pathways overgrown until they were near impassable.
“I didn’t know this existed.” He reached out to touch an extravagant white rose.
She knew he felt not shock, but wonder. Like the young kitten Mimosa had once been, Noel carried a touch of wildness within him. “She will enjoy being a part of this garden, I think.” Her throat felt raw, lined with sandpaper.
Noel followed her in silence as she walked through the tangled pathways to a spot under the sheltering arms of a magnolia that had stood through storm and wind and time. When she stopped, he hefted the shovel and began to dig. It didn’t take long to dig deep enough for Mimosa’s body, but instead of nodding at her to lay her pet down, Noel went to the closest bush heavy with blooms. Plucking off handfuls of color, he walked back and lined the bottom of the tiny grave.
Nimra couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They rolled down her face in silence as Noel went back two more times. When he was done, the grave held a velvet carpet of pink, white, and yellow petals, soft as fresh- fallen snow. Going to her knees, Nimra brushed a kiss to her pet’s head and laid her down.
The petals stroked against the backs of her hands as she lifted them out from under Mimosa. “I should’ve brought something to wrap her in.”
“I think,” Noel said, showering more blooms over Mimosa, “she would prefer this. It is a fitting burial for a cat who loved to roam, don’t you think?”
She gave a jerky nod and reached back to tug out several of her primary feathers. “When she was a kitten,” she told Noel, “Mimosa was fascinated by my feathers. She would attempt to steal them when I wasn’t looking.”
“Was she ever successful?”
“Once or twice,” she said, a watery laugh escaping her. “And then she’d run so fast, it was as if she were the wind itself. I never did find where she hid my feathers.” With those words, she placed the primaries beside Mimosa before blanketing her in another layer of petals. “Good- bye, little one.”
Noel covered up the grave in quiet, and she placed more blossoms over the top, along with a large stone Noel found in the garden. They stayed for long, still minutes beside the grave, until Nimra felt a caress of wind along her senses, gentle as a sigh. Releasing a silent breath, she turned and began to walk back, Noel by her side.
He touched a hand to her shoulder. “Wait.” Propping the shovel against one thigh, he used the thumbs of both hands to wipe away the tears on her face. “There,” he whispered, “now you are Nimra again. Strong and cruel and pitiless.”
She leaned into the touch, and when he cupped her face, when he touched his lips to her own, she didn’t remind him that his role was as her wolf, not her lover. Instead, she let him sip at her mouth, let him warm the cold place in her heart with the rough heat of his masculinity.
When he lifted his mouth, she fisted her hand in his shirt. “More, Noel.” Almost an order.
Shaking his head, he brushed back her hair with a tenderness she’d never felt from a lover. “I won’t take advantage of you. Today, I’ll be your friend.”
“Fen has been my friend for decades,” she said, sliding her arm into his when he offered it to her. “And he never presumed to put his mouth on mine.”
“Obviously I’ll be a different kind of friend.”
The lighthearted words served to calm her, until by the time they emerged into the main gardens, she was the angel who ruled New Orleans and its surrounds once more— hard and powerful and without vulnerability. “You will discover who hurt Mimosa,” she said to Noel, “and you will tell me.” There would be no mercy for the perpetrator.
The first thing Noel did after escorting Nimra to her personal study, was to head out to track down Violet. The maid had given him a fleeting but significant look when she’d brought him the plastic bag— the contents of which he’d surrendered to Christian earlier, because he’d needed to be by Nimra’s side when she buried Mimosa.
However, he hadn’t taken more than three steps out of the private wing when Violet walked into the corridor with a tea tray. “I saw Lady Nimra return,” she said, lines of worry around her eyes. “Should I…?”
“I’ll take it in,” Noel said. “Wait for me here.”
The teenager gave a swift bob of her head while Noel ducked inside. Nimra was standing by the window, her back to the door. Leaving the tray on the coffee table, he walked to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “Eat something.”
“Not yet, Noel.”
Knowing she needed to grieve in private, this strong woman who had the heart to love a creature so very small and defenseless, he left her with a fleeting stroke through her hair.
Violet was half hiding in an alcove, her eyes fearful. “If she sees me, Noel, she’ll know.”
“Who?” he asked, though he had a very good idea.
“Amariyah.” The girl hugged herself tight. “She thought no one was in the kitchens when she came in because I always hide when she’s near— she’s spiteful.” A gulping breath. “I saw her take the meat, and thought it was strange but didn’t really worry about it.”
“Thank you, Violet,” he said, certain she spoke the truth. “No one will know the information came from you.”
The maid drew up her shoulders. “If you need me to, I’ll swear witness before the whole court. Mimosa dying so soon after Queen, it’ll have broken my lady’s heart. Some say she doesn’t have one, but I know different.”
Noel stayed in the corridor for long minutes after Violet left, considering the maid’s statement. His faith in her aside, the fact was, it was her word against that of a vampire. A vampire who was the child of the most trusted member of Nimra’s court. Amariyah could turn around and accuse Violet of the same act.
It was dusk by the time he decided on a course of action. Heading away from the private wing, he walked down not to the main dining room, but toward Fen’s cottage. As he’d expected, Amariyah was at home with her father. Entering at Fen’s invitation, Noel sat with the elderly man for a while, talking of nothing and everything.
When the subject of Mimosa came up, he made sure his gaze met Amariyah’s. “I have a very good idea of the person behind the cowardly act,” he said, making no effort to hide his contempt. “It’s just a case of how hard they’ll make it.”
From the way Amariyah’s face drained of blood, it was clear she understood the threat. And if there was one thing in the vampire that was true and good, it was her love for her father. Her eyes beseeched him not to bring up the subject in front of Fen. Since Noel had no desire to hurt the old man— would’ve never carried through with the unspoken threat— he excused himself after a few more minutes.
“I’ll walk with Noel a little, Father,” the female vampire said, rising to her feet in a fall of vivid violet fabric that appeared as light and airy as the wind, the simple gown leaving her arms bare and flirting with her ankles.
“Go, go.” Fen chuckled. “Just remember, he belongs to an angel. Don’t go poaching there.”
From the rigidity of Amariyah’s smile, she didn’t appreciate the reminder of her place in the hierarchy of things. But her tone was light as she said, “Do credit me with a few brain cells.”
That elicited a wracking laugh from Fen, his chest rattling in a way that concerned Noel. Amariyah was immediately by his side. “Papa.”
Fen waved off the help. “Go on, Mariyah.”
“We should call a doctor,” Noel said, not liking the strain in Fen’s breathing.
Fen’s response was a laugh, his dark eyes twinkling. “Ain’t nothing a doctor can do about age. I’m an old man with an old man’s bones.”
When Amariyah hesitated, Fen urged Noel to take her outside. Noel would’ve insisted on a doctor, but one look at Fen’s face told him that would be a lost battle— the elderly man’s body might’ve turned frail, but his will remained strong as steel. Such a will demanded respect.
“Until we next speak,” he said to Fen as he left with a nod, taking Amariyah with him.
Fen’s daughter was silent as they walked deep into the verdant spread of the gardens, her steps jerky, her spine stiff. “How did you know it was me?” she said the instant they were in a private spot, beneath the arms of a gnarled old tree with bark of darkest brown.
