Page 38 of Angel's Enemy Omega

He should chase them away, take his vergis from them. But they’re not hurting Nur. Rhys touches his face gently as three other humans hold him firm, speaking to him in hushed tones. Nur struggles weakly. Arsene stumbles backward, letting the humans come between them. He doesn’t belong here. Nur isn’t his mate. He can’t let them see how Nur affects him—can’t let it become real.

Nur’s lips move, but no sound passes them. The words come through the bond instead, and Arsene shudders.

“Need…you…”

Darkness flushes the bond and Nur is swept into unconsciousness. He turns away, forcibly ignoring the pull on his heart. His conscience.Coward, his primus whispers.

“The pups,” he says roughly. “I’d better go check on them.”

“You do that,” Myra says. Her gaze is calculating.

Arsene flees.

Chapter 22

NUR

He wakes.He drifts. He wakes again. It’s terribly cold. Everything rumbles and shakes around him, and his sleep is fitful. Later there’s quiet. Sweet liquor slips down his throat, warming him gently. But it’s not enough, and he slips back into the aether.

It would be nice to rest.

To stop fighting.

When he wakes again, it’s night. Disoriented, he sits up. His head spins and his chest aches, and for a moment he doesn’t remember why. Then it comes back to him: the manticore.

Nur touches his chest. His wounds are healing already.

He must have fed me after all.But the thought only twists the knife deeper into his chest.

In a few days, his wounds will fade to another handful of scars in his collection. But what he felt for Arsene has become tangled up with bitter hurt. He prods it cautiously.

You’re not worth anything to him, Nicephore sneers at him.

Ah, yes. He shuts his eyes. There’s the old voice. Right as always.

The tent flap opens and Nur’s eyes are drawn automatically to the gleaming figure who ducks inside. He’s perfect as usual,his skin smooth, his hair shining with the light from the fire. Nur is shriveled and used in comparison.

“Can’t you leave me alone for one night?” he says wearily, lying back down. “I can’t stand watch.”

“I’m not here for that.” Arsene’s guilt is sour through the bond and it collects on the back of Nur’s tongue like poison.

Did the King ever feel guilty for what he did to Nur?

“Leave me alone.” Nur pulls the bedroll up. It smells like Arsene. Everything is here is steeped in the angel’s rich scent. He’s drowning in it. His claws dig into the pillow and the urge to rip and tear rushes through him. But Arsene is kneeling over him and grabbing his shoulder.

His hand moves before he can control it. Arsene makes a noise of surprise and jerks back. Red blooms across his cheek. “Nur!”

Nur’s mouth waters. He’sstarving.

He stares at the angel.

Should he apologize?

Arsene touches the wound, frowning. “Ah, that’ll scar. I’m here to feed you. You’ve slept two full days in the wagon, and I’m worried.”

“How generous,” Nur mutters.

Arsene flinches. He holds out his arm. “Please. You need to get better.”

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