Archangel's Light

by Singh, Nalini

  Send me a few images of the citadel in progress when you have time—it’s strange not to help build it after being so involved in the planning process.

  It’s good to be home in New York.

  He almost ended it there, but then made himself add the rest. Both because it was true—and because Illium deserved to know: It’s not the same without you.

  Illium, open of heart and far too quick to forgive, replied with: Miss you too. Might even watch a horror movie in your honor. But I draw the line at blood and gore.

  Aodhan stared down at his phone. “What will I do with you, Blue? You let the people you love take total advantage of you.” His fingers closing over the phone, he looked to the horizon, searching for wings of blue that were on the other side of the world.

  You and that heart of yours really need a damn keeper.

  Do I hear you volunteering?

  No, I’m not volunteering. The position is already mine.

  Aodhan intended to hold on to that position with teeth and claws. He’d never thought of himself as a possessive angel, but when it came to Illium . . .

  Eyes narrowed as he stared out at the New York skyline from the Enclave land that had once held Elena and Raphael’s home, he checked the time, then called Illium. He picked up after a couple of rings. “Sparkle,” he said, the shouts of the rest of the crew background music, and his smile in his voice. “Can’t talk long. Crew needs me to bring through another beam.”

  “I just need you to answer one question.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is Kai still flirting with you?” He carried on before Illium could answer. “Because if she is, I’m flying back there even if it causes a diplomatic incident—and I’m going to make damn sure she understands that you belong to me.”

  A taut pause, Illium’s voice a little rough as he said, “Do I?”

  “Yes.” No games now, no crossed signals or things unsaid. “And I belong to you.” It was still hard for him to say that, to give control over himself to another person . . . but this wasn’t just another person.

  This was Illium. His Blue.

  “I said good-bye to Kaia.” Illium’s voice was husky now. “Over the ocean. Her charm sleeps in the deep now.”

  Aodhan sucked in a quiet breath, for this, he had never expected. “Are you sure, Illium?” He might not have liked Kaia, but he’d always understood that she was one of the defining features of Illium’s youth. That was why he’d never made any comment about Illium’s attachment to the charm, no demand that he give it up.

  “Beyond any doubt. It got to be habit and comfort more than anything else—just a physical anchor when I needed it.” The way he said that, it made Aodhan realize he’d really thought his decision through. “As of today, I’ve swapped that anchor for another—I’ve touched my fancy new belt buckle so many times that it’s all smudged. Guess I better stock up on polish.”

  Aodhan’s lips twitched. “I’ll make you something smaller to play with.” The other angel had always had a way of fiddling with things—whatever was around, whether that was a throwing knife, a pebble, a paintbrush in Aodhan’s studio, anything with which he could occupy his hands.

  It was only after Kaia that he’d become obsessed with that charm.

  “And no,” Illium said, “Kai is engaged to be married to a mortal who worships the ground on which she steps.” No anguish in his voice, nothing but a kind of affectionate happiness.

  Aodhan truly exhaled for the first time since his return to New York. “I want you home—I’ll look for you until the day you land.” Then he admitted another thing. “I’ve just stocked up on ultramarine blue, silver, and multiple other oil paints. I’m going to paint you diving from your aerie in the gorge, that day in the storm, when you almost got struck by lightning.”

  Delighted laughter down the line. “I’ve never seen you so furious. I swear you had sparks shooting off you.”

  “I’ll probably be furious all over again while I paint. I can’t believe you decided to dance with lightning.” Aodhan had lost half his immortal years that day, he was sure of it. “Come home soon, or I’ll end up with so many paintings of you they’ll call it my Bluebell era.”

  More laughter that faded off into something softer, more intimate. “How long do you think your Bluebell era will last?”

  “All the eons of our existence.”

  Six months later

  Lightning cracked the sky as it had that day when Illium danced with death, rain thundering to the earth, but Aodhan took off from the Tower roof with no hesitation. According to all his calculations, and—given Illium’s last check-in—the other man had to be about four hours out from the city.

  Aodhan wasn’t about to wait any longer.

  Illium’s spoiled and adored Smoke was already at the Tower, having come home in a cargo plane a week prior—in the care of the pilots, both of whom had pets of their own and could be trusted with the precious cargo.

  She’d waited by the window since her arrival, and he knew she watched for Illium.

  Just like Aodhan.

  Rain stabbed at his cheeks, dripped from his hair, slid off his wings in tiny jewels, but he flew on. The wind wasn’t strong enough to be a real problem, but the sky hung heavy overhead—and lightning set the horizon to glittering white fire. Aodhan’s heart pounded; Illium was coming from that direction.

  “He’s about the fastest angel alive,” he reminded himself. “If he could dodge lightning bolts at a hundred and fifty, he can do it ten times faster now.”

  Aodhan flew on, uncaring of the rain that saturated his hair and sleeted off his sleeveless combat leathers. He’d dressed that way for a sparring session with Dmitri, hadn’t bothered to change in the aftermath, his entire attention on Illium’s journey home.

  Then there he was.

  The merest smudge of blue on the horizon as the sky boiled black, draping the entire world in shadow.

  Aodhan pushed himself to go even faster.

  Illium was laughing when they met in midair, his face thinner than when Aodhan had left China and his muscles impossibly more defined. “Adi!” He slammed his arms around Aodhan as Aodhan wrapped him up in his own arms, only their wings keeping them aloft.

  “Fuck, it’s good to be home!” Illium yelled over the sound of the storm. Rain dripped off his ridiculously beautiful lashes, ran in rivulets down his cheeks, gathered in the small hollow at the base of his throat before running in runnels down the rest of his body.

  Aodhan grinned, every part of him more awake, more alive, than it had been the entire time they’d been apart. “You’re at least two hours out from New York!”

  “But you’re here!” Clasping Aodhan’s face in his hands, he pressed his lips to Aodhan’s.

  His lips were cold and tasted of the rain, the hands he wove into Aodhan’s hair strong and with that possessiveness that was an integral part of Illium. Aodhan fell. All the way into his Blue.

  When Aodhan wrapped a gentle hand around Illium’s throat, Illium made a deep sound and kissed him harder. Lightning hit the water beside them, sparking light off Aodhan’s body and feathers, and still they kissed, two angels who’d finally come home after too long alone.

  “Well,” Illium murmured against his lips when they parted. “That was . . .” A hint of color on his cheeks. “It wasn’t weird. I mean, I was worried it might be. Especially after the time since our last kiss. But it wasn’t?”

  Hearing the question at the end, Aodhan laughed and this time, he was the one who kissed Illium, his grip firmer and mouth demanding. And it wasn’t weird.

  Because it was Illium.

  It had always been Illium.

  Illium’s neck muscles moved under Aodhan’s touch, his arms steel bands around Aodhan. The power in the hold should’ve made Aodhan flinch, made him afraid, but this was the angel who’d been his frien
d, his partner, and his shield through eternity. Illium would die for him without blinking, and he knew every detail of Aodhan—good and bad—and still loved him.

  Illium, whose flaw was that he loved too hard.

  Pressing his forehead to Illium’s when they broke the kiss this time, Aodhan squeezed his nape. “It’s not weird. It’s us.” It was that simple. This was their story and they’d be the ones to write it, the ones to decide which turns to take.

  Illium’s smile was a wild thing that held a softness not many people were ever privileged enough to see. “What about the other stuff?” he asked, even as he spread his hand over Aodhan’s heart. “You said I hold on too hard to my people.”

  The wind whipped at his badly butchered hair, the “haircut” courtesy of one of Illium’s own hunting knives. “I’ve thought and thought on that these past months—and, Adi, I don’t think I can stop that.” A scowl. “If you say that’s a dealbreaker, I’m going to dye your feathers baby-chicken yellow while you’re asleep.”

  Aodhan squeezed his nape again. “Nothing’s a dealbreaker with you.” He’d fight fate itself to be with Illium. “Do you think I’ve forgotten all the things you managed to order for me from a devastated territory half a world away?” Paints, a quirky little sculpture, a delivery of an out-of-season fruit that Aodhan loved.

  Small gestures. Small reminders of Illium’s existence. Aodhan had treasured each and every one. He got it now, why Illium held on so hard—and so he could be patient. More, it was no longer about enduring it—he cherished every gesture, held every gift close. It had been a video call with Illium that had tilted his understanding of the final points in the right direction.

  “I got the statue,” he’d said. “It’s strange and wild and I have it in my studio in the Tower.”

  Illium’s smile had been incandescent.

  And it was at that moment that Aodhan understood. Now, he put that understanding into words: “Two hundred years,” he said. “That’s how long you’ve been giving to me. Now I’m going to give back”—he put a hand over Illium’s mouth when he would’ve interrupted—“and if that means allowing you to look after me, so be it.”

  It felt lopsided to do that, but this wasn’t about him. It had been about him for far too many years. This was about Illium, and what he needed. And what made Illium happy was to shower the people he loved in care. “I know you’re going to push it too far at times, try to hover, but I’m not fragmented and bruised anymore. I can push right back.”

  At last, their relationship was back in balance.

  Eyes suspicious, Illium pulled away his hand. “What if it doesn’t work?” he insisted. “What if we screw everything up by trying to take our relationship beyond friendship?”

  Shadows on his face that had nothing to do with the clouds. “We could still suffer convenient memory lapses.” He brushed his fingers over Aodhan’s lips, the touch a thing of utmost tenderness . . . but his fingers, they trembled, and his heart, so vulnerable and scared, it was right there for Aodhan to see. “No one would know.”

  “No.” Aodhan was through with hiding—from anything. “This has happened. We deal with it.” He took another kiss, this one harder, deeper, his hand gripping the strong lines of Illium’s jaw and one of Illium’s clenching on his naked biceps.

  Neither one of them tempered their strength. They didn’t have to, each as powerful as the other. When the storm winds hit hard, Aodhan spun with it, and Illium echoed him, their synchrony a thing of instinct born of a lifetime of friendship and loyalty.

  And, still, they kissed. Until Aodhan shoved up the soggy cotton of Illium’s black T-shirt and pressed his hand to the blue-winged angel’s ridged abdomen. He wanted skin, wanted to drink Illium up, wanted to brand him in ways intimate and irreversible.

  Groaning, Illium broke the kiss—only to take a frustrated bite out of Aodhan’s throat. It did no damage, was a thing between lovers that made Aodhan shudder. Yet when Illium lifted his head from Aodhan’s throat, his expression held torment, not pleasure. “But what if?” he demanded again.

  A single lithe move and he was out of Aodhan’s hold, the two of them facing each other across five feet of distance while the ocean surged below and the clouds roiled above. Shoving his hair out of his face, Illium blinked water from his eyes. “What if we break us?”

  Aodhan stared at the powerful, courageous warrior across from him. A warrior with a heart as big as eternity. A warrior who’d lost every person who had ever mattered to him. “One thing I promise you, Blue, I will always be there.” The words were a solemn vow that fell between them on a roll of thunder.

  “No matter what, we will never break. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this past year, it’s that. We might get angry, might fight, but when push comes to shove, we’ll always show up for each other.” He hadn’t even had to think when he’d learned about Aegaeon’s waking; all he’d wanted to do was be by Illium’s side, give him whatever he needed.

  Aodhan would never not respond when Illium needed him.

  “I know you don’t like to talk about your escalating power,” he said, even as Illium’s torment turned into flat-out rejection—not of Aodhan, of the idea of ascension at so young an age. “I won’t bring it up again until you’re ready, but know this: if and when you ascend, I will stand beside you as your second. That position has never been and never will be open.”

  “You sound like you’ll take off the head of anyone who tries for it.”

  Aodhan raised an eyebrow. “Blue, the assholes will be dead before they get close enough for me to behead them. I’ll zap anyone who tries.” He was dead serious. “I told you, you’re mine and I’m yours—and I’m not budging from that. Ever.”

  Illium rubbed a fisted hand over his heart. “What if I want to go back to how things were?”

  “Then we do that,” Aodhan said at once, even though it hurt him to think of letting go of the sweet, bright promise between them, the promise of a life and a love beyond anything he could’ve imagined.

  Illium stared at his best friend in the entire universe, his wings beginning to glow against the storm. He’d never felt as good, as calm, as centered, as just . . . at home, as in Aodhan’s arms.

  It had felt so natural, and part of him had thought, Oh, this is where I’ve been meant to be all this time.

  But now the fear of losing Aodhan threatened to strangle him. It was tempting, so viciously tempting, to take a step back, return to friendship and only that . . . but, of course, they’d never been only that.

  They had always been each other’s North Star.

  Adi and Blue.

  Sparkle and Bluebell.

  Illium and Aodhan.

  Archangel and Second.

  All at once, his future was no longer a thing terrifying, a thing that augured the loss of all he loved and held dear. Even if he ascended—and he hoped to hell he didn’t—but if he did, he’d do so with Aodhan by his side.

  “Fight or love or anger?” he said, his voice rough. “We hold.”

  “We hold.” Aodhan’s voice was unbending. “Our friendship is the foundation of all we are, and it’s set in stone. I can’t imagine eternity without you. Can you?”

  The answer was simple. “No.”

  Then he was in Aodhan’s arms and their wings were tangled and they were spiraling down into the water with their lips locked in a kiss that, like their bond, had no ending and no beginning. They crashed into the turbulent storm gray of the sea together, went below the waves together, came up together.

  Laughing into the salt of their kiss, Illium said, “I’m still fucking petrified we’ll screw this up. But I’d rather screw things up with you than get it right with anyone else.”

  Aodhan, his wings sparkling even under the raging sky and his hair dripping, his skin holding an inner light, smiled that rare deep smile that had always made Illium happy
. Today, it kicked him in the gut. The terror threatened again. The last time around, it had been puppy love, and he’d almost shattered. This time around . . .

  There was no comparison.

  “I’m not scared,” Aodhan said with that smile that was going to get Illium into a whole lot more trouble in the years to come. “I’m never scared with you.”

  And his heart, it just burst open.

  Locked with Aodhan, their arms and wings wrapped around one another as the storm-tossed ocean rolled around them, Illium kissed the bright, beautiful angel who he knew inside out—and who he was beginning to know in a whole different way as Aodhan spread his wings ever wider.

  “Let’s do this,” he whispered against the wet curves of Aodhan’s kiss-reddened lips. “How much trouble can we get into anyway?”

  Aodhan raised an eyebrow, Illium grinned, and then they were laughing as a massive wave crashed over them, taking them under. Beneath, the ocean was calm, clear. Illium’s glow lit it up just enough that he saw Aodhan’s hair floating in the water, his eyes luminous with amusement.

  Then, without having to discuss it, they both erupted out of the water in powerful vertical takeoffs. When Illium felt the urge to outpace Aodhan, take the lead so he could protect his friend against any threat, he thought of how Aodhan had looked as he told Illium that he couldn’t be protected anymore.

  And he thought of how happy Aodhan looked flying free under the storm, a powerful warrior who’d emerged out of the darkness not the same man he went in . . . but still Illium’s Aodhan in every way that mattered.

  He angled himself to fly beside Aodhan.

  Small decisions. One after the other. Forming the entwined tapestry of two lives that had always been meant to fly into eternity side by side.

  About the Author

  Nalini Singh is the New York Times bestselling author of the Guild Hunter series, which includes most recently, Archangel's Prophecy. She is also the author of the Psy-Changeling novels including Alpha Night, Wolf Rain, Ocean Light, Silver Silence, and Allegiance of Honor.