A Caress of Wings by Sylvia Day

would’ve been sufficient to put him at ease. After a year of darkness and suppression of sound, the deluge of sensation was too much.
    A passing teenage girl bumped into him, and he flinched.
    “Watch it,” she snapped, as if the contact had been his fault instead of hers. Then she raked him with a glance that turned from irritated to interested. “Oh, hi.”
    Trevor rushed toward the nearest exit. He stumbled past Il Fornaio and shoved through a door to the outside, gulping in a much-needed lungful of cool night air. He walked several steps from the building, setting his hands on his denim-clad hips and taking deep, calming breaths.
    “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, hating his weakness and craving Siobhán. If only she’d been able to play the role with him. Walk with him hand in hand. Look into the shop windows with him, lean against him, be with him. She kept him on an even keel, just by being near. But she’d blow his cover, she said, because vampires could scent what she was.
    Gathering his composure, Trevor was turning to head back into the mall when the cell phone in his pocket rang. He pulled it out and answered.
    “That’s enough for one night,” Siobhán said. “We’ll hit it again tomorrow.”
    “No, I’m okay. It’s only been what . . . an hour? That’s not long enough.”
    “We can’t be too obvious. You’ve left your scent at a half dozen public places tonight. Trust me, the bait’s been set. We’ll close the trap tomorrow or the next day.”
    “But you’re in a hurry.” And he was letting her down. “I can hold on for another hour or two.”
    “This was never going to happen overnight. Head back and we’ll talk about it.”
    “Siobhán—”
    “Please, Trevor.”
    He shoved a hand through his hair, which had grown at least two inches since he’d first woken up on Siobhán’s couch. Somehow, he knew his hair growth was like a countdown. It was indicative of his body’s rapid healing and resurgence. At the rate he was going, he’d be back to his old self in just a day or two, and he wondered what would happen then. There were no lycans with her and there were no “mortals” either. Where were the others she must’ve saved over the years? Did she wipe their memories and send them back out in the world, none the wiser of her existence or the existence of angels, period?
    He didn’t want that, couldn’t even begin to think about it.
    “Okay,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll head back.”
    “Thank you.” Her voice was soft. “I’ll see you soon.”
    *  *  *
    Trevor paced the length of an unfamiliar living room, his mind going over every single action taken since he’d been rescued.
    “You should sleep,” Siobhán said from her seat at a small computer alcove in the apartment’s kitchen.
    “I’m not tired.”
    “That’s my blood talking. But if you lie down for just a few minutes, you’d lose consciousness and get some rest. You need it.”
    He brushed her off with a distracted wave of his hand. They were in the apartment of a guy named Brian Kramer. Brian had been waiting for them at the airstrip in Seattle, and he’d given Trevor a change of clothes and the keys to his car. He’d given Siobhán the keys to a van and explained to Trevor, “By staying at my place, it’ll look like we’re roommates to any vamps who might follow you.”
    “Doesn’t that make you bait, too?” Trevor had asked.
    “I won’t be here.” Then Brian had grabbed a suitcase and left in a cab.
    Trevor stopped moving and crossed his arms. He stared at Siobhán. “Is Brian an angel?”
    Her head lifted. “What? No.”
    “A lycan?”
    “No.”
    He took a deep breath. “Is he a mortal you’ve saved in the past?”
    “No. I’ve never met Brian Kramer before tonight. He works for someone I know. Someone I’ll be introducing you to eventually.” She frowned and pushed back from the desk. “What’s wrong?”
    He watched her cross over to him, her movements fluid and