Page 112 of Even Angels fall
That’s when I take a closer look at what she’s reading. It looks like an old journal. It’s in good condition, but it still looks old.
“What are you reading?” I ask before she has time to answer my first question.
“It’s Zaìr’s journal. Elhyor’s father. And there’s an entry saying that some of the smaller size bird shifters were seen in cities in their fully shifted forms before our two worlds collided. There are even mentions of rare sightings of doves.”
My smile stretches at the information. For any human, they would have looked like any birds, but shifters recognize their own kind, and if Zaìr says the birds were shifters, I believe it.
Yes, this is something that will probably help. I know my kind—well, what was supposed to be my kind—and I know for sure that they would have never slept in the streets. If my ancestors are anything like Michaël and what I heard about the doves before him, they would have spied in their bird form but they for sure would have slept in comfort and knowing them, it meansthey bought accommodations. Would that be such a stretch to think they might have bought castles?
I wouldn’t put it past them.
Which means we might finally have a lead.
“We have something. We finally have something,” I say as I get up. “I could kiss you for that,” I tell Cassiopé, “but I’m going to leave that to Léandre and go kiss my dragon instead.”
76
Elhyor
Angélique is like a tornado when she enters my office.
She doesn’t knock—never does, really—moves furniture just so she can sit wherever she wants, and throws most of what’s on my desk away.
The furniture she moved? The chair I’m sitting on.
Why? So she can sit in front of me on my desk, which explains everything that was previously on said desk now being on the ground.
But that’s not what makes me pause the most.
No, what makes me pause is the wide smile she is currently sporting.
“You found something?” I ask, incredulous.
She crosses her legs right in front of me, and it stretches the black leather leggings she’s currently wearing, making me want to slide my hands against her thighs.
“Look at me, you animal,” she says with a chuckle, perfectly aware of where my mind went for a few seconds.
Have we been fucking like rabbits in heat? Yes.
Do I still want her? Yes, every day and every second of each day.
Do I see an end to it? No, and I don’t want there to be an end because, as unexpected as it is, I think I’m falling in love with my wife.
I comply with her command and turn my face in her direction. In this position we’re almost eye to eye and it makes it easier on me, but the proximity also means that the beast inside of me is restless if I’m not putting my hands—claws—all over her.
I settle for setting my hands on the side of her thigh and wait for her to tell me what she found.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I found?” She asks before speaking again, “Well, if we want to be precise, I’m not the one who found the crucial part of all of these, it’s Cassiopé. My info, plus hers, narrows down a bit more where to look for.”
”So?” I ask her, but this doesn’t seem to be enough for her because she raises an eyebrow in a questioning way, so I add, “What did you find, Little Devil?”
She gives me a chastising look that doesn’t feel real anymore. I used to think it annoyed her that I called her that, but now it’s almost as if the chastising look is only for show and that she has grown fond of it.
Not as much as when I call her wife, though. When I call her wife, it seems to trigger something inside of her. Especially when I’m buried deep inside of her.
“Where did your mind go?” she asks me as she cups my cheek and brings me back to here and now. “Don’t tell me now,” she adds, “I feel like it’s something that is going to make me forget why I came here in the first place.”
She is right.
