Archangel's Storm

37

Dmitri handled several pieces of Tower business, clearing as much of the decks as he could from a distance, including a situation that meant sending a senior angel out of state to deal with another angel who thought to create himself a fiefdom free of Tower oversight.

That done, he spoke to Ilium. “Anything else urgent we need to clear?”

“No, Aodhan should have time to settle in.”

“Good.” Dmitri was conscious the angel would be out of his element, but confident he had the capacity to step into Dmitri’s shoes—to a certain extent. Aodhan and Illium were both much younger, had less experience, but together, they were a dangerous force. “You know how to get hold of me if you need me.”

“Dmitri.” Golden eyes fringed with black lashes tipped in blue met his. “Take care of Honor. I promise I won’t burn down the Tower in your absence—I don’t know why everyone got so excited about a little smoke.”

Aware the blue-winged angel was attempting to lighten his mood, he said, “I’m reassured. Let me just call the fire department.” He signed off to Illium’s laughter and glanced over his shoulder to check on Honor as he did a thousand times through the day.

He’d moved his desk into the bedroom, was never away from her for longer than a few minutes at most. He didn’t ever want her to rouse alone. With the toxin wreaking havoc in her bloodstream, she might panic, be afraid.

“Will you be here when I wake?”

“Always.”

Only once he was sure she was safe, her breathing steady, did he force himself to return to his work, the trees beyond the window rustling under the playful caress of the wind. Two more days until he could wake her, until he could hear her voice again. Two more days.