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With a glare at her daughter, Dee left the room, and everyone followed behind her.
Rosabella watched them go with a smirk before turning to him. “Wrath,” she purred. “If you wanted to spend time alone with me, all you had to do was ask.”
“Stop it.” He stayed where he was, with his shoulders propped against the wall. Not too long ago, that look on Rosabella’s face would have had him crossing hell to find her; now, he couldn’t even be bothered to cover the handful of strides that separated them.
Cocking her head, Rosabella closed the distance between them and put her hand on his chest. “Come on, babe.” She pouted up at him. “You can’t stay mad at me forever.”
“You’re forgetting what I am.” Her hand on him felt like an invasion, and he took it away. “I am Wrath, getting and staying mad is my thing. And I have nothing but time.”
“All right.” She crossed her arms, and her breasts threatened a breakout from her dress. “Get it out of your system. I’ve been a bad girl.”
“No, Rosabella.” It was kind of surreal to see all that cleavage and not be even slightly tempted by it. To be honest, it was good cleavage. Rosabella had always had, and still did have, a banging body. But she didn’t have Eddie’s courage and strength, or Dee’s fortitude and determination. And her eyes for damn sure didn’t grow warm and soft like she was seeing the best version of him, unlike those clear, emerald greens of Haziel’s. But like Rosabella, Haziel had left him. She’d taken all her serenity and joy with her. And he fucking missed them. Missed her. “You haven’t been a bad girl; you’ve been an asshole.”
Rosabella gaped at him. Temper kindled in her eyes and tightened her lips. He cut her off before it could burst into flame. He wasn’t in the mood for one of her tantrums. “You left me, and that was your right.” The ever-present tightness in his chest was gone. “But you should have told me about my daughter.”
She scowled at him. “I?—”
“Be quiet. I am speaking now.” He put a thrust of compulsion into his tone. Her justifications might move him to violence. “I lost years with her. And I know we have time now, but I’ve lost all her firsts, and there is no fucking way I can get those back. Her first word. Her first step. Her first day of school. Her first boyfriend.” He hauled his thoughts up before he lost it completely. “She is my daughter, and I barely know her.”
Rosabella’s face twisted into a grimace as she tried to fight the compulsion.
“And then you abandoned her.” No shade on Dee, she’d stepped up and done a great job raising and loving Eddie. “Dee was her mother and gave her all the love you didn’t, but that’s not a credit to you. That’s all Dee. She did what she had to do, and with all the love in the world. But still you left scars on my little girl, and I’ll never forgive you for those.”
Tears pooled in Rosabella’s eyes and slipped down her cheeks.
Wrath had seen it all before. Rosabella wielded tears like an onyx blade, deadly and irrevocable.
“Now, I’m going to do what I can to take those scars away and make her know that she is loved and wanted and the best fucking thing in this entire universe. Scars may fade, but they never entirely go away.” He leaned closer to her, making sure she got his meaning. “What you’re going to do is make sure you go away. You have no rights here, and you don’t belong here. You did that all by yourself with the decisions that you made, and you have nobody to blame but yourself. And if you don’t—” He gave it every ounce of menace he had, and that was a fuck ton. “You’re going to find out how Satan is the hell prince of Wrath, and there is no place you can hide from me.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Time passed differently in heaven, and Haziel lost track of how many days had passed on the earth plane. Her time became a blur of pain and healing and Ramiel. Always Ramiel, by her side and pouring his healing energy into her until he nearly depleted himself. Always Ramiel, sitting by her bedside when she woke, ready to give her whatever he could. Except for the thing she needed most, and that was a grumpy hell prince who had thrown himself between her and harm.
The pain in her body healed, but the gaping emptiness in her chest merely deepened. The trust she’d had for Ramiel was shattered, and no number of delicate treats to tempt her to eat or selfless healings could paste the pieces back together again.
When Ramiel had brought her back, he hadn’t taken her to the infirmary, or even to her old quarters, but brought her to his and laid her in his bed. He’d brought in healing seraphim to help her between the times when he could heal her, and then sat by her bed and waited, those brilliant green eyes on her constantly.
Haziel wanted to scream at him to go away and leave her alone.
“Haziel.” Ramiel stood from the armchair beside her bed and leaned over her. “You’re feeling stronger.”
Connected to her as he was, he would know, so she barely even bothered to nod.
“Right.” Ramiel shoved his hands in the pockets of his lounge pants and dropped his chin to his chest. “We should talk.”
She didn’t want to talk. Or think. Not that her wishes mattered to the constant barrage of images playing through her mind. Top of them was Wrath’s face as she’d begged him to let her go with Ramiel. She’d seen in his eyes the same betrayal she’d felt when she’d realized how callously Ramiel had sent her to the horsemen’s resting place to die.
“I’m sorry.” Ramiel perched on the side of her bed. “I should never have done it.”
“Why did you?” Her voice sounded rusty and hoarse. Even as she asked, she didn’t know if his answer would matter. Centuries of love and devotion she’d showered on Ramiel, and he had used her as if she was expendable.
He reached for a glass of water and handed it to her. Even the water in heaven tasted different, pure, essential and of nothing but the atoms that made it up. On earth, the water tasted of the place it sprung from, and all the pipes and mechanisms humans used to bring it to people.
Ramiel sighed and clasped his hands. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head. Light gleamed off the golden strands of his hair and accentuated the broad expanse of his shoulders. For so long, it was a sight that would have struck her dumb with longing. “There isn’t a simple answer for that.”
And Haziel wanted to laugh at his words. Because unlike her, he could choose whether to be honest or not. The irony of the truth imperative Ramiel had imposed on all his close circle, but not himself, had never felt sharper to her or cut deeper. She had loved this being for countless millennia. Content to merely bask in his shadow and gather the crumbs of affection he tossed her away. Until he had sent her to follow Wrath, and she had known what it was like to be treated as if she mattered. Even after he’d abandoned her to Ava in the early days of their time together, Wrath had come back for her, insisted she came away with him. She wouldn’t have known any of that if Ramiel hadn’t sent her on that mission. She could have thanked him for that.
Until he had knowingly set her a task that would end her. If Wrath had not been there, she would be no more.
