Joana Sequeira

“We'll build our own home."
The promise curled around her heart, a vivid ray of sunlight. "In Manhattan?"
"Of course." A slow, slow smile. "What kind of mansion would you like?"
Damn, but the archangel was playing with her again. The sunshine grew, filled her veins.
"Actually, I kind of like yours." She slid her arms around his neck. "Can I have it? Oh, and can I have Jeeves, too? I've always wanted a butler."
"Yes."
She blinked. "Just like that?"
"It's only a place."
"We'll make it more," she promised, her mouth to his. "We'll make it ours.”
― Nalini Singh, Archangel's Kiss

“Elena.

Hush, let me talk to the crazy lady.”
― Nalini Singh, Archangel's Consort

“What would you like to call me?"

That made her pause. "Husband" was too human, "partner" factually wrong for a being as powerful as an archangel, "mate"...perhaps. But none of it was quite right. "Mine," she said at last.

He blinked and when he raised his lashes again, the blue was liquid fire. Yes, that will do. "But for public consumption, you are my consort."

"Consort," she murmured, tasting the word, feeling it's shape. "Yes, that fits.”
― Nalini Singh, Archangel's Consort