“No problem.” Illium hung up and, less than five seconds later, Venom saw his form arrow out of the sky to skim above the tops of the brightly lit skyscrapers. He was a bullet as he crossed the Hudson, going so low there that his passage agitated the water into crashing waves.

Yeah, the laughing angel known as Bluebell was not in a good mood.

Sliding his hands into the pockets of his pants, Venom decided to wait for Illium to return. That he wanted to go back to his suite and check on Holly was another reason he forced himself to stay in place. The last time he’d felt even a faint glimmer of this type of protectiveness about a woman, she’d been his betrothed, and look how fucking well that had turned out.

And while Holly had grown up, she remained a baby in comparison to him. He wasn’t about to put his hands on her—well, he might throw her around to teach her to embrace the power inside her, but he wasn’t about to fuck her. Not even if his body was starting to stir more and more that way each time he saw her.

“Jesus.” He shook his head as he spotted Illium over the waters of the Hudson once again; even for Bluebell, the speed of the pickup was extraordinary. The angel was holding Kenasha carelessly with one hand on the back of the other angel’s neck. Kenasha’s wings drooped uselessly. The wasted-away appendages had to be creating massive drag, but Illium didn’t look strained in the least.

There was a reason certain archangels had put out feelers to lure Illium to their side, to take up a position as their second. Many believed the increasingly strong angel must be starting to chafe at holding a lower position in the Tower hierarchy than Dmitri. But Illium’s answer had always been a flat no.

He’d chosen his loyalty and it wasn’t only to Raphael, but to the Seven.

“Dmitri’s more experienced and he’s known the sire since the sire was young enough that Raphael treats him as an equal,” the angel had once said to Venom. “I, meanwhile, was once a baby angel Raphael rescued from a river after I took a dunking. The next time I fell in, it was Dmitri who plucked me out.”

He’d laughed, golden eyes dancing. “I’m not meant to be Raphael’s second, or to hold a position above Dmitri. Power isn’t everything—the bonds that tie us to one another, forged by emotion and battle and friendship, that’s what makes us strong.” A silver-edged feather of wild blue had drifted down to the ground from his wings as he resettled them. “No, I’m meant to occupy exactly the place I hold among us.”

That soul-deep bond would change one day in the distant future, Illium’s destiny written in his power. But it would never break. The Seven would always have each other’s—and Raphael’s—back. As the Archangel Elijah would never move against the Archangel Caliane.

He’d once been her most trusted general, carried that loyalty in his heart to this day.

Less than half a minute later, Illium dropped Kenasha’s quivering body on the balcony in front of Venom’s feet. “That was quick,” Venom commented.

Landing on the balcony, Illium folded back his wings. “I was racing myself,” he said, his eyes turbulent with emotions that were starkly human in a way it was rare to see in an immortal of Bluebell’s age and power.

“Who’d you fight with? Ellie?” Of all the Seven, it was Illium who was closest to Raphael’s hunter consort. “No? Then it has to be Aodhan.” The other angel—and fellow member of the Seven—was Illium’s best friend. Two wholly different men in personality, Illium and Aodhan had known each other since childhood. Sometimes, when they sparred in the air, it was like watching two halves of a whole, their reactions were so in sync.

Illium didn’t answer, his jaw grinding. “Why do your friend’s wings look like those of a half-plucked chicken?” he asked just as Dmitri exited onto the balcony. “I do like the rhythmic twitching, though.”

“That’s Holly’s work.” It was obvious her venom was yet causing Kenasha considerable pain.

“This makes me sad,” Dmitri said without an ounce of sympathy. “Sad for all the children who might’ve seen this creature and thought him an example of angelkind.”

“Don’t worry,” Venom replied in as cold a tone. “He doesn’t fly. Daisy’s blood did something to him.”

Dmitri knelt beside the angel whose eyes were bulging out of his head—whether in pain or fear, Venom couldn’t tell. “Hold him still.”

Lip curling at the idea of touching the other man, Venom nonetheless knelt down and did as asked so that Dmitri could use the syringes he held in his hand to take blood samples. He held out both capped syringes toward Illium. “Fly these down to the infirmary so they can start on the tests. Gentle hold. You don’t want to accidentally crush one and get contaminated by the blood.”

Gingerly taking the samples, Illium said, “I have no desire to look like a plucked chicken. Been there, have no wish to repeat the experience.” A pause. “Though . . . to be clear, I looked more like a fluffy duck—cute, not as if I had a molting disease.” Illium was gone in a wash of wind seconds later.

Venom had seen Illium’s feathers regenerating after an accident, but he was also aware the angel had once been stripped of his feathers as punishment for the crime of speaking angelic secrets to a mortal woman he mourned to this day. The latter had been before Venom’s time. “Were Illium’s feathers different before he lost them the first time?” he asked Dmitri, realizing he’d just assumed they’d regenerated identical to the original.

Dmitri gripped Kenasha’s mouth, forced it open with the vise of his grip.

Ready, Venom used his pocketknife to slice his own wrist open, then dripped the blood into the contemptible angel’s mouth.

“No,” Dmitri said as Kenasha’s throat began to move spasmodically. “Our Bluebell didn’t have the silver then.” A faint smile. “He was vain before. Imagine how much worse he got when glittering threads of silver began to appear in among the filaments.”

“When you’re this beautiful,” Illium said, coming up to hover on the other side of the balcony, “you have no choice but to be vain.” He buffed his nails on his arm, then blew on them, and at that instant, he was once more the angel Venom knew: intelligent and generous and with a warm playfulness to him.

Most immortals had lost that playfulness long ago. Even Venom.

Kenasha choked and spluttered but Dmitri was relentless. Venom could easily donate this much blood within a short period of time, but he’d have to feed soon to make up for it. He wouldn’t be weak if he didn’t, but he’d be weaker, and Venom preferred to be at full strength. When his wrist began to heal, he slit it open again.

It took a lot longer than he’d estimated for Kenasha’s body to stop quivering.

“Holly’s strong,” he murmured, pleased deep within.

“Want a bite?” Illium held out his own wrist. “This is first-class blood, available only to a select few.”

Venom felt his lips kick up. “Thanks.” He had no problem taking blood from his fellow members of the Seven—as he had no problem donating blood in turn. And when it came to Illium, he only had to drink a small amount.

Bluebell packed a punch.

Not as strong as Raphael, but more than strong enough that one day, Venom knew he’d look up into the sky and see an archangel with wings of bluebell blue glittering with silver threads.

His heart ached when he thought of that distant moment in time.

How much worse must it be for Dmitri, who’d watched both Illium and Aodhan grow up? Because as the moon followed the sun, when Illium ascended to become an archangel, Aodhan would go with him as his second. The angel with wings of shattered light had been the hardest of the Seven for Venom to get to know . . . and yet he’d given Venom an extraordinary gift.

“You’re strong,” Aodhan had said quietly a century earlier. “Your eyes might be of a viper, but you have the heart of a lion. You demand the world bow to you. I wish I had your courage, Venom.”

As Illium’s blood hit his bloodstream, Venom felt his veins pulse and hoped Aodhan was finding his own lion’s heart in Lumia, where the angel had accompanied Raphael and Elena for the meeting of the Cadre. That lion’s heart had always been there; Aodhan was a warrior through and through. He’d lost his faith in himself after an act of horror that nearly ended his light—but that faith, it was coming back. And an Aodhan Venom had only ever glimpsed was emerging.