Page 65 of Angel's Temper

Chef. That word was the culmination of so much hard work and sacrifice for so long, and yet even as she stood at the food festival, after giving her card out and schmoozing with countless food industry VIPs, the glory of that moniker was the furthest thing from her mind. The truth was, whatever part of her that had been all smiles and shaking hands was a paid actor. On the inside, Molly was going through the motions with mud in her veins. Whatever fanfare and promises of follow-ups she’d experienced had felt like literal drops in the sea compared to what Brass was facing.

Just the mere whisper of his name through her mind had her looking to the corner of her booth where, true to sentinel form, Brass stood like a snarling gargoyle watching over the crowd as they ambled past. He’d chosen to flank that side, where she spent most of her time processing payments on her tablet and restocking the paper cups from the crate beneath, whereas Bronze had taken the opposite end. While the other angels had rotated around, some staying at the booth and others patrolling the festival proper, Brass hadn’t moved from her side.

“Any sign of her?” Molly asked, offering him a sip of her coffee.

He didn’t accept it, however, and instead just stared out into the milling crowd. “No.”

That was when Molly noticed how much Brass had changed over the past several hours. Poking above his high-necked leather trench coat, a thin sheen of sweat dappled the underside of his jaw. The stubble that had been shaved off the day or so before had returned, casting a haggard look upon his stony features. Tension carved out runnels beneath his cheekbones, and his eyes couldn’t maintain their amber color for more than a minute or two. Even as she spoke, his irises fluctuated from honeyed gold to that of a blazing sun.

“Brass,” Molly whispered. “Your eyes.”

He stilled, seemingly doing some sort of internal check, before squeezing them shut. Then he quickly gave the crowd his back, though he remained mindful of where Benny stood as the man scraped out the last of the baked beans into serving ramekins for the stragglers.

Shit. Not good.

Molly grabbed Brass by the arm and turned to Bronze and Benny. “We’re going for a walk. Back in ten to help break down.”

And then she yanked him as far away from people as possible. The most unsettling thing of all was that he let her.

She dragged him toward a bench on the far side from where the tents had been set up and promptly shoved his ass onto some hardwood. “Sit. Head between your thighs. Now.”

“I’m not a child, woman.”

“Good. Because otherwise, what we did last night would be ten kinds of wrong, and I’m too cute to go to jail. I wouldn’t survive. Now, keep your head down for a thirty count and just breathe for a hot minute.”

“If she finds you here—” Desperation she hadn’t known him capable of clawed through his deep voice.

“Then Iron can slice her head off with that nice, shiny ax he was sharpening earlier in between mouthfuls of cider donuts.” Then she leaned closer and massaged away the knots of tension at the back of his neck. “Do you really think they’d let her get anywhere near us right now? Or, for that matter, why would she bother with the element of surprise when there’s a standing appointment on the books already?”

“Stop making so much damn sense, will you?” he ground out, leaning into her touch.

“Only when you tell me the truth about what we’re really up against.”

He peeled his eyes away from the ground to look at her, and she’d never been more grateful to see them lose their golden brightness. Then, faster than an inhale, he sat up and gripped the back of her neck. Their foreheads met in a soft caress that held more words than either of them had time left to say. Once his heated skin met hers, a flush of warmth fled his reddened cheeks, returning his skin to its usual vibrancy and tone. The sigh against her lips accompanied each knot melting away its strain, until the only heat that remained was the kindling worked up to smoking by the frenzied worries of her heart.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Molly asked for the fifth time since they’d been there.

Even through her narrow range of vision, she couldn’t miss his annoying grin. “Ask me again, and I’ll think you don’t want me to win.”

“I’d kindly ask you to check your male arrogance at the door, but seeing as we’re outside, I’ll table that for now so you can tell me what’s going on.”

“Noted.” The scent of rich spices and fermented fruit clung to the leather of his coat. She recognized the fragrances from the gun oil he’d prepared his weapons with before they left for the festival. With all the spaces that male could hide something lethal, he never let her know just how many weapons he had on him, whether bladed, bulleted, or blunted.

It was a heady thing to know her soul bond could surprise her in this manner.

Brass grabbed her hand, the one bearing his mark beneath her high-cuff convertible mittens, and relaxed against the bench. When he didn’t address her comments right away, she geared up for a second pass.

“Do you really think she?—”

“Doesn’t stand a fucking chance in hell,” he growled, and that ferocious venom he’d let loose in the alleyway returned in full force.

“But you shot her with your angel fire, and you saw what she did. She popped those puppies out of her eyes like she was shelling peanuts. Her eyes, Brass. As in, actual organs.”

He met her gaze and, despite his tense state, still managed to wink. “Those puppies, as you call them, weren’t my full fire.”

“They weren’t . . . what?”

“I forgot that I hadn’t replaced the bullets in my guns yet. What was stored in the chambers was still laced with my limited celestial fire from before you and I bonded.”

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