Elena threw a roll at Raphael’s head.
He caught it, startled. “Elena, did you just throw a bread roll at the Archangel of New York?”
“I felt like throwing my biggest blade but I restrained myself,” was the response. “Aren’t you proud of me?” A saccharine sweet smile.
Illium choked on his laughter, while Aodhan managed to keep his face expressionless, the shattered mirrors of his eyes suddenly deeply interested in the small centerpiece on the table. Montgomery had been about to leave the library, hesitated, then gave in to his better nature and training, and slipped out.
Switching to private mental speech after putting down the offending roll, Raphael said, You have to be aware you need protection. Michaela will likely bring Riker as her escort just to spite you. And the twisted vampire male wanted a piece of Elena.
The fact Raphael had torn Riker’s heart out of his chest, punching a bare hand through Riker’s ribcage to grip the pulsating organ, might hold him back—or it might not. Because Riker wasn’t quite sane after so long in Michaela’s service. Not after the things she’d done—and who he’d been before he became her pet vampire.
I can take that asshole. Elena stabbed at her meal with her fork.
There’ll be others, you know that.
She looked up, her eyes holding not fury or even aggravation but something else, something deeper, more important. Of course I know that, Archangel. I’ve been your consort for more than three years, and during that time, many people have tried to tear off my head, rip me limb from limb, stab me, you get the drift.
His blood iced, his anger directed not at Elena, but at those who had attempted to harm her. Most of them were dead. I do get the drift, Consort, he said to Elena when she raised an eyebrow.
Her lips kicked up at his edgy tone but her eyes remained serious. I also know you’ll concentrate better in the meeting if Aodhan is with me. I like Sparkle. I don’t mind hanging with him while you’re wheeling and dealing in the Cadre.
As Elena had been Consort for several years, Raphael had been an archangel with a consort. So he knew that, right now, he was being called to account. Perhaps I should ask Illium and Aodhan to leave. The two members of his Seven were chatting quietly to each other, totally at ease despite the jagged sparks in the air . . . because this was their home, too.
It had become so after Elena became Raphael’s. His Seven had always come and gone from the Enclave house, had stayed here at times, but never had they been so at home here. It was his hunter who’d made that happen—and it wasn’t only the Seven she’d affected. It wasn’t chance that Montgomery had begun to court Sivya only after Elena had been living here for some time.
She’d brought life with her, brought heart.
They can stay. Elena took a sip of her wine. I’m not going to go for your throat—not until after dessert anyway. Montgomery took over the kitchen with Sivya’s permission and made some kind of thing called a pavlova that looks like a cloud with strawberries on it and I really want to eat it.
Shoulders unknotting and the strain easing from wing muscles tensed in readiness for a private battle, Raphael leaned back against his chair, his wingtips lying against the thick carpet. So, if you understand the need, then why did you assault me with baked goods?
Can I have that back, by the way? I really like Sivya’s rolls.
Lobbing it over to her, Raphael watched her catch it with effortless ease. Thanks. She made a stern face at Illium when her Bluebell said, “Have you two finished your discussion?”
“Shh, the grownups are talking.”
The blue-winged angel grinned. “Can you finish before dessert? I don’t want a side dish of anxiety with my dessert.”
“Eat your entrée,” Elena ordered before looking back at Raphael, her eyes luminous. Here’s the thing, Raphael. Past couple of years, while we all waited for the shit to hit the fan, things have been fairly peaceful—this is the first time we’re going back into danger.
Raphael inclined his head in a silent agreement.
That’s why I’m cutting you some slack. She took another sip of her wine, her slender throat moving as she swallowed. You’ve lacked positive reinforcement on how to thrash out such issues with your consort.
Raphael drank some of his own wine. I believe my consort is now amused.
Just a little. Her smile deepened. Remember our first disagreement? It involved my blood in case you’ve forgotten.
It involved a woman with endless courage.
Putting down her wineglass, that same woman locked gazes with him once more, as courageous and as fearless as ever. You default to thinking me weak and in need of protection. Instead of recognizing that I’m not mortal now. I was never a normal mortal anyway.