Not that she could help much from below the surface.
Sethios began to pace, something he’d done quite a bit of out on this beach. Gabriel owned the entire island, his house only taking up a small speck of space. Some of the underbrush could use a little trimming, but it was otherwise an ideal piece of real estate out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. The waves were rough, crashing against the shore with a fury that rivaled Sethios’s mood.
He walked alone, indulging in the night, seeking out the solitude offered among the stars. Nearly two decades flashed behind his eyes, there and gone in an instant. It was such a minuscule scrap of time. And yet, it was profoundly life-altering.
Three thousand years of existence had not prepared him to feel this way. So alone. So devastated. So wronged.
His hands curled into fists, his mind wandering to his angel once more. Where are you, Caro? Talk to me.
“Dad?” a voice called instead, his daughter appearing in a flurry of translucent feathers a few feet away. Her wings fluttered around her as she found her footing, the plumes a brilliant opal shade beneath the moon. Then they disappeared as she took her corporeal state, her expression one of astute concentration.
She was still learning how to control her angelic talents, including the one that allowed her to compel others.
“Hi, little angel,” Sethios murmured, doing his best to tamp down the anger he felt inside. He didn’t want to scare her, not after they’d been so recently reacquainted.
It was a bit strange having a fully grown daughter whom he hadn’t seen in years, one who had already found her other half. Sethios almost felt replaced in a way, her loyalty split between the family she once knew and the one she’d created on her own.
He hadn’t decided how he wanted to react to that yet.
A darker part of Sethios wanted to slaughter the immortal who thought he was good enough to date—no, not just date, but mate—his daughter.
Meanwhile, a wiser part of him respected Issac Wakefield’s confidence. The Ichorian hadn’t once bowed to Sethios, his main priority very clearly Astasiya and only Astasiya.
Time would tell whether the darker side would win out against the wiser side.
Right now, he embraced the latter. For his daughter’s sake.
He opened his arms for her, offering a hug that felt right yet foreign at the same time. If she noticed, she didn’t mention it, just returned the gesture before following his gaze upward into the stars.
“Your mother and I used to enjoy nights like this,” he explained softly. “There was very little light around Seeley Lake. It provided us a sense of peace and security.”
A false security, of course.
They’d never been truly safe, just as they weren’t safe here either. Not with the Seraphim residing so close by and his father trying to hunt them down.
The two of them stood in silence for a long moment, his arm around her shoulders, their gazes on the sky.
Serenity surrounded him for an instant, his heart reveling in the choices he and Caro had made. Their separation hurt, but in the end, they’d done the right thing.
After a few more minutes, he released Astasiya and took a step away to face her fully. She hadn’t come here to stargaze. He could see the resolve in her green eyes, so similar to his own. However, the rest of her was all Caro—athletic with feminine curves, long blonde hair, soft yet elegant features, ethereal and beautiful.
It almost hurt to look at her.
And yet, he found himself grinning.
“What?” Astasiya asked.
“You just remind me so much of your mother,” he admitted softly. Something he’d mentioned before yet felt the need to say again. Because it was so very true. “Although, your emotions are a bit more impressive than hers. I suspect you get that from me.”
“If you’re talking about earlier, well, Stark deserved it.”
Sethios’s lips twitched. “Can’t deny that,” he agreed, amused.
Astasiya was nowhere near ready to forgive her brother for his choices over the last two decades. While Sethios understood many of the Seraphim’s decisions, he had to admit that Gabriel Stark had royally fucked up a few details. One of those decisions had even led to Astasiya being buried alive, which was unacceptable to all parties involved.
“You know he meant well,” Sethios offered as a consolatory statement. “But I agree he could have handled it a little better.”
“A little better?” she repeated, incredulous. “He let me think I was toxic to Issac. Not to mention the whole death incident. Oh, and letting us all think he was working with John.” She scrunched her nose, reminding him of her favorite stubborn expression from childhood. “The memory manipulation thing sucked, too.”
