Janvier stretched out his long legs as much as he could. “You’re used to Archangel Tower.”

“Hard not to be. It dominates Manhattan.” Raphael’s Tower, the place from which the archangel effectively ruled North America, had become as much a symbol of New York as the ubiquitous red apple. “Have you ever seen it at night? It’s like a knife of light, cutting through the sky.” Beauty and cruelty intertwined.

“Once or twice,” Janvier said. “I’ve never been close to Raphael, though. You?”

She shook her head. “I hear he’s one scary s.o.b.”

The vampire driving them met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “That’s putting it mildly.”

Janvier leaned forward, his interest buzzing along her skin. “You’ve met the archangel?”

“He came to Atlanta for a meeting with my sire six months ago.” Ashwini saw goose bumps rise over the vampire’s skin. “I thought I knew what power felt like. I was wrong.”

Hearing that from a vampire who was no newborn made Ashwini damn glad she was “only” dealing with a midlevel angel. “Huge windows that open out into nothing,” she said, caught again by the timeless elegance of the plantation house as it came into focus. “Easy to fall out of one.”

Janvier put his arm around the back of the seat. “Angels can fly.”

“Janvier.”

A chuckle, fingers stroking across her hair as he removed his hand. “Would you like to fly?”

She thought of her dreams, that sensation of falling endlessly, caught in a whirlwind of nightmare. “No. I like my feet set firmly on the ground.”

“You surprise me, cher. I know how much you like jumping off bridges.”

“I’m attached to a bungee cord at the time.”

“Ah, far safer then.”

The car came to a stop before she could return the amused volley, and they stepped out into Atlanta’s lush embrace. “Would you?” she asked, glancing at him all loose-limbed and roughly sexy beside her as they walked to the front door. “Like to fly?”