of an accent from times long gone.
She found it fascinating. âWhen were you Made?â she asked. âYou were older.â Vampires did age, but so slowly that the changes were imperceptible. The lines of maturity on Noelâs face came from his human lifetime.
âThirty-two,â he said, his eyes on a plump bumblebee as it buzzed over to the dewberry shrub heavy with fruit on Nimraâs right. âI thought I had another life in front of me, but when I found that road cut off, I decided what the hell, I might as well attempt to become a Candidate. I never expected to be chosen on the first attempt.â
Nimra angled her head, conscious that angels wouldâve fought to claim him for their courts, this male with both strength and intelligence. âThis other life, did it involve a woman?â
âDoesnât it always?â There was no bitterness in his words. âShe chose another, and I wanted no one else. After I was Made, I watched over her and her children and somewhere along the way, I became a friend rather than a former lover. Her descendants call me Uncle. I mourn them when they pass.â
Nimra thought of the wild windswept beauty of the land where heâd been born, found it fit him to perfection. âDo they still live on the moors?â
A nod, his hair shining in the sunlight. âThey are a proud lot, prouder yet of the land they call their own.â
âAnd you?â
âThe moor takes ahold of your soul,â he said, the rhythms of his homeland dark and rich in his voice. âI return when it calls to me.â
Compelled by the glimpse into his past, this complex man, she found her wings unfolding even farther, the Louisiana sun a warm caress across her feathers. âWhy does your accent disappear in normal conversation?â
A shrug. âIâve spent many, many years away from the moors, but for visits here and there.â Dropping the stone, he rose to his feet, six feet plus of tall, muscled male with an expression that was suddenly all business. âFen, Asirani, Christian, and Amariyah,â he said. âAre they the only ones who have access to you on that intimate a level?â
âThere is one other,â she said, aware the moment was over. âExeter is an angel who has been with me for over a century. He prefers to spend his time in his room in the western wing, going over his scholarly books.â
âWill he be at dinner?â
âIâll ask him to attend.â It was difficult to think of sweet, absentminded Exeter wanting to cause her harm. âI cannot suspect him, but then, I cannot suspect any of them.â
âAt present, thereâs nothing that points to any one of them beyond the others, so no one can be eliminated.â Arms folded, he turned to face her. âAugustusâtell me about him.â
âThereâs nothing to tell.â Snapping her wings shut, she rose to her feet. âHe is a friend who thinks he needs to be more, that I need him to be more. It has been handled.â
Noel could see that Nimra wasnât used to being questioned or pushed. âI donât think Augustus believes it has been handled.â
A cold-eyed smile. âAs we discussed earlier,â she said, âsuch things are not in your purview.â
âOn the contrary.â Closing the distance between them, he braced his hands on his hips. âFrustrated men do stupid and sometimes deadly things.â
A hint of a frown as she reached up to brush away a tiny white blossom that had fallen on her shoulder. âNot Augustus. He has always been a friend first.â
âNo matter what you choose to believe, his feelings arenât those of a friend.â Noel had glimpsed untrammeled rage on the big angelâs face when Augustus had first realized what Noel apparently was to Nimra.
White lines bracketed Nimraâs mouth. âThe point is moot. Augustus visits, but he