“Have his parents begun speaking to him of it yet?” Raphael asked, fol owing the train of her thoughts with piercing accuracy.
She leaned into the muscular warmth of his body. “He asks me the odd question at times, but mostly he’s interested in how everyone in the Refuge was looking for him. He thinks that’s amazing.”
“Clever of his mother and father,” Raphael murmured, his wings heavy against her own as he spread them out. “Even when the memories do rise, that search, the fact that he is so loved, is what wil remain at the forefront, not the pain and terror.”
“Yes.” At that moment, her eye caught on the papers on his desk. “What’s this?” She picked up what appeared to be some kind of an expensive invitation, the paper heavy, embossed with an E and an H intertwined.
“Open it.”
Conscious of him watching with an enigmatic expression on his face, she lifted the flap and removed a card—to read words written in the most delicate cal igraphy, the rich silver-black ink flowing faultlessly across the page.
We invite you and your consort to our home, Raphael. It will be a delight to have a meal with another couple who understand that love is not a weakness. Do come.
It was signed with a graceful signature, the H in the name curlicued with great care until it was a work of art. Elena smiled in delight when she found herself tracing the sinuous from of a mythical serpent. “Hannah,” she murmured, bringing the page closer to her eye so she could see the fine detail hidden within the single letter. “Amazing.”
“Hannah is an artist.” And the consort of the Archangel Elijah.
Elena looked up at him, her eyes shimmering dawn in this light. “Are there any other long-term couples in the Cadre I don’t know about?”
“Eris is Neha’s husband, but not consort.” Raphael had not seen him for three hundred years, and even before that, Eris had never been anything but Neha’s creature.
Elena placed the invitation back in the envelope and set it down. “I’d like to meet Hannah.”
“Elijah is the one archangel,” he said, sliding the papers on his desk aside and putting his hands on her waist to lift her onto the solid surface, “who I might one day trust.” Making a space for himself between her thighs, he placed his hands on either side of her hips on the desk. “But I wil not take you into the heart of his territory. Not yet.”
His hunter’s expression shifted, became contemplative. “No,” she murmured. “Not yet. I’d make you too vulnerable. But I assume Hannah is powerful enough by now that Elijah doesn’t mind bringing her into your territory?”
Raphael closed one hand over the sleek muscle of her thigh. “I have never asked.” As the only archangelic consort before Elena, Hannah had always been considered off-limits, protected. It was a courtesy that hadn’t been extended to Elena, not just because she’d once been mortal—but because she was hunter-born . . . warrior-born.
Elena wrapped her arms around his neck. “Send the invitation. I want to talk to her—there’s so much I could learn from her.”
Settling his free hand on her rib cage, just below the curve of her breast, he spoke against her parted lips. “I cannot ask, Elena. The invitation was sent by Elijah’s consort, and must be responded to by mine. It is protocol.”
Elena scowled, brows pul ing together. “How can it be protocol when there are only two consorts around?”
“Do you cal me a liar?” He’d never enjoyed teasing anyone before he met his hunter.
Stroking her fingers through the hair at his nape, she used her teeth on his jaw. “I don’t know how to do al that fancy stuff.”
“You are my consort.” A kiss placed on her cheekbone. “You may do things any way you wish.”
Gray eyes rimmed with a very, very thin circle of purest silver met his as her fingers pressed on the back of his head. “Yeah? In that case, I think I’d like to distract you.”
He al owed her to bring them closer, angling his head so he could take that stubborn mouth, those soft lips. She tasted of wildness barely contained, a bril iant, blinding mortal fire. Ready for the blaze, he was startled to feel her hands move to cup his face, her hold tender in a way that leveled his defenses as she whispered, “Let me love you tonight.”