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She watched her familiar disappear, then turned to retrieve the key.
As for Cinder, she had an exchange to make.
* * *
Micah rubbed his chest with the hell of his hand as he walked down the crowded Strip.
Almost subconsciously, he noticed just how different it looked during the day. Micah rarely left the hotel—there was no reason for him to when it had everything he needed inside—but when he did, it was at night. With his black wings, it was easier for him to blend against the dark sky after the sun fell. That was a recent worry. Before the angels’ powers began to wane, he could camouflage himself during any flight.
Of course, then Lucifer cursed the factions. And while Las Vegas was a faction city, there were still plenty of humans who were unaware that paranormals existed. It was just easier to keep up the facade that he was human, too.
So he wore casual human clothes, kept his sandy brown hair cut in the human style, stubbornly relied on human tech, and only let his wings out when he wouldn’t have to answer any pesky questions.
Showing them off to Phoenix—no, to Cinder… it was the only thing he could think to do. It hadn’t worked, and it wasn’t until he’d launched into the air and flown away from her that it dawned on him that he could’ve left countless witnesses to his angelic flight once he left the edge of the desert, heading back toward the City of Sin.
He should care. Most tourists in Las Vegas were of the sort who believed in Area 51 so even if they had no clue the factions existed, other humans would probably just delight in having proof that they did. It wasn’t like the factions had to hide, either. The only law in their world was that humans couldn’t be harmed just for being human, and that had more to do with fairness. A faction being fighting a human was like a tiger taking on a kitten. It wasn’t right.
Once he touched down on the ground, Micah snapped his back, leaving his wings flat against him. A fairy tailor was responsible for most of the angel princes’ clothes. His shirts were charmed so that they didn’t tear when his wings released, and he was grateful at least that he wasn’t walking around in tatters.
His wings were certainly drawing more than enough attention already.
Micah’s feathers rippled as he approached the hotel. Ignoring the way heads turned, planting a suggestion in his wake when he remembered that he was in costume for some kind of show, he couldn’t stop thinking about his soulmate.
She called herself Cinder, and the look in her eyes was blank and unfamiliar, but he knew her. She was once Phoenix—and whatever happened to bring her back to him, she was still his soulmate.
No denying that. The recognition of who the dark-haired witch was to him sang through him to the depths of his soul. If she’d given him any sign that she’d welcome him, Micah would’ve pulled her close just to prove that she was there. She was alive again.
She was his.
But she hadn’t, and as hard as it had been, Micah kept his distance when it became obvious that that was what she wanted. He even flew away when she was prepared to close the door in his face. If his wings hadn’t been enough to trigger her memory right now, then nothing would’ve been.
Once upon a time she’d loved them. When they first met, his soulmate had already been bonded to her crow familiar. She’d thought that Micah being an angel was intriguing, but it was his black wings that delighted her. With a glimmer in her purple eyes, she’d pointed out that Micah and Crow matched.
She still had the crow. Perched on her shoulder, watching over her like he always did, Micah would’ve recognized Crow anywhere. Sam had. As soon as the crow swooped in, stealing their talisman from Polly, he’d known something was up.
Then Cinder had used magic against him and Micah’s brother was sure of it.
Did Crow remember him? The familiar didn’t speak—as magical as he was, there were limits to his abilities—but he had a psychic tie to Cinder that made it possible for her to communicate with him. Maybe he needed to try to get Crow back on his side. The bird had been friendly with him once before. It was worth a shot.
If he got Crow on his side, there was a chance he could convince Cinder to talk to him for more than a few minutes.
It was something to think about. As he headed toward the hotel, vowing to himself he’d give Cinder some time before approaching her again, he glanced up—and that’s when Micah noticed the sleek, black bird trailing in the distance. Its aura brushed up against Micah’s.
Crow.
It had to be. Regular birds never pinged against Micah’s celestial aura, but a witch’s familiar did. And there was only one crow-shaped familiar that he knew of these days.
For whatever reason, Crow was tracking him—
—which meant that he wasn’t with Cinder.
His soulmate was alone.
I’m too busy…
Doing what, Micah wondered, his wings bristling as he thought about his soulmate on her own without even Crow to watch over her.
The Fallen had many abilities. Seeing the future wasn’t one of them, but a reliable intuition was. So distracted by coming face to face with Phoenix—Cinder—for the first time in decades, he’d forgotten all about what Sam and Polly had told him last night.
