Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 139178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
As her son beeped the horn at his ecstatic aunt, Elena said, “I’m happy for you, Evie. Even if it’s just a drink. He’s a wonderful boy who grew into an incredible man.” Kind and loyal and with a huge heart.
“Well, I mean, technically it’s not our first ‘just a drink,’ ” Eve admitted as she rose to steal pushing-Nixie privileges from Elena. “I was figuring it’d fizzle out, you know? Go poof.”
“Poof!” Nix smiled proudly as he repeated that word.
“That’s my smart boy.” Elena got out of the way of her speed demon as he turned the corner. “Another one to add to the vocabulary. His speech skills seem to have picked up speed this past month.”
Nothing, however, would beat the growl that Misha and a visiting Nasien had taught him. Last night, he’d been growling in his crib as he played with this collection of handmade plushies. Majda had sewn those, his great-grandmother a frequent presence in his life—an endless source of love and cuddles and lullabies.
“How many other ‘not dates’ are we talking?” Arms folded and feet set wide, she narrowed her eyes at her sister.
When Eve mumbled something that sounded suspiciously close to “seventeen,” Elena pressed a dramatic hand to her chest. “And you didn’t tell me? Shame on you, Evie!” She glared without heat. “Also, babe, I think you should come out and start calling it a relationship now.”
Eve wouldn’t meet her gaze. “He’s immortal. It’s not like it’s a rush.”
Elena knew her sister well enough not to push.
Instead, after Nix indicated that he wanted out of the car, she set him on the grass so he could play crawl-chase with a butterfly, then went to take Eve into her arms, cradle her close in a big-sister hug. “Take your time, little sister. Enjoy the dance.”
She crossed her fingers behind Eve’s back. The idea of Eve and Izzy together? It flat-out delighted her. He was the best kind of man, and her sister was perfect for him—tough where he was still a little too soft, as loving as him, and ready for Izzy’s brand of open affection.
57
I have no prouder achievement than that I’m your father, Rafi.
—Nadiel to his Son (Once, when an Archangel was a Boy)
Raphael bent over, his toddler son’s hands held securely in his as he helped their Nixie “walk” along the Tower hallway outside his office—while Bengal padded beside them, his tail swishing. He’d grown from the kitten he’d once been, but his adult form remained relatively small—around the size of the felines called Maine Coon cats, though Bengal was no Maine Coon.
He was, however, Nix’s best friend, and now purred encouragement in his throat.
Nix couldn’t yet keep himself upright, but he was determined to try, his face screwed up in concentration as he put one foot in front of the other. When he fell or stumbled, there were no tears, only more scrunching of the face, more determined steps. Apart from his frustration and pain during his wing-development years, he wasn’t much of a crier.
The wings that had given him such anguish remained of a size where he wouldn’t trip on them as he learned to walk.
“That’s my strong boy,” Raphael murmured, his heart full of a father’s pride.
Yes, that’s it, Rafi. Just so.
His breath caught at the memory fragment that floated to the surface of his mind without warning. It was old, that fragment. So old that he had no conscious recollection of it…but he recognized the voice.
Nadiel.
His father. Intelligent, handsome, doomed.
Nix looked up then. “Papa! Nissi wak!”
“Yes, you’re walking,” Raphael said, his voice rough. “I’m very proud of you.”
Smile huge, his son turned back to continue on his determined path, while inside Raphael surged a tumult of protective fear. Because Nadiel had been like this with him, too. He might not have conscious memories of it, but he’d been told the stories by more than one person—including a person he trusted beyond question.
“He loved you,” Lady Sharine had said as she stroked his hair while he sat on the floor heartbroken, his back against the seat she kept on the porch of her home at that time. She’d been on the seat doing some sewing when he’d come to her, and she’d set it immediately aside to give him her full attention.
That had been before Aegaeon, before they lost their lovely, kind Hummingbird to the mists of her mind for hundreds of years. And it had been before his mother sent him crashing to lie broken and bloody on the earth.
Back then, he’d been so young—and with his mother lost in unending grief at having had to execute the man she loved, he hadn’t wanted to burden her with his own grief. So he’d gone to her best friend, the woman who had always been the secondary maternal figure in his life.