Martin wore a crooked smile as she slid atop him. He had a memory of the night they'd spent in the tunnels beneath the sand, how badly he'd wanted her then and how the flame of desire was still strong despite all that happened: stronger now in spite, in fact. He smiled at it, the promise she made, wondering if she would be able to keep it and hoping against hope that she could. Putting a hand to her face, he reached up to meet it.

"I still owe you that date," he whispered in her ear before he kissed her.
-----
"How would I know? She's the only angel I've met. Up until about a week ago, I had my doubts that thinking these things existed was a sane logic set. Judging by what you've told me, you've met more angels than I have." She bit her lip. A week ago. She'd been in France for half of it, and had so far only gotten half as far in her lessons as she would have liked. How many days did she have left before Joel nabbed her from her reverie? There was no telling; he didn't seem much for keeping promises.