Out in Blue (15 page)

Wren nodded slowly. “All right.”

Raphael squeezed Wren’s arm and headed for the bath.

Wren escorted Ginger from the room and down the stairs, holding her so close, they stumbled more than once. She admired Wren’s face as he laughed off their awkward footing, certain this was the first time she’d seen him this relaxed.

“Devin went back to Burlington,” Wren said. “He took a team to try to find the mercenary who helped my father.”

Ginger always worried for her father, but she trusted his ability to bring himself back alive from anything. She took a breath as they reached the kitchen.

“Any word from Vin?”

“Nothing.” Wren touched her face. “If Lark escapes today, I swear I’ll hunt him down myself.”

“Wren—”

“I will not let him keep you from me. Nor will I allow him to continue to be a threat to my father and myself. His power over us will come to an end.”

Wren paused, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “When the threat is gone, will you stay with me, Gin?”

“Yes.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dug her fingers into his feathers. He gripped her back with crushing force.

Ginger leaned back. She had to get this over with. “About Lark…he’s the redheaded demon in the family photos?”

“Yes.” Wren sounded like he’d just swallowed something disgusting.

Ginger slumped onto a bar stool. “He…he’s the spirit.”

Wren’s jaw dropped and his eyebrows pressed together. “
What?
”

“The messenger.” Ginger bit her lip. “It was the demon from those photos.”

“That’s not possible.”

“I’m certain.”

Wren leaned forward on the counter as if the granite had punched him in the stomach. “Lark isn’t a spirit; he’s very much alive.”

“My messenger wasn’t in Vin’s death album. I can’t explain it, but I have no doubt. It’s the same demon.”

Wren straightened up, hurried around the kitchen island, and seized her by the shoulders. “He didn’t try to hurt you in any way?”

“No. Only the energy drain. He was immaterial.”

Wren didn’t let go, but he stared through her and seemed to talk to himself. “It doesn’t make sense…why would he…a trap. He must have been trying to set a trap. But what happened—”

“Wren.” She freed an arm and touched his face. “I’m sorry. If anything had happened in Burlington—”

He squeezed her arms. “Don’t be sorry, Gin. Even if you’d recognized Lark, we’d have gone. My father would have died today if I hadn’t been there to heal him, and I wouldn’t have been, if it weren’t for you.”

She swallowed.

He let out a long breath. “This ability of his must be a psychic talent. But it must cost him energy. Growing up, I never saw him tired.” He pulled out his cell phone and began to text. “I’m letting Vin know.”

Ginger tapped her fingers against the countertop. “Does this mean I can’t see ghosts?”

Wren lifted his shoulders and put the phone away. “Maybe, maybe not. Interacting with Lark cost you energy; you
do
have a psychic talent. We’ll figure it out, Gin. You must have inherited this trait from your archangel ancestor. Maybe my father will recognize it. Because of his healing talent, he’s been a pillar of our community for centuries and knows every archangel who’s lived in the last two hundred years.”

The suggestion kicked Ginger’s heart into high gear, but the idea of archangel blood in her background still didn’t seem real. “
If
I have an archangel ancestor.”

“There’s no
if
,” he said. “Your heritage is not up for debate.”

He kissed her for emphasis, and a deep ache etched its way through Ginger’s chest. She pulled away, rubbing her sternum, remembering the discomfort Wren had tried to hide when they exchanged energy in Vin’s office.

He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. It took everything I had to tend all my father’s injuries. I got a couple hours of sleep, but I’m still—”

She took his face in her hands and kissed him. The flow of energy from her to Wren stung deep in her chest and made her limbs tingle, but the satisfied purr from Wren’s throat relaxed her. As Wren had put it, the giving of energy was a “good hurt.” Satisfying. She ran her fingers through his hair. In less than a minute, the aching sensation passed, their energies equal between them.

“Thank you,” he whispered, slowly leaning back.

Ginger, altogether too warm from the kiss, watched as he turned to the food. Her stomach knotted in hunger and
she reached for a plate, but he caught her wrist. He forked some ziti and held it up to her mouth.

“Huh?” She couldn’t help her surprise.

“Please.”

Wren’s non-joking tone made her part her lips and let him feed her. His fingers brushed her cheek before he pulled his hand away. He forked more pasta.

“Wren?” Heat flooded her cheeks.

“Humor me,” he said with a grin, and held the offering up to her lips.

She relented and let him feed her a full serving of pasta and some soup. The expression on his face was nothing short of triumphant. He opened a cardboard box she’d left on the counter, picked out a chocolate croissant, and tore off the piece thickest with chocolate.

The pastry was among the best she’d ever eaten, but it was the intensity in Wren’s gaze that held her attention, and the way he picked over the heavenly box of desserts as if only select pieces were good enough.

“You should eat, too,” she said, after swallowing something lemony and exquisite.

“I will.” He appeared more interested in examining some chocolate pieces until he found one he didn’t reject. Instead of eating it, he again offered it to her. She let the morsel dissolve on her tongue, then forked some ziti and held it up.

“I insist,” she said, as he lifted his eyebrows.

“Gin—”

His hesitation surprised her. “What’s wrong?”

“For archangels, a female offering a male food from her own hand is one of those gestures traditionally reserved for bonded mates.”

She arched an eyebrow and pointed at the chocolate. “What about a male feeding a female?”

Holding her gaze, he leaned forward. “Same, except an unmated male can feed a female he has serious interest in.”

She set the fork down. “Well, that’s hardly fair.”

He smiled and ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s not meant to be sexist. A few hundred years ago, when thousands of earthborn archangels lived in North America, more males were born than females, for unknown reasons. Males outnumbered females five to one. Jealous fighting broke out among unmated males all the time, so females safeguarded sacred gestures such as feeding until they’d bonded to a mate.”

“Kissing isn’t a sacred gesture?”

“It is. So is intimacy, and both have been reserved for mates in the past. But these traditions have relaxed as the population has dwindled and mating has become less important than producing offspring—”

“You and Trinity.”

“Exactly. Feeding, however, has remained a very symbolic gesture. Symbolic of caring for a mate like no other.”

“You let me preen your wings.”

A slight blush rose to his face. “I couldn’t resist.”

Ginger accepted another piece of chocolate. She couldn’t help the flare of jealousy that burned in her gut, even though Wren clearly had no feelings for Trinity. “Did you ever feed Trinity?”

Wren scoffed. “Never even crossed my mind. Come.” He pulled her to her feet, his eyes bright. “Let’s go upstairs.”

§

Ginger followed Wren up to the bedroom across from his father’s. Wren shut the heavy doors behind them and turned the lock. He removed his bloodstained shirt and dropped it in the trash. His gaze intense, he leaned down and brushed her lips with his.

“I need a shower,” he said, as he walked away. “Will you join me?”

She followed him and paused in the archway to the bath. The room was simple, rustic even, but bigger than most human living rooms. Granite interior walls. Glass exterior walls. The wall-free shower had multiple heads set into the ceiling in the very center of the space.

Wren turned on the water using the lever by the archway. With a mischievous curve to his lips, he gave her his back. His wings acted as a wall of feathers down to his ankles as he stepped out of his blood-stained jeans and a pair of boxers. Without turning, he sauntered under the streams of water.

Ginger tapped her foot.

Face upturned to the spray, Wren ran his hands over his scalp, pushing his soaked hair back from his forehead as he turned around. The deep gold light from the setting sun angled through the windows, glinting off his wet skin. He opened his eyes and gazed back at her.

“Come here,” he said, his voice husky.

Ginger pulled her clothing off, taking her time as he watched, and stepped under the rush of water. She pressed her hands to his chest and leaned in, seeking his mouth. He pulled her close and ran his hands down her back as their lips met.

“You have no idea how incredible it is to have you walk into my arms. No hesitation, no dread. Your inner strength is damn sexy, Gin.”

She smoothed her hands over his skin. “I don’t need strength to be with you like this, Wren. I’m in love with you.”

His embrace tightened and his fingers pressed into her back.

She rested her head on his shoulder. “I don’t care that I’ve only known you a couple days. I feel at home at your side.”

Wren lifted his hands and held her face. He stared at her for a long moment, less than an inch separating their faces.

“Let me wash you,” he murmured.

He turned her around. After rubbing a eucalyptus-scented bar between his fingers, he caressed her with his hands, taking his time as he worked her over. Ginger felt more like she was being worshipped than washed, and fought to retain her composure.

She failed. As Wren patted warm kisses across her shoulders, so much joy welled up in her chest her breath hitched in a sob.

“What’s wrong?” Wren asked, his voice thin.

Ginger silently cursed Trinity. Because of his dark gift, the female archangel had resented Wren’s touch, had cried when they’d been intimate, even though the act had been at her insistence. Trinity had wanted to be with Wren as a means to an end, never caring how deeply her response had hurt him. Selfish bitch.

Ginger lifted his hand—feeling the resistance in his tense muscles—and pressed his palm over her heart. “I love the feel of your skin against mine. Don’t stop.”

He stayed still.

“Please touch me.” She turned to face him and ran her fingers down his chest, around his sides, and up into his feathers. “I want your hands on me.”

He shook his head. “Why did you cry out?”

“Because I love you so much, I can’t hold it all in.” Ginger pressed her body against his. “Look into my eyes. What do you see?”

His emerald gaze smoldered, and he finally relaxed against her. “I see the woman I love. A real angel in my life.”

Ginger melted against him, and he picked her up. He switched off the shower, flicked water from his wings, and carried her into the bedroom. She had made the bed earlier with the fresh supplies, but he paused next to it, still holding her against his chest. He dipped his head and whispered in her ear.

“I want you.” His breath warmed her skin. “This
won’t
be the casual sex you’ve had before. I want to make love to you, Gin.”

She turned her head and captured his mouth.

His eyes open as he kissed her, he lowered her still-moist body onto the cotton blankets. He broke away and lingered above her, hands on either side of her shoulders, his wings forming a canopy over them.

“Beautiful angel,” he murmured.

“Come here,” she echoed his earlier words.

Wren obliged, his warmth replacing the chill from the air. Their lips met again and the contact sent an electric current all the way to her toes.

Ginger nibbled from his ear to his shoulder. The faint fragrance of the eucalyptus soap mingled with the ever-present, frosty scent of his skin. She smoothed her hands down his neck to his feathers, over the chiseled muscles at the base of his wings and down to his hips, caressing all of him within her reach.

Wren leaned back and held her in place when she tried to follow. With aching slowness, he ran his fingertips across her skin, starting on her cheek and working his way down. His lips followed his touch down her chest to her stomach, where he proceeded to kiss every square inch of her middle.

“That feels incredible,” she murmured. “I’m so glad I waited for you.”

He paused at her navel. “Your ex never kissed you
anywhere
?”

“Not even on the back my hand.”

Smoldering green eyes met her gaze and his kisses traveled lower. At the intimate contact, she arched her back and gasped. He ran his hands up her sides and entwined his fingers in hers.