Page 45 of Beyond the Storm
Those two words never failed to turn me into a puddle of mush.
“More tea?” Raphael asked, holding the teapot. Magic was used to keep the tea at the perfect temperature, never going cold.
“Please.” I moved my cup forward so he could fill it.
Selaphiel continued his story about his recent visit to the mortal realm. Apparently, a coven of witches had found an ancient spell book that had been lost centuries ago that he’d had to retrieve before they could do something foolish with it. He’d then taken it to the celestial vault, adding it to all the other forbidden items and weapons that had been collected over time.
Later that afternoon, I stood on the back deck of our house, watching the sun slowly sink lower in the colorful sky. Waiting for him. There was a distant flapping of wings.
“Our angel,”Pride whispered.“He’s returned to us.”
Lazarus landed beside me. His snow-white wings had threads of gold that matched the flecks in his blue eyes. He tucked them behind him but didn’t retract them completely. The feathers ruffled from the breeze coming off the lake. “How was your afternoon tea?”
“It was nice.” In one stride, I was in his arms, surrounded by my favorite scent of winter apples. “But this is even nicer. Did training go well?”
“Yes.” Lazarus smoothed his hand along the dip of my spine. “You seem reflective today. I feel your heavy thoughts. Have I done something to displease you?”
“Not at all,” I answered, pressing my face to his neck. “I had a revelation earlier.”
“Concerning what?”
“You. Me. This home we’ve built together.” I drew back to meet his gaze. “I’m so happy, Laz. This life with you is better than I ever dreamed.”
Warmth touched the pale blue of his eyes. “I feel the same.”
After a lifetime of heartache, violence, and constant fighting, the dark sky had cleared. New light broke across the horizon, and the air felt so much lighter. Calmer.
We were finally beyond the storm.
Lazarus
“The Nephilim has settled in well,” Uriel said, the center of his brow dipping with a slight frown. He’d requested that I meet him in the palace garden early that morning. Dew covered the grass as the realm welcomed another day. The sky lightened in areas, a pink hue replacing the dark as the sun prepared to rise.
“The Nephilim has a name.”
“I’m well aware of his name.” Annoyance bled through his green eyes. “A year in our realm, and he’s managed to place Raphael and Selaphiel under his spell. They call him a friend.”
“This troubles you.” It wasn’t a question.
“Less now than it once did.” Uriel reached out and touched the petals of the white rose before him. The wrinkle in his brow deepened. “I spent thousands of years hating him and his kind. It will take more time for me to let go of that hatred.”
It wasn’t hatred he felt; it was fear. But I dared not correct him. It was far easier to pretend to be angry than it was to be afraid. Even after their actions during the war against Lucifer, where they made the ultimate sacrifice, Uriel feared that Alastair and his brothers would turn out like their fathers. He worried they’d surrender to their curses and set fire to not only the mortal realm butallthe realms.
“Why did you request my presence here?” I had left my husband asleep in bed. I yearned to return to him before he woke.
“Rumors are circulating that Purah was spotted in the underworld. With his power over the dead, he could become a real threat if he ever decided to start an uprising.” Uriel released the rose before walking over to a stone bench and sitting. “No news of Vepar. He hasn’t been seen since he fled the battle. I wished to discuss the course of action should either of them rise against us.”
“Purah isn’t a leader,” I said. “He hasn’t the ambition for it. Whether he dwells in the underworld or not, he poses no real threat to us. Not unless he finds a master to pull his strings.”
“True.” Uriel nodded. “Perhaps I worry for nothing.”
Though hesitantly, I took a seat beside him. “Just like your hatred of the Nephilim, it will take more time to stop seeing shadows everywhere you look. For many of us, fighting and protecting is all we know. Take that away, and we don’t know what to do with ourselves.”
“Might I make a suggestion?” a deep voice said from the path to the right of us. Michael strode forward, his signature smile curving his lips.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Uriel muttered. “Yet, I know you’ll do so anyway.”
“Correct you are.” Michael stopped in front of us, his large white wings fanning behind him. The ends of the feathers looked to have been dipped in gold—a sign of his rank as the captain of the celestial army. He was the leader over the warrior class of angels and the most powerful being in the heavens. “To calm your troubled mind, you should take up knitting.”
