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“Oh, I didn’t introduce myself already? My mistake. I was distracted by the paintings.”
I heard footsteps come towards me, and then Ashe was right by my side, holding out his free hand with a wolfish smile. “The name’s Ashe Olskin. You’re Sariel Ambrose, right?”
So he was Elias’s relative, then. That cleared one thing up. “I am,” I answered, setting down my brush so that I could shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
He grinned wide. “Likewise.”
For some reason, as soon as the shake was over, my wolf immediately stopped being on alert, but my angel was puffing up. Ashe wasn’t being aggressive or anything, but something about his grin was ruffling my angel’s feathers.
I ignored him to look down at the tied-up bundle Ashe had. “What’s that?”
Ashe shrugged. “Some traditional witchy stuff Jack asked me to get. Candles, knives, that sort of thing. I was told they were in here, though they were a bit hard to find with how the boxes were all packed together.”
I bristled a little at the jab, but Ashe’s attention turned to my other work-in-progress that was up on a second stand next to him. His eyes sparkled with interest.
Seemed like it was only a perceived jab, then. I shook my head—my angel’s prickliness was definitely making me jumpier..
What’s your deal?I tried to ask him, but he didn’t answer. Figured.
“What’s this one? A not-fallen angel slaying a fallen angel?” Ashe asked. He was inspecting every single speck of the piece in a way that was making me self-conscious, like he would find a mistake and comment on it.
I knew what the painting was even if it wasn’t facing me. “The not-fallen angel is slaying Azazel,” I said flatly.
“Your sperm donor? Understandable.” He looked at me with one raised brow and an amused smirk when I raised my brows. “And is it a coincidence that the angel looks a lot like your girlfriend?”
My face heated up a little from being caught. Still, I wasn’t embarrassed about having painted Aria as my hypothetical guardian angel, albeit subconsciously. “No, it’s not,” I answered sullenly, dipping my brush in the palette and making the strokes for the roof.
He hummed as he considered the unfinished painting. “Is this Azazel’s actual fallen angel form, then? He’s an ugly son of a bitch. You’d think someone who looked like a mangled corpse would be a bit more humble.”
I huffed out a laugh, and he turned to me with that shit-eating grin again. “Lucky for you that ugly doesn’t run in the family, huh? You and your girlfriend are supermodels. Too bad you can’t work as those because of supernatural politics.”
All of a sudden, my angel stopped being vigilant and went back to being passive.
Really? One compliment, and whatever set you off is fine now?I asked him. Other than a pissy rustle of his wings, he predictably didn’t answer.
Whatever. I didn’t have time for his shit.
Speaking of family resemblances, I fully took in Ashe’s appearance for the first time. His black hair, dark eyes, height, tanned skin, and even casual clothing choice did make him look a lot like Elias, but his long hair, almost feminine features, and lack of facial hair or massive muscles also made him look a lotnotlike Elias. His nearly ridiculous prettiness vaguely reminded me of how Tarragon had also been a ridiculously pretty man, but the Fae King was also insane, so maybe that comparison wasn’t something I should say out loud.
I was apparently staring too long at him, because Ashe’s smile faltered a little. “What?” he asked, clearly a bit uncomfortable.
“Sorry, I just… Is Elias your dad?” I blurted out.
Ashe’s eyes went wide for a second, but when he processed what I’d just said, he burst into laughter.
I fought the heat that threatened to come up my neck yet again. I was pretty sure that this guy’s reactions and words were just catching me off guard when I’d been dealing with much less open friends and strangers this whole time.
Once Ashe was done laughing his ass off, he cleared his throat and wiped tears out of the corners of his eyes as he composed himself. “No, no, Elias isn’t my dad. Well, he might as well be, but he’s definitely not mybiologicaldad. He’s my uncle.”
I nodded, even if that statement just raised more questions. “So… what do you do for him?”
His smile gave way to a surprisingly sharp and scrutinizing look. He stared me straight in the eye, then looked me up and down like he was staring into my very soul.
Whatever he found, he ended up just shrugging, softening his eyes again, and pulling over a stool. The bundle he held was set on the ground. “Eh, I guess there’s no harm in telling at this point. Especially you, Mr. Resistance Leader’s Brother.”
He sat up straight, arms and ankles crossed. “I’m the main information gatherer for the pack. A spy, if you want to call it that. Any rumors, any news, and any conspiracies that happen inside the Upper Council, I’m one of the first to know about them.”
He seemed pretty proud of that. It made sense, too; a dissenter would need a pretty good spy on their team to stay ahead and be useful to their own side. “Were you the one gathering information for the Resistance? And the one who tracked Tyler Bastille?” I questioned.
