Clara’s blue eyes glimmered with excitement as she reached out to stroke her finger along the edge of his red feathers. A warm emotion encircled her, the heat basking him in a strange sort of glow that heated his chest.

Happiness, he thought.

Pride, she corrected. But it’s often tied to happiness.

“How do you know the difference?” he wondered out loud.

“Experience,” she murmured, her fingers petting his wing now. “You’ll learn.” Her expression turned almost dreamy, stirring a lightness in the air.

“And what are you feeling now?”

“Content,” she whispered. “But also safe.” Her blue eyes met his. “Your wings are beautiful, Gabriel.”

“You saw them last night.”

“I was too lost to the sensations to notice. It’s not every day an angel takes me into the clouds for a dozen orgasms.” She dropped her touch, and his plumes flexed in response, irritated by the loss of her heat.

“You’ve destroyed me, little witch,” he informed her.

“I’m not a witch.”

“You are to me.” He dropped his jeans but kept his phone in his palm. Then he used his opposite hand to grab the back of her neck and tug her to him. “Apparently, you’re my little witch.”

“Then you’re my guardian angel.”

She’d claimed that a few times. It didn’t bother him. “My mother is from the messenger line, so I suppose it’s appropriate.”

“Messenger line?”

“Yes. I’m of the messenger and warrior lines.”

“I don’t know what that means,” she admitted. It didn’t surprise him, considering her lack of general knowledge about his kind. Their existence was a well-guarded secret, even against other immortals.

“I’ll need to teach you about Seraphim politics,” he decided out loud.

“Just as I’ll need to teach you about emotions,” she countered.

His lips nearly curled again, but he refused them. “A practical arrangement. I accept.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I look forward to learning more.”

“You might regret that statement once I start the tutorial.” Alas, understanding his world would be necessary for her survival.

Unless the council opted to exterminate her.

His brow furrowed with the thought. Can they kill her? he wondered. Is she susceptible to death in this in-between state?

Blood bonds were so rare that he wasn’t sure.

Sethios and his mother weren’t a good judge for developmental stages since both of them already possessed Seraphim genetics.

But Clara didn’t.

Did that weaken her immortality?

The glimmer in her gaze died as she followed his thoughts. Can who kill me? she asked.

The High Council of Seraph.

Her face drained of color. Why would they want to kill me?

Because of our bond, he replied. You’re considered an abomination to my kind. Bonding with you is essentially a crime for Seraphim.

Will they kill you, too?

I can’t be killed, he replied. But they may try to take my wings. A punishment he’d recently learned existed for his kind. They’d done it to Skye and would likely consider doing it to him after everything he’d done these last few years.

Of course, they would have to catch him first.

Something he would not make easy for any of them.

Clara clutched his shirt. “I might die… because of this?” A new emotion came from her, one he hadn’t tasted yet.

Fear, he recognized, her eyes widening as her knuckles turned white.

“It’s possible they will order your death, yes,” he replied matter-of-factly.

She began to shake. He caught her with his arm as her knees buckled, his lips pulling down at the sight of her terror.

This wasn’t a useful reaction.

Nor did he like it.

He guided her to the bed and helped her sit, then set his phone on the nightstand. “Clara?”

She was staring off into space now, her skin far too pale.

“Clara?” he tried again.

No reply.

She just sat there, fingers linked together, eyes on nothing. But her mind raced with thoughts, ones he snagged at different intervals as they tripped through her head.

Some of them were angry. Some were terrified. Some were resigned.

One lingered in regret, but she quickly dismissed it in favor of resignation. She chose the experience they shared over her own life, a fact that alarmed him because it made no logical sense.

“How can you think that?” he demanded. “We barely know each other. Your life is surely worth more than our bond.”

“Is it?” she asked, her eyes still unfocused. “Do you know why I was turned?”

“No.” He only knew Aidan had created her. He’d never looked into why, as it wasn’t relevant.

“For Issac,” she said. “Aidan turned me as a present for another man.” She released a little laugh and shook her head. “He never asked me for permission. He just assumed I wanted immortality and handed me over like some glorified gift. The only reason I didn’t hate him was because I could sense the reason behind it—the love.”

Gabriel studied her. “Are you likening it to our situation of you turning into a Seraphim without permission?” he asked, unclear as to the reason for her story.

“No. I’m trying to explain why I find worth in the experience—because I more or less chose it.”

That rationality didn’t make sense. “You bit me without understanding the consequences.”

“True, but I think I would do it again even if I did know.”

His eyes widened. “You would choose to be bonded to a Seraphim you barely know?”

“If it means feeling a connection to someone for even five minutes of my life, then yes.”

“I don’t… I’m not sure I follow. Are you saying you don’t have any connections?” Because that seemed illogical. Aidan created her. Did that not serve as a link in some capacity?

“How old are you, Gabriel?” she asked.

“Nearly six decades,” he replied slowly, uncertain as to why she changed the subject but curious about her now as well. “You?”

“Ninety-three years old,” she said. “My family died of the flu when I was seven. I was the sole survivor and grew up in an orphanage in Vancouver. So I learned how to be alone at a very young age. I was just nineteen when I met Aidan. He found me on the streets—a place a lot of girls in my situation ended up—and turned me a few days later.”

“Which created a sire bond,” Gabriel translated.

“Of a sort, yes. But you see, I’ve always had a gift for reading emotions. When I became an Ichorian, that talent grew into a supernatural ability. And so, I’ve always been in tune with the emotions of those around me. I could see their familial links, and not one of them connected back to me.”

She described a rather lonely existence, but still, she had a link before him. “I’m sure Aidan cared for you in some way.”

“Oh, he did,” she replied. “But he never loved me. Neither did Anya or Nadia. Or Issac. Or Tristan. Or even B or Luc. We’re family in a way, but not where it counts, something that became astutely obvious when they all so easily believed me to be the culprit. As I told you, actions are what matters to me. Not words.”

“I don’t love you,” he said, feeling the need to clarify that. “Our connection is by blood, not through the heart.”

“I know.”

“Yet you would still choose it?” He failed to understand her logic. “Why?”

“Because it’s a connection I can feel,” she said softly. “And I’ve always wondered what it would be like to experience that.” Her smile was sad. “I don’t expect you to understand, Gabriel. I know there’s no love between us—I sense that, too—but I’ve been alone for so long that I’ll accept pretty much anything at this point.”

“That’s very sad reasoning,” he informed her. “You’ve not even lived for a century, and we just tied ourselves to one another for eternity.”

“An eternity you just said might not happen because of your council.” She picked up the tablet. “As I said, even if it’s temporary, it was worth it to me to feel a semblance of belonging, despite it being done by accident.” She held out the device for him. “Can you unlock this so I can finish my order?”

He swiped his finger across the screen. “You’re not concerned at all about the council or your potential death?”

“Worrying about it will only waste precious life,” she replied, her focus on the tablet as she continued her order. “And I learned long ago not to mourn situations I have no control over.”

That… was actually rather practical.

The rest, however, baffled him.

She would prefer to link herself to him over living alone.

A bizarre decision, one he suspected she would regret once her shock wore off. Except he didn’t sense any surprise from her, just a content warmth as she scrolled through the grocery list.

So maybe she was broken after all.

Or just severely damaged.

“If the council decides to punish us, I intend to fight,” he told her.

“Okay.”

“Will you fight as well or let them take you?”

She blinked her big blue eyes away from the screen to look at him. “Empathy isn’t very useful in battle. It can only be used to determine someone’s true intentions, to offer you a chance to act preemptively rather than reactively.”

A fair assessment. But… “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It does,” she replied, returning to the tablet. “Empaths don’t fight.”

“So you’ll let them take you?”

“I won’t allow them to do anything, Gabriel.” She typed something out on the screen and held it up for him. “Ready for payment.”

He quickly processed it for her, then set the item on his nightstand beside his phone. “You will either fight or be taken.”

“Or hide,” she replied. “But as I said, I’m not worrying about something I can’t change. When the future comes for me, I’ll face it, and either survive, or not.”

Another rational statement.

So maybe she wasn’t broken, just… carefree?

Yet she’d been shocked at first. How had she gotten over it so quickly?

“By realizing there’s nothing I can do to change it,” she replied softly. “I’m not broken, Gabriel. I’m just trying not to worry about things I can’t control. Is that really so hard to understand?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Everything you’ve said in the last thirty minutes is difficult to process. I don’t understand your reasoning.”

“Not every decision requires logic. Some decisions are made from the heart.” She pressed her palm to his chest. “Consider that lesson number one.”

“Emotions don’t play into Seraphim decisions,” he countered. “Consider that your first lesson, too.”

Her lips curled into an alluring grin. “Touché.”

Rather than reply, he retrieved his phone again and noted the missed texts from Ezekiel and Vera. “Lizzie had the baby,” he read to Clara. “And the council knows her location, but she’s protected by wards.” He expected as much. “Fortunately for us, that means they’ve directed the Fates to focus on Lizzie and not our bond.”

A good indication that their new bond wasn’t noticed. Or, if it was, it didn’t take priority.

Ezekiel not mentioning it also suggested Skye hadn’t seen it.

“Fates?” Clara repeated. “Also, thank you for the update on Lizzie. They’re okay?”

“Yes, from what Ezekiel says, they’re fine. And the Fates are a line of Seraphim who can see the future. The council uses them to guide their edicts. So if they haven’t foreseen our bond, then it doesn’t create any consequences worth noting. At least not yet. So the council likely hasn’t been notified of it.” He set his phone down again. “That’s your second lesson.”

She nodded, then shifted up onto her knees, her breasts swaying with the movement. Nudity clearly didn’t faze her. And he really didn’t mind that trait at all.

“Then I owe you a second lesson,” she said.

His brow itched to lift, but he denied it. Again. “I’m listening.”

Her eyes smiled, the enchantress coming out to play. “Actions, not words.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that lesson already.”

“No, I mean, I prefer to teach with actions”—she reached for his boxer shorts and tucked her finger into the band, yanking him toward the bed—“not words.”

Oh. “Are you going to suck my cock now?” he asked.

“Lie down and find out.”

Yeah, she didn’t need to tell him twice. The groceries wouldn’t be here for another forty minutes, and they had nothing else to do. Well, other than go to Ezekiel’s place. That was what the last message had demanded, but the others could wait for a bit.

Gratification over logic.

A new lesson, indeed.