so fiercely?” He propped his chin on her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin and the strands of his hair mingling with her own.
“Reigning over my blood-café empire.” It actually was turning into an empire, mostly thanks to Marcia Blue, the shy vampire who’d come up with the idea. Though their financial manager, Jonas, had also proven his worth.
“Is sweet Marcia still besotted with Jonas?”
“The besotting is mutual, but Marcia’s too wary after her Contract period.” Marcia’s angel had been a cruel fuck. Immortality didn’t always bestow empathy. It tended to wear that empathy away, until many immortals treated humans and young vampires as nothing but toys, to be used and discarded.
“Don’t ever become like that asshole.” She reached up to pat his cheek with one hand while scanning a financial report. “I want to kick him in the face anytime I see him. Too bad even consorts can’t go around kicking asshole angels in the face.”
“I’ll help you hide the body if you ever want to do away with him.” Playful words, but she felt the rigid tension that continued to grip his body.
She closed the lid of the laptop—she’d only opened it to give him space. “Want to raid the liquor cabinet and see if we can get you drunk?” Angels had such high metabolisms that alcohol did nothing for most. The only angel she’d ever seen even a little drunk was young Izzy, and he’d been badly injured from battle at the time—he’d also been sipping on Illium’s lethal secret recipe.
“I’ll grab the whiskey.”
He came back with a full-size bottle and two tumblers.
Elena had no idea if she’d become impervious to the effect of alcohol, so she was careful with her sips. “Whoa.” It hit her bloodstream with a punch of heat.
Illium threw back his own drink, then poured another one—all the way to the top of the crystal tumbler. He drank with methodical calm and was three quarters of the way through the bottle when he said, “My bastard of a father is awake.”
Elena’s muscles locked. She knew nothing about Illium’s father except that the topic must be a sensitive one. He had such an openness to him—even when speaking of hurtful things like his lost mortal love and Aodhan’s retreat from the world—that it was obvious when he didn’t talk about something. And he never talked about the man who’d sired him.
“He’s an archangel?” Raphael had once mentioned that Illium had an Ancient for a parent, but Elena hadn’t made an automatic connection to the Cadre. As for the Hummingbird . . . she’d already been a gifted painter during the time Nadiel and Caliane were lovers, so she wasn’t young—but either she wasn’t old enough for Ancient status . . . or she occupied a position in the angelic world that was matchless, beyond age or time.
“Everyone knows that Raphael is the beloved son of two archangels. My parentage is a question mark.” His lip curled. “I know he’s my father, but the rest of angelkind began to whisper questions after the bastard left us to fend for ourselves when I was too small to fly straight.
“Raphael was the one who taught me how to lift a sword, how to be a man of honor. He was the one my mother relied on to protect her boy. Aegaeon just took his pleasure of my mother and left. No archangel ever just abandons their child, that was what the cruel said. The Hummingbird must’ve been unfaithful, the boy another angel’s seed.”
His hand clenched so hard on the tumbler that it cracked. Abandoning it, he picked up the bottle of whiskey and slugged it down. His eyes glittered in the aftermath, but she knew it wasn’t the alcohol. It was anger so deep it cut. Elena didn’t blame him, but she couldn’t let it poison him.
“Clearly, your father and Jeffrey share the Great Father of the Year Award.”
Illium stared at her for a second before starting to laugh hard and deep. It hurt, that sound. There was no joy in it, but perhaps there was a release of pain. Because when he stopped at last, he reached over to tug on one of the tiny feathers at the ends of her hair.
“Aegaeon’s the reason the award was invented.” Settling back into his seat, Illium put down the whiskey bottle and stared up at nothing for a while. “Bastard was a good father while he was around. Taught me how to get myself in the air,