Archangel's Sun (Guild Hunter #13)(102)

I know. His posturing will lead to bloodshed. She spread out her wings in a dazzling display that he knew was a caress. Land elsewhere while I do this—but you can listen in.

About to argue before she added that last, he snapped his mouth shut just as she reversed their mental link so he could hear what was going on in her conversation. Extraordinary. It’d taken him a chunk of his reign as an archangel before he’d worked out that technique.

Sharine was never going to stop surprising him.

She had within her knives far more lethal than Aegaeon realized.

Smiling with a sudden grim anticipation, he shifted course to land on a nearby mountaintop scattered with rocks and the odd hardy grass. He was not in the mood for people. He was also fast enough to intercede should Aegaeon forget himself and dare lay a hand on Titus’s Sharine.



* * *



*

The silken blue-green of Aegaeon’s hair was showcased to perfection against the falling edge of the day, his eyes equally brilliant against the gold of his skin. He’d put on silver upper-body armor that hid the silver swirl on his chest, but that armor was more decoration than protection.

Silver bands clasped his biceps, and on one wrist—

Sharine fought back a scowl. Had she thought of it, she’d have expected the sight of the thick heavy bracelet to be a kick to the stomach, but all she felt was a wave of irritation. Metalwork wasn’t her forte, but she’d spent an entire month working on the piece because she’d been so enamored of her—then—new love.

If she could go back in time . . . No, she wouldn’t slap herself. She’d be kind to the woman who’d never had a chance to heal from the first mental fracture before the second widened it to a dangerous fragility.

She’d been a hurt creature who’d thought the best of people. That didn’t make her weak. Because from that same inner empathy came her art. It existed in her to this day—what didn’t were the thinly papered-over cracks that had made her susceptible to Aegaeon’s surface charm.

“Sharine.” Aegaeon smiled, folding back wings of an intense dark green streaked with a wild blue that reminded her of Illium.

Their son, mischievous and loving, whom Aegaeon had abandoned.

“I assume you’re the reason Titus altered course?” His smile now cut grooves into his cheeks. “It’s good you made it clear to him that this is a private dinner—it’ll be a delight to speak and eat in quiet intimacy.”

When he went to reach for her, she said, “I can throw bolts of power now,” in a pleasant tone of voice. “Shall I separate your hand from your wrist?”

A snort of booming male laughter along the mental link from Titus.

Shh. I must concentrate, she chided even as the warmth of his laughter filled her blood. Quiet intimacy indeed! Aegaeon truly thought he could slip in sly insults about Titus and she’d permit it? Fool.

Aegaeon’s eyes narrowed before he dropped his hand and lowered his head in a slight bow. “I’m too eager, my love—I know I must earn your regard again. I can take nothing for granted.”

Sharine had no trouble seeing the truth he hid behind the pretty words. For whatever reason, Aegaeon had decided he wanted back the toys he’d thrown away as worthless. He wanted his son, who’d grown into a man any father would be proud to have by his side, and he wanted Sharine. Why?

For the simple reason that she was now desired by another?

Then he said, “You are astonishing.” Eyes as deep and evocative as the ocean held her own, the color so vibrant she could nearly hear the waves rolling to shore. “When I saw you on the screen, I fell all over again.”

I’m about to throw up.

Ignoring Titus’s sarcastic commentary, though it did make part of her want to laugh, she said, “I’m much the same as when you left.”

“No. You’re . . . awake and vibrant and dazzling in a way I can’t describe.” Opening out his arms, he stretched. “It’s been a long journey for me. Will you not offer me mead and bread?”

“No.”

Dark clouds thundered across his handsome features, all square-jawed and powerful, but then he gave a rueful tilt of the head. “You’re so angry with me, my pet.”

“No, I’m not.” Anger, she’d come to understand, tied her to him, and she’d much rather be free, the memory of him a venomous insect crushed under her heel. “But I do have a question.”

Forehead furrowed, Aegaeon said, “You wish to know why I went into Sleep as I did.” Shoving a hand through the thick fall of his hair, he swallowed hard. “Truly, my love, I raged at myself all my years of Sleep. You were the only one of whom I dreamed.”

His expression was torn and ragged, his shoulders taut. “I loved you too much,” he ground out. “Until it frightened me to the bone. So I chose the cruelest possible way to push you away.” Rough words, his face shredded with emotion. “It makes me a coward, but I hope, in time, you’ll find a way to forgive me and see the insanity of love that drove my actions.”

Sharine stared at Aegaeon. “That’s it? That’s the best excuse you could come up with for being such a colossal ass?”

Aegaeon’s jaw fell open. “My pet, what has gotten into you?”

“Tell me the truth.” A flat demand. “Why did you do it? Why did you seek to re-create the two most horrific moments of my existence? Why?”