Page 32 of Angel's Smoke

“That was a lot, and I don’t expect you to process it with me taking up all your air. I can’t change what happened, but I can keep my promise going forward.”

“What promise?”

Iron grabbed his jacket from the coat rack. “I don’t know what my fire will do to your baby, and neither do you. You’re fine now, but the more our bond is tested and strengthened, the more unknowns we’ll have to contend with, and I’m not willing to put either of you at risk. Other supernaturals don’t go through the flaming process with angel fire that mortals go through once the soul bond is realized. And the other mortals who my brothers have successfully bonded with”—he looked away—“none of them were pregnant.”

Then Anna’s face fell with a new awareness, one she clearly hadn’t considered as she sat up straight and rested her hand on her stomach. “Oh.”

“Look, the worst of the snow should be moving out soon, and since you’ve seen my full power, there’s no use hiding it anymore. I’m going to use it to see about moving those branches blocking my truck before I shut down the generator for the night.”

He couldn’t risk looking back at her. He didn’t want to see the crumpled human he’d left on the floor, with her board game tiles and coffee table detritus scattered around her living room like he hadn’t just brought a fucking inferno into her safe house.

Iron adjusted his coat sleeves over his leather bracers and shut the door behind him. The wind was a bitch, but now that he could don his metallic armor, it would be more manageable.

Snow he could live with. Fallen trees he could live with. What he couldnotlive with was the destruction that came with mortal attachments.

He’d survived it once before, and he was still paying for it. He couldn’t bring himself to live through that again.

Chapter16

Anna’s aging metal kettle whistled a shrill protest from the stove, though whether it was in defiance of the home shopping channel’s host currently selling a far fancier glass electric kettle or in pleasure at finally being heard over the din of the storm, she had no clue. All Anna had to go on were two things: the storm, at last, was dying down, and even muted, her television was still her most reliable companion.

It had almost been a full day since the Flaming Debacle, as she was calling it, and Iron had made himself about as available as a groundhog who’d not only seen his shadow but had thought up every possible predator who could lurk inside of it.

On the one hand, if she hadn’t had so many things to work through, she would have given him credit for the manner and skill with which he’d avoided her. On the other very discerning and hyperaware hand, she didn’t really care how much food he’d left her or how he’d managed to use his magic to begin clearing her property out from the storm. Abandonment was abandonment. Mental, physical, it didn’t matter. Which pissed her the hell off, because she barely had enough energy left in her emotional reserves to manage her own hurt, let alone the obvious pain that being in her presence was causing him.

Anna poured the hot water over the very caffeinated coffee grounds—because, desperate times and all that, time of day be damned—and let the steam seep into her pores while the water funneled through the coffee filter. The heat was a mellow kiss that chased away the cold just long enough to let other memories filter in, ones that contained a far different kind of heat.

Her entire body had been set on fire, and that wasbeforeliteral flames had engulfed her and Iron. She’d felt the pull the instant he’d shifted his fingers from those game pieces so hers were in the cage of his own instead. A pulsating force had warmed within her belly, an acknowledgment of not only her desire but a confirmation of his as well. It was a punch designed to knock out everything she had previously thought was load bearing, and she’d fallen into it gladly, desperately. Wantonly.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed like that, with the same thoroughness and wonder that called explorers to mountaintops. There were promises in that kiss, the way his tongue slid over hers in satiny caresses, and she would have happily stayed there searching out every last one if it hadn’t been for the power she’d called out of him.

Yes, she’d known what to expect. Iron had told her as much. During one of her many rounds of twenty questions, he’d explained all of it. How the soul bond connection grew in correlation to the physical intimacy of those who were bonded. The more he touched her, tasted her, knew her, the more power she’d pull and command from him until, eventually, she’d set his full angel fire free and his celestial power would no longer be a prisoner of the clock.

The flames erupting around her had been a shock but not nearly as much as the regret on Iron’s face once the dust settled.

Anna took up residence in her armchair and eyed the couch over the lip of her coffee cup. He’d slept there again last night, even though he likely didn’t need to, now that she knew the full extent of his powers. Just as before, her quilt was folded neatly on the arm of the couch, and there was barely even a depression to hint that Iron had trusted her furniture enough to support him through sleep.

Every step and movement Iron took in her house spoke of obligation, including the ones that led him outside, where he currently was, doing what he needed to do to clear a path for his truck down the hill. Angel fire, celestial strength, and metallic manipulation worked wonders on tree and snow removal, apparently.

She was far deeper in thought than was healthy when Iron walked through her front door, shaking the snow from his hood and boots. “Tree’s all cleared, and I got enough of your driveway and the road to your house cleaned out so, come morning, you should be able to make it into town okay. The worst of the snowfall is behind us, and the all-wheel drive on your Subaru can handle the rest. Already heard a few plows taking to the main streets. And if the power’s not back on by morning, I can”—he twisted his lips and seemed to debate over a word—“playwith the transformer that supplies power to your private road.”

Play. Ah. He means work his metal magic.

“That’s good. Thank you.” Anna looked out her picture window, and despite the evening’s dark chill that had descended around them, the moon still put in a good effort to illuminate the snow, which had gone from a downpour to a dusting.

Strange how winter’s purpose was called into question the moment it stopped snowing, as if its relevance was only measured in relation to what it could either provide or pummel into powerlessness.

Anna smiled back against the morose metaphor, having no interest in picking at that barely healed scab just yet. “Are you getting ready to turn off the generator for the night?”

Iron rubbed the back of his neck. “I was going to ask whether you wanted me to do it now or come back later to take care of it.”

She brought the coffee away from her lips. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’m going to head out.” He shifted away from her, as if he already had half a mind to end the conversation before it began.

As if he’d made a monumental mistake in trusting a crazy single pregnant lady with his secret and would rather be anywhere else.

“Iron, wait. Can we talk about this? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me, and I don’t know what I did wrong.”

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