Archangel's Light (Guild Hunter #14)(99)

“Ha-ha.” Despite his morose tone, Aodhan took the food Illium held out, placing it on an upturned crate in front of him that had clearly been put there for just that purpose. “No, it’s a notice from the team Lady Caliane sent over to meet us on the coast—they’re gathering building supplies for the new citadel and associated city. Small hitch.”

Sliding away his phone as Illium managed to fit himself on the log, too, their wings overlapping, he shook his head. “You don’t want to know more, trust me. It’s admin.” He picked up the bun, took a bite—and groaned in pleasure.

Illium’s blood warmed.

“Do you think Dmitri does admin?” Aodhan said after he’d swallowed that first bite. “I never thought of that part of being a second before I came here.”

Illium shrugged. “I think Dmitri has a finger in every possible pie when it comes to the Tower—but he’s been second for a long time. Our Dark Overlord’s got minions.” He demolished another quarter of his own bun. “You know that vampire, Greta? She hates people and mostly doesn’t talk to anyone, but she’s Dmitri’s right hand when it comes to admin stuff.”

“Her?” Aodhan stared at him. “You’re sure? She only grunts when I say hello.”

“I’ve seen her smile. Once.” Illium had been so shocked his mouth had legitimately fallen open. “I think she’s just ancient and can’t be bothered, but she enjoys the work, so she stays on.”

“How do you know about her?” Aodhan drank half a bottle of water.

“Because I talk to everyone.” In stark contrast to Greta, Illium liked people. “One time, I brought her a bottle of that fancy blood from Ellie’s café empire.” He would always find it hysterical that Ellie, one of the hunter-born, was the CEO of a thriving blood-café business. “She stared at it like it was a dead frog—looking over those half-glasses she wears.”

“Why does she wear those?” Aodhan muttered after swallowing the last bite of his bun. “Vampirism would’ve fixed any vision problems long ago.”

“Because she’s Greta.” Illium finished off his bun, drank some water. “Anyway, couple months after the dead-frog stare, my Tower apartment’s air-conditioning gets upgraded. No one else’s. Just mine. Moral of the story is: be nice to the admins.”

Aodhan chuckled, his shoulders brushing Illium’s as they sat side by side. “You’re all wet.” Reaching out, he ruffled Illium’s hair.

It should’ve felt friendly, joking, but their eyes met, and it was . . .

Aodhan dropped his hand, and they both stared into the fire, but they didn’t move apart. And when Illium picked up a protein bar and offered it to Aodhan, the other man took it, and they talked about different things. About the journey to come, about what might be happening with Jinhai, about Suyin.

To occupy his hands and calm the odd sensations in his body, he played unthinkingly with the small metal disk that he carried always. When he yawned a few minutes later, his eyes beginning to close, Aodhan said, “Sleep, Blue.”

He then walked over to grab a bedroll, spread it out by the fire. “Should be warm enough for you—no snow predicted tonight.”

Illium knew he was right, but he fought the grit in his eyes to get to his feet. Shoving the disk that had once been a pendant into his pocket, he said, “Hey, Adi?”

Bedroll set up, Aodhan rose with the blanket in his arms. “No, I’m not going to tell you a bedtime story.”

Illium grinned—because this Aodhan? The funny one with a quiet wit? It was a private aspect of his best friend that he shared with a rare few. And it was a part of him that had been silent for a long and painful eon. “I wanted to say I’m sorry, too.”

It wasn’t hard to do that, to admit his mistake, when he knew his words—his understanding—would matter a great deal to Aodhan. “I did react badly that night in the Enclave.” He brushed his fingers over the heavy warmth of the other man’s wing. “I couldn’t see it then, but I do now, and I’m sorry.”

Aodhan looked at him for a long moment. Then, sliding his free hand around to the back of Illium’s neck, he tugged Illium close for a hug that melted Illium from tip to toe, no more chill in him. He slid his arms around Aodhan’s muscled body, allowed Aodhan to envelop him in his wings.

It felt right. All the way down to his very core.

“Apology accepted.” Soft words against his ear, a warm breath, as Aodhan ran one hand down his back.

Illium should’ve done the same . . . but he turned his face toward Aodhan’s neck, his lips a mere breath away from the stardust of Aodhan’s skin. Aodhan didn’t flinch, and affection, warmth, love, it morphed quietly into a thing that stirred butterflies in Illium’s abdomen and had Aodhan going motionless.

They broke apart, their breathing not quite even.

Aodhan swallowed. “You need sleep.” It came out rough.

“Yeah.” But he wasn’t about to leave this unfinished. If this past year had taught him anything, it was that he had to listen—and he had to speak. “Sh—” He cleared his throat. “Should I apologize again?” He was the one who’d altered the tenor of their embrace by turning his face into Aodhan’s neck in a way that wasn’t a thing of best friends.