Darkness Rising (Dark Angels 2)

“I think the word for it is stubborn,” he commented. “Have your shower. I will order food for you.”

“Oh, will you now?” I said, not sure whether to be surprised or annoyed. “And who made you my mother?”

“No one, obviously, as that is not physically possible,” he said, face as inscrutable as ever. Yet I sensed he was both amused and frustrated, and suddenly wondered if the Chi link between us was becoming strong enough that it was giving me a clearer glimpse of him.

I removed Amaya, placing the sword on the bed, then turned and carefully headed for the bathroom. A long hot shower revived me a little more, although I had scant success in scrubbing all the fibrous remnants of clothing from my skin. I was going to be pulling bits out for days.

After turning off the water, I grabbed a towel and carefully dried myself. A sudden knock at the door made me jump, but a second later the delicious scent of roast lamb invaded the room and I couldn’t help grinning. Azriel had ordered my favorite—and no surprise, given he seemed to have an all-access pass to my memories and thoughts.

I left the towel on the bath’s edge and walked out. He turned, his gaze scanning me briefly. Something flickered in his eyes—an emotion or reaction that disappeared too fast to name—then he waved a hand at the food.

“This is sufficient?”

“More than sufficient.” God, there was even Coke. I drank half the bottle then grabbed a piece of lamb, munching on it as I walked across to my bag. After pulling out underwear, jeans, T-shirt, and a sweater—I skipped the bra because I really didn’t want any pressure on my newly healed ribs—I got dressed. Azriel’s gaze was a weight that heated my insides and stirred things that had no right to be stirring. Not when it came to him.

“So,” he said abruptly. “This first clue—”

“Any discussion will wait until Lucian gets here.” I glanced at the clock as I sat down to eat my meal. Forty minutes had passed. It was unusual for Lucian to be late for any date, let alone one that might give him a shot at the vengeance he was so hungry for. Concern stirred, but I thrust it aside. If anyone was capable of defending himself against attack, it was Lucian. Although why anyone would want to attack him, I had no idea. It wasn’t as if he’d been involved in our quest before now.

I finished my meal and was on my second cup of coffee—feeling more alive if not more energetic—by the time he arrived.

Azriel opened the door. For a moment, the two men stared, reminding me of combatants in a boxing ring, each one measuring up the other. Then Azriel stepped aside and Lucian’s gaze met mine.

It was the gaze of the Aedh, not the lover. He was here for business, nothing more. Even the kiss he dropped on my lips was perfunc

tory, containing little in the way of warmth or desire.

He pulled out a chair and sat beside me. “What are we searching for?”

“The first key is veiled as an ax, but all I managed to get from the book before we were attacked was: It was sent to the west of Melbourne where the wild—” I shrugged. “Wild what I have no idea. Nor do I know if it’s literal or cryptic.”

“The Aedh don’t do cryptic,” Azriel commented. He’d stationed himself on the other side of the table, his arms crossed and face impassive. Yet dark blue flames flickered across Valdis’s sides, and I wondered if that was a sign of his annoyance or merely a reaction to Lucian’s presence.

His gaze flicked to me. Both.

Seriously, you need to stop reading my thoughts.

I cannot. Live with it. His mental voice was short and sharp, and I wanted to laugh.

You know, if I didn’t know better I’d think that was an edge of emotion creeping into your tone.

As I said, there are drawbacks to holding this shape for long periods of time.

The ability to become emotional being one of them? Interesting. And of course, the perverse part of me suddenly wondered if, with emotion, came desire.

And naturally, that was one internal question he didn’t answer.

“So,” Lucian said, “the mention of wild could mean anything from half the name of a sports team to a museum filled with stuffed animals.”

“Or a zoo.” I paused and frowned. “Although I can’t imagine that the Raziq would be daft enough to hide an ax in a sporting club.”

“And I couldn’t imagine a zoo having much need for an ax,” he retorted.

I leaned back in the chair at his tone, and he grimaced. “Sorry. Vengeance is so close I can taste it, and it’s making me a little edgy.”

Understandable, I guess, but that didn’t excuse it. “It’s not certain that finding or touching the keys will bring the Raziq to us. None of us has any idea just what magic went into the making of these keys or their disguising, and neither my father nor the Raziq was actually expecting to lose them.”

“Your father may have disguised and stolen the keys, but the rest of Raziq would not have allowed him to be the sole provider of blood when it came to the actual making of them. That would be handing one man too much power, and even the Raziq would be wary of that.”