Archangel's Enigma (Guild Hunter)(11)

In truth, enticing though she was, he couldn’t see how she could be his—she looked very breakable and soft, but he wasn’t about to give up without determining the truth. Perhaps he was meant to have a breakable mate, though that seemed ridiculous to him.

Or perhaps she was hiding her real self.

The idea his maybe-mate might have a secret side fascinated him.


*



Andromeda had intended to say no to the dinner invitation from Jessamy. It wasn’t because she didn’t enjoy eating with her mentor and the weapons-master—they were two of her most favorite people in the whole world and had accepted her for who she was, seeing the woman she’d become and not the bloodline that marked her.

As for Venom, the vampire having become a familiar sight at Jessamy’s dinner table since his transfer to the Refuge, he had a biting sense of humor and a cool intelligence Andromeda appreciated.

It wasn’t even because Naasir unsettled her.

It was because she knew Jessamy had been looking forward to Naasir’s arrival, as had Galen and Venom. The four were old friends, with the three males allied to the same archangel, and she didn’t want to intrude.

However, when she opened her mouth to say no, Naasir sniffed at her again, the masculine heat of his body pressing against her, and her words deserted her. “You can’t do that,” she said when she could speak again—by which time Jessamy had taken her silence for assent and the three of them were halfway to Jessamy and Galen’s home.

Wild silver eyes looked at her in utter innocence. “What?”

“Sniff people.”

Naasir shrugged . . . and sniffed her, heavy silver strands of his hair brushing her skin. “Sorry.”

Narrowing her eyes, she pursed her lips. “You’re not sorry in the least.”

Jessamy’s gentle laughter filled the air. “Don’t let him tease you, Andromeda. He’s an expert at it.”

Andromeda decided to ignore the prowling vampire who wasn’t a vampire by her side. Except it was all but impossible to ignore Naasir, especially when he was determined not to be ignored. He picked up her braid and tugged on it. When she pulled it away, he pinched the light fabric of her gown between his fingertips and rubbed.

Stepping away didn’t stop him. He just stepped with her.

By the time Jessamy went on ahead, waving at Galen and Venom—who were waiting out in the courtyard—Andromeda wanted to snarl. Tugging away her braid one more time, she spun around to face the silver-eyed menace. “Can you not act civilized for a minute?”

He went eerily motionless, his expression altering in a way she couldn’t describe except to say that the man who’d been teasing and annoying her was suddenly not the same man any longer. “Of course,” he said, his deep voice resonant and cultured. “I apologize if I caused you any distress or offense.”

Andromeda felt her stomach knot, a sudden sick feeling inside her, but they’d reached the courtyard now lit by the gentle glow of lanterns strung up in the trees.

“I thought we’d eat out here,” Jessamy said and got a round of assent.

Hauling Jessamy close with one big hand on her nape, Galen planted a kiss on her mouth that left her breathless and flushed and smiling. A satisfied glint in his eye, the weapons-master said, “We’ll bring out the table.”

Andromeda had been startled when she’d first learned that her wise, educated, and quietly elegant mentor was madly in love with the barbarian of a man who was weapons-master to the Archangel Raphael. Two more disparate people she couldn’t imagine. Then she’d seen the tenderness in Galen’s expression when he looked at Jessamy, witnessed how Jessamy’s eyes lit up at the sound of his powerful wings.

Her heart hurt at the beauty of their bond.

“Venom, Naasir,” Galen said and the three men walked to get the table from a small building that Andromeda knew Galen used as a workshop when he didn’t want to work in the weapons arena.

That table was scarred from countless weapons being placed on it, but buffed clean. Having gone inside to get a tablecloth, Andromeda draped it over the wooden surface, hyperaware of Naasir standing on the other side before he disappeared to bring out one of the two bench seats. Minutes later, the food was out, everything ready.

Since she knew Galen and Jessamy liked to sit next to each other, she went to the bench on the opposite side. Three sets of wings competing for the same space could get awkward. Venom slid in on one side of her, Naasir on the other. Both males were careful not to touch her wings.

“First, a toast,” Galen said, splashing champagne into their glasses. “To having Naasir home with us.”

Jessamy’s face was radiant in the lamplight. “You’ve been deeply missed,” she said, raising her glass. “Next time, don’t be away so long.”

Naasir bent his head slightly in acquiescence, his expression difficult to read from what Andromeda could see of his profile, but whatever it was Jessamy saw, it made her smile deepen as they clinked glasses and drank the toast. The bubbles fizzed on Andromeda’s tongue, the taste of the champagne sunshine in a bottle.

Her homeland produced no such golden liquid, but it had a wild and heartbreaking beauty she’d missed desperately since her faux defection. At least when she returned to do her five hundred years of service, she’d be able to breathe the warm African air again, look up at the hazy blue of a sky unlike any other on this earth.