Castillo Del Angel: Marked By Vengeance.
No, this had intent written all over it, especially after what she says last night.
I motioned for Tomas to sit, but he shook his head. So I settled on the couch instead, elbows resting on my knees, trying to piece it together.
Before I could ask another question, a sound stirred behind me.
I turned.
Angel limped out of the bedroom, hair messy, shirt hanging loose, his eyes still hazy with sleep. He looked like something holy and dangerous all at once, fragile and untouchable, but still mine.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep. Then he caught sight of Tomas. “Oh. Hey, Tomas.”