Page 40 of Love, Rekindled

Crossing the flagstones, Azrael allowed his gaze to sweep down her slender body wrapped in his favorite crimson tunic. Or, at least, it was a duplicate of his favorite tunic, he wryly conceded. Jayla had started to order them by the crate-load since they’d been mated. He had a habit of ripping them off her whenever they had a moment alone.

Which wasn’t nearly often enough as far as he was concerned.

His lips parted to ask what she was doing, only to be distracted when she pointed toward the center of the patio with a mysterious smile. Turning his head, Azrael discovered two guests seated at a lavishly decorated table set with a white tablecloth, china plates, bowls of flowers, and tall candles that flickered in the soft night breeze.

Azrael’s brows lifted as he caught sight of the stunted gargoyle who was quickly wearing on his nerves, and the male’s pretty Aunt Bertha, who was currently wearing a sparkly silver gown with her golden hair in an elaborate knot on top of her head. The two couldn’t have been more different, but there was something strangely similar about them. Maybe it was the tilt of their heads or the flash of their smiles.

Or perhaps it was their mutual ability to walk into a room and cause complete chaos.

Still, it wasn’t the odd couple that caught and held Azrael’s attention. It was the redheaded vampire dressed in a waiter’s uniform, standing next to the table as he poured wine for Bertha and then Levet.

The gargoyle took the glass, giving it a suspicious sniff before shoving the glass back to the scowling Gideon.

“This is pig swill. Bring us your finest champagne.”

Gideon’s fangs were fully extended, the air vibrating with his icy fury as he spun on his heel and headed for the door to the wine cellars.

“Oh, you’re evil,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Jayla’s waist.

She tilted back her head, her dark hair rippling over her shoulders. “Evil in a good way? Or evil in a bad way?”

“In the very best way,” he said in approving tones. “Gideon looks like he’s considering the benefits of setting himself on fire.”

“I have plenty of torches to help.” She nodded toward the glowing flames that surrounded the patio. “I’ll set him aflame myself if it speeds things along.”

Azrael chuckled. His fierce assassin. “Why the lavish dinner?”

“Bertha is leaving later tonight.” Jayla shrugged. “She says that she’s been summoned by a mystical force.”

“I don’t suppose she’s taking that lump of granite with her?” Azrael asked. So far, Levet had managed to piss off the chef when he stole a platter of roasted ducks, he’d scorched the carpets in Jayla’s private rooms while trying to impress her by juggling his fireballs, and interrupted their privacy with tedious regularity.

“I don’t think so.”

“Damn.” He tightened his arms around her waist, his fangs lengthening as he gazed down at her pale, perfect face. “I want you all to myself.”

A slow smile of invitation curved her lips. “Everything seems to be under control here if you’re in the mood to rip off my dress.”

With a growl, he swept her off her feet and headed into the darkness with blinding speed. “The second I’m not in the mood, you can set me on fire with one of those torches,” he assured her.

Her arms wrapped around his neck. “Deal.”

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