Angelfall (Penryn & the End of Days #1)(62)

Once I see him, I forget all about the food.

He stands in the bathroom doorway, steam drifting languidly around him, wearing nothing but a towel draped loosely around his hips. Beads of water cling to him like diamonds in a dream. The combined effect of the soft light behind him from the bathroom and the steam curling around his muscles gives the impression of a mythological water god visiting our world.

“You can have it all, you know,” he says.

I blink a few times, trying to grasp what he’s saying.

“I figured we might as well double up on our meals while we can.” There’s a knock at the door. “There’s my order now.” He heads out to the living room.

He’s talking about both servings in front of me being mine. Right. Of course, he’d want his dinner hot. No reason to leave it cooling while he showered, so he must have ordered mine, then his, just before I got out of the shower. Of course.

I return my attention back to the food, trying to remember how badly I lusted after it only a moment ago. The food. Right, the food. I shovel in a giant mouthful of the rib meat. The creamy sauce is a sensual reminder of rare luxuries once taken for granted.

I walk out into the living room and talk with my mouth full. “You’re a genius for ordering this much—.”

The albino, Josiah, walks into the living room with the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I finally get to see a female angel up close. Her features are so fine and delicate that it’s impossible not to stare. She looks like she was the mold for Venus, Goddess of Love. Her waist-length hair shimmers in the light as she moves, matching the golden plumage of her wings.

Her cornflower blue eyes would be the perfect reflection of innocence and all that is wholesome, except that there’s something sliding behind them. Something that hints that she should be the poster child for the master race.

Those eyes assess me from the top of my wet and stringy hair to the tips of my bare toes.

I become acutely aware that I was overenthusiastic when I shoveled the rib meat into my mouth. My cheeks bulge and I can barely keep my lips closed as I chew as fast as I can. Rib meat is not something I can swallow in one lump. I hadn’t bothered to brush my hair, or even dry it before diving into the feast after my shower, so it hangs limp and dripping onto my red dress. Her Aryan eyes see it all and judge me.

Raffe gives me a look and rubs his finger to his cheek. I rub my hand across my cheek. It comes away with meat sauce. Great.

The woman turns her eyes to Raffe. I have been dismissed. She gives him a long appraising look as well, drinking in his near-nakedness, his muscular shoulders, his wet hair. Her eyes slide over to me in a quick accusation.

She steps close to Raffe and runs her fingers down his glistening chest.

“So, it really is you.” Her voice is as smooth as an ice cream shake. A shake with ground glass hidden in it. “Where have you been all this time, Raffe? And what have you done to deserve getting your wings cut off?”

“Can you sew them back on, Laylah?” asks Raffe stiffly.

“Straight to business,” says Laylah, strolling over to the picture window. “I make room for you in my busy schedule at the last minute, and you can’t even ask me how I am?”

“I don’t have time for games. Can you do it or not?”

“In theory, it can be done. Assuming all the stars align, of course. And there are a lot of stars that need to align for it to work. But the real question is, why should I?” She throws back the curtains, shocking my eyes again with the panoramic view of the destroyed city. “After all this time, is there any chance you haven’t been lured to the other side? Why should I help the fallen?”

Raffe walks to the counter where his sword lies. He slides the blade out from the scabbard, managing to make the gesture non-threatening, which is quite a feat considering the sharpness of the double edge. He flips it in the air and catches it by the handle. He slaps the blade back into its sheath while watching Laylah expectantly.

Josiah nods. “Okay. His sword hasn’t rejected him.”

“Doesn’t mean she won’t,” says Laylah. “Sometimes they cling to loyalty longer than they should. Doesn’t mean—.”

“It means everything it’s supposed to mean,” says Raffe.

“We’re not made to be alone,” says Laylah. “No more than wolves are made to be solo. No angel can endure such solitude for long, even you.”

“My sword hasn’t rejected me. End of discussion.”

Josiah clears his throat. “About those wings?”

Laylah glares at Raffe. “I don’t have kind memories of you, Raffe, in case you’d forgotten. After all this time, you show up in my life again with no warning. Making demands. Insulting me by flaunting your human toy in my presence. Why should I do this for you instead of sounding the alarm and letting everybody know you had the nerve to come back?”

“Laylah,” says Josiah nervously. “They’d know it was me who helped him.”

“I’d keep you out of it, Josiah,” says Laylah. “Well, Raffe? No arguments? No pleas? No flattery?”

“What do you want?” asks Raffe. “Name your price.”

I’m so used to him taking charge of a situation, so used to his pride and control that it’s hard for me to see him like this. Tense, and under the power of someone who’s behaving like a scorned lover. Who says celestial beings can’t be petty?