LOVE FOUND
Uriel’s heart stopped
beating. His jaw dropped open.
He couldn’t be seeing
what he was seeing in that moment. He couldn’t be feeling what he was feeling. Not now.
Not here, in a bathroom—after two
thousand years. Maybe he’d slipped in the rain outside and hit his
head.
No, that was
impossible. He was relatively invincible. Being hit on the head
would do nothing to him but make him a little cranky.
She was really
standing there before him. She was real; he could see her, hear
her—he could even smell her. She smelled like shampoo and soap and
lavender.
Jesus, he thought, unable to refrain from letting
his gaze drop down her body and back up again. She was everything
that he had ever imagined she would be, from her tall, slim body to
her long jet-black hair, and those indigo blue eyes the color of a
Milky Way night. Her skin was like porcelain. Her lips were plump
and pink and framed perfect, white teeth. She was an angel.
She was his archess.
And she was . . . scowling at
him?