Archangel's Sun (Guild Hunter #13)(98)

Muscles quivering—he, Titus, quivering—he held motionless as a hunting lion as she adjusted to his length and girth. Her core spasmed around him. It tore a primal and aggressive sound out of him, but Sharine didn’t scare. She slid her hands up his chest as she leaned in to kiss the center of his Cascade tattoo.

He swore the gold of it pulsed.

“You’re perfection in how you’re built,” she said to him. “But more, you have a courage and a heart that beguile me.”

He wanted to preen at the caress of words, but he had his teeth clenched in an effort to find a small measure of control. Cupping her ass, he squeezed, then slid his hands up to cup her breasts, play with her nipples. The champagne of her eyes grew cloudy, her body starting to move on his.

Bending his mouth to her throat, he covered one taut breast with his palm at the same time. His breath was hot against her skin as he said, “I want to devour you in a million ways.” Lick and suck and taste and keep. “I want to make it impossible for you to ever forget Titus, Archangel of Africa.” Raw words spoken so roughly she couldn’t have understood them.

“Titus, Titus, Titus.” Hot little breaths against him, her body moving out of rhythm.

Sweat rolled down his temples, his control ragged and prone to fracturing. Wrapping her up in his arms and in his wings, he took her mouth in a rampantly possessive kiss as she pressed her palms to his chest and pulsed so hard around him that it was the final straw.

One hand on her sweet lower curves, he thrust into her in a rhythm that she reciprocated with a fury, no delicacy or ethereal distance to her. Perspiration dotted her skin, and sexual fire burned in her eyes. She was earthy and real and beautiful beyond compare. When she sighed his name again as her pleasure overcame her in waves that rocked her entire body, he broke into a thousand pieces that only she could put back together.

Titus, Archangel of Africa, had given his heart to Sharine, once the Hummingbird.





46


Sharine looked at the letter in her hand. Once again, it was Trace who’d handed it to her and, once again, the envelope was of expensive and heavy paper. But this bore the seal not of the Cadre, but of Aegaeon.

She stared out at the horizon, toward the south, as she did every evening at sunset. It’d been two weeks since she’d last spoken to Titus; he and his troops had hit a massive cluster of reborn who were no longer obeying the day and night divide—they’d been fighting nonstop for the past fourteen days.

It had been even longer since she’d parted from him in the sky above the thriving heart of Narja. Months of distance. She knew she’d made the right decision in coming to Lumia, as even among angelkind, symbols mattered. It was why Titus wore his armor and why New York’s Archangel Tower was the first structure to be repaired in the city. Right now, Sharine wasn’t just the guardian of their artistic histories and glories, she was the embodiment of angelic survival.

“No matter how awful the world,” Archangel Neha had said to her only a week earlier, “all of us can look toward Lumia and know that we as a people are capable of creating things lovely and extraordinary. I do believe it’ll break us all should Lumia fall.”

Be that as it may, Sharine strained against the urge to race to Titus’s side, her bighearted archangel who’d loved her with such raw passion their one night together. He’d left an imprint not just on her body but on her heart. She knew worrying about him was foolishness, that an archangel couldn’t be so easily harmed.

Yet she watched the skies.

Because those skies would shatter should Titus fall. She knew that as she knew the sun rose in the east and set in the west.

As for the far less honorable archangel who’d sent her a letter . . .

Breaking the seal, she removed the folded piece of paper within.

    My dearest lady, I know you are angry with me, and you have every reason to nurture such anger, but I hope you’ll do me the honor of accepting a visit fourteen days hence.

I aim to arrive by the evening hour, so that we may enjoy a meal together and reminisce. It has been too long, and I find myself lost often in thoughts of our life together—and of our son, so headstrong and brave.

Till then.



Sharine snorted.

“Is this a bad time, Lady Sharine?”

She glanced up at Trace’s smooth tone, the vampire having returned through the door via which he’d only recently left. “Did you know that egotistical arrogance has a scent?” She lifted up the page she held. “This letter reeks of it should you wish a sniff.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” said the scamp, his eyes dancing. “I came to convey an invitation—the Lumia squadron would be honored if you’d dine with them this eve.”

“Of course.” Sharine enjoyed speaking with her warriors, and tonight was a special one, for tomorrow, three of her warriors would rotate out and head home, to be replaced by three others.

It was the second of an archangel who’d quietly made the request that three of his senior warriors could do with a respite, and she’d as quietly made a personal request of all three. The warriors had agreed because she was the Hummingbird, and now they’d have time to heal their hearts while they watched over Lumia.

She’d never again be the angel of old, but she’d decided not to leave the Hummingbird totally in the past. She’d done a lot of good and all of angelkind trusted her.