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His gaze seemed lit from within. “Because they’re attached to you.”
My heart skipped a beat, my steps faltered, and I nearly lost my grip on the sword’s hilt at his next blow. Another nimble move supported by my wings saved me, putting several feet of distance between us.
Aziel nonchalantly tossed his blade in the air and caught it again, looking entirely too comfortable and not at all like this fight cost him any effort.
“Well,” I said from my safe distance, “I showed you mine.”
He cocked a brow.
“Let me see your wings.”
Having them out would give me quite a bit more of a target area. I might just be able to get a slice in on one of the upper arches, drawing blood.
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “As you wish.”
With a soft susurration, his wings appeared—and took my breath away.
Sparkling white, silver lightning arcing over the feathers, they were spellbindingly beautiful. And I’d seen many a pair of wings in my time up here, so there was no reasonable explanation why his should register as more stunning than others’, especially since, from a purely objective viewpoint, there truly wasn’t much difference in appearance to other angels’ wings.
And yet, I couldn’t help feeling like these were special.
My gaze flicked to his face, drinking in the ethereal beauty of his features, the way that spark of laughter in his eyes made appreciative joy bubble up in my chest.
I guessed it really did matter whom those wings were attached to.
“Well?” he asked with amusement lacing his tone, circling closer. “What’s your verdict?”
A grin rolled over my face as I pivoted with him, my sword at the ready. “They’re pretty.”
He paused, his power vibrating. “They’re not pretty,” he said after a moment, his tone deliberate, his focus on me sharp enough to cut the air. “They’re?—”
“Magnificent harbingers of death.” The words had risen up from the depth of my mind, spilled from my tongue as if in a trance, as if pulled out by necessity to complete some foretold destiny.
Because I’d heard them in yet another dream—only, he’d been the one to speak them, not me. Further proof that the future as seen in my visions was malleable.
Aziel stilled, the casual swing of his sword pausing in midair. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, a warm smile spread over his face, while the usual dull throb of the headaches accompanying one of my visions coming true crept up on me. I winced at the pain pulsing through my head, closing my eyes for a second.
Which was a huge mistake.
The next instant, I found myself backed up against the wall, my sword clattering to the ground from the moment of vulnerability that Aziel had used to disarm me with a well-placed strike to my hand. The tip of his blade hovered an inch from my chest, poised to lance forward and pierce my heart.
Which would stun me for several minutes.
Wide-eyed, I stared at him, my right hand smarting from where he’d struck it to relieve me of my weapon, my wings pressed tightly between my back and the cave wall. My heartbeat resembled the mad gallop of a herd of startled unicorns.
“That wasn’t fair,” I blurted. “I was temporarily incapacitated, and you just?—”
“Used my opponent’s momentary weakness to press my advantage?” His eyes glittered.
“Well, if you put it that way,” I gritted out, “it does sound like the smart thing to do.”
His smirk really had no right to be so sexy. He lowered his sword and sheathed it, then stepped closer and grabbed my right hand. A spark of electricity traveled out from where his skin touched mine, followed by a soothing wave of his power.
The pain in my hand vanished.
I glanced down at where only a smear of blood on my skin remained of the injury he’d dealt me.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
