Archangel's Sun (Guild Hunter #13)(65)

Not appearing convinced in the least, he nonetheless began to dish out his own portion while she tried her spoonful. It bloomed an array of fresh and bright flavors on her tongue. Moaning deep in her throat, she glanced up. “I’m not saying you were right, but maybe I should’ve taken more.”

A dazzling smile shattering the scowl, he handed over the bowl . . . even as her breath caught. He was beautiful, with a warmth to him that drew her like a moth to a flame. And while he might flit from woman to woman, he was honest in his attentions. He didn’t lie and make false promises.

Any mark he left wouldn’t be one scored by cruelty.

“You’re thinking too hard.” Another aromatic spoonful placed on her plate. “Eat. You gave away your food during our journey, and you’ll be in the skies again as soon as darkness falls.”

Her stomach chose that moment to growl.

When Titus laughed, the sound a booming wave of joy, she found herself joining in, sparks of delight in her bloodstream. It had been so long since she’d laughed with such open happiness, but being with Titus . . . yes, he made her feel good. He might infuriate and aggravate her, but he never made her feel lesser or unimportant.

They ate in friendly harmony for the next fifteen minutes, passing each other dishes, and having a little of that, a lot of that, until their stomachs were sated to the point that conversation was possible. “You slept?” she asked, as he refilled his plate.

She could tell he hadn’t eaten properly for too long—she could see it in the sharpness of his cheekbones, the subtle leanness of his torso. It could happen that way with the incredibly powerful—a sudden physical shift when they burned too hot.

And Titus would be running at this pace for some time to come.

Picking up a dish he’d particularly enjoyed, she held it out. She’d never again wait on any man, but she was a woman who took care of her people, and she wouldn’t permit Aegaeon to steal that part of her nature—especially given that Titus would feed her to the brim if she permitted it.

Creases forming in his cheeks and light in his eyes, Titus accepted the dish. “Asante, Shari.”

She had no trouble recognizing the language. “You’re welcome.”

“I did sleep and you were right, I feel much better for it.” A scowl. “Don’t say ‘I told you so.’ I get quite enough of that from my sisters.”

“Why have I not heard more about your sisters?” It was true she didn’t pay much attention to casual gossip, but surely she should’ve heard of the family of an archangel.

“Probably because they’re so much older.” He took a long drink of ale. “I suppose those who don’t know us believe that, with such a difference in age, we mustn’t be close.” A grin. “As if the first general would permit anything but full cohesion in her personal family squadron.”

Her lips curved. “You’re very proud of your mother.”

“Yes.” He put a choice bit of meat on her plate. “I’m also happy she’s currently Sleeping. A man needs a break from mothering every few millennia. Of course, with my sisters taking up the cause, I’m not so sure I’m better off.”

Fascinated, she waited for him to go on.

“One thing is certain—under no circumstance will I let my mother join my army when she wakes, though she is a brilliant general who is feted by others,” he added, brow dark. “She’d probably tell me all my strategies were wrong, and also ask me why I wasn’t wearing a shirt.”

Sharine wanted to laugh, but wasn’t about to break the moment.

“Alexander is ready to take her back with open arms any time she wakes—and once there, she’ll no doubt slay half his court with her magnetic presence.” A huge grin, the sun slamming into her with brilliant force. “I inherited my charm from her. We both must beat off suitors with a stick.”

Sharine narrowed her eyes. “Once again, I’m blinded by your modesty.”

Her dry comment just made his grin deepen . . . and her stomach drop. Because oh, he was unrepentant and bright and he loved. That was one of the most attractive things about Titus. He might mutter about his sisters and mother, but that he loved them was a candle flame in his heart she could almost see.

“My father was so spent by his time with my mother that he has been Sleeping since I was seven hundred years old.” A chuckle. “Before he went to Sleep, he told me she’d worn him out and it was glorious. Now he must recover.”

Her lips twitched, he was being so consciously wicked.

Eyes sparkling at her, he leaned forward. “She stayed with him some seventy-five years. She fell with child five decades into it.”

Shadows in her heart, memories of another little boy with parents who hadn’t been bound throughout his childhood. “Did you grow up with your mother?”

“My mother, my father, my sisters, their loves, the entire damn lot of them.” He groaned. “My father bought a home right next to my mother, and so we were a family even after they were no longer lovers.” More love in his voice, open and proud. “He’s a warrior, too, and between them, they taught me how to wield a sword before I could fly.”

The shadows burned away under the searing warmth of his voice. “Surely, with such a mother, more of your siblings must be warriors.”