But that would be a very bad idea. Growly Bear pushed back the hair from his face, and I gasped. His eyes were glittering, twin raging whirlpools of fury, sparking black and then a brilliant turquoise. I held so still, I forgot to breathe. Forgot how to breathe, or talk, but not how to lick my lips slowly and imagine licking his neck like an ice cream co—Wait. He said something.
“Could you repeat that?” My voice was all breathy and sexy; I liked it. I asked my question again, lower. “Could you… repeat that, gorgeous?”
He didn’t speak. But words were unnecessary. Growly Bear’s jaw—clenched like he was trying to crush his own teeth—mirrored his eyes, very clearly indicating that I should not have called him that. He looked like he was still considering the unmaking thing.
Not today, buster. I’m not leaving this world, wherever I am, until I have a few more hours of shut-eye on these sheets.
I made a quick decision. A guy this big would be hard to get a killing strike on anyway, and I didn’t even know where my blade was. I’d have to fight with my least honorable weapons. Tears.
“I-I’m so sorry,” I murmured, blubbering just the smallest amount. “I was frightened, and I had no idea he was a Hiyan Gelatin, or whatever you said.”
The air crackled with invisible lightning. Oh, crap. I’d made it worse.
His jaw flexed even harder, revealing cheek muscles I had never seen on any other creature. “A Hiyan… Gelatin?”
“Um, yeah. What Deep Sexy Voice—I mean, Gavriel, I think you called him. You said—” I paused, worried about the strange shade of plum Growly Bear’s face was turning. “You said he was a Hiyan… Maybe it was ‘Hi, I’m Jelly?’” My earswerepretty stuffed up. “Heigel Jelly?”
He held a hand over his eyes, and I thought for a split second that he was fighting not to laugh. But when he pulled his hand down again, his expression was all business. “AHigh Angelus. Right, no more of that. Gavriel indicated you do not have a name.”
“Uh, no. I do, actually. I’m Feather.” I held out a hand for him to shake. “Nice to meetcha.” His cheek muscles twitched again, so I tucked my hand back under the coverlet. The incredibly soft, fluffy white coverlet. That matched the rest of the white bedding, white pillows, white curtains… Boy, someone liked to bleach things. “Dang, I’m glad I’m not in charge of the laundry here. Wait, I’m not, am I? I mean, I’m not even sure where I am.”
Growly Bear clenched his jaw again. “Feather is not a name. Not a proper name.”
I sighed in agreement. “Well, to be fair, I don’t even have a proper name forwhatI am. I mean, I figured out a while back I wasn’t human. But I’m not sure beyond that.”
He took a step back, his wings rattling agitatedly behind him. “You truly don’t know what you are?”
“No. But I’m guessing you have an idea. Care to share with a stranger?”
His black and turquoise eyes went the tiniest bit softer, giving me hope that maybe, when this conversation was over, he wouldn’t try to unmake me. Whatever that meant. “As far as I can tell, you are a Protector.”
“What does that mean?”
“A guardian of humankind.”
“Wait, Deep Sexy—I mean, Gavriel—said I wasnota superhero. I remember that much.”
“But you remember nothing else?” He rubbed a hand over his scarred face, his eyes troubled.
“From Earth? Sure. Lots of stuff. Mostly bad to be honest, but once Netflix came along it got much, much—”
“No. From before your life there. You don’t remember being formed, traveling with your cohort to Earth, your earthly assignment?”
“Nope.”
His jaw dropped. “You remember nothing of your purpose?”
Was he trying to make me feel stupid? Or like I was some amnesiac on a daytime soap? “No, Growly Bear, I don't. I'm not any Protector, I'm Feather. Just a girl with a few extras.”
He closed his eyes. “Well, Feather, if you came here when your mortal form perished, you should know something. You’re not a girl at all.” At that, he stepped back, motioning with one arm to an open door behind him. Through it, I could just make out a flock of giant birds. Huge birds, like eagles.
What were the really big ones called? Condors. They were endangered, right? I was about to ask, but then a group of them flew right across the doorway. Definitely not condors.
They were angels, every bit as big as people, but with enormous, mostly white wings jutting out of their backs. They flew past, holding scrolls and baskets and what looked like golden laptops.
Funking angels. Lots of them.
“Aw, dangit," I mumbled. “Maybe I did do drugs after all? Because I’m tripping. I meet two of the sexiest voices ever—and I bet that Gavriel is every bit as much of a snack as you, Huge Hotness. That should have been my first clue. Then the world’s most comfortable sheets and now a sexy lumberjack angel bear who gets all stern with me? I’m obviously brain-damaged. Or on a bad trip. Yep. Tripping balls.”
