“Stop that.” Her voice was breathy, her mouth filled with the hotly masculine taste of him. “When will I be able to do that?”

“It’s an ability that develops over time, and not every angel gains it.” He folded back his wings. “Perhaps in four hundred years’ time, you’ll know.”

She stared. “Four hundred? Years?”

“You’re immortal now.”

“How immortal?” It wasn’t a stupid question. As she’d learned too well, even archangels could die.

“Immortality takes time to grow—to set—and you’re barely formed. Even a strong vampire could kill you right now.” Tilting his head slightly to the side, he turned his attention to the sky beyond the glass he’d told her was reflective, affording her privacy to study the Refuge without worrying about being watched in turn.

“It seems the Refuge is a popular place today.” With that, he strode to the balcony doors. “We must go to this ball, Elena. To do any less would be a sign of fatal weakness.” Closing the doors behind himself, he spread his wings and took off in a straight vertical flight.

Elena gasped at the unintentional show of strength. Now that she’d felt the weight of the wings at her back, she’d realized the extraordinary nature of Raphael’s vertical takeoffs. As she watched, he swept in front of the balcony and away. Her heart was still pounding from the combination of his kiss and the display of aerial brilliance when she finally glanced down at the envelope.

The fine hairs on her arms stood up the instant she grazed the thick white paper with her fingertips. The sensation was eerie—as if the envelope had been somewhere so cold, it wouldn’t warm up, no matter what. Some would call it the chill of the grave.

Goose bumps broke out over her skin.

Shaking them off, she turned the envelope over. The seal had been broken, but she could see the image once she lined up the edges. An angel. Of course, she thought, unable to stop staring at it. It was inked in black but why that should disturb her, she didn’t know. Frowning, she brought it closer to her face.