Page 73 of Angel's Smoke

Damn, did her angel look good in a hard hat. Though, admittedly, not strictly necessary for an immortal with metallic armor at the ready, Iron indulged her regardless, despite making his disdain for the thing well known. Something he insisted harkened back to their first-ever text conversation.

Such a good man, that one.

Summoned by the pull of her thoughts, or so she liked to think, he handed a clipboard to Steel and made his way to where she and Olive were sitting beneath the shade of a pop-up tent. He swept a hand over his daughter’s little auburn-haired crown first, dropping a kiss there, then delivered the same to Anna.

Sigh. . .

There were some things Anna would never get tired of seeing, and the sight of Iron bestowing such tenderness on their sleeping daughter was one that still made her heart clench and flutter about her new little family like a lovesick mama bird.

“She sleeping okay?” Iron lifted the pitcher of half lemonade, half iced tea sitting on the small table next to them and topped off her glass.

“Yup. Had a bit of a scare for a second there that this nap would only last twenty minutes, but she settled back down, thankfully.”

Iron purloined a sip from her drink before handing it to her. “I’ll take her in a few minutes if you’d like.”

“I’m good for right now. The milk coma seems to be holding, and I’m enjoying how studious you and the others are out there. The whole lot of you with your little pencils behind your ears and all your hard hats tipping together whenever you need to argue about something . . . It’s my new favorite show.”

“Oh yeah? Want me to get you some popcorn?”

“Kettle corn. Or maybe the white cheddar kind.”

He chuckled softly. “I thought you weren’t pregnant anymore.”

“And your motherfucking point, my love?”

“No point to be made. Only that one, I love you; two, I’m team white cheddar all day, and three”—he leaned down low and kissed her, effectively stealing her fire with a sweep of his delicious tongue—“I fucking loved you pregnant, as much as love you now. As long as I get to feed you and Olive, I’m happy.”

“I’mthe one feeding Olive.”

“And I’m the one who gets to watch.” He waggled his eyebrows like the lech he most certainly wasn’t and offered up a choice grunt when she poked him in the shin with her sandaled foot. Then he caught the thing and gave it a tender squeeze before settling it back down.

“How are things coming along with the site?” Anna asked before taking a sip of her drink. Mmm, sugar.

His features lit up and drifted into a new sort of dreaminess, one only caused by the immense pride and rewarding struggle of throwing oneself into a project of the soul.

Their homestead.

After Olive was born, Anna’s tiny cabin became a flutter of activity, all meticulously planned and primped by the wonderful family she could no longer imagine her life without. Those first few days, Iron would hardly put Olive down, even going so far as to sleep in a recliner with her nestled snugly on his chest. It took far more convincing than Anna thought it would to have him hand the baby over so she could feed her, and even that was done under his watchful worried eye with a notepad in hand as he timed each feeding and got in super close to ensure she was latching on properly.

Eventually, after the first seventy-two hours of Olive using Iron’s beard as her new favorite bedtime stuffed animal and a pediatrician’s insistence that she was growing just fine, Iron eased up a touch and let the barrage of aunts and uncles flutter their favors onto the little darling.

The beard snuggling remained, though.

When the three of them had finally reemerged from their little cocoon with somewhat of a sleep schedule established, Iron got right to work on building the property of his dreams.

Which, in turn, would be the property oftheirdreams.

What had originally begun as a separate home for Neela had Rhode had morphed into a sanctuary for them all. Contrary to what Iron had originally thought, the lure of returning to the Empyrean had faded swiftly for each of the sentinels. Once the ability to travel between realms had been reestablished, more questions poured through the gate as well. Iron’s time away, for one. No one really had an explanation for how much time would pass in the mortal realm if the angels left, even for a short time. Then there was the question of Neela, who was as much demon-born as she was Empyrean-born. The celestial seraph’s power that had been infused into her inception was the main reason they suspected she’d lived through Cyro’s destruction unscathed, and Rhode wasn’t willing to chance whether the charmer part of her would be able to pass through the Empyrean’s gates on a hunch.

It wasn’t like Anna could blame him. They all loved Neela to pieces and couldn’t imagine taking the risk just to satisfy a curiosity.

The overall discussion about returning had been brief, with every angel voting whole-heartedly to remain in the mortal realm, with one stipulation: they’d no longer reside belowground. Doing so had been a necessity, a sign of their past and their celestial limitations. If they wanted to start a new life in this world, they needed to embrace the light and live among it.

It had been Iron’s secret dream, and watching it realized on his face every day filled Anna’s heart to bursting.

“Good,” Iron said, pointing to some stakes at the far west end of the property’s edge. “We finally worked out the nontech options for Bronze and Clara’s home, and the general utilities will be going in soon. Steel’s working on digging a new well, and Titan’s arranging for building materials to arrive tomorrow morning.” Iron mimicked clapping his hands together in eagerness but knew better than to actually clap and wake up Olive. Then he shrugged out of his flannel and tossed it on the chair next to Anna.

Her eyes grew wide at the sight of his new T-shirt, and she had to cover Olive’s exposed ear as she whisper-shouted, “No. You. Didn’t.”

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