Page 9 (2/2)

It was instinct to lie, to protect herself, but they’d gone beyond that, she and her archangel “I guess I somehow expectedwhen she sent s” And her best friend had never lied to her

“It was as you left it when Sara visited,” Raphael said, drawing back enough that she could flare out her wings and angle her body into the air currents once again Co to show you

The words were in herwith the wind and the rain She didn’t order hiet out—because she kneasn’t in it This, the way she could sense him so deeply, speak to him with such ease, was part of whatever it was that tied the emotion that ripped away old scars and created new vulnerabilities in a whip of fire across the soul

But as she watched hilittering city, her archangel with his wings of white-gold and eyes of endless, relentless blue, she wasn’t sorry She didn’t want to turn back the clock, didn’t want to return to a life in which she’d never been held in the arel, never felt her heart tear open and reforer, capable of such furies of e el?

Patience, Guild Hunter

She srief at the loss of her apartment buried under a wave of amusement No matter how els and not to the Hunters’ Guild, he kept betraying how he saw her—as a hunter, as a warrior Shooting down below hi freshness of the air with hard, strong wingbeats Her back and shouldertoo much fun to worry—she’d pay for it in a few hours, no doubt about it, but for now, she felt free and protected in the dark

“Do you think anyone is watching?” she asked, breathless from the exertion, once they were side by side once more

“Perhaps But the darkness will conceal your identity for the moment”

Toin An angel-MadeEven the oldest of vaels themselves found her a curiosity She had no doubts about how the hu and make them keep their distance?” However, even as she spoke, she kneasn’t the reaction of the general population that worried her

Her fatherNo She wouldn’t think about Jeffrey Not tonight

As she forced away thoughts of the hteen, Raphael swept out over the Hudson, dropping so hard and fast that she yelped before she could catch herself The Archangel of New York was one hell of a flier—he skiers in its rushing cold, before pulling hi off

For her

It hten, her lips curve

Dipping down to join hiht winds whip that sleek ebony hair across his face, as if they could not resist touching him

It will do no good

“What?” Fascinated by the almost cruel beauty of hiotten what she’d asked him

For me to scare them away—you are not a woman to stay in seclusion

“Dain to pull in o, she winced “I think I need to set down soon” Her body had been daainst Lijuan Not much—and the injuries had healed, but the enforced rest period meant she’d lost some of the muscle she’d built up prior to the battle that had turned Beijing into a crater, its voice the silent cry of the dead