Archangel's Enigma (Guild Hunter, #8)

by Nalini Singh

That day, in Dmitri’s dark eyes, he’d seen pain at the idea of a world without Naasir, as well as raw anger at the fact Naasir had once again endangered himself, and it had forever changed the boy he’d been. In many ways, that moment marked his true birth. The birth of Naasir, the person.

Naasir looked up at Raphael. Blinked. Then snarled. “I can’t be dragging around a historian. They break.”

A woman who knows me, understands what I am, and who wants to have secret rules with me.

“What does Dahariel ask in return?” Andromeda’s heart squeezed, the ache deep and old. “Nothing,” she whispered, remembering what Dahariel had said to the girl she’d been. Maybe you are my one good deed. But there is only so much good in me and I’ve spent it all on this—expect nothing more.

Andromeda wanted to escape for many reasons, but chief among them was the driving compulsion to dance with him again, to fly too close to the flame that, for the first time in her existence, made her question the rigid control and sensual discipline that defined her. A vow of celibacy was easy to hold when there was no temptation.

Naasir wasn’t dark inside . . . but he was alone. The only one of his kind in the entire world. He had friends, had family, but he had no one who was like him. Mating wouldn’t change that, but it would give him a person who belonged to him just as much as he belonged to her. And maybe one day, they’d have a cub and there would be another like him in the world.

For how can a Historian keep a true record if she doesn’t hear and understand all of the voices, even the quietest?

Childishly happy to discover that his mind was so open, she said, “Skinwalkers?” “No. But, I knew a medicine man once who walked with a spirit guide. He understood the land and all its creatures better than anyone I’ve ever since met.” His tone held unvarnished respect. “Mortals die too quickly. The medicine man was wiser than many an immortal, but he was gone almost before I knew him.” “You miss him,” Andromeda said softly. “He was my friend.” Her throat grew thick. “Will you tell me about him?” “Yes, later.”

Four hours later, she flared out her wings in readiness for flight. “I’ll wait for you.” Nothing would be right until he was with her again. “Stay safe.”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t execute you this instant for the crime done in my city?” Blood a roar in her ears, Andromeda dared meet Caliane’s eyes. “If blood alone is what defines us, no child born is born in freedom.”

“He is my son,” Caliane said quietly. “And he is Nadiel’s son. Together, we created a child who will one day fly higher than both of us.”

Aodhan glanced over, the faint smile on his face deeply welcome after two painful centuries when Illium hadn’t been able to reach his friend, no matter how hard he tried. Aodhan’s psychic scars might never fade, but he was rising past them in a show of grit and strength no one who didn’t know what had been done to him could fully understand. The twenty-three months Aodhan had been missing had been the most horrific period of Illium’s life . . . worse than when he’d lost his mortal lover. He’d survived losing her. He didn’t know if he could survive losing Aodhan.

Never before had he seen that truth so clearly and it shook him. “What’s wrong?” Aodhan called out from his position on Illium’s left, their wingtips almost touching. Illium went to shake his head, staggered by his realization and not ready to discuss it, when it felt as if his heart literally exploded from the inside out.

Elena’s breath trembled, and though she’d only known Illium a mere heartbeat in contrast to the centuries of memories in Aodhan’s head, Aodhan knew she, too, was close to panic. Time made little difference; it was the heart that mattered, the ability to love. And Elena loved with a passion that had melted the ice-cold shields of an archangel. Her unhidden fear for Illium made it easier for Aodhan to reach out and lock his hand with hers, to make voluntary contact with anyone other than his closest friend. The sensation would’ve been a shock at any other time; at this instant his mind and his soul had room for no other emotions but those already threatening to drown him.

“I’d break my vow for you,” she whispered, heartbroken at the idea that she might never know him as intimately as a woman could know a man. Fangs flashing, Naasir bent to her throat to breathe deep. But even as her eyes began to close, her blood honey, he pulled back and shook his head, the shaggy silver of his hair glinting in the faint light of dawn. “You must keep promises,” he said. “Even those to yourself.”

“Did you choose your name?” There was no doubt in her mind that even if Osiris had called him by a name, it wasn’t one Naasir would’ve kept. “No,” he told her. “Dmitri gave it to me, in honor of a friend who perished in a battle where he saved Dmitri’s life.” Unhidden emotion in his tone. “I’m proud to bear it, to know Dmitri always believed I would do justice to such an honorable name—and that I would be strong enough to make it my own.”

“Why would you say I shouldn’t wait for you?” It was a snarl. “If you’re mine, you’re mine. And I’m yours. Today, tomorrow, always.” Andromeda began to cry. Hard, gulping sobs that held all her pain, all her love, all her dreams. Rolling over onto his back, Naasir crushed her close and made purring sounds in his chest as he stroked her hair and her back. “I’m sorry I growled at you,” he said, nuzzling at her. “I wouldn’t hurt you.” “I know,” she got out through her tears. Sniffing away the last of the tears several minutes later, she just lay against him. “I wasn’t crying because of that. I was crying because you’re wonderful and I can’t bear to think of leaving you.”

Andromeda said a quick good-bye to Lailah and Cato, was startled when her mother hugged her close and whispered, “Fly free, my daughter. Be what I could never be and leave the cage forever.” Andromeda stared, the haunting words echoing inside her skull, but in front of her, Lailah was once more the cruel, beautiful mother she’d always known, and Alexander was in the air.

When Aodhan crouched in front of him and pushed back Illium’s dripping hair, the blue-winged angel shuddered and leaned into the caress.

Signing off, Raphael turned to find that Illium had struggled to his feet again. His face was stripped of all shields, suddenly unbearably young. “I’m not ready,” he said again, his voice shaken. “I’m not ready to leave your Seven.” Grabbing him by the side of his neck as he had earlier, Raphael hauled him into his arms. “I’m not ready for you to go.”

Beside Elena stood a white-faced Aodhan. He’ll need you now more than ever, Aodhan, Raphael said. Keep him in the present, not in a future that may or may not happen.