptied a whole saucer of warm milk.

“Were you nibbling on my ear?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he replied without a shred of shame. “I’m hungry.”

So was I. My Fever had only just peaked. I still had days of crazy, magic-charged hormones ahead of me. And a lot of catching up to do with my husband.

“But we can’t,” I groaned as my mind met bitter reality. “We need to destroy the daggers.”

“The daggers will wait.” Damiel kissed my neck. “We have one of them here with us, so the demons can’t collect them all. And they don’t know about this world.”

“But my father does.”

Damiel gave his hand a dismissive wave, then planted it on my hip. “Without the Diamond Tear, it would take Silverstar days to get here. Maybe even weeks.” He kissed my shoulder.

I shuddered at his touch. Yeah, I was still just as riled up as he was.

“As much as I’d enjoy spending days, or even weeks, alone with you, Damiel, we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it wouldn’t be responsible.”

Magic flashed in his eyes. “But it would be fun.”

“Yes.” I sighed. “It would be.”

I pushed the blanket off my body and stood up.

Damiel looked up at me, his face an even mix of fiery defiance and cold acceptance. “You know, you’d have more fun if you weren’t always so perfectly responsible.” He rose from the bed and began gathering up his clothing.

I glanced over my shoulder at him, a smirk on my lips. “I’m sure your prisoners told you that often, Master Interrogator.”

“I’m not the Master Interrogator anymore. And good riddance to that.” He chuckled, his eyes lifting in fond nostalgia. “And yes, a few of them did try that line. Most of them were too afraid to, though.”

“What do you do for Nyx now?”

“Anything she doesn’t want the gods or demons to know about.”

“So you basically know all her dirty secrets.”

His face was impassive. “I try to stay well-informed.”

“It sounds like you have the First Angel right where you want her…” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Just committing to memory what you look like naked. Knowing our luck, it will be a while before I see you without clothes again.”

I laughed. “Damiel, you’re such a—”

“Lech?” The word stood out in blatant contradiction to the innocent face of the man who’d uttered it.

“You’re such a pessimist,” I amended. “Why would you think I’d call you a lech?”

“Because every time I look at you, I want to rip your clothes off.”

“But I’m not wearing any clothes right now.”

“Even better.” He flashed me his teeth—then promptly tackled me to the mattress.

“Wait, Damiel.” I giggled. “We have to get dressed.”

“You can get dressed,” he purred, each word as smooth as butter. “In a day or two.”

Still giggling, I broke free of him and jumped away, falling off the edge of the bed in the process.

Damiel’s head appeared over the fluffy mattress. “See? You’re not well. You need to stay in bed.” His tongue darted out of his mouth and slid across his lips. “And rest.”

“Yeah, I’m sure rest is what you have planned for me,” I countered as he reached down and helped me to my feet.

Chuckling, he tossed me a pile of my clothes. “I can see that you’re not going to be reasonable.”

He walked down the stairs, dressed once more—except for his shirt. Not that I minded. I was fully enjoying the view.

“Oh, right,” I grumbled as I slid into my pants and hopped downstairs, two feats made all the more challenging by my insistence on doing them at the same time. “Because I am being unreasonable.”

“It’s good that you can admit it.” He stood in the living room, once more fully-shirted. “Acceptance is the first step to becoming a better person.” He tossed me my bra and top.

“But not a better angel. Angels don’t accept or acquiesce;