"What the hell does milky green mean?" Mason scowled. "And they're Ethan-green — almost creepy."
My face cracked into a wide smile. "Does that mean I'm a vampire now?"
"Does your face itch?"
"What?"
Mason shrugged. "Does it itch?"
"No."
"Do you smell berries?"
"Huh?"
"Just answer the question," he growled.
I sniffed the air. "No, I smell… wood burning."
He grinned. "Then you aren't a werewolf."
"Gee, thanks." I tried to get up, but he moved around me and tugged my body to a sitting position. "I was worried there for a second. Do werewolves really smell berries?"
"Sometimes." He chuckled, brushing a kiss across my forehead. "To vampires we smell like burning wood… outdoors, warm."
I nodded and leaned in. "I like the way you smell."
"Care to keep your paws to yourself, Mason?" Ethan said from the door, his grimace turning into a grin as he strode in and practically threw Mason off me and pulled me into his arms. "Your eyes are green."
"Why do people keep telling me what color my eyes are?"
"Because," Mason said from his spot behind Ethan, "it's a sign."
"Of what?"
"Greatness." Ethan's mouth found mine; his tongue tasted like sugar.
With a moan, I threw my arms around his neck and tugged him harder against me.
Mason coughed.
Ethan waved him away, moving onto the bed, pulling my body tightly against his.
Our mouths were fused together. I never wanted to let go — never wanted to breathe if it wasn't heavy with his taste, his scent.
I forgot about the feather in my hands, pushing it against his chest.
Ethan flinched and pulled back with a hiss. "Sariel?"
I nodded. "He was with me… when I closed my eyes."
"Well, I'll be damned," Mason muttered under his breath. "The archangels rarely visit immortals, and now you're saying you spent actual time with him?"
"After my kidnapping," I muttered.
"Doesn't matter." Mason's eyebrows shot up. "Time is their currency, to spend time with any being — when you're an angel — is a gift."
I lifted the feather to my face, the purple shining in the light of the room.