The ducks were fighting now, quacking at each other and diving with their beaks. Jeez, even the ducks couldn’t stay peaceful. How the hell was she supposed to think with all that racket? Sighing, she leaned back on the park bench and looked up at the clear spread of sky. It reminded her of Raphael’s eyes.

She snorted.

The color was about as close to the agonizingly vivid hue of his eyes as a cubic zirconia was to a diamond. A pale imitation. Still, it was pretty. Maybe if she stared hard enough, she’d forget about the wings that haunted her vision. Like now. They spread over her line of sight, turning blue into white-gold.

Frowning, she tried to see past the illusion.

Perfect gold-tipped filaments came into focus. Her heart was a hunted rabbit in her chest, but she didn’t have the energy to be startled. “You followed me.”

“You seemed to need time alone.”

“Could you put down the wing?” she asked politely. “You’re blocking the view.”

The wing folded away with a soft susurration she knew she’d never associate with anything other than wings. Raphael’s wings. “Will you not look at me, Elena?”

“No.” She continued to stare upward. “I look at you and things get confused.”

A male chuckle, low, husky . . . and inside her mind. “Avoiding my gaze gains you nothing.”

“Didn’t think so,” she said softly, anger a dark ember in her gut. “Is that how you get your kicks—forcing women to worship at your feet?”

Silence. Then the sound of wings unfurling and snapping shut. “You are using up your lives.”

She chanced a look at him. He was standing at the water’s edge, but his body was turned toward her, those eyes of impossible blue having shaded to midnight. “Hey, I’m going to die anyway.” It tended to make a person cavalier. “You said so yourself—you can fuck me over with your mind anytime you please. I’m guessing that’s the least of your little bag of tricks. Right?”