to be seen.
“Aaalexxx…”
“Shit!” Tears sprang to her eyes. She hated feeling alone and afraid. In her real life, she was always strong. People admired her for her calm manner, for her level-headedness in the face of any crises, for her guts. She couldn’t have run the Seattle chapter of Dovescot, a refuge for battered women, without her share of guts. Many was the time she’d chased a pissed-off Bubba from the front lawn of the sprawling women’s shelter with only a rifle and her own unswerving faith in her invincibility. Never mind that she was only five-two and weighed all of a hundred pounds; Alex knew she could take those wife-beaters down, and when they looked into her cold blue eyes, the bastards usually realized that they weren’t all that willing to test her resolve on the issue.
Yet here she was, crying in the mud. Well, she’d be damned if she’d give them the pleasure.
Alex had been having this dream since she was a child. Not every year. Not even every second or third year. Not often at all. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d been subjected to this hell, but the infrequency didn’t make the experience any less terrifying. The difference now, though, was that she wasn’t a child anymore.
“Alexandra…”
“What?” she shrieked. Mud squelched between her fingers as her hands clenched. “What? What the hell do you want?”
“Summoner…”
The whispering was driving her mad, but the voices weren’t answering. Again she was touched, on her head this time. Alex refused to acknowledge the phantom hand and, in a moment, it retreated. “Summoner,” they’d called her. Over and over.
Well, all right then.
“Come on, already!” she said. “Show yourselves. I… I summon you!”
* * * *
“And it’s about bloody time too.”
The fingers were back, smoothing over her hair, and this time they didn’t disappear.
Crap! That had definitely not been a well thought-out plan.
The tendons in Alex’s neck creaked as she turned her head to look up at the speaker. Her breath left her in a gasp. She scrambled out from underneath his palm, any dignity she still possessed quickly lost in her slipping, sliding retreat. “Jesus Christ!”
He smirked and crossed his magnificently muscled arms across his chest. “No, I’m afraid not, pet. I’ve never even met the man, though he and my brother have a passing acquaintance.”
When she finally regained her feet, Alex took stock of the creature standing at ease in front of her. The huge black wings were so distracting that it actually took her a moment to notice he was unclothed. Her gaze followed the sweep of feathers down to the earth in fascination, and it was only on the return journey that Alex realized the alabaster white of his skin was a naked expanse in front of those wings.
Her cheeks flamed and she rushed to bring her gaze to his face. At least, she tried to look up; her stare kept getting snared along the way. She’d never seen a man with elegant feet before! From there, her gaze naturally wandered up his strong, smooth legs. A thatch of black decorated their apex, surrounding his cock, which was half hard but lengthening quickly. The heft of it made her mouth water.
It took some strength of will but she managed, after a second or two, to look away. His pubic curls pointed a graceful arrow to the indent of his navel, lovingly framed by a perfectly formed…eight pack? Was that even possible? Up and up—he was so tall, easily six and a half feet—to his sharply defined pecs and the alluring shadows of his nipples: tiny, perfect dots of mauve peeking cheekily at her above his folded arms.
Her mouth watered again, and she had to swallow the flood of liquid to avoid drooling. The knife edge of his clavicle was swept by shimmering waves of hair the same sultry blue-black as his stunning wings. His throat was long and graceful, his jawline chiseled. Of course. His lips, when she finally got there, were wide, lush and curved up into the most egotistical grin she’d ever seen. Perfect teeth flashed behind them.
At the sight of that mocking smile, Alex’s gaze leaped the short distance to his eyes. She hardly noticed the ruler-straight line of his nose or the proud flare of his nostrils. A fan of black lashes, which would probably have looked more appropriate on a cow, outlined his midnight eyes. One thick, black brow winged up.
“Looked your fill yet?” His voice was deeper than the first time he’d spoken.
“Jesus,” she whispered again.
“No.” His wings unfurled to stir the air behind his shoulders. “Kasdeya.”
Chapter 2
“I had thought you would be younger, Summoner.” Kasdeya’s voice sounded harsh even to his own ears, but he was surprised, and not pleasantly so. The last time he’d spied her through the mists, which was only a few days before, she had seemed a child—something she certainly didn’t seem now.
The Summoner was prettily disheveled, with mud in her hair and on her face, but that wasn’t what he found so damned distracting. What was causing him problems was the way her clothing had turned clingy and see-through in the wet air. The way her small, dark nipples caught at the transparent fabric as they puckered in the cold. It had been a long time since he’d felt such searing, instant attraction. And he’d never before felt it for a human. How could he? They were less than nothing in the eyes of the Brethren. God’s cosmic joke. Kasdeya had spent the aeons since his plummet doing his best to wreak havoc among them, particularly the daughters of Eve. Thus, his reaction to her was inexplicable, and he was disgusted with himself.
It was highly unfortunate that his plan involved seducing the beautiful little nothing. That’s what he told himself—how unfortunate it was. If only he could convince his body he meant it. His traitorous prick had leaped to attention under the weight of her stare, eagerly awaiting the unfortunate event.
* * * *
His own perusal was much more perfunctory. A quick flick of his eyes up and down her body. If his gaze lingered anywhere, Alex didn’t see it.
Her cheeks, still reddened from the cataloguing of his assets, burned even hotter under his dismissive glance. She looked down at herself, eyes widening in dismay. Her feet, legs and stomach were covered in viscous gray sludge, which also coated the ends of her waist-length hair and was, by the feel of it, drying into a cakey mess on her face. She must have smudged some there when she’d swiped at her tears.
She straightened her shoulders and did her best to mimic his haughty pose. So she didn’t exactly look her best. That was no reason to start tossing insults around. “And I thought you’d be more.”
Kasdeya’s brows shot up at her comment. “More than I am?” His hand swept down his flawless body.
Alex’s lips tightened into a thin line. How she wished she could say yes, if only to wipe that smug look off his face. But no, that wasn’t what she’d meant, and how could he be expected to be more than perfect anyway?
“No,” she said, her voice strained. “I had expected there would be more of you when you finally deigned to show yourselves. There are dozens of voices that call to me.”
“Ah.”
