Blood of Angels by Amber Morgan

Author:Amber Morgan [Morgan, Amber]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Published: 2017-05-14T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Four

"I'm fine," she said as he helped her straighten up. "Oh my, I just... His face when he saw you! He'll tell the whole town, you know, that Mad Thea Clayton has taken a lover who struts around the house naked while it caves in around her head."

Turiel looked bemused. "We are not lovers yet."

Yet. She shivered at the promise in the word. "It doesn't matter. He'll tell them that anyway."

He carefully tugged at a lock of her hair, twirling it around his long nails with a look of fascination. "Will I bring shame on you?"

"Hardly," she said. "I wouldn't care anyway." She shut the front door firmly, resolving not to answer the next time someone knocked.

Turiel smiled and released her hair. "I'm thirsty," he said. "I think."

"Isn't there food and drink in Heaven?"

She'd meant to tease, but his face fell, a wistful longing sweeping over him. "One needs a body to eat and drink."

She'd do anything to take that look from his face. Ignoring the throbbing desire in herself, she took his hand and guided him to the kitchen. "You have a body now."

****

Whenever Thea had daydreamed about a normal life, the images had never included a man. Not because she'd been jaded by her parents or ruined by Louis Lee, but simply because a man seemed like a complication, the sort a cat or a parrot wouldn't be.

Now there was a naked angel sitting at her kitchen table and she was making pancakes and coffee, because there was really nothing else to offer him. And what better first meal for a fallen angel than fluffy pancakes dripping with hot butter and gilded with maple syrup? What better drink than bitterly black coffee, the kind that scorched your mouth and set fire to your brain? He wanted to feel, he'd said. Thea thought that ought to cover more than skin-to-skin. She ought to give him every sensation she was capable of, before he moved on to experience new ones elsewhere.

She flipped her pancakes, feeling a tug at her heart strings. He would leave, of course. Why should he stay? She should treasure this time, save these surreal memories while he was still here. She shouldn't be sad about him leaving.

She plated up the pancakes and turned to him, taking a second to admire the play of sunlight on his rich black hair and golden skin. Even if she'd had clothes to offer him, she wouldn't have. But he seemed utterly unconcerned by his nudity anyway. She set down the pancakes and took her seat.

"It's pretty simple," she said, reaching for the coffee pot, "but I make them well."

He watched her drizzle syrup over her pancakes, watched her cut them up, and mimicked her, handling his knife and fork gingerly. One had to have a body to use cutlery, she mused, smiling. His expression at the first bite reminded her of Geoff's at the sight of Turiel, and she tucked the image away in her memory bank.

He said nothing, but ate with an urgency that was gratifying and oddly endearing.

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