Artemis’s eyes widened. “Wow.”
Michael smirked at her. “Did you expect them to be white? Fallen angels don’t get to keep their beautiful, pure wings when they’re cast out of heaven. They become pitch black about the time they hit the ground.”
Artemis shook her head a little. “It’s not that. They’re still beautiful no matter the color. It’s just…I’ve never seen an angel before.”
“You’re a goddess,” he accused.
“Yes. We have daemons. You definitely don’t look the same. My version aren’t so…” She cut off her words before she finished. In true Artemis fashion, she rolled back her shoulders and steeled her chin. She put a wall up and it was a solid one.
The sudden cold front intrigued Michael. “Finish what you have to say, goddess.”
The frigid glare she shot at him should have frozen him to the floor. “Don’t you have someone else to pester other than me?”
Michael concentrated on his wings. He felt his entire body tense and a dull ache blossom in his brow. There was pain radiating from other parts of his anatomy. Like an old paper fan, his wings fluttered down and returned to his back. Once they were settled in place, he let out a sigh then a groan.
Yeah, he had more in common with that succubus than he thought.
He turned his attention back to Artemis. “Nope, you’re my assignment for the near future. I guess that means I’m your entertainment. Now, let’s circle back what I am that your daemons are not. Smart? Tall? Sexy beyond belief?”
For one brief second Artemis’s cheeks tinged pink. He lost his battle against his grin.
She dropped her guard at the word “sexy”. He let go a chuckle. She wasn’t the only one who could read minds.
“What was that for?” she quipped.
“Nothing, goddess. It was nothing,” he replied.
