Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
He wore no sword today, in deference to the fact that he was a host welcoming others into his home. His hair remained a touch longer than he usually kept it. Despite the softer look of it, he appeared as ruthless and as dangerous as ever, his eyes a searing hue that burned. Only she knew of the heart within the lethal power of her archangel.
“Where is our guest of honor?” she said past the primal urge to drag him away to a private place, anchor herself against the unknown with the physical.
Raphael seemed to be having the same problem.
Raphael, we can’t.
47
A touch of his fingers to her lips—a silent promise—before Raphael took a deep breath and became the Archangel of New York rather than her lover. “Last I knew, Marduk was watching people in Central Park from one of his high vantage points. As we haven’t yet seen a single photo in the media articles about him, I assume he’s using glamour to conceal his presence.”
“Do you think he has any concept of time? I mean, will he show up before the meeting starts?” Elena glanced at the central doors that led into this room, then at the set on the other end. Those doors were inside the house, and most of the time, they were left open.
Today, however, both sets would be closed while the Cadre was in session.
“I’m not certain—I’ve built in time enough for me to fly out and get him.” A raised eyebrow. “But I have a feeling he’s planning to make an entrance.”
“Why doesn’t he freak you out? He’s not . . . like other angels.” She frowned. “I like him, but there’s something there that’s . . . not anything close to human. I used to think that about archangels once, but Marduk blows that out of the water.”
Raphael shrugged. “I see him as a wilder variant of our bloodline.” He shifted so that he faced the main entrance, held out his arm for her. “Our guests begin to arrive.”
Elena caught the scent of green forests overlaid with spice as they walked toward the orange radiance of late afternoon soon to turn into evening. Her angel-scenting ability remained unstable and weak, might never get any stronger, but this scent she knew. “Elijah and Hannah.” So far, she hadn’t picked up Hannah’s scent on its own, but she had picked up that Hannah carried a hint of Elijah’s scent, a kiss atop the skin.
“Eli.” Raphael greeted the other archangel with true warmth, their friendship having become set in stone over the years since Elijah had first reached out a friendly hand. The blond angel with his golden skin and wings of pristine white was older than Raphael, had once been a war general under Caliane.
His consort of over nine hundred years, Hannah—her ebony curls beautifully arranged in an updo dotted with diamond pins and her dark skin glowing, her wings a lush cream with a whisper of peach in the primaries—was one of the most elegant women Elena had ever met. Quite frankly, she’d been intimidated by the angel until she got to know Hannah—and found in her a friend warmhearted and funny.
The artist the world knew as refined and talented also had quite the facility for hilarious caricatures and rude cartoons. The latter of which only her closest friends ever saw.
“I have to keep up some appearance of being a proper consort,” she’d said with a grin after Elena told her that her wicked wit deserved a wider audience. “Also, secret fun is always better.”
Elena greeted her with a tight hug that was returned with equal delight. “How are you?” She knew Hannah had been knee-deep in mud prior to her and Elijah’s flight to New York, assisting people affected by a flash flood.
“Not good.” Hannah’s dark eyes were tired. “I almost didn’t come—even dressing up today felt frivolous. But my love made me understand that it’s not only about us; the populace will see images of us on the way to and from this meeting, and find comfort in our appearance.”
“Caliane told me the same thing.”
Hope, Elena, Raphael’s mother had said. It is our duty to offer the people that when we can offer nothing else. We have no answers, but the world will fall apart if we appear ragged and on the edge of desperation—even if that is the truth. We must give every appearance of having the situation in hand. For if the archangels themselves have no answers . . .
Elena had felt her blood chill at the undoubted result, her mind awash in the dark red of blood as vampires panicked themselves into bloodlust—and mortals became helpless prey.
“She’s not bad for a mother-in-law,” she added.
Hannah laughed, her small movements making the evening sunlight glitter off her figure-hugging black gown. Though she had a stunning body, she rarely wore form-fitting clothing, her style tending more toward floaty gowns when she wasn’t in paint-splattered smocks.