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When we get into the elevator, Connor pulls me close, kissing my cheek and nuzzling my throat. I don’t move or even react, toolost in my own mind to feel it. With every brush of his lips over my skin, I retreat more. Fuck. I hate this. Why am I like this?

If Connor notices, he doesn’t mention it. When the door opens, he leads me to the edge of the cloud and scoops me up in his arms, cradling me against his chest. He grins down at me, his eyes alight with mischief, and then he falls. The wind rushes at us, and I clutch at him, feeling his chest vibrate with a chuckle. His wings explode from his back, turning our descent into a long, arching swoop. My scream turns to laughter as he weaves through the clouds toward the massive city, and I am grateful for the distraction.

Connor lands on a wide, flat clearing on the edge of the city that looks like it was designed for exactly that. As we walk along the pristine streets, angels bow their heads to Connor and he smiles back at them. The quaint stores have lovely window displays, and large planters overflow with color, vibrant flowers spilling over the sides.

“I’m never going to get used to that,” Connor whispers into my ear. I tip my head questioningly. “The bowing,” he clarifies.

I smile, though I can tell it doesn’t reach my eyes. “I’m sure you will in time.”

It’s his future. Connor is one of the leaders of the Heavenly Host. He is meant to serve under the Seven, Michael, Gabriel, Rafael, Azrael, Jophiel, Zadkiel, and Uriel, his father and uncles. Gods, he is royalty. He is meant to have a wife with perfect white wings.

“I doubt it.” He scrunches his nose and then squeezes my hand. “How’s Alice?”

I frown, looking up at him. “Alice?”

“I’m assuming you called her when I went to help my mom.”

My heart clenches painfully with the proof that he already knows me so well. He is always watching and listening, alwaysso focused on me and my needs. He has made it his goal to truly know me, and he has committed himself to the endeavor.

“Oh. Well, she called me. I didn’t call her, but she’s fine.”

Connor stops walking so suddenly that someone bumps into him. At first, the angel looks affronted, but when he realizes who he’s walked into, he apologizes profusely. Connor doesn’t acknowledge him, his eyes boring into me. I turn to face him.

“All right, I’m picking up on some signals. Something’s wrong,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

I look away, unsure how to react. This isn’t something I’ve ever had to deal with. I suppose that’s because I’ve never allowed someone to get to know me before. Oh, look, if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions. I am such a fucking idiot.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I lie.

“You know, I’m not as good at it as Zane, but I can still taste lies.” He narrows his eyes at me. “And yours taste like acid rain.”

I sigh. “Con, let’s just go.”

“No.”

There is something about the determination in that word, about thesuretyof it, that makes me want to push back. I want to test the limits and see what will happen if I do. I lift my chin, staring him down for a long moment.

Connor doesn’t move. He just keeps staring at me. It’s actually more of a glare, and I’m borderline impressed. I had no idea his perfect, happy-go-lucky face could look so angry. At this moment, I realize how similar he looks to his dad.

My stubborn side takes over, and I turn on my heel and walk away, deciding to explore myself.

45

Summer

“Ican do this all day, Summer,” Connor calls, still standing in the same place. His words spur me on, and I plunge into the crowd of angels moving along the street. I round a corner and am delighted to find a charming market. White tents line the cobbled streets, and this area is quainter than the rest of the city. It is so different in feel and looks that it could be a separate realm. A sense of joy seems to permeate the air here. Angels bustle around, purchasing flowers and produce. There are stacks of colorful spices and bright cloth, intricate carpets, and perfumes spilling from various stalls.

I wander down the street, quietly observing and enjoying the feeling of pushing back against Connor, but my impostor syndrome is still plaguing me. I know that this is just a distraction. Pushing Connor away gives me some semblance of control, and I am desperately holding on to it.

I bob and weave through the other patrons, enjoying the feeling of the sun against my skin. The air feels purer here, and for a realm known for its military, I see a lot of beauty within it. I pick up the reddest apple I’ve ever seen and tap my phoneagainst the reader to pay for it before continuing my stroll. The apple is as crisp and delicious as it looks, maybe the sweetest apple I’ve ever tasted.

As I weave through the market, I feel eyes land on me, tracking my progress along the street. There is nothing angry or hateful in this stare, and is nothing like what I felt in Avalon. Instead, there is a deep sense ofknowingthat I can’t quite define. I look up and meet the piercing, dark gaze of a stunning woman with ebony skin. Her full lips are unsmiling, but her eyes are gentle. Her hair is shaved close to her head, but what she does have is bright white, the color stark against her brown skin.

An unheard beckoning emanates from her, and I answer its call, not pausing to consider the dangers. She smiles at me as I approach.

“Are you all right?” she asks, her low lyrical voice wrapping around me like a melody. Power surrounds her, almost a physical mist of omnipotence, but there is nothing sinister about it. It’s pure, true, andgood.

“Yes, thank you,” I reply quickly, realizing I had let the silence stretch. “I am just ignoring my stubborn boyfriend.” I don’t know why I say it. The words left my lips before I knew what I planned to say. Was she watching me because she knows I don’t belong here? Because she recognizes that I’m some weird fae-like creature wandering aimlessly around Eden?