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)
“Hello, Archangel.” It came out raspy with the last vestiges of sleep. “How is he?”
“Far too wakeful for such a young being,” Raphael said in a mock grumble, but his lips were tugging up. “I think it’s a sign of things to come, Elena-mine, so be ready.” Rising, he placed their son in the curve of her arm on the bed, where their little boy stretched out his tiny arms and legs then curled up against her breast.
She was barely dressed—a loose tank top, and a pair of sweatpants. The baby had immediately found skin, and now sought her breast. An aching deep within her, her entire body reacting to their child’s hunger.
Shifting with him in her arms—he was so very small, held so slight a weight—she sat up against the headboard.
Raphael put another pillow behind her.
Then…she nourished their child again, as she’d done in the first half hour after the birth. Majda and a specialist healer had assisted her with it then, and she hadn’t been sure she could pull it off on her own—now, she watched her baby drink his fill. Part of her remained astonished that the whole system worked.
“I’m in shock,” she murmured, stroking the baby’s back, those fragile wings so delicate that she worried she’d snag them on calluses formed over a millennium of training—even immortal cells seemed to decide that some repetitive actions deserved calluses. “Happy shock.”
“You aren’t alone.” Raphael gave their child a finger to hold. “We made him.”
Elena exhaled. “Wow.”
“Yes.”
Their eyes met. They grinned. Then continued to adore their babe.
It was some time later, after the baby was sleeping, that Elena had the chance to shower properly. Refreshed after the long, hot shower, she took the time to dry her hair enough that she could twist it up in a clip, then pulled on an ankle-length robe that felt as soft as cashmere.
A gift from her archangel.
She was walking slowly around the room to stretch out her body when Raphael told her about their baby’s immortality—and mortal heart cells.
Elena grinned and pumped her fist. “That’s our super-parasite.”
Raphael chuckled. “Keir is curious to run further tests on you, see if he can figure out where your mortal cells came from.”
“Sure, why not.” Elena found she was curious, too. “But first…” Her eyes went to their Legion.
“We can open that entire wall if we wish,” Raphael told her. “It’s designed that way.”
Elena nodded, and her archangel moved to unlock and slide the window panes to the side, one atop the other. The Refuge continued to be a place of lower tech for many reasons, including that the majority of those who called it home didn’t want constant change.
More influential were the energies that swirled here from time to time—per Jessamy, the legend was that the energies represented the Ancestors’ dreams seeping out into the world. Whatever their origin, those energies played havoc with tech. Keeping communications lines open took constant maintenance—no one wanted to add to that load.
Today, the wall slid open soundlessly, the old-fashioned mechanics of it clearly well maintained.
Walking over to where their babe slept in the basket woven by his great-grandmother, she found him wide awake. “You’re going to keep us awake quite a few nights, aren’t you?” she said, her entire body filled with a love soft and primal in equal measure.
She picked him up, carried him over to where Raphael stood by the now-open wall. He immediately spread his wing over her back, one arm around her waist.
“I’m afraid of tearing his wings,” she admitted. “They’re so fragile.”
“Soon, a healer will come,” he told her. “They’ll teach us how to swaddle him to protect his wings—angelic infants enjoy the comfort of swaddling.” He stroked her back. “But a babe’s wings are not sensitive at this point in time, and more malleable than they look. Far more difficult to tear than you’d imagine.”
Elena leaned into the solid warmth of his body. “Good you have some insider knowledge.”
“It’s been a long time since I stood guard in the nurseries. I’m even more terrified than you.”
She laughed and looked up, and when he leaned down for a kiss, she rose up into it. Wildfire erupted around them, a dazzling show that didn’t hurt but was fireworks in the air.
Their child lifted up his hands as if to grab at the arcing energies.
Elena laughed at the sight. “I think we definitely got his name right.” They’d ended up with a short list by the time of the birth, had only made the final call after their son was born.
A name that was both mortal and immortal, touched on angelic history—and held a whole lot of the defiant spirit that marked them both.
Raphael’s smile was that of a proud father. “Welcome to our world, Phoenix Zakriel.”
50
Our aeclari have a small being of their own.