by Nalini Singh
Sara started laughing. “Vanity, thy name is Elena.”
“Thank you very much,” she said on a wave of determination. Losing Sara’s friendship wasn’t an option. And if she had to fight an archangel to keep it, so be it. “Now, tell me all the goss.”
Outside, on the jagged rocks that guarded the Refuge, Raphael stood shoulder to shoulder with Dmitri. “A human sits in the Refuge,” he said, his hair whipped back by the wind. “It breaks one of our deepest taboos.”
“She has no idea of the location—you can wipe her mind to ensure she can’t betray what little she does know.” Practical words from the leader of his Seven.
“Yes.” But he wouldn’t and that was the change that was his. “Or I could trust Elena’s word on Sara’s sense of honor.”
Dmitri nodded, and when he next spoke, his tone was quiet. “Elena will change us.”
“She already has.” As wild and relentless as these fierce mountain winds, his hunter would never simply accept the way of things. And for a race of immortals, that might be the rudest of awakenings. Anticipation hummed in his blood.
“Jason’s returned,” Dmitri said, pulling him back to the present.
“When?”
“Two days ago. Some of Lijuan’s reborn managed to injure him, but he’ll recover within the week.”
Raphael nodded, knowing that more changes were afoot than the Making of an angel. “So it begins.”
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