that continued to throb. “Describe what you saw.” Healing power sank into her, power that tasted of her archangel.
Exhaling shakily in the aftermath, perspiration chilling on her face and the back of her neck, she stared at the spot where the cut had been and told him all of it. “I’m changing somehow. Becoming, the Legion said. Maybe my brain’s trying to make sense of it and short-circuiting.”
“Perhaps, and perhaps the ancient being who speaks to you has encroached into your life while asleep.” His voice was frigid, emotionless. “Does the injury feel better?”
“Yes. No more pain.” Only echoes of it, serrated pieces of metal twisting under her skin.
Raphael’s face went impossibly more emotionless, the Legion mark on his temple ablaze and his wings pure white fire. “Home, hbeebti.”
“Home.” Elena closed her arms around him, a crushing suffocation in her lungs.
The house was lit up in welcome. Someone had even strung fairy lights amidst the trees and along the rooftop. “Those weren’t there before,” Elena whispered, a pressure behind her eyelids, a pounding at her temples, and a sense of wrongness in her limbs. As if her bones had truly changed shape.
Raphael didn’t speak.
Instead of turning toward the house after they landed, Elena stood toe to toe with her archangel. His fury was a living thing between them, his power crackling the air and dancing along her skin.
Spreading out his fiery wings, he closed his hands over the top arch of her own wings and stroked down firmly.
She shivered and nuzzled his throat. “Activate the glamour.”
“You need to speak to a healer, then go to sleep.”
“What I need is you.” The wrongness faded, her skin settling back on her bones. “I won’t let anything, even the Cascade, steal us from one another.” Thrusting her hand into his hair, she kissed him until he was no longer stone, until he was her Raphael again, her archangel who feared for her as he’d never feared in his life.
Red flushed his cheekbones, his pupils dilated when they came up for air. White fire and feathers, his wings shifted from one to the other in a pulse timed to his heartbeat. “We are wrapped in glamour.” He pulled off his tunic to reveal a sculpted chest that made her want to bite.
So she did.
He laughed and bit her back oh-so-lightly on the curve of her neck, his hand possessive on her breast. “Clothes, Elena,” he ordered with another bite, another squeeze of her swollen flesh.
Barely able to wait, she stripped off her jacket and dropped it to the snow, then placed her various knife sheaths, assorted other weapons, and the crossbow onto the protective leather. The rest of her clothes disappeared in a flash. “I must love you a great deal, Archangel,” she pointed out as an icy wind brushed her bare skin. “It’s freaking freezing.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Raphael said before leaping with her into the sky.
Limbs interlocked and minds entwined, flesh against flesh, warrior to warrior, they danced that most intimate, erotic dance.
He kissed her mouth, her neck, her breasts.
Nipples hard against the beauty of his chest, she petted him everywhere she could reach, her lips determined to cover every golden inch of his body.
His hands were rough with need, with fear.
Her fingernails were claws as she fought to cling onto their future.
Thighs quivering and body liquid, she pressed wet kisses along his jawline high above the Hudson River. “Inside me, Raphael. I need you inside me.”
His hand squeezing the curve of her flank where she had her leg wrapped around his waist, the Legion mark on his right temple glittering diamond-bright . . . and his stone-hard cock thrusting into her with an earthy passion that had nothing of distance or otherness in it.
Her body clamped around his as a cry left her throat. Mine, you are mine.
Eternity, Elena, that is what you promised me. His mental voice was ragged, his body possessive and primal in her, around her. I will never release you from that promise.
They clung, two lovers in freefall.
The waters of the river closed over their heads, a dark blanket.
Wrapped around him in every way, Elena whispered, Knhebek, Archangel, and the words of love held her every fear, her every hope, her very soul . . . even as her forearm began to burn and the vein at her left temple felt as if it would burst.
Raphael sensed his consort’s excruciating pain even as their bodies rocked with pleasure. It was instinct to drench her in his