Death Takes Wing (2 page)

“I can see how that would get
very
annoying.  Although, I have to admit, I haven’t been worshiped nor had someone cross themselves for fear of leprosy because of me in a very long time,” she finished cheekily.  “So,” she said as she looked around the room for Sam.  Scanning the room, she didn’t see either Sam or Vince.  Frowning, she checked her phone, concern sweeping through her.  When no call or text alerted her to Sam’s whereabouts, she returned her eyes to the dark angel, enjoying the sight.

“So?” the baritone replied as he sat down next to her at the tag for ‘G. Winterbourne”.

She shook her head, then tucked an errant curl back into the bun.  “So, what do you do?”

He arched an eyebrow.  “For what?  For money?  For food?  For clothes?”

She gave him a derisive look before laughing softly.  “For an occupation, obviously.”

“Guess,” he said with a smile.  He crossed his arms and leaned back into the chair, openly staring at her.

“Bouncer?”

An elegant shake of the head.

“Teacher?” 

Another negative. 

She narrowed her eyes at him and leaned back.  She reached up and made sure her hair was still in place, stalling for time as she thought about it.  Did angelus have different jobs than humans?  It was possible, she decided, but she couldn’t think of any in particular…

“Are you even trying?” he teased, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward.

“Firefighter?” she guessed again, as she stared at the heavily muscled arms and shoulders before narrowing her green eyes at him as he clucked softly in denial.

“Nope.”

“I give up,” she said, throwing her pale hands up in feigned exasperation.

He laughed and shook his head.  “Enforcer.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him.  “Enforcer?  What’s that?”

“That’s what I do,” he said drolly, running a hand down the stem of his glass.

She huffed out a breath and picked up her glass of water.  Taking a sip, she gave him her best measured stare.  It usually worked on kids…who knows?  Maybe it worked on angelus, too.

“It’s a cross between an FBI officer and a bounty-hunter.  Basically – “  He stopped short as Vicki and Owen approached the table, a frown twisting his lips.

Vicki gave Amalia an odd look as she noticed her sitting so close to the dark angelus, but Amalia ignored it as she remembered some of Vicki’s more prejudiced comments concerning umbren.

"I hope you're enjoying yourselves," Owen said insincerely, his voice nasal to Amalia’s ears, especially in comparison to Gabriel’s deep baritone.  He glanced at the table that the servers were filling with food.

"You look beautiful," Amalia murmured to Vicki, ignoring Owen’s remark, and the man himself.  Before Vicki could open her mouth to respond, Owen pulled her away to march her to the next table pretending not to notice that Amalia had spoken, or that Gabriel sat there, an unreadable look crossing his face.

Amalia sat ramrod straight, barely containing the white-hot anger that coursed through her veins at Owen’s direct, and very blatant, snub.  Amalia got up, and stalked towards Vicki, her pink lips a thin line on her pale face.  When she reached Vicki, she forced a smile to shape her lips.  She reached out and gently touched Vicki’s arm, forcing her friend’s attention to come back to her old friend.  Vicki looked at Amalia, surprise written starkly on her face, pleasure quickly following.

With a few low words that Gabriel graciously ignored, he watched the intriguing redhead and the
blonde walk to an unoccupied corner and visit.  Owen continued to chat with the table, taking a moment to realize his bride had moved on without him.  He spun around, almost knocking a small solan woman off her feet as she tried to avoid his wings, and he looked comically panicked.  Gabriel suppressed a smile, but his humor faded when he saw Owen storming over to the chatting women.  Amalia looked up defensively, ready to blast the uppity solan with her disturbed anger.

Since annoying Owen was one of the highlights of the evening, Gabriel decided this time would be as good as any to
really
annoy the solan.  The sound of his chair scraping against the wooden floor caught Owen’s attention.  Owen turned to see what it was.  The insincere but ever-so-polite mask dropped off his face when he saw Gabriel glaring.  With a very deliberate shake of his head, Gabriel made it clear that the two women were not to be disturbed.  The blond solan sneered at the command, but sullenly retreated back to the table he’d abandoned when Gabriel took a step towards him.  Visibly swallowing, Owen turned back to the solan that were seated at the full table.

A few moments later, the Vicki and Amalia exchanged another round of smiles, low words and a hug.  Amalia walked back to her table, while Vicki rejoined her husband, walking down the line of chairs
as she continued to greet the guests seated at the various bedecked tables.

Watching the two leave, Amalia sat quietly, pushing her fork around before realigning it with the plate and knife.  “Thank you,” she said to Gabriel, her voice soft but firm.

Gabriel gave her a considering look before slowly nodding his head in acknowledgment of his gesture.

“You don’t like him,” Amalia stated bluntly, glancing up at Gabriel through her dark lashes, unsurprised at the flash of hatred on the umbren’s face.

He smirked and shook his head, biting his lip to avoid telling just how adverse he was to the solan’s presence.  “Not one bit.  That bloody git is nothing but trouble.  Most solan don’t like him either.  And that’s saying a lot.”

Amalia nodded, understanding combined with light mirth dawning in her green eyes.  “So, that explains why he didn’t marry a nice solan girl.”

Gabriel chuckled, a nasty lilt to his voice.  “No ‘nice solan girl’ would be seen with him.  Dead or alive.  It took a human for him to finally get married.  If he weren’t so ridiculously poncy, he’d probably have been married decades ago.”

Amalia’s eyes darkened with the thoughts swirling in her head about Vicki and her future life.  “I hope she’s happy.”

Gabriel looked at her, “I hope so, too.”  He wanted to add ‘but I doubt she will be’, but the dark look in Amalia’s eyes warned him off.  Remembering Owen’s deliberate snub, the dark angelus looked amused for a second before tossing back the rest of his wine, thinking to himself that the bloody fool had no idea who he was mistreating.  He’d be lucky if his marriage lasted through this year, if the girl ever found the spine was so obviously missing.

Amalia glanced around, looking for Sam, and not seeing her anywhere in the room. She'd be hard to miss with her bright turquoise dress, Amalia thought to herself, so where is she?  Sam hadn’t returned to the table since Amalia saw her talking with Vince earlier.  Glancing around the room, she didn’t see Vince either, and his mint wings made him stand out in a room of peaches and beige.

She turned back towards the table where the food sat, steaming, just delivered by a passing server.  Amalia pulled her phone out and sending a quick glance at Gabriel, she fired a quick text to Sam, wondering just where she was when the food was there.  No reply was forthcoming, so she shoved the phone back into the small purse.  Thinking she felt the phone vibrate, she pulled it out.  Nothing.  She frowned and shoved it back in.

When she saw Gabriel focused on his food, she pulled out her phone again as she was sure she felt it vibrate.  She saw a text that her cousin Morgan had
sent her, asking how the feathery wedding was going.  She fired back a quick text telling her about her interesting dinner companion, and that she was actually enjoying herself.  Morgan shot back that she expected to hear all about it tomorrow.

Sticking the phone back in her small purse, Amalia concentrated on her food, savoring the delicate spices and flavorful lobster that graced her plate.  At least Owen had good taste when it came to food, otherwise the wedding would be completely unpalatable without her present company, especially without Sam here.

∞

After the dinner conversation between the two had meandered around a variety of subjects, they found themselves sitting alone at the table as the dances started.  The music was a swaying waltz, and she found herself looking at the women in their colorful dresses and gowns as they danced to the string quartet, slightly jealous that she wasn’t among them, but somehow too shy to ask the dark angelus if he could dance.

Gabriel looked at his conversational companion, and watched as she stared at the dancers, doubting that she realized that she was swaying lightly along with the rhythm.  He sipped his water, knowing he’d had enough wine for the evening if he wanted to drive home unimpaired.  Finishing the last swallow, he set the glass down on the table and stood
up.  Brushing non-existent crumbs from his sleeves, he stood in front of Amalia, a cocky smile covering his face.  She looked up at the hand that he had placed in front of her confused.

He looked pointedly at the dance floor, and then back at her.  “I assume you want to dance.”

“Are you always this suave when you ask a lady to dance?” she asked as she shyly smiled, and finally placed her hand in his. 

With a smile and a slight bow, he replied, “always.” 

His hand dwarfed her, and as she stood up with him, she found that his body did the same.  She placed him around 6’2”, compared to her 5’5”.  Looking down at her feet, she wish she’d worn the pair of stilettos that Sam had offered to lend her, but she would have been on her ass in an instant; high heels and her balance did not mix that well.  She would rather be short than wind up with a sprained ankle.

He stood next to her, his dark wings making him look even more stunning.  She gave him a dazzling smile, which he returned with a saucy grin, taking one last sip of his wine to steady his nerves.  He made a stunning picture in his charcoal tuxedo.  A white silk shirt clung to his muscled chest, silver buttons adorning the front.  The tie was a stormy gray silk, just a few shades lighter than his suit, held in place with a tie-pin that matched the buttons and
cufflinks.  His feathers hung behind him, the pewter flakes making his wings looks like they were dripping silver.  She had a brief thought of what the feathers felt like, wondering what it would feel like to run her hand down a wing.  Wondering what the dark wings would look like on her bed…

She heard him set down his glass, the sound bringing her back to reality and out of her fantasy.  With a wry smile, she thought about how much Morgan would just
love
to know about her fantasies about the dark angelus.  Of course, Morgan had already inundated Sam with questions about Vince, but Sam was pretty reserved when it came to answering questions about
that
part of her sex life.

With an almost knowing smile in his eyes, he led her to the dance floor, where the other dancers were swaying, with the long gowns sweeping the floor gracefully.  With another smile at her, he had a thought that no one else mattered except for them.

The music floating across the floor, he placed his hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer to him and spread his wings, distancing them from the other dancers.  To her, it made it seem as if they were dancing alone, in their own world.  They waltzed a few dances as the string quartet played on, and with a slight shift in music, they were dancing a slow dance. 

He was light on his feet, as if he’d had centuries of balls and dances to prepare him for this
one moment.  He pulled his wings to his back, pulled her closer to him. 

With her head resting on his chest, she could hear his steady breathing as they swayed around the room, unknowingly mirroring the bride and groom. 

The groom, Gabriel had noticed, amused by the situation, was extremely uncomfortable dancing so informally with his bride.  The look of annoyance that flashed across Owen’s face was laughable, and the look of disdain he gave his bride annoyed Gabriel.

Gabriel briefly closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her hair.  The soft curls felt like satin under his cheek.  The last time he’d danced with a human was with Ivy, and that had been more than a hundred and fifty years ago.  He found himself enjoying the feel of the woman next to him.  He enjoyed that she smelled faintly of vanilla, and the satiny feel of her hair against his skin.  With a halting sigh, he chased away the thoughts of yesteryear with the thoughts of today, and this stunning redhead next to him.

She could feel his muscles under his tuxedo, and with a dirty thought, she wondered what he would look like in her bed.  Without a shirt, well, without
any
clothes, she amended mentally, and continued to fantasize towards the end of the song.  The only part she couldn’t work out was what to do with the damn wings, as pretty as they were.  Although, she thought, she was sure Sam would have
some suggestions…getting those suggestions out of her would be another problem…she’d deal with that later, she decided, breathing heavily as the light scent of cinnamon came over her.

Purposefully leading her mind away from those straying thoughts, she pulled away from him as the music changed to an upbeat song that, to her, sounded strange coming from the quartet.

When the quartet were packing up their instruments and the guests were slowly giving their good wishes to the happy couple, Amalia realized she hadn’t seen Sam since before dinner.  She hadn’t heard anything from her, not a text or a call.  Frowning, she retrieved her coat from the coat closet, a room large enough to be a bedroom in her house.  Her frown deepened as she saw Sam’s dark brown wool coat still hanging.