“Whoa, easy there. Eve, are you all right?”
“Don’t know…when I find my head...maybe.”
“Hold onto me.” He helped her into the living room. She collapsed on the couch, lowered her head between her legs, and moaned as bile fought for freedom.
“Be right back.” Aerén disappeared. Then reappeared a few seconds later. “Here.”
She lifted her head. “What did you do to me?”
“I don’t possess wings, so I had to dematerialize with you. Drink this, it will help.”
A little shaky, Eve took the glass he offered. She sipped the light golden liquid. The sharp sweet taste of ginger tea slid down her throat, making her eyes water. She wrinkled her nose. Ack, she far preferred ginger ale to this horrid mixture.
The queasiness easing, she eyed Aerén. “So you're an Empyrean, too?”
“I am.” He sank on the couch opposite her and propped a booted foot on the pretty, dark wood coffee table, which someone had created from slicing a large tree-trunk in half. “But not all of us acquire wings. Unless one parent is a Fallen from the Celestial Realm. But even that is no guarantee.”
Slowly, Eve set her glass on the table. “What do you mean?”
“When a divine angel and an Empyrean mate, their offspring can be born with wings.”
“Like Reynner?”
“Yes. His father is a divine and consort to his mother, who rules over Ademéras—” Aerén broke off as Lucan walked into the lounge. The air around him shimmered with power.
He stopped a few feet from Eve. “Reynner has spoken to you about the Stone?”
Ugh, she’d far prefer hearing more about Reynner’s life than face this man. “He did, but are you sure I can find this object for you?”
“Yes. It will only respond to a mortal whose blood sings.”
She gave him a dubious look. “Sings? What are you talking about?” She couldn’t even carry a tune without sounding like a dying frog.
“Not literally,” Lucan said, impatient now. “Your lifeblood resonates with the supernatural. It’s a quiet hum that flows in your blood but will vibrate within our psyche if one of us tastes it. Our world fades. We need to find the Stone to restore the balance of magic.”
“I see…” No, she didn’t. She really didn’t. Why couldn’t her blood be like everyone else’s and just carry oxygen to her heart? Eve inhaled deeply, not ready for any of this. She pushed to her feet, needing to keep moving, then stopped. “Wait, does this have anything to do with ‘the mess’ Reynner spoke about? About finding a way to exist in your world? Is your world truly dying?”
Lucan’s turquoise eyes sparked with quiet anger. “It is. The white cliffs of Empyrea have started to fade since the Stone disappeared over a millennium ago—”
“What he means is that life ebbs from us,” Aerén explained, pulling her gaze back to him. “Children haven't been born in thousands of years. Being who we are, we don’t have many offspring, which only bonded pairs are blessed with. We need to find the missing Stone to strengthen the realm, or our race will disappear.”
“A Stone,” Eve repeated, overwhelmed by all they were telling her.
“Yes,” Aerén said, rising to his feet. “All realms contain magic, even the mortal one. Except it’s not vital to human survival. We require both, magic and light. Our magic stems from the seven mystical Stones of Light, which reside in the white cliffs of Empyrea. With one lost, the link is broken. It’s why we desperately need your aid.”
She stared blankly at him, her mind in a whirl. “How…how can something that important just disappear?”
Aerén’s jaw tightened. “With the ongoing war with the Darkreans’ fight for power, the Stones cannot exist in negative energy.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to just have a truce with your enemy, then?”
“Does it work that easily in your realm?” Lucan’s tone dropped to a lovely degree of sub-zero.
Okay, the iceberg had a point. Eve began to pace again, unable to breathe at the sheer enormity of what they were asking of her. “You can’t—you can’t just drop the burden of your dying world on me.”
“So you won’t help us?” Lucan’s expression chilled further.
“Eve.” Aerén touched her arm and stopped her marching. “We’ve searched a long time for you. You are our only hope.”
“I already told Reynner I would help…” She rubbed her cold, damp palms down her dress. “If I don’t find this Stone, if anything happens to your world, I’m not taking the blame for it,” she warned and moved away to stare out the window. God, when Reynner asked for her assistance, she had no idea it would be this immense. Scary. What if she failed?
Then something else clicked in her mind, and she spun back. “You said children haven’t been born in thousands of years…how old are you?”
A twinkle lightened Aerén’s somber gaze. “In mortal years, it’s difficult to determine. Time moves differently for us.”
“Centuries?”
He smiled.
“Millennia?”
A chuckle left him. “So curious. We are a lot older than you are.”
At Aerén’s teasing, Lucan snapped, “If you feel it’s that important to know, we are thousands of years old.”
Eve stopped breathing. These men—agh, immortals, were so old it made her feel insignificant with her few measly decades. Lucan and Reynner appeared to be in their late twenties. But who was counting a few thousand years?
At Aerén’s hint of a smirk, she scrunched her nose. No wonder he’d been amused when she’d so righteously told him that she was older. She must seem a child to him.
“We had no idea which century you’d be born in,” Lucan said, his irritation replaced once more by his glacial demeanor. “So we had to keep searching because the Stone will only respond to you.”
“Yeah, I don’t get that. If something this important belongs to your world, wouldn’t it call to your own kind to find it?”
“No,” Reynner said, striding into the room. “It won't.”
Eve turned, and her heart missed a beat. Dressed in unrelieved black, he took her breath away with that stunning face and shoulder-length sweep of pale hair. Tossing his biker jacket on the couch, his cool gaze met hers.
“It will respond only to the magic in your blood. A safety precaution against it being found by an immortal who would wield it for a purpose other than its original one.”
Bad—evil things, that’s what he meant. Eve rubbed her buzzing temples, surprised she didn’t have a raging headache.
Okay, focus, Eve. She resumed her stressed walk around the room.
How difficult could this be, finding a Stone?
Eve dropped her hand from her head and discovered all eyes on her. Didn’t that just make her want to run?
“Fine, tell me where it is. I’ll go get it.”
Reynner shook his head. “Searching for the artifact isn’t that simple.”
Artifact? Wait, that meant it was probably priceless and well protected. Oh, no, this can't be good. “For the love of God, tell me I don’t have to break into someone’s home, or worse a…a museum?”
At the heightened silence, her belly rebelled. Of course. Why would it be that easy?
She swung around and stared at the mountains, and just as fast she spun back. “Where am I? Yes, I know you said Exilum. Wait”—she gulped—“are we even on Earth?”
“No,” Reynner answered. “You’re just beyond the veils of the mortal realm, accessible only through a portal.”
The air rushed out of her lungs. “You-you took me away from my world without even telling me?”
“Right, almost unconscious, and in an alley crawling with demoniis is the perfect place for explanations.”
She scowled. “Don’t you dare throw your sarcasm at me. You could have just asked.”
“I asked—” A tic worked his jaw. He looked more than pissed. “You agreed.”
Aerén stepped between them. “Eve, I prom
ise, it will be okay. I’ll be your protector during the quest if needs be.”
“She’s min—my responsibly,” Reynner’s voice turned cold. Deadly. No hint of the heated fury she’d witness moments ago. “Stay the hell out of this, Aerén.”
“You're upsetting her,” he retorted. “I won't have that.” Aerén turned back to her. “Eve—”
“I'm all right.” Her frustration seeped out, leaving her drained and weary.
When Reynner had asked her in the alley, she had no idea what he truly meant. She realized then even if she had known the facts, she still would have come. He’d been hurt and that she couldn’t stomach.
God, what a mess! Rubbing a shaky hand over her face, she turned away, and much to her misfortune met Lucan’s cool, watchful gaze.
“How you came to be here is irrelevant,” he said. “What matters are the scroll and the Stone. Since the artifacts have a symbiotic link, to locate the latter, you must first retrieve the former.”
Eve blinked. “Scroll?” Her gaze rushed right back to Reynner. “What is he talking about? What scroll?”
“You did not tell her?” Lucan demanded.
Reynner ignored him. “We know where the damn thing is—”
“Then why didn't you tell me?” she countered.
“Where was the time, Eve?” A growl. “We were attacked by demoniis. I was knocked out, healing. You fell off the balcony—you nearly died!”
When he put it like that. “Fine. Where is this scroll?”
Aerén glanced at Reynner, as did Lucan. No one spoke.
Ack, men! “Please, don’t all answer at once.”
Reynner pushed his hands into his pockets, probably to stop himself from wringing her neck. She folded her arms across her chest, held his stare, and waited.
“The Museum of Natural History,” he finally said.
Her mouth dropped open. “Are you crazy? How am I supposed to steal the scroll from the most popular museum in New York, with a crapload of security, and come out of this without being thrown behind bars for the rest of my mortal life?”
“Stop being so melodramatic. You won’t get caught,” Reynner muttered. “I’ll be with you. Now, we’re leaving.” He snatched his jacket and stalked from the room.
Eve glowered at the empty doorway. The man was maddening, impossible and…and still he drew her like a helpless moth.
She stifled a massive sigh. No matter how mad she was with Reynner, she would get them what they needed… Yeah, break into a museum.
Ugh, she pushed that stomach-turning thought aside.
“Come, Eve, I’ll see you to the front,” Aerén said.
Rubbing a weary palm over her face, she followed him.
***
Reynner stopped at the edge of the balcony and scowled at the forest below him. Eve had to be the most argumentative female he’d ever met. Instead of yelling accusations at him and questioning everything he said, all she had to do was trust him to get her into the museum to take the scroll.
And just how long did it take for her to say goodbye to Aerén?
It sure as hell couldn’t be Lucan who held her attention. His lips thinned at the thought of her being in his prince’s too eager arms. About to go haul her, the sounds of footsteps reached his ears.
“Reynner?”
His gut tightened at the sound of her voice. He turned to find Aerén walking away, and Eve hesitating near the door. He motioned for her to join him with a nod. “Come.”
She bit her lip, her gaze dipping to the ledge.
It hit him then. She was afraid. What the hell was he thinking? She’d fallen off this damn balcony. If he hadn’t been here... Shit. Good thing she wouldn’t have to come back here again. Having wings, he needed the balcony railless to take flight and make landing easier.
He crossed to her. “I won’t let you fall, I promise. Take my hand.”
Her chest rose as she inhaled, then barefoot, she stepped out. Ignoring his hand, she clenched the fabric of her dress, instead. “I'm fine.”
Despite her usual “I'm fine” answer, he saw the edges of fear in her deep green eyes. The fact she could walk onto the balcony again after this morning awed him.
Well, he wasn’t letting her do this alone.
Reynner untangled her fingers from her dress, grasped her hand, and pulled her close. The bumpy skin from her childhood injuries slid roughly against his palm… Darker memories of manacles restraining him took over—pain slicing through his wrists. The muscles in his shoulders tensed, he forced himself to focus and not push her away. He breathed in her scent, and a calm descended. With his mind, he gathered the light energies of the realm around him. The air shimmered, parted, and the portal opened.
He glanced at her. “Ready?”
Despite her uneasy expression, she nodded, her gaze fastened on the wavering gateway. “Where will this take us?”
“Central Park. From there, I’ll dematerialize us straight to your apartment.” At her strangled breath, he said, “Or I can send you to sleep and do this.”
“No.” Her fingers tightened on his. “Let’s get it over with.”
***
As twilight stole into the city, Reynner followed Eve into her fourth-floor apartment. And felt like he’d stepped into an orchard.
A hint of her peach scent drifted through the place and stroked his senses. His body wired hard since last night, he’d found it difficult to clamp down on needs that refused to settle, and now, alone in her home, it was damn near impossible.
She’s here for one purpose only—to help our realm. Aerén’s words chimed like an unwanted omen in his head. With centuries of practice locking down his emotions, he managed to get his mind back on track.
Eve disappeared into her room.
Reynner turned and took in the open space. Brightly painted sketches, mounted in black, lined one wall. Colorful Navajo throws in shades of blue, orange, and gray cheered up the ancient brown couch and armchairs. A circular glass-top dining table situated opposite the counter separated the galley kitchen from the rest of the place.
Supernatural beings couldn’t come into a human home uninvited, but still. He went back to the front door, and with an intricate movement of his hands, he weaved the wards, whispering the enchanted words as he put up a protection shield. Invisible to the human eye, he could feel its magic flow over the apartment.
Eve would be safe as long as she didn't invite the fuckers inside.
Satisfied, he made his way across the room to the few pieces of metal sculpture Eve had displayed on a small bookcase crammed with paperback novels. But a photo in a copper frame caught his attention. Picking it up, he studied the couple posing in front of the souks of…Morocco. He’d been there and knew the place well.
“That’s my parents. I dangle between both worlds,” Eve said, coming back into the room.
He could see that. Her mixed-race heritage was visible in her skin that was a lighter shade of her mother’s aged gold, but she’d inherited her dark green eyes from her father. However, instead of the tall, robust build of her father, or her mother’s curviness, Eve appeared fragile, delicate.
Reynner looked up. His heart tripped. Eve had reached across the counter and was plugging in her cell to recharge. Her top shifted, revealing a hand-span of gorgeous tan skin.
He wanted to walk over, slide his palms on her bare skin while he ran his lips down every inch of her…
“My dad was an archaeologist,” she said, oblivious to just how close to the edge he was. “He met Mom while on a dig in Morocco, fell in love, and married her.”
Hell, he never should have tasted her, now it was all he could think of—
His jaw hardening, he forced his mind off dangerous needs. Setting the frame aside, he picked up the metal sculpture of a horse rearing up on its hind legs. The untamed wildness, the energy of the animal captured in the metal molding was exquisite…and full of life, just like the artist.
His gaze drifted back to her. “Where
do you craft these?”
She’d opened a plastic container and was scooping up something in her hand. “I have a studio in a warehouse down the street next to this building.”
“You have a rare gift.”
She cast him a surprised look as if praise were the last thing she’d expected. “Thanks. That’s just something I did for myself. You can have it if you’d like.”
He stared at the sculpture. Her generosity touched something deep inside of him. It took Reynner a moment to collect himself. Usually, gifts always came with a price tag—namely him.
“Eve?” He waited until she looked at him. “Don’t ever invite anyone you don’t know into your home. No immortal can enter without an invitation. But I put up a protection ward, too. An added precaution.”
She blinked, then nodded. “Oh… Okay. The only ones who come here anyway are my friends.” She shut the container and disappeared from sight.
Following the sound of her voice, the horse gripped tightly in his hand, he found her kneeling on the kitchen floor. A shoebox with one side cut out was layered with…straw? Fresh breadcrumbs were scattered in a corner.
“Hey there, little guy. I'm sorry I wasn’t here,” she said softly, caressing the bird’s wing with a gentle finger dusted with crumbs.
And his cock hardened again, the same way it had this morning when Eve had stroked his wing. She’d had no idea what she’d done. He’d been moments from taking her right there in the air. Her tender touch had diminished the nightmares that usually sprung up when anyone touched his wings. But Eve, with her innocence and gentleness, had made him forget, even if it was for a brief moment.
He set the horse on the counter and crouched beside her, his leathers creaking.
“He won’t fly,” she told him, “and he doesn’t seem to be hurt—” She broke off when he reached for the bird and eyed him with concern.
Did she think he’d hurt her pet or tackle her to the floor with the bird as witness?
Reynner picked up the dove and scanned it, then zoomed in on the injury. He let his power flow out of him to heal the hairline fracture he found in the fragile skeleton of its wing. The silvery blue light coalesced into the wound, and, moments later, the bird flew out of his palm, a flutter of wings filling the apartment.
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