“I know. Same principle as applies to normal training.”
“However, if you feel true pain, let me know.” Fingers on her chin. “It’s better to wait for minor injuries to heal than turn them into major ones.”
“Especially since we’re on a deadline.” She met his gaze, so brilliant even in the snowy dark. “You think Lijuan will use my inexperience in handling my new body against me.”
A curt nod as he released her chin. “She’ll use every weapon she can.”
“Why?”
“A break from ennui.” His lips flattened into a thin line. “If asked, she’ll say it’s about power, about politics, but in the end, it’s about nothing but her own amusement. You’re a new toy, one that’s caught her interest.”
“And we must play.” Aching in every muscle, she got to her feet.
Raphael rose with her, seeming not to feel the cold at all, in spite of the fact that he was magnificently shirtless. “At another time, I may have declined the offer of the ball”—an unspoken reminder that he, too, was an archangel—“but we must attend this one.”
She nodded. “You need to see how far Lijuan’s devolved.” According to what she’d heard, the oldest of the archangels was no longer willing to leave her homeland, even to meet with the Cadre.
“If she unleashes her reborn on the world, there’ll be no going back.”
The idea of the dead walking, their souls trapped in those horrific shells made Elena shiver. As she did, fine traces of gold glittered in the air. “Will you fly for me, Raphael?” she asked, deciding to hold on to the wonder tonight. “I want to see the angel dust coming off your wings.”
Raphael flared out his wings, making her breath catch. The patterns that marked his wings as unique were indistinct in the dark, but she knew the bright sunburst on his left wing down to the last streak, the last line. It was a scar, made by a weapon she’d shot. He’d been so very cold that night. “Will you ever go Quiet again?” she found herself asking.
His answer was potent with memory, with the knowledge of how close he’d come to the precipice of evil. “The need would have to be very great.” And then he lifted off in a tempest of the finest snow and wind, his power making her dig her feet into the powder to keep herself upright. Ecstasy soaked into her tongue a moment later, and she realized he’d flickered the aphrodisiac dust on her as he rose.
The special blend.
Her entire body beginning to hum with need, she watched as he rose ever higher, becoming a silhouette in the night sky. When he started to descend, it was in a series of slow, almost lazy dives, as if he was riding the air currents. Streamers of gold tracked his every movement, a wondrous light show against the velvet black sky.
It hit her again, right in the heart—how could this amazing, powerful being be hers? And yet he was. Perhaps he wasn’t hers, would never be hers, in the way a mortal man might have been, but then, she’d never really fit well with those mortal men. They’d found her hunter strength off-putting, had called her unfeminine to her face. You’re amazing, she thought up to her archangel.
He heard her, because his next dive was steep, the climb up even steeper.
Show-off.
Another steep dive, so hard and fast that her breath caught. She reached out as if to catch him as he plummeted, her heart racing a hundred miles an hour. He pulled up with less than a meter to spare between him and the unyielding earth, the wind of his ascent hitting her as he lifted back up.
She knew before she tasted it that he’d showered her with more of the dust. Every exposed part of her body tingled . . . including the entire span of her wings, which she’d spread out in preparation for flight, though she was far too inexperienced to execute a vertical takeoff like Raphael. I hope all this dust isn’t just a tease, because that might put me in a killing frame of mind. She could already feel the erotic impact, the pulse between her thighs lush with need.
The scent of the sea swept over her as he answered. Your muscles will feel much better after a bath and a massage.
It was all her mind needed to mount a sensual assault filled with images of the last time they’d been in a bath together. His fingers driving into her, his gorgeous body bare for her perusal, his arousal heavy and demanding. She drew in a trembling breath as her breasts pushed against the damp fabric of his shirt, the tips aching at even that fleeting contact. Lifting her hand, she dropped it before she could touch herself. Everything felt too sensitive, too needy. I think it’s time to go home. She imbued her mental words with the raw sexual craving that had her skin so tight, so exquisitely tender.