Ashes of Angels

Cassandra assessed her muscles and bruised body, and realized she did feel kinda peppy. A flex of her shoulder didn’t sense the heavy exhaustion she’d just experienced. “What did you do to me?”

“We have a connection, Cassandra, like it or not.”

“Raising my hand for not. It’s a connection I don’t wish to complete, if you get my meaning.”

“I understand there are reasons you cannot trust me.”

“You got that right. You said you wouldn’t come after me, but then your wings popped out and—wham! I’ve never seen such malevolent lust in a man’s eyes before. You really scared me, Sam.”

She tried not to meet his eyes, because she knew she’d find a pleading puppy-dog pout there. But it was impossible, and the moment she connected with his gaze, she fell into wonder. The true magic lived there, in his eyes. She felt powerless against it.

“I understand I must earn your trust. I cannot simply demand it. And I will, I swear to you. But that does not discount me from the desire to mate with you. You are a beautiful woman, Cassandra. I would not be a man did I not recognize that.”

“Good thing you gave me the repulsion word.”

“The more often you use it, the weaker it becomes, so use it sparingly.”

“If you keep your eyes on the vampires, and not me, maybe I won’t have to use the word ever again.”

“It won’t be that simple. But I thank you for your trust, cupcake.”

“You haven’t earned my trust yet, buddy. And what’s with the cupcake? Name’s Cassandra.”

“I like the endearment. It is a common practice between mortals to name each other with sweet nicknames.”

She rolled her eyes, realizing it was fruitless to get him to stop with the silly names.

“Mr. Nelson on the first floor is about your size. Not quite so firm. He has a tendency to leave his clothes in the laundry room dryer for days. I’ll slip in and borrow a shirt.”

Cassandra grabbed two button-up shirts and a pair of jeans, but felt squicky about taking a pair of Mr. Nelson’s boxers. She guessed Sam probably didn’t do underwear anyway. Or was that a secret hope?

While the angel changed in the bathroom, she dialed up her sister.

With vampires and Sinistari roaming the city, she did not want to endanger Ophelia, the pregnant muse her sister planned to escort to Berlin.

It always lightened her heart to hear her sister’s voice. Cassandra had moved from London two years ago, and though they talked all the time, they only saw each other half a dozen times a year. It was never enough.

“Coco, when does your flight leave?”

“Ohmygosh, I tried to call you yesterday afternoon, Caz. We’re here!”

“What? I thought it didn’t leave until tomorrow?”

“Nope, last night. We landed at Hamburg four hours ago. The flight was redirected due to bad weather. We went straight to the hotel for breakfast—”

“You and the muse?”

“Me, Ophelia and Zane.”

“Right, the sexy new man who helped you slay the angel.” Her sister had been oddly tight-lipped about Zane, other than to wax over his gorgeous muscles and how she loved to kiss him for hours. Ah, love. “You bring the angel ash?”

“Yes, it’s in my suitcase, safe and sound.”

After they’d slain a Fallen, Coco had been smart enough to gather the crystallike ash left behind. It was a necessary weapon should the worst occur.

“But, Cassandra, I’ve lost something else. Oh … you’re going to freak.”

“What?”

The pause over the phone line felt like forever creeping over Cassandra’s skin. She bit her lip and met Sam’s eyes as he strode into the living room to display his new attire. The jeans fit snugly and low at his square hips. The shirt, unbuttoned at the chest and sleeves, would probably be too tight, but really, she didn’t mind the casual look at all. And look at those cut abs. Yikes, they were hard and firm.

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