Page 25 of Mortal Heart

Without a word, she rose and stormed into the kitchen. He heard cabinet doors slamming, a string of curses, and the unmistakable sound of a heavy object smashing in the sink. Then silence.

He set her jacket aside and joined her in the kitchen. The casualty turned out to be a coffee mug. Judging by how far the pieces had flown, she’d thrown it with considerable force.

Now she had her back to him, scooping ground coffee into her coffeemaker. The coffee looked to be from a local shop and smelled good. Something else she had in common with Alice: a love of first-rate, strong coffee.

He reached into the sink, but her sharp voice stopped him. “Leave it,” she said without turning around. “It’s my fucking mess. I’ll clean it up.”

“All right.” He leaned against the counter while she started the coffeemaker. As it gurgled, she threw the largest pieces of the mug in the trash.

When she picked up a handful of smaller pieces, she sucked in a breath and examined her hand. One of the broken edges had cut her palm.

She stared at the cut as blood trickled down her arm. A surprisingly overt parade of emotions flashed in her eyes: pain, anger, grief, and even some shame. He didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know the sight of the blood had conjured up the memory of the vamp’s bite. The shame might be a result of the bite, the fact the vamp still walked the earth, or both.

He was at her side before he realized he’d moved and cradled her injured hand. She didn’t flinch this time, but he wanted to apologize anyway. “I’m sorry for moving so quickly.”

“Never apologize for fast reflexes. They’re the only thing that keeps people like us alive.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Some Valkyrie. Bloodied by a coffee mug.”

“Little-known fact,” he said, returning her smile. “Coffee mugs are a Valkyrie’s only natural enemy.”

She chuckled, but the sound was strained. Ronan covered her hand with his own and summoned his healing power. It didn’t take much to heal a superficial wound, but he quickly discovered that healing someone else was much more difficult as a mortal. Before his imprisonment, he’d been able to heal others’ near-fatal injuries without too much effort. Now it took all his concentration and an unsettling amount of power to fix a simple cut.

Arkady watched as his soft silver-blue magic pulsed in her hand. His vision had a silver edge, meaning his eyes shone a bit silver. Very few humans knew what the silver signified. When he didn’t see any recognition or surprise in her expression, he knew she hadn’t recognized the angelic magic for what it was. Just as well. That was not a conversation he was in a hurry to have.

When her hand finished healing, he held on for a few beats before he released her. She studied her unblemished palm. “Thanks,” she said finally.

“You’re welcome.”

“By the way.” Her eyes narrowed again. “Blackmailing people into giving up their secrets is being a dick.”

“You made the wager,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I know. That’ll teach me to think I’m so smart.” She returned to the coffeemaker to watch the carafe fill. “What are you?” she asked with her back to him.

He felt torn between wanting to keep his identity a secret and wondering if she could figure it out, and how long it would take until she did. She was observant and smart, and she was no stranger to dealing with nonhumans. He doubted she’d ever encountered any kind of angel before, however, and as such that wasn’t likely to be on her list of possibilities. It wasn’t any kind of test, because he didn’t need her to prove anything, but itdidfeel like a game—one that, strangely, he wanted her to win.

He came up behind her and rested his hand on her hip. “I’m a man.”

“Not ahumanman.” She leaned against him. “But you’re definitely a man.”

“The more time I spend with you, the more I think that’s not the worst thing to be.” He liked the way her body fit against his. He kissed the top of her head and then made his voice stern. “Tell me about the vampire, Miss Woodall.”

His tone invited her to recount the story in the form of a report, while his closeness offered support if she chose to tell the tale as a personal story. He certainly wouldn’t hold it against her if she gave him the clinical version. He knew as well as anyone how complicated and difficult it was to process personal violence.

“I used to work for the Vampire Court as an investigator,” she said. “That’s how Alice and I met, in fact. We crossed paths on a case and discovered we have a lot in common.”

“I’d noticed,” he said dryly. “The wordsmule-headedandfearlesscome immediately to mind.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” She chuckled. “She’s even more stubborn and neurotic than me, which is really saying something. She makes up for it by being able to level buildings.”

Buildings? Try whole armies, he thought.Ronan recalled watching Alice use her magic to command lightning in the Underworld to smite the Titan Typhon and destroy hordes of Typhon’s monstrous creations. He wondered if Alice had told Arkady about her exploits. Likely not, since at the time Alice had been on a mission for the Vampire Court and the vamps took their non-disclosure agreements deadly seriously.You probably don’t know the half of it, Miss Woodall.

“Getting back to the Vamp Court, I didn’t last nearly as long working for them as I expected.” Her voice had lost all its mirth. “I thought I had realistic expectations of what they were capable of and what I’d need to do to stay clear of their fangs. Ididmanage to avoid becoming a meal for any of the Court vamps, even the very bitey ones, during the time I worked for them. They had plenty of better sources of blood on hand, like mages and witches, so they didn’t really try all that hard to turn me into a juice box. Plain-Jane human isn’t their favorite flavor.”

He got the impression she would be any vampire’s flavor, but he stayed quiet and just let her talk.

“I hated them anyway, though.” She watched the last of the coffee drip into the pot, then shut off the machine. “You can only be around creatures like that for so long before you realize you and the rest of humanity are less than dirt to them. Your value is measured solely by your usefulness.”

He pictured Michael’s cold gaze and bladed wings. When he tried to stretch his own bound wings, his back muscles twinged painfully. “I’m familiar with that philosophy,” he said.

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