Angel Fury (Immortal Legacy #2) - Ella Summers Page 0,52

followed me and Damiel as we strode up to the front desk. Our boots clicked sharply against the icy marble floor.

“Where is Captain Goodman?” Damiel asked the man behind the counter.

He answered immediately. “Training soldiers in Hall 4.” His voice was crisp, but there was an uneven flicker in his eyes. He was clearly afraid of Damiel.

Damiel walked to a pair of doors at the back of the room. They swooshed open before him. I followed him through.

Everyone in the halls made way for us, that same fearful reverence burning in their eyes.

Is everyone here afraid of you? I asked Damiel.

Of course, he replied. My soldiers aren’t stupid.

Gods, he’d really built a big wall around himself.

Your soldiers are staring at us, I told him.

It was eerie how many eyes were trained on us, following every step, every turn, every flicker of movement.

Do you want me to discipline them? he asked me, amused.

No. I don’t think your discipline is very much fun.

That depends on who you ask.

Colonel Dragonsire, are you flirting with me?

Of course, he said casually, completely unapologetic.

And had he just…winked at me? And in front of others, no less.

No, it must have been my imagination. He would never wink in front of his soldiers. Unless he’d done it too fast for them to see.

I really wish they’d stop staring, I said.

Sure, I’d had people stare at me before. I was an angel after all. So I was used to the look of absolute devotion in their eyes. But this was different. These soldiers weren’t so much worshipping the ground I walked upon as they were gaping at me.

Can you really blame them? he replied. You are the Legion’s most beautiful angel.

I thought that was Colonel Wardbreaker, I teased.

Damiel gave me a curious look. Now it’s you who is flirting with me.

I…I’m doing no such thing!

You forget, Princess, that I’ve interrogated thousands of people. I can read the guilt in your eyes. And, besides, you protest too fervently to be innocent.

Fine. Then maybe I just won’t talk to you at all.

Damiel’s chuckles echoed inside my mind. They are all staring at you—at us—because we are famous. We’re the only two angels to have ever married another angel. The news is being blasted all across the Legion, as well as our faces. Everyone knows who we are by now.

We’d reached Hall 4. I knew that from the huge sign on the door. Damiel pushed the door open and marched into the gym, his head held high, every fiber of his being, every molecule of magic, exuding absolute authority.

Each and every person in the hall immediately stopped whatever they were doing and stared at us. Just like the soldiers in the halls had.

Behind their backs, Jiro Goodman shot Damiel an amused look. However, his expression was all business—hard and soldierly—when he commanded the soldiers to face him.

“Above all else, a Legion soldier’s mind must be disciplined. Unflappable. Because, ultimately, a disciplined mind is what will make all the difference between life and death when you sip the gods’ Nectar. Don’t be so easily distracted by a pair of pretty angel faces,” Jiro chided his trainees, then dismissed them.

It was only after the door closed behind the last trainee—and we were alone in the gym with Jiro—that the smile returned to his face.

“I am very pleased to see your heavenly face again,” Jiro said smoothly to me. He was all charm.

Damiel’s eyebrows furrowed. “You never suck up to me so well.”

“Flattery doesn’t have any effect on you anyway, Damiel. You value action, not words.”

“Because words can lie.” His face was serious, reflective. “Jiro, I require your special talents.”

Jiro flashed him a grin. “To which of my numerous talents are you referring?”

“Your skill for blowing things up.”

“Ah, my favorite.” His grin widened. “What’s the mission?”

“Head to the armory,” Damiel said as we left the gym. He handed Jiro a list. “This is what you’ll need.”

Jiro looked it over. “From the looks of it, we’ll be infiltrating a base with heavily-fortified magic defenses.”

“Not a base, a castle fortress.”

“A castle fortress, you say? Like heaven’s palace?” Jiro teased him as we reached the armory. “So you’re finally rebelling against the gods.”

“No,” Damiel said flatly. “The battle will not take place on Earth or in heaven, and yet both hang in the balance.”

Jiro began packing supplies into a large duffel bag. “You’re being even more cryptic than usual, Damiel.”

“Good.” Damiel grabbed a second bag. “Now, hurry. We don’t have much time.”

17

Sanctuary

Our bags of magic supplies packed, Damiel