CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Noelle grunted with surprise when she stepped out of her office at the end of the day and found there was no angelic stalker waiting for her. Those guys were nothing if not predictable. She was almost a little disappointed. Still, she’d had things to do. Phone calls to make. Knives to sharpen.

Clients to ignore.

Her first-time-homeowners couple was going to make her work for every penny of her commission. By the time all was said and done, she would have been shocked if she earned minimum wage for all her effort.

“They should be happy I still take their calls.” She plopped onto her sofa, heeled off her shoes, and set her laptop on her thighs.

Her phone rang before she could get her computer booted.

It was Jenny.

“You know,” Noelle said in lieu of hello, “people in the office really notice when you’re not there.”

Jenny giggled. “I’m sure the same applies to you. Sorry.” She sounded almost bashful. “I wanted to be back this afternoon, and I planned to come. I lost track of time. Forgive me.”

“Don’t fret about it. I remember how good Clarissa is at making people forget the time. The woman has a peace about her that’s so comforting to be around. No worries.”

“I feel awful. I kind of fell into the vibe here, I guess.”

“That’s not a bad thing. What have you been up to?”

“Oh! Well, chatting a lot and helping her run errands and stuff. I’ve been telling her about all the elves we’ve encountered in the past few hundred years and what sorts of trouble they’ve gotten into. She keeps herself so busy. She’d retired, you know. Used to work at the school, in the cafeteria. She had a garden, but once all the folks moved onto the property, she needed a way to feed them, and the garden turned into a little farm.”

“All what folks?”

“Two of her granddaughters are married to a couple of Gulielmus’s sons. You know that.”

“Right?”

“And then there’s her son and daughter. They have a little house on the property. They’re not home very much, though. Apparently, they drive around hunting demons.”

“Huh?”

“Long story. Then there are other people related to Gulielmus or who are friends she’s leased out plots to.”

People related to Gulielmus …

Noelle clucked her tongue and opened her notes app. “Sounds like she’s got a new little queendom set up.”

“Hey! Kinda is. Instead of a fortified castle, though, the property has magic wards keeping most unwanted supernatural stuff out. Some still manages to get through, but they’re pretty well-equipped to handle everything that does.”

“I’d imagine so with all those magic carriers around. Listen, I need you to do me a favor since you’re still there.”

“What kind?”

Noelle put her feet up on the coffee table, crossed her legs at the ankles, and grimaced. Her hips had joined the body ache party at around lunchtime. “See if you can ask around and get me some angels to network with. I need leads for my little problem.”

“Should be easy enough. Clarissa says they stop by all the time. They don’t really respect clocks.”

“Splendid. I’m expecting Tamatsu and Tarik to pop in eventually. As soon as they do, I’m going to try to retrace my steps in Japan to see if I can jog my memory of what happened that day. Right now, though, I’m about to call a Were-coyote on behalf of a certain shy demigoddess. Then, I hope to nap. I’m pooped.”

“Winter is coming.”

“Yeah. You don’t need to tell me. My joints remind me every fifteen minutes or so. Also? Please don’t feel obligated to rush back. Take some vacation days if you have them. I would if I were you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I refused two referrals today, and you know I never do that. I’m ready to wind down for the season.”

And she also needed some time to herself. Too much had happened recently and she’d barely had time to process any of it. She didn’t like the feeling of generalized anxiety that was the finished product of a recipe of guilt, incompetence, revenge, and unreciprocated obsession. She wished she could turn some of it off—wished she could choose not to care anymore because caring inconvenienced her.

That wasn’t how emotions worked. She couldn’t digest what she refused to chew.

“I’ll call you first thing tomorrow,” Jenny said.

“Don’t feel obligated unless you have news. I’m going to cuddle on the sofa with a bottle of wine tonight. I’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning, and after that, I may make myself unavailable. I might even cook.”

Jenny giggled again. “If anyone deserves a day off, it’s you. I’m going to call you anyway. Don’t tell me no. Bye!”

She disconnected before Noelle could lob a retort, not that Noelle was thinking fast enough that she could have come up with one.

“Gods.” She rubbed both eyes. She didn’t normally feel the season coming so keenly that early in the year. “Need to stop burning the candle at both ends. Would help if I weren’t hastening my exhaustion with extra stress.”

So much of it. So much male “it.”

But she didn’t want to think about that. Tamatsu wasn’t to blame for her distractedness. She’d known he’d eventually find her, but she simply hadn’t predicted how much of a distraction he’d be. Or maybe she hadn’t predicted that after all that time, she’d still want him in the exact same way.

Or that she’d be the one in need of forgiveness instead of him.

Rubbing her twitching eye, she tapped Blue Shapely’s number into her phone. She figured she’d keep Willa out of the conversation until she had a chance to feel the guy out.

As the line buzzed on the other end, she wriggled her toes to keep her circulation moving. She’d be asleep in three minutes if she didn’t force herself to move.

“Yeah,” came the gruff baritone voice on the other end.

Noelle rolled her eyes. She didn’t expect everyone to be sugar sweet—especially if they didn’t recognize the numbers that came up on their caller ID. They could at least exercise a bit of courtesy. If she could, they certainly could.

“Mr. Shapely?” she asked, closing her eyes, only to open them again when a familiar starburst-bright flash illuminated the insides of her eyelids.

Oh shit.

“Yeah?” Mr. Shapely responded.

There were fallen angels tromping through her foyer with grocery bags, and their gods-awful, moth-chewed, post-apocalyptic stuntman coats were missing.

Awestruck, she set her feet on the floor.

“Yeah?” Mr. Shapely repeated.

She gave her head a clearing shake. “Apologies. Mr. Shapely, my name is Noelle Flint. I’m a real estate agent in Las Vegas. I’ve worked with you before on an investment property.”

“Flint? Hmm.”

She drummed her fingers atop the sofa cushion. She was reasonably sure she’d gone by Flint when she’d worked with him. Her name changes were innumerable.

“Flint? You gotta excuse me, honey. I remember faces and attributes, not names.”

“The elf,” she said testily. He’d thought her race was a goddamned hoot and kept asking her where she kept all the cookies.

“Ahh,” he said with a laugh. “The one with the shoes.”

“Pardon me?”

His laugh was low and gruff with a hint of growl in it. “Black hair, mesmerizing eyes, red lips, and fuck-me shoes. Am I remembering the right lady?”

Noelle cracked her knuckles.

He was only a Coyote, though. He probably couldn’t help himself.

“I may resemble that description,” she said noncommittally.

“Whaddaya need? Drumming up business? I don’t mind you calling me anytime, but I’d prefer you to tell me that you just want to hear my voice and that you’re not selling me anything.”

“I assure you, I’m not selling you anything.”

Not technically. Asking him for a lead for Willa’s pack might require some advanced-level persuasion skills, however.

“So, this is a social call, then,” he said.

“Not precisely.”

Tamatsu appeared in the living room doorway then, and whatever Mr. Shapely had to say in response got lost somewhere between her ears and brain.

Her gaze didn’t know what to lock onto, and so it roamed wildly over him, trying to take in all seven-plus feet of him at once. That was stupid because he was far too much for any one woman to handle, even when that woman was a jealous, possessive, knife-toting elf.

“Did you hear me?” Mr. Shapely asked.

She swallowed and closed her eyes against the sight of the scowling angel.

Two minutes. Just two minutes on the phone, and she could peel one eyelid up. She could look and assure herself that man wasn’t really in fitted slacks and shoes that didn’t have spikes on the toes.

“I’m sorry. Repeat yourself, please.”

Gods.

She was pretty sure Tamatsu had moved closer. Either that, or elves had suddenly become susceptible to menopause, and she was experiencing her very first hot flash. His proximity could either freeze or scald depending on his mood, and she didn’t know what either meant.

“I said if you wanted to meet up with me,” Mr. Shapely said, “I’m in town tonight. We could go have drinks or something.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I really wanted to reach out to ask you a quick question.” She opened her eye a bit to confirm that Tamatsu had left the doorway.

He had. He was in front of the coffee table, and he was wearing a shirt that was actually tucked into his pants.

Fuck.

He was making her brain hurt. She forced her eye shut again.

“Well, damn,” Mr. Shapely said. “That’s too bad. I kinda liked having an elf on my arm.”

“I was never on your arm.”

“You were on my lap, though.”

“That was an accident,” she spat.

Tamatsu moved closer. She could hear his breathing, and his breaths didn’t sound so calm.

She covered her eyes in a last-ditch effort not to look.

“Accident or not, I told you that you didn’t have to scramble away so fast. I didn’t have anywhere I needed to be, and I sure didn’t mind.”

I bet.

Her memory of the event was returning to her. His entire pack was filled with lascivious thugs. They were organized, sure, but still mostly lacking in manners. The Coyotes in Maria may have had a number of issues, but at least they weren’t lechers.

“I’m pleased to know I had such an impression on you, Mr. Shapely, but I actually called you for a referral.”

“I thought you said this wasn’t about business.”

“It’s not. This has to do with a Coyote issue. I’m calling on behalf of a friend with a very small network. She needs resources. I agreed to help her find some.”

Mr. Shapely grunted. “Coyotes are already pretty well-networked, so what’s wrong with the one you know?”

“Nothing. Her pack alpha is dead or missing, and there’s no one available to fill in. There aren’t any true dominants in the pack.”

“Ah, I see.”

She heard a creak. Sighing, she uncovered and opened her eyes. There was an angel sitting twelve inches from her with his elbows pressed to his knees and a hard glint in his eyes.

She blinked and pointed at him. His hair was loose and hung around his face in a curtain. He looked very much like a cologne advertisement she’d seen recently. The guy in the ad hadn’t done anything for her, but no one did anymore in any significant way. Tethered elves were hard to turn on by people they weren’t attached to. If Tamatsu had been in that ad looking like he was, Noelle would have been rubbing the sample inserts all over every pillow in the house.

“So, what do you want me to do for them?” Mr. Shapely asked.

She had to close her eyes again. If she didn’t, she would have had a fist around Tamatsu’s hair, and he’d always liked that way too much. She didn’t want to turn him on.

At all.

My word.

She swallowed and then drew in a deep, bracing breath. “I was hoping you might speak to her and perhaps pass on the names of anyone you know who might be interested in taking over a small-town alpha position. I won’t lie to you. The pack needs some work.”

“Yeah. I would imagine so if they don’t have any dominants. Where is this place?”

“Not important.”

“Oh, you’re gonna be bashful now?”

“That’s the last word anyone would ever call me, I assure you. I’m simply exercising some prudence. I wouldn’t be doing my friend any favors by cluing you in on their location without knowing what your intentions are. I’m not going to stand for you making promises to help only to have one of your buddies try to take over and ruin what’s left of the pack.”

“You wound me. I wouldn’t do that, baby.”

The coffee table creaked again, but she knew better than to open her eyes. She already knew Tamatsu was there. There was no good reason for her to torture herself by ogling him.

“You’ll have to accept my apologizes for my cautiousness. As you might have guessed, I have a great number of years on you. I’ve witnessed a number of craven acts from men in dominant roles who’d promised to protect a group of people.”

She’d killed a few of them, Lorcan being chief among them. She had no intentions of watching history repeat elsewhere.

“Understood. I do like older women, by the way.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“Aww. Got a man?”

Tamatsu thumped the sofa beside her leg.

“No.”

“A woman, then?” Mr. Shapely chuckled, but Noelle didn’t find anything funny about the question. He could take his fishing expedition elsewhere.

“Can I count on you for a referral, Mr. Shapely?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“I dunno. Maybe. I need a little more info before I start tossing names around, though.”

“Understood.”

Tamatsu thumped the sofa base again.

She mouthed, “I’m not ignoring you.” As if she could. Tethered elves were compelled to be as close as possible to their mates. On his lap wouldn’t have been too close.

He thumped again.

She had to open her eyes. Fortunately, she didn’t get too star-struck by the action because she was stunned instead by the sight of his hand extended to her. He pointed to her phone and then held his palm out again.

“Ha ha,” she said quietly.

His nostrils flared. Apparently, that meant both of them were in shitty moods. That seemed fair to her.

“What I can tell you,” she said to Mr. Shapely, “is that there’s a strong possibility that anyone who takes the gig could transfer part of their pack with them.”

“Someone who has some dominants that need to be culled, you mean.”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

“I see. Well. I can certainly do some thinking and see if I can come up with anyone. Should I call you back on this number?”

“That’ll be fine.”

“Is this your personal number?”

“One of them.”

“Good to know.”

Tamatsu thumped the sofa again.

She scowled at him.

“I’ll be in touch, baby.” Mr. Shapely disconnected.

Standing, Tamatsu forced a hard gust of air through his nose and pinned his forbidding gaze on her.

She blinked at him. “What? Want to tell me about your bad day? Want some cookies and maybe a mug of warm milk?”

He stooped down to meet her gaze at her inconsiderable height.

She blinked at him again. “What?”

He pointed to the phone.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I deal with cocky guys all the time. I assure you, there’s nothing unusual about him.”

He fluttered his eyelashes and laid his head on his hand, grinning manically.

“I do not look like that.”

He cocked his chin.

“I don’t. You know I didn’t lead that guy on, and even if I had, you really don’t have a hell of a lot of room to complain, do you?”

She didn’t need to look down to guess that the thumps against the floor were him impatiently tapping his foot.

Better than him cracking his knuckles.

She shrugged and turned away. Not looking at him was easier when she wasn’t actually facing his direction. Striding to the stereo system, she said, “Guys like Blue Shapely are a dime a dozen, especially in Vegas. I learned to deal with them just like all the rest I had to figure out quickly. That’s a matter of personal safety for me. I can’t always pull a knife on people, especially not when I’m around a bunch of humans who aren’t familiar with how our kind handles conflicts. Sometimes, I have to work twice as hard to avoid confrontations because I know the fights aren’t resolved without violence.”

She hit the play button on the CD Tamatsu had left in the machine and turned on the house’s built-in speakers. The speakers had been one of the few amenities in the house, other than the office, that made up for the poor location.

“I assure you that I can handle a cocky Coyote.”

Tamatsu huffed, dug into the pocket of his fitted slacks, and pulled out a little spiral notebook—the kind that probably came in ten-packs. From the other pocket, he withdrew a pen. He depressed the plunger, scribbled for a few moments, and then thrust the note to her.

“Pardon?”

He added:

“So?”

Seriously?

She shook her head and walked to the kitchen. The oddest things perturbed her angel. Even if Noelle were capable of being interested in a cocky son of a bitch like Blue—or anyone who wasn’t Tamatsu—she certainly wouldn’t have flirted with them within earshot of the angel.

Tarik leaned with his palms pressed to the table, squinting at a map of Mexico City.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“One of the many ways I earn income is by locating things people fear they’ll never find again. This quest is strictly personal, however.”

“What’s the lost object?”

“A small stone idol. Lola lost it many years ago and can’t recall where, specifically, she might have been. Since the terrain has changed since the last time I was there, I need to reacquaint myself with the geography.”

“Lola asked you to find it?”

“No,” he said with a curious drawl. He picked up a red marker and drew a square around a body of water.

“So, you’re volunteering?”

He shrugged. Normally, he made the gesture look entirely too elegant, but that time, it seemed jerky. Bashful, even.

Hmm. She tapped her chin. “The idol was important to her?” she asked.

He glanced up from the map, golden eyes curiously lacking in their usual shimmer. He looked down again. “I wouldn’t say important. The relic is simply something she would appreciate having returned to her.”

“How do you know about it?”

“Being what I am, overhearing casual conversations is something of an occupational hazard.”

“I imagine so.” She cut her gaze to Mr. Eavesdropping himself, Tamatsu.

He was rolling his sleeves up his forearms, carefully folding the cuffs over. Perhaps he didn’t make a habit of wearing nice clothes, but he certainly knew how to.

And so well.

She tilted her head, staring openly and appreciatively at his heavenly physique while he wasn’t looking back. There was something unbelievably sexy about the way a good belt showed off the taper of the chest and accentuated one’s length.

She used to adore counting the muscles on his belly. If memory served her correctly—and it did every now and then—he had a few more than the average man. He needed better core strength to keep himself balanced when he flew.

Supposedly.

She’d never actually seen him fly.

“Where are your wings?” she murmured.

She’d been talking to herself, really, and hadn’t expected either to answer—and obviously, Tamatsu couldn’t have—but Tarik straightened up and turned.

“Here. Come closer.”

She edged around the table and stood behind him, feeling something like a squirrel standing at the base of an ancient tree. Forgetting how massive they were was easy when there was some space between her and them.

“Do you see where my shoulder blades protrude?”

“Yes, but—” Noelle squinted. She saw blurs where there should have been clear lines. She closed her eyes and rolled them behind the lids to try to clear them. She couldn’t rub them. She was wearing too much mascara.

“Your vision isn’t faltering. That’s the glamour. Come closer.”

“If I get any closer to you, I’d be touching you.”

“That’s the point.”

“Oh.” She took another step closer and started reaching for his right shoulder blade. Before her palm could touch down, there was something in the way of it. Hard as steel, but downy. She dragged her knuckles along the invisible shape, and whispered, “Feathers.”

The shape wasn’t invisible for long. His glamour gave way more the longer she touched. After ten or so seconds, she saw the top connecting joint of his massive black wing in her hand, and she could see then the slits he’d cut into his shirt.

“My word.” She took a step back. The glamour didn’t return. She could still see the wings and the long slices in his shirt that accommodated them.

“Now that you’ve breached the magic, you’ll always be able to see them.”

“You mean anyone who touches you can do the same?”

“No.” He turned, pulling his wings in tight behind him. Cringing. One moved a bit slower than the other. “There has to be some intent on my part, or else anyone who brushes against me could see what they shouldn’t be able to. Most people aren’t observant enough to notice that my size is greater than they can actually see. If they bump into me from the back, they usually don’t catch on to the fact other people saw them grazing what looked like air. They only know what they feel.”

“And you just intended to let me break your glamour. Why?”

“I trust you.”

“Oh.”

That was all she could say. The degree of trust he was granting her was humbling, to say the least. Creatures like him didn’t trust so easily.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded and leaned over his map again, and slowly drew a small circle around some landmark.

Tamatsu moved away from the doorframe he’d been holding up and leaned onto the edge of the table near Tarik.

Tarik cut him a look.

The two of them standing so close was almost too much for Noelle to bear. Her brain was processing the sight no better than a CD player played a disc with too many surface scratches. If brains could stutter, hers was.

She closed her eyes, fearing she’d turn into a pillar of salt if she stared too long, and turned. When she was at the counter, peeking into the bags that contained grown-up food like cereal and bread, she said, “So, where’d you get the clothes?”

Tarik chuckled. “Gulielmus has—or had, rather—a very good tailor.”

“A tailor of an angel sort?” She plucked a green apple from one of the bags and buffed the peel on her shirt.

“Yes. Some of us do have legitimate careers.”

“That’s interesting. You should introduce her to Jenny. Jenny was the queen’s dressmaker.”

“Him.”

“Hmm?” Setting her teeth into the flesh of the apple, she turned.

“Him,” he repeated. “The tailor identifies as male.”

She completed the bite of her apple. It was crisp, and ripe, with the perfect amount of snap to the skin. Juice trickled down her chin, and she didn’t care.

So good.

She’d forgotten that fruit was a glorious thing.

Tamatsu was suddenly in front of her, hand extended as if to wipe the mess away, but he withdrew quickly.

She realized then that he always withdrew. He hadn’t touched her in even the most casual of ways since they’d been reacquainted.

“It’s okay, you know.” She grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at her chin. “I don’t carry any more germs than typical elves. You’re not going to waste away.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, already disfiguring the sleek lines of them. He took a step back as if to drive the point home.

“No need to be rude.” She laughed and walked with her apple to the table. “You don’t want to touch me. I understand.”

It hurt, but she understood. They weren’t lovers anymore, or even friends. He was just waiting to get his voice, and she didn’t think her giving it back was going to fix them.

“No, it’s you who doesn’t understand.” Tarik capped his marker.

“Should I bother seeking an explanation? That rarely goes my way.”

He looked up at Tamatsu. Tamatsu was looking squarely at Noelle.

She didn’t know how long he stared at her in that intensely unsettling way, but she was transfixed. Glued to the floor. She felt enduring his stare was her punishment, and she deserved the discomfort she felt.

Finally, he looked to Tarik and nodded briskly.

“The issue isn’t want, but ability. He can’t touch you,” Tarik said.

“Can’t? I don’t understand. We touched before.”

“Yes, and he might argue he shouldn’t have touched you then. We all had afflictions when we Fell. Our vices haunt us every day we live on this earth. We’re made to suffer for the things that turned us from Grace. Tamatsu has … certain hungers.”

Hungers?

His gaze was on her fingers, wrapped around her half-eaten apple.

“But, what has that to do with him being unable to touch me?”

“There are many kinds of hunger, are there not? We can starve for different things, some of which are critical to our wellbeing. Others are … less so.”

Pleasurable things, then.

She understood what that was like. Her pleasures had been trifling ones for longer than she was able to remember. She wanted there to be no uncertainties, though, so she had to ask. “He can’t touch me because he’s … being punished?”

“For his cravings. Yes, essentially. There are ways of controlling the hungers. There’s no cure for them, only maintenance.” Tarik narrowed his eyes and made a humming sound. “Perhaps abstinence is the only true escape.”

“But we—” She furrowed her brow and set her apple on the table. “Back when we met, we—” She didn’t know how to delicately phrase such a thing or if the two angels openly shared details about their conquests. She’d never been the sort who’d kiss and tell. That wasn’t her style. “Is this a new decision? His abstinence?”

“New since you fled Japan. Yes.”

She’d never seen the man squirm before.

“So even a minor touch could bother him?”

“Yes.”

“With anyone?” The idea of any random person being able to incite a host of cravings made Noelle ponder if his past attraction had been real.

Tamatsu’s expression gave no clues of his status, but his gaze was keenly focused on her. He wasn’t running away from the revelations.

“He can’t predict that and thus chooses to exercise an abundance of caution,” Tarik said.

She had to sit. Tamatsu’s circumstance meant that he would never be able to really connect with anyone without sparking a vicious addiction. There was a chance he wouldn’t be able to be true.

“Are you well?” Tarik asked.

“I …” She pulled in another bracing breath and let it out in a sputter. “I mean, what am I supposed to think? I get one chance at having a tetherable mate, and the one I got can’t even touch me.” She laughed, and not because the situation was funny, but because her brain was overwhelmed and her body had to let out her panic in any way it could.

She laughed so hard that her eyes began to water, and then from there, the real tears came. The last time she couldn’t stop herself from crying, she’d been running away from him.

“What the hell did I do so wrong in my life to deserve that?”

Tarik didn’t have an answer for her, just a handkerchief.

Tamatsu left the room.