Page 138 of White Lights
“Lucky you have such a good mentor to teach you.”
The way Rafe’s looking at her, like he’s only ever seen her strengths,Dez feels them inside her—creativity and courage, a ferocity in the face of the impossible.
She feels the angel’s respect in his gaze.
“How can I help?” she says.
His gaze softens, focuses on her eyes. “Stay with me.”
Does he mean right now, tonight? Or for longer? She doesn’t ask. She nods.
He lifts her in his arms again and spreads his wings. They rise to the misty edge of the Veil. Rafe reaches up to touch the Veil, then pulls his hand back to shield his eyes.
Dez looks but can’t see any sudden brightness, any reason for Rafe to act this way.
But then—shefeelsit. Blinding not her eyes but her soul. She hides her face and looks away, afraid to face the awful brightness again.
“I can’t—” Rafe places his hand over the soul-blazing brightness and grits his teeth with exertion. Dez stares as his hand has the same effect on the Veil as it once had on her. The night Rafe told her he was an angel. The night she learned of Mo’s death. The night when, for just a moment, he’d healed her enough to persevere.
Dez can’t see it; she can feel it. He’s trying to knit the Veil back together where it’s torn.
Suddenly he wrenches his hand away. His shoulders sag against hers and he gasps for breath.
“Rafe!”
“I’m all right. But I need to rest.”
Dez helps him over to a flat rock below the Veil. He staggers to his knees and lies down, his wings a glorious blanket beneath him. She sinks to her knees and stares at him, how gorgeous he is, eyes closed and catching his breath. She’s all but forgotten about the threat to send her to Sheol. Even Asher, his halo, feels so far away it’s like a dream.
This night, the Veil with Rafe, his power and commitment to his cause … it overwhelms her, and it’s all that she can see.
She moves closer to him. He lifts one arm as if to fold her under it. She sinks to the stone beside him and curls her body around his.
Holding her hand, his fingers run across the mottled skin where the scar is on her wrist. He raises it up so he can see it.
“Who hurt you?” he asks, dragging his lips across the sensitive skin. “I’ll kill them.”
“I did it to myself,” she says, feeling his gaze like a warm, bright light. “I was trying to help my mother. But I was too young. Not strong enough.”
“I think you’ve always been strong enough, Dez.”
She draws her wrist away, down to her waist. “Rafe?”
“Mmm?”
“Can I touch you now?” she asks, her voice a whisper.
“Yes,” he says softly.
“Really?” She sits up, her eyes running hungrily over his wings. “Are there … rules?”
“For me. Not you.”
“So, everything but?”
She hears him smile in the darkness. “If that’s what you want, go ahead and take it.”
She climbs atop him, her thighs already quivering with desire. She places her hands first on his shoulders, watching him close his beautiful eyes in anticipation. Then she runs her fingers up his soft, smooth skin until she feels it. The thrilling expanse of Rafe’s wings.
