I wince at the bite of suspicion in his tone. Luca’s trust in me is rattled, and I can’t blame him. Malach showed up and claimed to be my husband. If the situation were reversed, I would be losing my shit.
My breath catches, inhales tripping over exhales until neither action brings me oxygen or relief. This is bad. Horrible. Completely out of my control. If I could wake up tomorrow and forget all about this terrible night, I would.
“Stop fighting,” I gasp. Biting my lip, I use the pain to ground myself. “I need a minute. Please.”
They ignore me.
Malach lands a heavy punch on Luca’s forehead. Luca retaliates by driving an elbow into his ribs. I frown and hobble toward them, putting my weight on the balls of my feet to avoid my stupid, broken heel.
“Stop,” I snap, sounding more like myself. They still don’t listen.
Shoving bodily between them, I grab Malach’s fist in one hand and cover Luca’s murder eyes with the other, accidentally poking his right eye since I can’t look directly at it.
“Fuck, Celine,” Luca grunts.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “But you weren’t listening.”
Malach unclenches his fist. His fingers graze my palm and send sparks shooting along my nerves as he attempts to hold my hand with his eyes closed. I squint at his stubborn, chiseled profile, lit by the fluorescent streetlight, and clear my throat. “Since you can speak English so well, why don’t you tell Luca you aren’t really my husband?”
“Why would I do that when the expressions on his face and yours were everything I hoped for?” Malach grins around his split lip, and I want to punch the dimple in his chin. I settle for shoving him instead.
“Because it isn’t true,” I remind him. “We never got married.”
Malach frowns. “And our betrothal vows meant nothing to you?”
I grit my teeth. He knows I can’t lie about this. This is his bullheaded way of backing me into a corner. “You’re over-simplifying something more complicated than most of this realm’s economies,” I sputter. “We were kids, Malach. I wanted to make Mom happy, and I trusted you.”
His eyelids flutter until he’s staring carefully at the ground, his gaze fixed on my broken heel. “And have I ever betrayed that trust? Even for a moment?” There’s hurt in the question. It echoes in my chest.
I shift my weight, wishing Luca weren’t here to hear this. “I didn’t leave because I didn’t trust you,” I admit.
Malach nods, satisfied with himself for pulling that truth out of me, then sighs. “I know why you left, My Truth.”
“Then you know I won’t return,” I whisper. “Why are you here, Malach?”
Luca stands rigidly at my side, tension radiating off him in cold, angry waves. Malach isn’t moving either, but I can’t sense even a glimmer of how he feels. When did he become so stoic? The silence stretches between us until I’m desperate for anything to break it.
“I’m here because I made a mistake,” he says gravely.
My wings quiver, and the itch returns violently to the middle of my back where it’s impossible to reach. Every instinct screams that whatever Malach says next, I’m not going to like it.
“Explain,” I grunt.
He sighs. “You’ve been visited by other angels?”
“Yeah, Dad found me.” I narrow my eyes. “He’s been sending assassins. And orphans. Honestly, it’s been a strange few weeks.”
Malach glances at the night sky—carefully avoiding Luca—then meets my gaze, his green eyes glittering from the combination of street and starlight. “Your father did not send assassins ororphans.” He clears his throat; the first sign of nervousness I’ve seen from him. “I brought the children to spare them from their fate. I knew you would help them.”
“Wait. Slow down,” I interrupt. “You dropped the orphans here? What about the killers? The ones who attacked Alistair and Luca—they were here to assassinate me.”
Malach lifts his chin stubbornly. I’m immediately dragged back in time to our teen years, when that same mulish tilt used to set me off at least once a week.
“I acted as I saw fit,” he says.
My wings smoke, wisps curling around the three of us as my anger grows.Not now, dammit.I flap my hand to clear the cloud building in front of my face.
Luca takes a step back, dropping his shirt from his bloody nose as he eyes my wings. “Deep breaths, baby,” he warns.
