about him. He was a good person. If I worked at it, I knew I could draw out that goodness in him. And I knew I could help him realize he was a good person.
Damiel had protected me. My father had protected me. Could both of them each be trying to protect me, and yet be pulling me in completely different directions?
“Look.” Damiel pointed up at the sky. It was thick with magic, like a sea of vanilla pudding speckled with chocolate sprinkles. It buzzed and twinkled and quite honestly made the hair on the back of my neck stand up on end.
“Some magic is brewing up there,” I said. “We should get to higher ground and try to figure out what it is.”
“Someone’s coming.”
I followed his gaze to a squad of eight soldiers. They were dressed like the Hive soldiers we’d fought on Nightingale: in red uniforms. Each soldier wore two pins on their jacket.
The first pin represented a magical ability—from Vampire’s Kiss to Ghost’s Whisper, eight symbols in all, a different one worn by each soldier.
The second pin was a symbol I didn’t recognize, but it was obvious what it meant. All eight soldiers bore it. This shared symbol clearly meant they all belonged to the same squad. Eight Hive soldiers combined magic to form a group. And those groups combined with other groups to grow even more powerful. We’d seen that cumulative power at work during our last battle with the Hive.
Damiel pointed at a nearby cave along the shore, and we ran into it. Angels abhorred the very idea of hiding, but right now, we couldn’t afford to draw attention to ourselves. We couldn’t let the Hive know that we were coming. For this to work, for our mission to succeed, the Hive had to be complacent and sloppy, not expecting an attack. After all, we were heavily outnumbered. We needed to get a sense of the situation before we attacked. And when we did make our move, surprise would be our best weapon.
As soon as we were inside the cave, I used my earth magic to grow a curtain of hanging vines over the entrance. The fit was tight and not the least bit comfortable. Damiel and I were so closely squeezed together that our faces nearly touched. I could feel his breath on my face.
“Could you stop that?” I whispered.
“Stop what?”
“Breathing.”
“You want me to stop breathing?”
“It tickles.”
His eyes twinkled with amusement.
“What is it?” I demanded.
“You’re ticklish. That wasn’t in your file.”
“It’s not something I like to advertise.”
He nodded. “I understand. It’s a weakness. You want to hide that.”
“Right.”
“And yet you told me.” The delight still hadn’t faded from his eyes.
“I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed. “An angel cannot afford to show weakness.” His voice dropped. His head dropped too, to whisper into my ear, “But I’m glad you confided in me.”
His breath sent hot shivers across my skin.
“Ok. Well, then.” I realized my hand was touching his back. I dropped it. “Now that that’s cleared up, could you stop breathing?”
He snorted. “You make bold demands.”
“I know you can hold your breath.”
“I can, but with my breath held, I can’t smell all that well. And then how will I know when the patrol has passed?”
“You can hear them.”
“I prefer to hold on to as many of my senses as possible. I don’t wish to unnecessarily cripple myself. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course.” I didn’t sigh, not even a little. We were standing so close, he would have felt it.
“Unless there’s another reason, besides your ticklish face, that being so close to me makes you uncomfortable.” His brows lifted, inviting me to elaborate.
“No. Not at all.”
“Is your neck as ticklish as your face?” His eyes dropped, his gaze following the contours of my throat, the motion so smooth that it felt like a visual caress.
My heart stuttered. “I beg your pardon?” I managed to croak out.
“You could turn your back to me. Then I wouldn’t be breathing on your face,” he explained.
The thought of Damiel behind me made me nervous, and not because I was afraid he’d stab me in the back.
“But if you were behind me, you’d be breathing down my neck. Which is also ticklish.”
His brows lifted. “What bizarre weaknesses you have.”
He turned his back to me. I was behind him now.
He wasn’t breathing on me any longer—or, worse yet, looking at me. But now I had nowhere to put my hands. This small cave was a tight fit,