Archangel's Shadows
Page 13
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Elena nodded, thanked the Legion fighter, then said, “Want to come for a walk?” to him and his partner both. “I’m heading to the greenhouse.”
Guild Hunter, what are you doing?
Trying to humanize them, so to speak. She couldn’t keep being disturbed by a force that belonged so deeply to her and Raphael that the knowledge was a hum in her bones. Wouldn’t you need a few pointers if you’d been buried at the bottom of the ocean for millennia?
“I will tell Montgomery to send refreshments to you.”
When Elena swiveled on her heel to walk toward the greenhouse, both Legion fighters fell in with her. Hah, she said to Raphael, bet you didn’t think they’d accept my invitation.
You would win that bet.
Blowing him a kiss over her shoulder, she carried on to the greenhouse. She usually took off most of her weapons once inside the warm, humid haven, though she kept them within easy reach, but today she didn’t unstrap a single knife. It was one thing to try to get to know them, another to blindly trust a millennia-old force that had come out of nowhere, hum in the bones or not.
She was hyperconscious of the fighters standing silently on either side of the doorway while she checked her plants. When Montgomery, dressed as per usual in an elegant black suit, his shirt white, arrived with a tray of coffee and small, delicious things, she said, “Have I told you how much I love you, Montgomery?”
“Not today, my lady.”
Elena winced inwardly. The butler had become used to calling her “Guild Hunter,” and then the battle had happened and he’d reverted. “What did you bring?” she asked, knowing Montgomery would’ve already noted his mistake.
“Éclairs made fresh by Sivya, blueberry muffins, and fruit.” Pouring the coffee into a mug for her and adding two sugars, he placed it on her bench. “Would the gentlemen like a drink?”
Elena looked to the fighters, held up her mug in a silent question.
One of them finally spoke. “We do not require fuel.”
“Then I will leave you to your work, Guild Hunter.”
Figuring her two guests might have hit their limit when it came to new experiences, she returned to her plants . . . and became aware they’d closed the distance to her in deadly silence.
6
Skin prickling, she waited to see what they’d do.
Nothing.
Her eyes fell on the empty terra-cotta pots she’d lined up at the back of her bench. Inspired, she gave each fighter one, curious to see their response. “Could you fill these with soil for me? The bag’s over there.”
They moved to the bag as one and began to scoop out the rich potting soil using their hands. About to tell them to stop, put on gloves, she realized it would make no difference to the two. When asked, the Primary said the Legion were “of the earth, of life.” Now, as they dug their hands into the soil, she saw an unexpected easing in the shoulders of both males, their lashes lowering and chests expanding.
Raphael.
Do you need a rescue?
No. Seeing her fighter had filled his pot, she said, “Why don’t you transfer one of these seedlings?” She indicated the flat, shallow tray in which she’d nurtured several different plants to life.
As she watched, he removed one with care, placed it into the pot after scooping out a hole, then gently patted in the soil around it.
I think we need to create gardens in the Legion building. Part of the roof, some of the larger planned balconies, areas under a skylight, all of them will work.
Raphael’s response was immediate. They are of the earth, must be nourished by it in some way while they’re active. It is why they are so often in Central Park.
That’s what I think, she said, seeing the second fighter join the first and, after a glance at her for permission, reach into the seedling tray.
Are you able to take on the task of organizing the gardens?
Yes. It would be a fascinating project, and perhaps one in which she could involve some of the injured who weren’t yet ready for full duties.
“It is done.”
Taking in the beautifully potted plants the fighters set in front of her, she said, “Want to do more?”
It was an hour later that she returned to the house, having left the two men in the greenhouse, after assuring them they could stay as long as they liked. She’d seen movement through the glass from the outside, their silhouetted hands touching the leaves of the overhanging ferns.
Heading upstairs, she changed, then tracked Raphael down in his study. After having come so close to never again feeling his touch, she didn’t deny her need to be close to her archangel. Life was unpredictable—they might not have a quiet night together for another week or month if things went to shit again.
“Dinner will be a while,” she said, sliding her arms around his waist. “I’ve decided to seduce you for my entrée.”
The erotic, exotic taste of angel dust on her lips, on her skin, Raphael’s silent response making her shiver. He was dipping his head toward her when a chime interrupted the silence. It came from the large video screen built into the wall to Elena’s left. There were very few people who had the direct code, but that included his mother and the entire Cadre.
“It is Titus,” Raphael said after glancing at the incoming caller ID.
Elena frantically brushed the incriminating shimmer of angel dust off his lips and face, then tried to wipe her own using the bottom of her T-shirt, while her body continued to throb with sexual heat. “Well?”
Guild Hunter, what are you doing?
Trying to humanize them, so to speak. She couldn’t keep being disturbed by a force that belonged so deeply to her and Raphael that the knowledge was a hum in her bones. Wouldn’t you need a few pointers if you’d been buried at the bottom of the ocean for millennia?
“I will tell Montgomery to send refreshments to you.”
When Elena swiveled on her heel to walk toward the greenhouse, both Legion fighters fell in with her. Hah, she said to Raphael, bet you didn’t think they’d accept my invitation.
You would win that bet.
Blowing him a kiss over her shoulder, she carried on to the greenhouse. She usually took off most of her weapons once inside the warm, humid haven, though she kept them within easy reach, but today she didn’t unstrap a single knife. It was one thing to try to get to know them, another to blindly trust a millennia-old force that had come out of nowhere, hum in the bones or not.
She was hyperconscious of the fighters standing silently on either side of the doorway while she checked her plants. When Montgomery, dressed as per usual in an elegant black suit, his shirt white, arrived with a tray of coffee and small, delicious things, she said, “Have I told you how much I love you, Montgomery?”
“Not today, my lady.”
Elena winced inwardly. The butler had become used to calling her “Guild Hunter,” and then the battle had happened and he’d reverted. “What did you bring?” she asked, knowing Montgomery would’ve already noted his mistake.
“Éclairs made fresh by Sivya, blueberry muffins, and fruit.” Pouring the coffee into a mug for her and adding two sugars, he placed it on her bench. “Would the gentlemen like a drink?”
Elena looked to the fighters, held up her mug in a silent question.
One of them finally spoke. “We do not require fuel.”
“Then I will leave you to your work, Guild Hunter.”
Figuring her two guests might have hit their limit when it came to new experiences, she returned to her plants . . . and became aware they’d closed the distance to her in deadly silence.
6
Skin prickling, she waited to see what they’d do.
Nothing.
Her eyes fell on the empty terra-cotta pots she’d lined up at the back of her bench. Inspired, she gave each fighter one, curious to see their response. “Could you fill these with soil for me? The bag’s over there.”
They moved to the bag as one and began to scoop out the rich potting soil using their hands. About to tell them to stop, put on gloves, she realized it would make no difference to the two. When asked, the Primary said the Legion were “of the earth, of life.” Now, as they dug their hands into the soil, she saw an unexpected easing in the shoulders of both males, their lashes lowering and chests expanding.
Raphael.
Do you need a rescue?
No. Seeing her fighter had filled his pot, she said, “Why don’t you transfer one of these seedlings?” She indicated the flat, shallow tray in which she’d nurtured several different plants to life.
As she watched, he removed one with care, placed it into the pot after scooping out a hole, then gently patted in the soil around it.
I think we need to create gardens in the Legion building. Part of the roof, some of the larger planned balconies, areas under a skylight, all of them will work.
Raphael’s response was immediate. They are of the earth, must be nourished by it in some way while they’re active. It is why they are so often in Central Park.
That’s what I think, she said, seeing the second fighter join the first and, after a glance at her for permission, reach into the seedling tray.
Are you able to take on the task of organizing the gardens?
Yes. It would be a fascinating project, and perhaps one in which she could involve some of the injured who weren’t yet ready for full duties.
“It is done.”
Taking in the beautifully potted plants the fighters set in front of her, she said, “Want to do more?”
It was an hour later that she returned to the house, having left the two men in the greenhouse, after assuring them they could stay as long as they liked. She’d seen movement through the glass from the outside, their silhouetted hands touching the leaves of the overhanging ferns.
Heading upstairs, she changed, then tracked Raphael down in his study. After having come so close to never again feeling his touch, she didn’t deny her need to be close to her archangel. Life was unpredictable—they might not have a quiet night together for another week or month if things went to shit again.
“Dinner will be a while,” she said, sliding her arms around his waist. “I’ve decided to seduce you for my entrée.”
The erotic, exotic taste of angel dust on her lips, on her skin, Raphael’s silent response making her shiver. He was dipping his head toward her when a chime interrupted the silence. It came from the large video screen built into the wall to Elena’s left. There were very few people who had the direct code, but that included his mother and the entire Cadre.
“It is Titus,” Raphael said after glancing at the incoming caller ID.
Elena frantically brushed the incriminating shimmer of angel dust off his lips and face, then tried to wipe her own using the bottom of her T-shirt, while her body continued to throb with sexual heat. “Well?”
