I shake my head, remembering how many blades his henchmen had. We’ve killed a few of Malach’s crew. It stands to reason he’s holding on to some swords without owners.
My basilisk lifts its head warily, sensing rising tension in the room.
It’s all coming from Celine.
“Could you teach me how to sword fight, baby?” I ask, hoping to coax a smile from her. “I’ve always wanted to try fencing.”
“She won’t be able to sink to your level.” Malach’s Adam’s apple bobs as he slurps a spoonful of milk.
Celine frowns. “Malach, that’s rude.”
“It’s no indictment of his ability as a student,” he argues. “Rather, a criticism of your teaching skills. You lack the patience to instruct a beginner.”
I choke on a laugh as Celine sputters angrily. “You’re talking a lot of shit for someone who’s been lurking in dark corners trying to murder his rivals.”
Malach climbs calmly to his feet. “I told you; it was judgment—do you doubt the truth of my words?”
She presses her lips together, then shakes her head.
His face softens. “If you continue to consider your lovers rivals, you’ll force them to fulfill that destiny.” Malach calmly collects his bowl—bone dry, without a flake in sight—and crosses to the sink to wash it.
I glance at Celine. Hands clenched, her wings are smoking. She pushes away from the kitchen counter and heads down the hall.
I wince as her bedroom door slams.
Malach glances up from the sink, and I study his profile. He doesn’t seem upset, but I don’t know his tells yet. He could be the most stoic guy in the universe for all I know. Just because Celine can’t hide her emotions to save her life doesn’t mean other angels have the same issue.
“The venom will consume her if she invites it in,” he says quietly.
I raise my eyebrows, and his shoulders sag. The massive, pearly wings droop until the ends graze the kitchen tile.
“S’lach is toxic. Especially for her,” he murmurs. “He drove her from her home, from any chance of happiness with me. I don’t begrudge her for building a life here, but she must excise the wound before it can fester.”
I blink, tempted to press him for more. While I know everything about Celine’s present, Malach is part of her past. He can give me a clearer picture of the woman I love...
“I’ve known her for years,” I say. “But she’s only recentlymentioned him to me at all. Those memories... she’s kept them buried for a long time.”
Something unknown flickers in Malach’s eyes. “She’s strong. I must believe it’s not too late.”It can’t be. He leaves that last part unspoken, but I hear it anyway.
He leaves me alone in the kitchen, and I take the opportunity to think. If Malach is right and Celine’s avoidance is destroying her, I’ll have to make her face her demons—even if she hates me for it.
“Stay with Luca at the bar and keep your wings tucked,” Celine says for the tenth time, climbing into my passenger seat and giving Malach no choice but to wedge himself in my compact backseat.
He does it without complaining, tilting his head at an awkward angle to avoid banging the roof. “I will remain with your shifter. Stop fretting,” he grumbles.
“I don’t fret.” Celine tosses me a disbelieving look, and I focus on the road so she doesn’t see the smile I’m fighting. Fretting isn’t the word I would have used, but damn if it doesn’t fit.
“Malach,” she says, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. “You know what I do for work, right?” Oh boy. It’s smart of her to clear the air, but if he says one rude thing to her...
“You use your body to sell a fantasy.”
“Yeah?” Celine asks, her tone wary. “What do you mean by that exactly?”
Silently I curse Alistair for feeding her worry with his bullshit. If he shows up here tonight, I may knock those sparkling white fangs loose on principle alone.
“You allow your patrons to imagine a reality in which theymight be allowed to touch you.” He sniffs. “You are generous to allow them to pretend. It’s charity work on your part.”
I chuckle, low key obsessed with Malach’s definition of stripping. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
