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fly.”
Her heart stopped. Literally. When it kicked back to life, she could barely speak. “What?” It was an undignified squeak.
But he was already opening the door, tugging her along.
She dragged her heels. “Wait!”
“We fly or we go to your home. Choose.”
The arrogance of the command was breathtaking. As was the fury. The Archangel of New York did not like being told no . “I choose neither.”
“Unacceptable.” He pulled.
She resisted. She wanted to fly more than anything, but not in the arms of an archangel who might drop her in his current mood. “What’s so urgent?”
“I won’t drop you . . . not tonight.” His face was so perfect it could’ve belonged to some ancient god, but there was no compassion in it. Then again, the gods had hardly been merciful. “Enough.”
And suddenly she was on the roof, with no knowledge of having taken the steps from the landing. Rage flowed through her in a jagged wave of white lightning, but he wrapped his arms around her and rose before she could do much more than part her lips. Survival instincts kicked in. Hard. Locking her arms around his neck, she held on for dear life as his wings gained momentum and the roof fell away at dizzying speed.
Her hair whipped off her face, the wind bringing tears to her eyes. Then, as if he’d gained enough altitude, Raphael altered the angle of his flight, sheltering her against the wind. She wondered if he’d done it on purpose, then realized she was falling into the trap of trying to humanize him. He wasn’t human. Not even close.
His wings filled her vision until she dared turn her head and look at the view. There wasn’t much to see—he’d taken them above the cloud layer. Goose bumps broke out on every inch of her skin as the cold seeped into her bones. Her teeth threatened to chatter, but she had to speak, had to let the anger out before it carved a hole in her soul. “I told you,” she gritted out, “not to mess with my mind.”
He glanced down. “You’re cold?”
“Give the man an award,” she said, breath misting the air. “I’m not built for flight.”
He dived without warning. Her stomach went into free fall even as wild exhilaration raced through her bloodstream. She was flying! It might not have been by choice, but she wasn’t going to cut off her nose to spite her face. Holding on tightly, she absorbed every second of the experience, tucking away the sensory memories to savor later. It was then that she realized she had no reason to fear an accidental fall—Raphael’s arms were like rock around her, unbreakable, immovable. She wondered if he even felt her weight. Angels were supposed to be far stronger than either humans or vampires.
“Is that better?” he asked, lips against her ear.
Startled at the warm timbre of his voice, she blinked and realized they were now skimming just above the high-rises. “Yes.” She wouldn’t thank him, she thought mutinously. It wasn’t as if he’d asked her permission before launching them heavenward. “You didn’t answer me.”
“In my defense”—an amused comment—“it wasn’t so much a question as a statement.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you continue to push into my mind?”
“It’s more convenient than wasting time waiting while you talk yourself into something.”
“It’s a kind of rape.”
Chill silence, so cold the goose bumps returned. “Be careful with your accusations.”
“It’s the truth,” she persisted, though her stomach was shriveling into a terrified little ball. “I said no! And you went in anyway. What the hell else do you call it?”
“Humanity is nothing to us,” he said. “Ants, easily crushed, easily replaced.”
She shivered, and this time it was out of pure fear. “Then why allow us to live?”
“You amuse us occasionally. You have your uses.”
“Food for your vampires,” she said, disgusted at herself for having seen anything human in him. “What—you keep a prison full of
Her heart stopped. Literally. When it kicked back to life, she could barely speak. “What?” It was an undignified squeak.
But he was already opening the door, tugging her along.
She dragged her heels. “Wait!”
“We fly or we go to your home. Choose.”
The arrogance of the command was breathtaking. As was the fury. The Archangel of New York did not like being told no . “I choose neither.”
“Unacceptable.” He pulled.
She resisted. She wanted to fly more than anything, but not in the arms of an archangel who might drop her in his current mood. “What’s so urgent?”
“I won’t drop you . . . not tonight.” His face was so perfect it could’ve belonged to some ancient god, but there was no compassion in it. Then again, the gods had hardly been merciful. “Enough.”
And suddenly she was on the roof, with no knowledge of having taken the steps from the landing. Rage flowed through her in a jagged wave of white lightning, but he wrapped his arms around her and rose before she could do much more than part her lips. Survival instincts kicked in. Hard. Locking her arms around his neck, she held on for dear life as his wings gained momentum and the roof fell away at dizzying speed.
Her hair whipped off her face, the wind bringing tears to her eyes. Then, as if he’d gained enough altitude, Raphael altered the angle of his flight, sheltering her against the wind. She wondered if he’d done it on purpose, then realized she was falling into the trap of trying to humanize him. He wasn’t human. Not even close.
His wings filled her vision until she dared turn her head and look at the view. There wasn’t much to see—he’d taken them above the cloud layer. Goose bumps broke out on every inch of her skin as the cold seeped into her bones. Her teeth threatened to chatter, but she had to speak, had to let the anger out before it carved a hole in her soul. “I told you,” she gritted out, “not to mess with my mind.”
He glanced down. “You’re cold?”
“Give the man an award,” she said, breath misting the air. “I’m not built for flight.”
He dived without warning. Her stomach went into free fall even as wild exhilaration raced through her bloodstream. She was flying! It might not have been by choice, but she wasn’t going to cut off her nose to spite her face. Holding on tightly, she absorbed every second of the experience, tucking away the sensory memories to savor later. It was then that she realized she had no reason to fear an accidental fall—Raphael’s arms were like rock around her, unbreakable, immovable. She wondered if he even felt her weight. Angels were supposed to be far stronger than either humans or vampires.
“Is that better?” he asked, lips against her ear.
Startled at the warm timbre of his voice, she blinked and realized they were now skimming just above the high-rises. “Yes.” She wouldn’t thank him, she thought mutinously. It wasn’t as if he’d asked her permission before launching them heavenward. “You didn’t answer me.”
“In my defense”—an amused comment—“it wasn’t so much a question as a statement.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you continue to push into my mind?”
“It’s more convenient than wasting time waiting while you talk yourself into something.”
“It’s a kind of rape.”
Chill silence, so cold the goose bumps returned. “Be careful with your accusations.”
“It’s the truth,” she persisted, though her stomach was shriveling into a terrified little ball. “I said no! And you went in anyway. What the hell else do you call it?”
“Humanity is nothing to us,” he said. “Ants, easily crushed, easily replaced.”
She shivered, and this time it was out of pure fear. “Then why allow us to live?”
“You amuse us occasionally. You have your uses.”
“Food for your vampires,” she said, disgusted at herself for having seen anything human in him. “What—you keep a prison full of
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