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“Were you with her when she tried to blow her brains out?” Byron said. His tone was still matter-of-fact, but his eyes glittered with the hungry malice of the born gossip. Asher felt Kelsey’s heart rate double.
“Byron, I’d rather not talk about that, if you don’t mind,” she said.
“Yes, I was,” Asher said. “And I was furious.” He looked down at her, smiling as her eyes met his. “But I think she’s better now.”
“I am,” she promised. “Much better.” From a distance, Asher had looked just the same. But up close, she could see faint lines around his eyes and at the corners of his perfect mouth, see how the blue light of his eyes had slightly dimmed. His hand over hers was still warmer than a human’s but not quite as warm as before. But he was still beautiful, maybe more so, and the look in his eyes made her heart skip a beat. “I’m a little tired, though,” she said. “I think I could use a little air. Asher, would you come with me?” Let the vultures nibble on that one, she thought.
“Have Jason call me,” Byron said, handing her a card. “We need to talk. I might have a commission for you.”
“Thanks, Byron.” Before Jake had gotten sick, back when she had still been an illustrator who managed to finish a fine art painting maybe twice a year, she would have fainted in happy shock at the idea of a commission from a collector like Byron. Now she really couldn’t have cared less. “We’ll have to talk.”
She led Asher through the gallery, her hand held lightly in his. She smiled and nodded at the people they passed but refused to let anyone stop them. “Ten minutes,” she mouthed to Jason when they reached the back door, and he nodded.
She took him outside and up the rusted fire escape to the roof. She and Jake had spent the greater part of most of his openings here, her teasing and comforting him as he paced and smoked and bitched about being packaged as a product. The asphalt roof near the railing was still littered with cigarette butts. “I’m so glad you came,” she said, turning to Asher.
His answer was to kiss her, sweeping her up in his arms and taking her breath away. She melted against him, twining her arms around his neck and opening her mouth to his, not caring who might see.
After a long moment, he broke the kiss and held her close, cradling her head against his throat. “Why didn’t you call for me?”
“I wasn’t sure I could. I thought I shouldn’t.” His arms around her felt perfect, but she was crying. “I had already hurt you so much.”
“Stop it.” He turned her face up to his. “Just stop.” He kissed her softly before he let her go.
“Are you even still an angel?”
“No,” he said, his face utterly serious. “I’m an elephant now. This is my brilliant disguise.”
“You’re a smartass now.” She smiled, feeling better. “That’s new.”
“It is, and I have to say, I have enjoyed it.” He took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “I am still an angel.” The air around him shimmered and his human clothes melted away. His angel form was naked to the waist over the leather kilt of his armor, and his wings were still jet black. A black-handled sword was sheathed on his hip. “I just have a different mission now.” She could see scars all over his torso; the worst was a deep purple gash across his chest. She moved closer to press a kiss to his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her head.
“What kind of mission?” she said, laying her head on his shoulder.
“Never mind.” He chuckled, a rumble in his chest she felt all through her. “Just know that there’s always a plan.”
“But it’s not what you wanted.”
“I didn’t want anything before.” He turned her face up to his again. “Now I do.”
“Asher…” She took a step back from him. “I almost got you damned forever.”
“I’ll risk it.” He touched her cheek. “Just don’t be scared of me,” he said. “That’s all I want for now.”
“Is it?” She smiled. “I’m not scared.”
Jason checked his watch and sighed. “Come on, Kelsey.”
Someone tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me.” A dark-haired, bearded man was standing behind him. “I wanted to ask about one of the paintings.” He was tall and thin, wearing a black suit that probably had cost more than Jason’s car. He would have been handsome if he hadn’t had a lurid, purple scar that slashed across his face.
“Certainly,” Jason said, smiling and looking him straight in the eye. “Which one?”
“The Tree.” He handed over a card with an obscene monetary figure scribbled on the back. “I must have it.” His accent was impossible to place, vaguely European. But the name on the card seemed perfectly ordinary—Lucas Black. “I can have the money wired to your account tonight. When can I expect delivery?”
“We’re holding all the paintings until the show closes next month,” Jason said, trying not to sound like he was about to break out into a dance of joy. If news of this sale leaked out—and he would make sure it did—Kelsey’s career would be made. He heard a strange sound behind him and looked back. The dog that had come in with Kelsey’s mysterious model was backed up against the back door, his teeth bared and his hackles up.
“That will be satisfactory,” Black said. “Call my office in the morning with the account information, and they will give you the delivery address.” He nodded, a polite, courtly gesture that didn’t quite hide the glitter of triumph in his eyes.
“The artist will be back any minute now,” Jason said. “I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”
