Archangel's Enigma (Guild Hunter)(80)



She couldn’t blame them; there was simply something about the way Naasir moved that said he’d offer a lover great pleasure. The fact she’d chosen a life of celibacy hadn’t made her blind to sexual attraction, or put her body into stasis, and Naasir . . . Just watching him walk or feeling his breath against her ear when he nuzzled at her aroused her to near-unbearable levels. As for seeing his nakedness when he’d come out of the pond in Lijuan’s territory . . .

Her stomach fluttered, her skin hot.

Another woman gave him a flirtatious smile right in front of Andromeda. Her hand clenched on the hilt of her sword.

None of these doe-eyed beauties, she reminded herself, would last an hour with him in his real skin. He was too wild, too strong, too demanding, and too aggravating.

He was perfect.

While Andromeda was a fool, judging these other women when she, herself, was the most unsuitable of them all.

“We will break bread,” Tarek said as he took a seat on one side of the table after handing off the girl in his arms to a mortal woman of about forty.

Andromeda and Naasir slid in on the opposite bench.

His troops, meanwhile, scattered around the village, but they didn’t go far, clearly ready to go on the offensive the instant either Naasir or Andromeda made a threatening move.

A tiny, steaming cup of hot, strong coffee was placed in front of Andromeda, a fresh bowl of flatbread put in the center of the table. At the same time, a villager brought over two small glasses of blood for Tarek and Naasir, the condensation on the glasses showing the blood had been stored somewhere cold. Leaning in toward Naasir after placing his glass in front of him, the curvy and quite frankly beautiful woman whispered something in his ear, her face falling when he shook his head.

Andromeda knew it must’ve been an offer to feed him, found herself both pleased that he’d turned down the offer and angry because she’d soon be out of his life while countless other women wouldn’t.

In front of her, Tarek lifted his glass after giving the lingering server a sharp look that had her hustling away. “To honor.”

“To honor,” Andromeda and Naasir said together and drank.

Placing her cup back on the table, Andromeda took a piece of the bread and tore off a small bite for Naasir. His consuming the ceremonial piece seemed to please the sentinel leader. Finishing off the blood in his glass then eating a small piece of bread himself, Tarek folded up the sleeves of his sand-colored shirt, the fabric shadowed with slightly darker blotches that allowed him and his men to blend into the landscape.

The tattoo on his left forearm, the lines inked in an impossible silver, caught Andromeda’s eye.

A raven.

That wasn’t a surprise. Alexander’s symbol had been a raven. Legend said that on his ascension, a raven had flown high with him, only to die in the blaze of his power. To Alexander’s people, the raven symbolized courage against all odds. But this particular stylized rendering of a raven . . .

Andromeda narrowed her eyes, sure she’d seen it before.

“You say you are friends,” Tarek said into the quiet, “but you bring Lijuan’s people with you.”

Having caught Naasir’s eye, Andromeda was the one who spoke. “Our task is to find and warn Alexander before the enemy locates him.”

The sentinel’s face grew austere. “In seeking Alexander you break a taboo so old, its origins are lost from memory.”

Andromeda knew her next words could lose this man’s trust and possibly endanger her and Naasir’s lives. “Yes,” she said. “We break a law, but if we don’t, then Alexander will be helpless against Lijuan. You can’t protect him against her.” Even weak as she was, Lijuan could easily annihilate this village—if Xi didn’t take care of that first.

“You will die if beheaded, and once you are gone, no one will stand between Lijuan and the Ancient.” She held the man’s gaze. “We cannot lose him from the world. He is the greatest angelic statesman who ever lived. He stopped wars and created cities that stand to this day. His battle strategies are taught to young soldiers and his political strategies studied by archangels themselves.”

Tarek looked at her very carefully, the intensity of his gaze making the hairs rise on the back of her neck. “How do you know so much of Alexander?”

“I am a scholar.”

The male’s eyes went to Naasir. “I’ve been long from the Refuge, but I know you have never claimed to be a scholar.”

Naasir’s fangs flashed in the sunlight as he grinned. “I can read.” Laughter in his voice. “I am a bloodhound and, like you, a guard dog.”

“You’re so much more,” Andromeda said, unable to keep the words within. “You’re extraordinary.”

“Yes,” Tarek agreed, his tone difficult to decipher. “There is no one else like you—the silver-eyed vampire who has hair and eyes the same unique shade as Alexander’s wings.”

Andromeda frowned at the explicit connection, her thoughts once more on that metallic feather in the Archives.

“Alexander didn’t Make me,” Naasir said, answering the unasked question. “It was his brother, Osiris.”

Andromeda sucked in a breath as Tarek’s expression turned deadly. “Osiris was purged from the family line, all traces of him erased.”

“Except me,” Naasir said unworriedly, accepting a second small glass of blood brought out by an older woman whose smile held simple courtesy.

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