Sunburned at the beach. Eve snorted at the excuse. If only she’d been bedridden for something so simple. “I can count on one hand the number of guys I’ve seen carry sunscreen.”
“A good man would,” her mother insisted.
“Like Dad?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve never seen Dad with sunscreen.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I thought it was.”
Eve loved her father, she really did. Darrel Hollis was a good ol’ boy from Alabama with an even-keeled temper and a gentle smile. He was also oblivious. Retired now, he rose at dawn, watched television or read, then went back to bed after dinner. The most unexpected thing he had ever done was marry a foreign exchange student (and Eve suspected her mother hadn’t given him much choice in the matter).
“Stop dating pretty boys,” Miyoko admonished, “and find someone stable.”
Eve shot a beseeching glance at the angel in the corner. He sighed and stepped closer. His voice had a soothing resonance no mortal could create.
“You want to replant the flowers in the pots by your front door,” he whispered in Miyoko’s ear. “You will go to the nursery, then home, where you will spend the rest of the afternoon indulging in your passion for gardening. Evangeline is fine and no longer needs you.”
Her mother paused, her head tilting as she absorbed the thoughts she assumed were her own. The gift of persuasion. Eve hadn’t mastered that one yet.
“You should get a spa pedicure, too,” Eve added. “You deserve it.”
Miyoko shook her head. “I don’t need—”
“Get a pedicure,” the angel ordered.
“I think I’ll get a pedicure,” Miyoko said.
“With flowers painted on your big toes,” Eve went on.
The angel shot her a quelling glance.
Eve winced. “If you want,” she amended quickly.
Alec returned with the banana. Standing by her bed, he peeled it, arresting her with the sight of his flexing biceps.
“I’m going home,” her mom said suddenly. “The laundry is done, the dishes washed. You’re fine. You don’t need me.”
“Thank you for everything.” Eve intended to stand and hug her mother, but remembered that she was naked between her satin sheets.
Miyoko waved her off and headed toward the door. “Let me change first and get my stuff together, then I’ll say good-bye.”
Reed’s voice rumbled down the hallway and swept over Eve’s skin like the warm caress of the sun. “Let me help you with that, Mrs. Hollis.”
Eve looked at Alec, who resumed his seat on the edge of her bed. Then, she glanced at the angel. “Hi.”
“Hello, Evangeline.” He stepped forward, his heavy boots making no sound on the hardwood floor. He had an inordinate number of feathers and appeared to have three pairs of wings. He was beyond impressive; he was the most perfectly gorgeous creature she had ever seen.
“Who are you?” she asked before taking a bite of the fruit. The first chunk was swallowed almost whole, followed immediately by another. Her stomach growled, reiterating that the mark burned a ton of calories and she was expected to keep up by eating frequently.
“Sabrael.”
Chewing, she glanced at Alec again.
“He is a seraph,” he explained.
Her eyes widened and she chewed faster, embarrassed to be naked in such company. The seraphim were the highest ranking angels, far above the seven archangels who managed the day-to-day operations of the mark system here on Earth. Alec was a mal’akh—the lowest rank of angel—as was his brother. Eve was a lowly Mark, one of thousands of poor suckers drafted into godly service for perceived sins. They worked for absolution by hunting and killing Infernals who’d crossed the line one too many times. A bounty was earned for every successful vanquishing, indulgences that went toward the saving of Mark souls.
“Can I get dressed?” she asked, wiping her mouth with the tips of her fingers.
Alec stood and took the empty peel from her. “Sabrael won’t leave until he speaks with you. Celestials have a different view of nudity than mortals do. Tell me what you need and I’ll get it.”
Eve directed him to a beach cover-up that hung in her closet. It was made of pale blue terry cloth and sported a hood, short sleeves, and a pouch in the front. Alec dropped it over her head, and she shoved her various body parts through the appropriate openings.
“Okay, Sabrael,” she began, brushing her hair back from her face. “Why are you here?”
“The better question would be: Why are you here, Evangeline? You should be dead.”
She bit back a groan. Another riddle. It seemed all the angels spoke in them, except for Alec and Reed.