Archangel's Enigma
Page 88
Death, she’d realized in that tunnel, could come at any instant.
“Kiss me,” she said, lifting her face to the primal masculinity of his. “If death comes, I want to go having known your kiss.”
He nipped sharply at her lower lip instead. “We’ll kiss after I find your stupid Grimoire book.”
Forehead scrunching up, Andromeda shook her head. “Forget the Grimoire.”
Naasir gripped her chin, his eyes—so haunting and beautiful—locking with hers. “Your honor is important to you. It is as important as your heart. Kill one and I will kill the other.”
She cried then, because he knew her heart. His arms came around her, his breath against her cheek as he rubbed the side of his face against her, but she knew they didn’t have time for her sorrow. Stealing one more moment against the heat and strength and fierceness of him, she got to her feet.
Her soles were severely burned, causing excruciating agony, but she could already feel her body attempting to make the repairs. More important, she could still walk as long as she didn’t focus on the throbbing pulse of pain. “My wings should hold me for short periods,” she said, stretching them out. “I can fly up, search for a way out.”
Naasir’s eyes were flames of liquid silver as they took in her blackened and burnt feathers but he nodded. “Go. I’ll look down here. There’s still something about the air currents.”
It was only when he turned that she saw his back. A pained cry leaving her mouth, she reached out instinctively before pulling back her hand lest she harm him with her touch. “Your back.” Her voice shook with fury. “Alexander hurt you.” His T-shirt had been almost totally burned away on that side of his body, leaving only exposed and charred skin.
Turning toward her, he cupped her cheek, his thumb scraping over her cheekbone. “It’s only a minor burn. It’ll be gone within hours.”
Old and strong, she reminded herself. He was older and stronger than her, and he was a legendary chimera. “Is it true that you can heal as well or sometimes even better than an angel?” That was a “fact” she’d just remembered, something she’d come across during her studies into mythical creatures.
“Yes.” Leaning in, he rubbed his nose over hers as he’d done at the end of their tunnel ride. “I’ll tell you all about chimeras after we get out.”
She felt her lips twitch at his tone—as if he was offering her a treat. And the truth was, he was: she was a scholar, loved new information . . . and this wild chimera had figured that out because he looked at her and saw who she was. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Spreading her wounded wings on his smile, she rose into the air. Vertical takeoffs took more strength than a glide, but as a result of the training regimen Dahariel and Galen had taught her, she usually had no problems. Today, however, it felt as if a thousand thin spikes were stabbing into every inch of her wings, trying to hold her down.
Gritting her teeth and refusing to consider failure, she got aloft and began to circle around. Other than the impossible-to-climb chute down which they’d slid into this pit, there didn’t seem to be any other fissures or tunnel mouths.
She flew higher.
* * *
Naasir watched to make sure Andromeda was steady on the wing before he pulled off the shreds of his useless boots and began to prowl around in search of an exit. The air currents in this room were stirring wrong against him, his skin rippling with stripes between one breath and the next. What wasn’t visible unless someone stroked him at the exact right moment, was the fine, fine, fine layer of fur that occasionally appeared on his skin.
Maybe he wouldn’t tell Andromeda about that part of him—he’d just let her discover it one day while they were playing naked. She wouldn’t mind; he knew that about her now. She liked him despite the fact he wasn’t in any way “normal.” No, that wasn’t right. Andromeda didn’t like him despite his unusual nature. She just liked him.
Even when she scowled at him, she liked him.
Standing in different parts of the pit as that knowledge settled into his cells, he tuned into the air currents. When he felt Andromeda start to descend, he looked up. “Can you stay up a little longer?” Her landing would disturb the air that had settled after her takeoff.
She nodded and began to circle gently instead of staying in place. Realizing she was hurting too much to maintain a hover, her burnt feet and scorched wings making him want to snarl, he clenched his jaw and went toward a particular part of the wall. The air was fresher here, moved faster. “Andi.”
Landing softly behind him when he gestured, she pulled off what remained of her own boots, and hobbled over to peer at the wall. “What do you see?” A sudden blink, her body motionless. “Why can I see?”
Naasir, able to see no matter the light, hadn’t noticed the fact it was no longer pitch-black, the luminescence from the walls at a much higher intensity. “Alexander.”
“I guess this means he liked us after all.”
“Not enough to lead us out of here.”
“Alexander was never known to be an easy archangel.”
Grunting in acknowledgment, Naasir began to run his fingers along the lines where he’d felt the fresher air. “There’s a door here.”
Going to her knees below the outwardly unbroken stone, Andromeda began to feel around the wall at ground level. “Sometimes the pressure point is hidden lower, where people are less apt to—” Her fingers slid over a faint, shallow indent. “Naasir.”
“Kiss me,” she said, lifting her face to the primal masculinity of his. “If death comes, I want to go having known your kiss.”
He nipped sharply at her lower lip instead. “We’ll kiss after I find your stupid Grimoire book.”
Forehead scrunching up, Andromeda shook her head. “Forget the Grimoire.”
Naasir gripped her chin, his eyes—so haunting and beautiful—locking with hers. “Your honor is important to you. It is as important as your heart. Kill one and I will kill the other.”
She cried then, because he knew her heart. His arms came around her, his breath against her cheek as he rubbed the side of his face against her, but she knew they didn’t have time for her sorrow. Stealing one more moment against the heat and strength and fierceness of him, she got to her feet.
Her soles were severely burned, causing excruciating agony, but she could already feel her body attempting to make the repairs. More important, she could still walk as long as she didn’t focus on the throbbing pulse of pain. “My wings should hold me for short periods,” she said, stretching them out. “I can fly up, search for a way out.”
Naasir’s eyes were flames of liquid silver as they took in her blackened and burnt feathers but he nodded. “Go. I’ll look down here. There’s still something about the air currents.”
It was only when he turned that she saw his back. A pained cry leaving her mouth, she reached out instinctively before pulling back her hand lest she harm him with her touch. “Your back.” Her voice shook with fury. “Alexander hurt you.” His T-shirt had been almost totally burned away on that side of his body, leaving only exposed and charred skin.
Turning toward her, he cupped her cheek, his thumb scraping over her cheekbone. “It’s only a minor burn. It’ll be gone within hours.”
Old and strong, she reminded herself. He was older and stronger than her, and he was a legendary chimera. “Is it true that you can heal as well or sometimes even better than an angel?” That was a “fact” she’d just remembered, something she’d come across during her studies into mythical creatures.
“Yes.” Leaning in, he rubbed his nose over hers as he’d done at the end of their tunnel ride. “I’ll tell you all about chimeras after we get out.”
She felt her lips twitch at his tone—as if he was offering her a treat. And the truth was, he was: she was a scholar, loved new information . . . and this wild chimera had figured that out because he looked at her and saw who she was. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Spreading her wounded wings on his smile, she rose into the air. Vertical takeoffs took more strength than a glide, but as a result of the training regimen Dahariel and Galen had taught her, she usually had no problems. Today, however, it felt as if a thousand thin spikes were stabbing into every inch of her wings, trying to hold her down.
Gritting her teeth and refusing to consider failure, she got aloft and began to circle around. Other than the impossible-to-climb chute down which they’d slid into this pit, there didn’t seem to be any other fissures or tunnel mouths.
She flew higher.
* * *
Naasir watched to make sure Andromeda was steady on the wing before he pulled off the shreds of his useless boots and began to prowl around in search of an exit. The air currents in this room were stirring wrong against him, his skin rippling with stripes between one breath and the next. What wasn’t visible unless someone stroked him at the exact right moment, was the fine, fine, fine layer of fur that occasionally appeared on his skin.
Maybe he wouldn’t tell Andromeda about that part of him—he’d just let her discover it one day while they were playing naked. She wouldn’t mind; he knew that about her now. She liked him despite the fact he wasn’t in any way “normal.” No, that wasn’t right. Andromeda didn’t like him despite his unusual nature. She just liked him.
Even when she scowled at him, she liked him.
Standing in different parts of the pit as that knowledge settled into his cells, he tuned into the air currents. When he felt Andromeda start to descend, he looked up. “Can you stay up a little longer?” Her landing would disturb the air that had settled after her takeoff.
She nodded and began to circle gently instead of staying in place. Realizing she was hurting too much to maintain a hover, her burnt feet and scorched wings making him want to snarl, he clenched his jaw and went toward a particular part of the wall. The air was fresher here, moved faster. “Andi.”
Landing softly behind him when he gestured, she pulled off what remained of her own boots, and hobbled over to peer at the wall. “What do you see?” A sudden blink, her body motionless. “Why can I see?”
Naasir, able to see no matter the light, hadn’t noticed the fact it was no longer pitch-black, the luminescence from the walls at a much higher intensity. “Alexander.”
“I guess this means he liked us after all.”
“Not enough to lead us out of here.”
“Alexander was never known to be an easy archangel.”
Grunting in acknowledgment, Naasir began to run his fingers along the lines where he’d felt the fresher air. “There’s a door here.”
Going to her knees below the outwardly unbroken stone, Andromeda began to feel around the wall at ground level. “Sometimes the pressure point is hidden lower, where people are less apt to—” Her fingers slid over a faint, shallow indent. “Naasir.”
