archangel is exhilarating.â Heâd seen and done incredible things, used every bit of his skill and intelligence to complete the tasks heâd been set. âBut Nimra is . . . unique.â That, too, was true.
Amariyahâs tone tried for a false lightness but her bitterness was too deep to be hidden. âSheâs an angel. Vampires are no match for their beauty and grace.â
âIt depends on the vampire,â Noel said, turning to face the open balcony doors. His gaze caught on the tableau inside the main roomâAsirani touching Christianâs arm in an invitation that was unmistakable. Dressed in a cheongsam of deepest indigo bordered with gold, her hair swept off her face, her vibrant beauty was a stunning counterpoint to Christianâs almost acetic elegance.
The angelic male leaned down to hear what it was she had to say, but he held himself with a severity that was unnatural, his mouth set in an unsmiling line.
âLook at them,â Amariyah murmured, and he realized sheâd followed his line of sight. âAsirani has ever tried to gain Christianâs affections, but she falls a poor second in comparison to Nimra.â Again, the words held hidden blades.
âAsirani is a stunning woman in her own right.â Noel watched as Christian tugged off the vampireâs hands with implacable gentleness and walked away. Asiraniâs expression shut down, her spine a rod of steel.
Amariyah shrugged. âShall we walk back inside?â
Noel had the feeling sheâd expected far more support for her views than sheâd received from him. âI think Iâll stay awhile longer.â
She left without a word, stalking into the main room in a flash of brilliant red that was the tight silk of her ankle-length dress, the fall of her coal black hair stroking over the lush curves of her body. He watched her walk up to Asirani, lay her hand on the other womanâs shoulder, squeeze. As she dipped her head to speak to the vampire, he sensed another feminine presence, this one a complex, mysterious orchid to Amariyahâs showy rose.
CHAPTER 5
W hen he glanced over the balcony, it was to see Nimra walking arm in arm with Fen along an avenue of night-blooming flowers, the elderly manâs steps slow and awkward in comparison to her grace, his hand trembling on the cane. Yet the way Nimra compensated for his age and speed told Noel that this was something they did often, the angel with her wings of jewel-dusted brown, and the human man in the twilight of his life.
Compelled by the puzzle of her, Noel found himself walking down the steps to the garden to follow in their wake. An unexpected meow had him stopping on the last step and looking down into the dark, his vision more acute than a mortalâs. Mimosa lay under a bush full of tiny starlike flowers closed up for the night, her body quivering.
The intrepid cat hadnât come to Noel in the days heâd been here, but tonight she stayed in place as he bent down and picked her up, holding her close to the warmth of his chest. âAre you cold, old girl?â he murmured, stroking her with one hand. When she continued to shiver, he opened up the buttons of his formal black shirt and put her against his skin. Dropping her head, she curled into him, her shivers starting to fade. âThere you go.â
He continued to stroke her as he walked the way Fen and Nimra had disappeared. Mimosa was fragile under his hand, as fine boned as her mistress. It was strangely soothing to hold her, and for the first time in a long while, Noel thought back to the boy heâd been. Heâd had a pet, too, a great old mutt who had followed Noel around with utter faithfulness until his body gave out. Noel had buried him on the moor, steeped the ground in his tears where no one could see him.
Mimosa stirred against his chest as he turned the corner, catching the scent of her mistress. Nimra was on the other side of the
Learning to Kill: Stories