Wings of Redemption Read online

  Her head tilted to the side. “I can really go with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  She glanced back at her room, frowning. “I would like that.”

  “Then come here already.” He wiped fresh raindrops from his face.

  “Can we, uh, walk?”

  He pointed toward the tower. “If you’d like to walk a mile through a city of demons and climb thirty flights of stairs at one in the morning. Afraid of heights?”

  “Neutral.” She took a step back. “You, on the other hand…”

  “Me?”

  “I don’t know you. I’m not sure I want to put my life in your hands. Literally.”

  He flicked his wings to relieve sudden tension in his muscles. “You think I’d drop you?”

  “Well, my father is the Collector.”

  “Yes, he is.” Her suspicion hurt, to his surprise. What could he do to make her feel safe?

  “Now that I think about it, being alone with you, at all, probably isn’t the best idea.” She retreated to the doorway.

  “It’s alone with me or alone in this room with the demons outside.”

  She whispered a curse.

  “I won’t hurt you, Saffron.”

  “You threatened to break my wrist.”

  “Touching my wings is completely unacceptable. We’re hunted and killed, our feathers sold to the highest bidder. The way you humans appreciate our wings is offensive to the highest degree.”

  “But I was just—”

  “Curious? Exactly.”

  “I’m sorry.” She bit her lip. “I didn’t think.”

  He gave a small nod of acknowledgment. “Look. All I know about you is that you’re Abel Morin’s daughter, but I’m offering you a little trust. Give me the same courtesy and we can both get some sleep. Truce?”

  “Well…”

  Time for a new tack. “Hold still for a moment.”

  “Why?”

  “Just hold still.” He crossed the deck and stopped when their toes nearly touched. He encircled her shoulders with his arms and pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin. Despite her verbal distrust, she melted against his chest and yawned.

  He stifled a yawn of his own and stroked her soft hair. Hopefully, if she couldn’t take him on his word that he didn’t want to harm her, he could show her.

  It felt shockingly good to have a woman in his arms and it occurred to him that he hadn’t embraced anyone in decades. He’d distanced himself from everyone, even the other archangels. Not deliberately, but the years had gotten long. He’d become jaded. Maybe he had grown too bitter from five centuries of being a target, as Dec had suggested.

  “I will not drop you. Okay?” He tilted his head to see her face.

  “Okay,” she said, a flush on her cheeks.

  Whew. He slid an arm under her knees.

  She gathered her long, dark-blond hair and wrapped it around her fingers, a hesitant smile on her face. Her hands shook, but excitement leaked into her suddenly high-pitched voice. “This can’t be happening.”

  He extended his wings to their full twenty-foot span and made a show of fanning his flight feathers.

  “Maudit.” Her fingers dug into his shoulders.

  He chuckled and stepped to the edge. Centuries had passed since he’d been a little boy learning to fly, since feeling nervous anticipation before take-off. He re-experienced that now, through her wide blue eyes and parted lips. He launched them off the deck. Drop her? Hell, he suspected he’d have trouble putting her down.

  Chapter Three

  Saffron couldn’t breathe, not just because of the speeding rush of air, but because Kestrel held her so tight God himself wouldn’t have been able to pry her from his arms. She squeezed her eyes shut. The wind roared over her ears, the sound accented by the archangel’s forceful wing beats. This must be what it felt like to be plastered to the front of an airplane. A warm plane.

  “Want to see?”

  “I can’t! The wind!” She shouted to hear her own voice.

  “But, do you want to?”

  She swallowed and licked her wind-dried lips. “Yeah.”

  His wings moved faster. “Open your eyes in three…two…one…”

  The wind died down to a near standstill. In the sudden silence, she opened her eyes and turned her head away from his chest. She realized Kestrel had flown straight up and stilled his wings. Gravity dragged on their momentum. They hung, seemingly suspended from the sky by an invisible rope. It only lasted a second, but the moment froze, as independent from time as the two of them were from the ground far below. The red and amber lights of the colony spread out below them, framed by the dark-blue horizon.

  So beautiful.

  And then they were falling.

  She screamed, but Kestrel took control with lazy movements and a grin. He glided and descended toward the clock tower, approaching the halo-like ring of lights around the top. She closed her wind-burned eyes and focused on breathing.

  Kestrel landed and set her down on an expansive platform made from the same brown stone as the tower itself. Sprinkles turned to a moderate rain, leaving dark splotches on the stone.

  “Go on inside,” he said, pointing to a wide door between the windows, the sources of the illumination.

  “Do you always leave the lights on?”

  “Landing lights. Unlike demons, I can’t see in the dark.” He hurried across the terrace.

  The rain came harder. Saffron rushed for the door and pushed it open. She stepped into a rectangular, single-room home the breadth of the tower. Wall sconces and a cast iron hanging fixture provided light. Raindrops tapped against the wraparound windows.

  Damn. How much trouble would this shower cause the demons looking for Thyme?

  “Coming through.”

  Saffron sidestepped. Kestrel carried a pile of loosely folded blankets inside and spread them on the floor.

  “You can have the bed.” He tossed a pillow down on his blankets. “I usually sleep on the floor, anyway.”

  “Outside?”

  “Yeah, when the weather cooperates. Oh, and don’t worry about the clock tower, by the way. No bells.”

  She glanced out the windows and fidgeted. “Thank you. For back there.”

  “Quite the view, isn’t it?” He grinned.

  The entire moment was remarkable. Not just the view, but the means by which he delivered it. Plus, seeing a playful side of him was very endearing. “There are no words. So, just, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Let’s see, I don’t usually have…” He paused and looked around, scratching his jaw. “I’ve never had an overnight guest. It’s a relatively new home.” He pointed to heavy drapery that covered part of one wall. “Bath is through there. Light switch is on the right.”

  “May I have some water?”

  “Sure.”

  Walking across colorful wool throw rugs, she followed him to a tiny but elegant kitchenette in the far corner. She glanced around the room as she walked and collided with a firm wall of feathers.

  She gasped and jerked backwards. “Sorry!”

  “Do you have a death wish, Saffron?” Kestrel turned away from the sink, his tone full of warning.

  “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “What’s so fascinating?”

  “The photos.” She tipped her head toward the wall between two tall bookshelves, adorned with framed aerial views of the colony, lakes and streams, and sunsets.

  “Ah, yes. You’re a photographer. Think those are any good?”

  “They’re gorgeous.”

  He set a glass of water on the counter next to her. “Thank you. I wish I could say I put thought into them like I’m sure you do into your work, but those were lucky in-flight shots. I’ve tossed a hundred awful ones.” His tone grew icy. “Now, about your punishment.”

  She took a step back. “Excuse me?”

  “You touched my wings.”

  “It was an accident.” She lifted her chin and
rolled her shoulders back, trying to look tougher than she felt. She could try hitting him and running, but where to? If there were stairs, she didn’t see them. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “And I won’t.” He grinned. “But, fair is fair.”

  “Huh?”

  He lowered his head, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

  He was teasing her! She closed her fingers into fists. Perhaps she would hit him, after all. Drawing out her words, she said, “That was not funny. Ciboire.”

  Kestrel sobered, but the grin didn’t entirely fade. “My apologies.”

  She folded her arms.

  He closed the space between them. When he smoothed his hand over her shoulder, his touch calmed her. A little. He wasn’t getting forgiven that easily.

  “It’s very intimate for us to have our wings touched,” he murmured. His hand traveled up her neck. He rubbed her earlobe between his thumb and forefinger.

  Oh, the cheater! Damn him. How did he know having her ears touched could turn her into a puddle of goo? Her breath hitched from the pleasure flooding her system. A sensible part of her wanted to object, the ticked-off part needed to object, but the part that melted under the caress won. “I thought you said it was offensive.”

  “The offense is in the intent.” He released her ear and brushed his fingertips over her cheek. “But intimacy is a constant.”

  “If this is a punishment, you should know it isn’t very dissuasive.”

  His lips quirked and he dropped his hand. “Goodnight, Saffron. Please get some sleep.”

  He walked away and turned on a lamp next to the bed, a king-sized platform with lush blankets and pillows in black and white. Saying Virgil would call when they had news, Kes pulled a cell phone from his pocket and set it by the lamp. After turning off all the rest of the lights, he settled on his stomach on the floor. He wrapped his arms around the pillow and covered his head with a wing. Only his toes, visible at the tips of his flight feathers, betrayed the presence of a man beneath the copper, blue, and black wings.

  Too tired to do or think anything else, Saffron took her water and set the glass next to the lamp. After a quick trip to the bathroom to clean her teeth, she stripped down to her shirt and panties and climbed into bed. She switched off the light.

  “Good night, Kestrel.”

  “Kes.” His wings muffled his voice.

  She blinked in the darkness. “Good night, Kes.”

  Her day had started out normal: drinking coffee in the rental house she and Thyme shared, listening to truck traffic, reading Vogue. It had ended in an archangel’s bed while demons searched for her sister.

  What would tomorrow bring?

  …

  Kestrel woke to wind slamming heavy rain against the windows and thunder vibrating the tower. Just enough light backlit the clouds to indicate that dawn had broken. His instincts, reacting to the presence of lightning, shot adrenaline through his body, warming his limbs. His smaller feathers stood on end.

  No danger in the tower. He clenched his teeth and settled his feathers.

  Saffron sat upright in bed, her lips parted.

  “It’s all right,” he said, getting to his feet. “Plenty of lightning rods above us.”

  “I…really don’t like lightning.” Her voice shook.

  “That makes two of us.” He walked around the bed and stood next to her. He touched the smooth skin of her arm. “After poachers, lightning has killed more archangels than any one thing.”

  “I was struck as a child,” she said.

  “Really?”

  Her throat worked. “I was standing in front of a window.” She ran her fingers over a white-pink spot on her shoulder he’d assumed was some sort of birthmark. “It didn’t really hurt me, but…”

  “It burnt you.” He inspected the discoloration more closely.

  “Yeah.” She rubbed her arms and looked around the room. “You have so many windows.”

  And no curtains. “Lean back.”

  She burrowed under the covers, all but disappearing. The cell phone chimed. She threw the covers back and jumped out of bed so fast, she slid on the throw rug. She snatched the phone before Kestrel could.

  “Virgil. Did you find my sister?”

  Kestrel waited. Saffron’s expression brightened and tears filled her eyes.

  A moment later, Saffron covered her face with shaking hands, dropping the phone. “Thank you.” She laughed, the sound borderline hysterical, but happy. “Thank you—”

  Thunder made her jump. “Crisse!”

  Kestrel picked up the phone. “Virgil?”

  “Yes. We found the other Morin girl.” Static made the demon’s voice difficult to hear. “I’ll have her call as soon as we get better reception.”

  “Thanks.” After disconnecting the phone and setting it aside, he climbed over her legs and lay down at her side. He extended his wing and covered her, shielding her from the room and the windows.

  The odds of the lightning being the cause of her impending death were slim to none. At that moment, all he cared about was calming her.

  “Kes?” Eyes wide, she turned to face him, his feathers brushing her cheek. Her tone implied a dozen questions.

  He had no words for answers. He kept acting on impulse, first by engaging in flight play with her. Flight was the one thing in life he truly enjoyed these days, but that was the first time in a long time he’d experienced giddiness. The way her face had lit up—it had lit him up, too.

  Then he’d teased her after she’d walked into his wings. Still high from their brief flight together, he’d had the bizarre desire to kiss her. Her momentary warmth against his wings had compounded that need. However, he still didn’t know how much he could trust her, and she didn’t entirely trust him, either. He’d teased her to distract himself from what could have been an epic mistake.

  And now this. He wanted to hold her with his wing. He’d just needed an excuse. However, somehow, he had to explain himself.

  “I just turned five hundred last month.”

  She missed a beat. “Five hundred?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t look a day older than me. I’m twenty-five.”

  “Five hundred is as old as archangels get, for the most part. After that, we decline. I’m now going to start aging as a human would recognize it. My lifespan from here on out is similar to yours, actually.”

  “What is it like to live for five hundred years?” she whispered.

  He shrugged. “I don’t feel like I’ve lived half that long. The seasons start to blend after a while, then pass by unnoticed altogether.”

  Maybe he’d just stopped caring.

  Lightning lit the windows, followed several seconds later by a sharp percussion. Saffron snuggled closer to him, burying her face in his neck. He draped an arm over her shoulders.

  “The storm is moving away,” he said.

  “Keep talking. Distract me.”

  “I really enjoy holding you.”

  She glanced up from under long eyelashes. “Don’t you have a mate? I thought you said archangels mated for life.”

  “We do. But I personally haven’t been that fortunate. I’ve had lovers, but I’ve never met anyone who inspired me to want that deep a connection.”

  “That makes five hundred years sound very lonely.”

  “I regret not taking a mate, but I’ve never been lonely. I have some incredible friends.” A knot formed in his gut. How long had he been pushing away those friends—particularly Dec—and not acknowledging it? “What about you? Boyfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Then, there are other ways I’d like to distract you.” He shifted her so that her head fell back to the pillows, and he kissed her. Lightly, but without hesitation. He was at the tail end of a long life. Hell of a time to fight impulses. Desires. Even if it involved a human.

  And she kissed him back.

  She leaned away, her lips curving into a sexy grin, but caution filled her
eyes. “What is this?”

  “This is me figuring good behavior is for someone much younger.”

  “I’m younger. Four hundred and seventy-five years younger.”

  “Mine is a species used to sprawling age differences. Biologically, we have no age difference, so I don’t mind if you don’t.”

  She bit her lip, still grinning. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m not proposing anything gargantuan. I just want to kiss you.”

  “Why?”

  How to put it? He’d never been skilled in the emotional expression department. “Because when I flew you up here last night, I felt like a twenty-five-year old.” He kissed her again. “I don’t know why you make me feel this way, but I like it.”

  She smiled. “Well, a girl can’t say no to that.”

  “Good.” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her more deeply.

  The storm died down to distant rumbles and the steady staccato of rain on the glass. Though the heavy blankets separated their bodies, he molded himself against her.

  The cell phone interrupted.

  He reluctantly released her and folded his wings. She caught him for one more kiss, then grabbed the phone and answered it. “Hello? Thyme!”

  Kestrel left a crying Saffron to talk to her sister alone. He headed for the bath, and one of the hidden doors to Dec’s home one floor down.

  He dropped into an open area of Dec’s living room, a bland but elegant affair in shades of brown—lots of wood, lots of leather—illuminated by several demon-fire lanterns.

  The Guardian sat in a nearby chair, leaning forward. “Morning, Kes.”

  “Salut.” Kestrel sat on the back of the couch so his flight feathers hung freely. He shut his eyes.

  Saffron’s voice, speaking in French, filled his mind. You have no idea how worried I was. Of course I came here to Eden. What else was I supposed to do? No, don’t worry. I’ll be home soon.

  “I can still hear her.” Kes raked his fingers through his hair.

  “That’s unfortunate,” the demon said, his tone sincere.

  “If I still hear her after Virgil’s second round of questions, I don’t know if I should let her leave. Where is death waiting for her? Here, or out there?”