Because the rest of her was no contradiction at all on the surface — gold, holy, luminous, the textbook article — but threaded all the way through that light, low and sweet and deeply wrong, ran something dark.
Something that did not belong inside a being who glowed like that and yet had clearly made itself at home there and coiled comfortably in the marrow of all that radiance.
Angels did not carry dark power.
It was practically the entire premise of being an angel. And this one wore both at once and seemed entirely untroubled by the blasphemy of it.
Anahita, the woman was called.
And the moment Yuzuki had matched the name to the wings, the cold had crept back in — because she knew that name, and she knew its master.
This one was not the dragon's; not in the slightest.
'This Anahita answered to the Heavenchilds. Anahita answers, specifically, to Marcus, and Marcus doesn't seem the type to loan out his angel to guard the necks of his enemies.'
