Archangel's Shadows(171)

            Eyes closing under her continued petting, he made a rumbling sound in his chest. “A mate would do this for me.”

            Her lips quirked. “Yes. Or you might do it for her.”

            Eyes flicking up, Naasir grinned, his fangs flashing in the light. “Does Janvier pet you?”

            She pulled at his nose.

            He laughed and, bending one leg at the knee, closed his eyes again, the silver fan of his lashes vivid against the rich brown of his skin, the undertone a gorgeous, warm gold. At that instant, she almost imagined she saw faint stripes underneath. Startled, she stared . . . to see his usual skin. Strokable enough to have women begging to touch him, but otherwise normal for Naasir.

            Clearly, Ellie’s “tiger creature” theory was starting to affect her subconscious.

            “Where’s Janvier?”

            “Catching up with friends.” Those bonds were important to them both. “Why have you suddenly decided you want a mate?”

            Naasir stretched lazily before settling back into his previous position. “I’m old enough now, and I want someone to play with like you play with Janvier and Raphael does with Elena. Even Dmitri plays with Honor.” This seemed to fascinate him. “The rules are secret in each game. I want to have secret rules with a woman who . . .” A long pause. “A woman who knows me, understands what I am, and who wants to have secret rules with me.”

            It was a very Naasir definition of love and it was wonderful. “I think your mate will be a lucky woman.”

            Naasir’s gaze was oddly solemn when he lifted his lashes. “I’m different, Ash. Deep inside. I’ll never be like other men.”

            “I’m different, too,” she whispered. “Janvier loves me exactly as I am.” As she did him, stubborn Cajun will or not.

            • • •

            Elena took a seat beside Izak where the injured angel lay propped up in a bed next to a large window that gave him a great view of the partiers on the roof to the left, as well as of the angels flying back and forth. “I brought you something.” She lifted the saucer holding a piece of cake. “Red velvet with cream cheese icing.”

            Izak’s smile was shy. “My arms . . .”

            “You have me.” She scooped up a bite of cake, using the fork she’d brought with her, and fed it to him, aware of the fact his body had prioritized the healing of his skull and his spinal cord over broken bones. “So?”

            Swallowing, he said, “How did you know it was my favorite?”

            “I know everything. I also know Montgomery.”

            He laughed, and it was a brilliant sound, the light back in his eyes. “You shouldn’t be taking care of me. I’m going to be in your Guard.”

            “Who made that rule?” Feeding him another small bite, she said, “Way I hear it from Hannah—who, as you pointed out in your pitch, already has a Guard and is thus an expert—while my Guard is meant to be my shield if necessary, I’m also meant to ensure they have what they need. Right now, you need cake.”

            The young angel grinned this time. He truly was adorable. It was going to be difficult for her to treat him as a warrior, but she figured she’d just handle him as a hunter in training until he grew up a little more. “I smuggled in something else for you.” Glancing around to make sure the healers weren’t paying any attention to them, she took out a small bottle from the ankle sheath that usually held a gun.

            Opening it, she slid in a straw she’d concealed down the side of a knife sheath and held the drink to his lips. “Sip,” she ordered before he could take a long draw. “It’s Illium’s secret recipe and it’s lethal.”