Page 63 of Princess of Bael

He’s defending me, I realized, noting his protective posture and the positioning of our stances. He’d placed himself between me and the Nephilim. And then he’d told the Nephilim my name after he’d called me a hellbitch again.

“Say it so I know you heard me,” Ezra continued. “Perhaps consider including an apology as well.”

“That—”

Ezra held up a hand, silencing me, while his opposite hand remained on the glowing sword that he had angled toward the Nephilim.

I glared at Ezra’s back, one of my blades falling into my hand on impulse.

But then Gleason said, “Kayla, as in Princess Kayla, I presume?” He shifted to see around Ezra, his striking green eyes meeting mine despite the sharp edge pointed directly at his neck. “You stopped by a few weeks ago.”

“I did.”

“Hmm.” He gave me an appraising look. “Eve would have stabbed you on sight.”

“Good thing I met Gwen first, then,” I replied, meaning it. Evangeline was notorious for throwing silver first and asking questions later. But I’d been prepared to appeal to her humanity by expressing my human side.

Gleason’s expression didn’t change, but his shoulders marginally relaxed. “I won’t apologize because you owe me a new gun.”

“You have silver bullets in it,” I pointed out. “I didn’t feel like dying today.” Silver actually didn’t impact me that much at all yet—and might not ever truly impact me the way it would a typical demon—but that was a secret I kept close to the chest. I suspected it would save my life one day.

“Fair,” Gleason agreed, his focus returning to Ezra. “I was in the middle of making coffee when I felt your arrival. We can talk more after I have a cup.”

With that, he turned and walked toward the house.

Completely at ease with the simmering Archangel in his wake.

It was as though Ezra didn’t threaten him at all.

Which, of course, made the Archangel of Justice bristle.

I grinned as I stepped up to his side to point at the Nephilim’s back. “I like him.”

Then I trailed after him, not caring at all that he hadn’t voiced an invite. He’d tried to shoot me. That worked as far as invitations went.

Ezra caught my arm as I started after Gleason, pulling me backward for a visual inspection. His eyes roamed over every inch, causing me to raise a brow. “Like what you see, Archangel?”

“Yes,” he answered bluntly. “But how did he miss you?”

I smiled and lifted my wrist. “Shield rune.”

He eyed the gold cuff against my skin. “That’s impressive.”

“I’mimpressive,” I returned, my lips curling at my attempt at a joke.

His gold irises met mine, a startling intensity radiating in his depths as his sword vanished into thin air. “Yes, Kayla. You are.”

I blinked, startled by the stark honesty in his statement.

He punctuated his comment with a kiss to my cheek. Then he pressed his palm to my back and said, “Come help me teach this Nephilim some manners.”

* * *

Ezra’s notion of “teaching manners” left a lot to be desired. All he did was stand in the corner of Gleason’s kitchen with his arms crossed and brood. I much preferred my method of stealing a mug from the cupboard and helping myself to the coffee maker.

The Nephilim merely smirked in response, then leaned back against the counter and drowned himself in caffeine.

His angelic traits shone in his handsome appearance. I bet he turned a lot of heads on the street with all that thick auburn hair and his magnetic green stare. He obviously spent a lot of time at the gym, too. Although, I doubted those visits had anything to do with his killer physique and everything to do with being a demon hunter.