Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
That was why Illium loved Menerva, Rukiel, and Imalia. Because inept as they’d often been, they’d tried with their whole hearts—and they’d never attempted to stop Aodhan’s attachment to Illium’s mother, a woman who understood him so much better.
“It makes him happy to be with you and your son,” Menerva had said to Sharine once within Illium’s hearing. “I am joyful at that for him.”
“Raphael, Naasir, the others,” Aodhan continued, “they were the same with their random gifts. Just sending me things because they thought I’d appreciate it.”
Naasir, for one, had shipped him a slab of clay from a distant corner of the world because it was the most astonishing pink he’d ever seen and he’d figured Aodhan would find a use for it. “I accepted gifts from others outside my circle of trust in good faith, gifting them back in kind with a piece of art.”
With Illium and Naasir and the others in that circle, there’d been no need to pay them back—they’d all been a constant part of each other’s lives, no one keeping track of such kindnesses because it flowed from every direction. “Then a supposed friend walked into my studio expecting a whole different kind of payment.”
“Why’s this the first time I’m hearing about this?” A muscle ticced in Illium’s jaw.
“I told you about the first gifts, I think. When I thought people were just being nice.” He closed his fingers over one of Illium’s primaries. “Later, after I understood, I was embarrassed to have been so naïve.”
“Did that—”
“He tried, but as soon as I realized what was happening, I shoved the pigment he’d ‘gifted’ me into his fucking mouth after pinning him to the earth—he’d forgotten I was in warrior training because of you. Then I grabbed a pot of stain that was nearby and threw it on his face. Let that asshole explain why he’d turned a splotchy frog-green—stuff clung to his pasty skin for an entire week.”
Illium’s mouth fell open before a snorting laugh escaped him. Wings drooping at his sides, he bent over, literally crying with laughter. “I can’t believe you never told me that!” A light punch to Aodhan’s abdomen.
“You might have been on one of your longer courier runs at the time,” Aodhan said, his own lips twitching as he patted a breathless Illium’s back. He’d forgotten how good pure, deserved anger felt, and he allowed the memory to settle into his cells now, reclaiming that fiery piece of the youth he’d once been.
“I did rant to Naasir, who went out and—unbeknownst to me for literal decades—made the asshole sit down and ‘allow’ Naasir to shave off his glorious fucking mane of hair. Naasir made him return for the same treatment for years.” The one and only chimera in the known world could be terrifying when anyone hurt those who were his own.
“Good.” Illium’s smile was as feral as Naasir’s. “I hope he made the ass piss his pants.”
“After that incident,” Aodhan continued, “I returned every gift except those that came from my people.” He stared at the rings. “I don’t only wonder why Marco kept these, I wonder what the angel stalking him believed it to signify.”
They had no answers to that—and they found no further items that appeared out of place in the belongings of a young vampire. Neither did they unearth any of the letters Navarro had mentioned seeing to Dmitri. But as the stones in the rings were as unique as the gloves, they now had two threads to tug.
“The rings will be more difficult,” Aodhan said. “The gemstones could’ve been purchased long ago, only the setting made for Marco—or the band resized. Still, immortal jewelers should remember a rare diamond of that size and clarity.”
A glance at Illium. “Do you know any in the profession who’d be willing to ask around for us?” Jewelers who dealt with senior angelic and vampiric clientele were tight-lipped and secretive, but they were also the only ones apt to have an answer. Aodhan didn’t think the stalker would’ve trusted anything of this caliber to a mortal, no matter how skilled.
“One of Charo’s three beloved—Isiel—is in jewels.” Illium grinned as he named the youngest of Titus’s sisters. “He adores Mother and she just designed five pieces for him that have made him the envy of his peers. I’m liked by association so he should be amenable.”
Aodhan glanced at the clock on the wall. “We have time enough to start this today. I’ll take the first shop when it comes to the gloves. You take the other after you’ve made the call to Isiel.”
Illium could’ve argued that there was no rush, that Marco was long dead, as was Tanika, but he’d never do that for the same reason that Aodhan couldn’t just let this go: this wasn’t about time, but about justice…and about memories.