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Wrath’s temper snapped and simmered under his skin as the demon behind him shoved him in the back with a lance and snarled. “Get moving.”
His back burned with the desire to unleash his wings and rain retribution down on Avarice’s horde.
Haziel looked across at him and shook her head.
Yes, he fucking got it. They needed to cooperate to get to Ava. They needed information from Ava, and shredding her horde wouldn’t be an effective conversation opener. Ava was slow to anger, but her desire for revenge burned long and strong. He had no doubt she’d instructed her horde to make an example of him when they brought him in.
He’d known all this when he’d grabbed Haziel’s hand and stepped over the border into Ava’s territory.
After a frozen moment of shock and fury, the horde had grabbed both of them and bound their hands behind their backs.
Despite being tied up and gagged, Haziel stared around her, eyes alight with wonder and interest.
There was a lot to look at in Ava’s demesne. Her collections of stuff littered the path they were being marched long. Even the vegetation sparkled and glittered, jewel bright and flashy.
Ava liked pretty and rare things, and her demesne was stuffed full of them.
Their guards marched them through a beautiful town at the base of Ava’s stronghold. Picture postcard perfect with thatched cottages and gardens brimming with colorful growth. The residents gawked at them as they were marched through.
A couple of them hissed his name and spat, but most of the attention was reserved for Haziel as many demons stared at what was probably their first in-the-flesh angel.
The simmering resentment didn’t seem to bother Haziel. Nope, little Miss Chirpy on his left, nodded her head at everyone who met her eye, and despite her gag, attempted to smile. That relentless cheerfulness might do worse to him than anything Ava had no doubt planned for him.
Haziel made a strangled gasp as she looked at the castle.
He could read the questions building in her eyes. Yes, it was plated in gold, and yes, the millions of gemstones glittering in the buttery sunshine were real. The guards around the gate were dressed in emerald green and gold, their epaulets blinking and gleaming in the sun. They saluted smartly as their party passed through the gates.
Inside the castle grounds, Ava’s most treasured collections were housed in glass and steel cages. Magical beasts of heaven and hell, strange and beautiful plants and artifacts, all lovingly and carefully tended by Ava’s horde.
As they entered through the large golden doors, Haziel’s head swiveled from left to right, taking in the vast collection of beautiful artwork from the earth realm. Genuine masterpieces that the humans had either lost or never heard of. The rarer a thing, the more Ava sought to have it.
The throne room was resplendent in its gold and green opulence. Heavy swathes of green velvet drapery framed the glittering crystal windows. Thick, silk carpets adorned the cream-and-gold veined marble floor. And at the end, her gorgeous, opulent body draped in silk, Ava lounged on a gem encrusted platinum throne. Her gleaming black hair draped over her shoulder in a shining mass.
“Satan,” she purred and stroked the arms of her throne. “You’re looking well. Even without your pretty wings.”
She motioned to one of her demons to remove his gag.
Wrath took his time working moisture back into his mouth before answering. “Hello, Ava.”
“Hello Ava?” She raised one dark sculpted eyebrow. “That’s it, and after all this time?”
The quarrelsome cow also liked to play games. Not willing to indulge her, Wrath just stared at her.
“And who is this?” Ava switched her attention to Haziel. Uncoiling from her seat, she took her time sashaying down the ten or so steps from the dais her throne rested on and approached Haziel. “She’s pretty, Wrath. As always, I must commend your taste.” She circled Haziel. “And a seraph.”
“She can also speak for herself,” Wrath said. Things would go a lot worse for Haziel if Ava thought he had an interest in her. Not that he did. Much. It had been so long since he’d felt anything for a female who wasn’t Rosabella, he couldn’t be sure that was what was happening to him.
“Hmm.” Ava tapped a finger to her glossy, scarlet mouth. “I’ll bear that in mind.” She strolled over to him and stopped right in front of him. “I must say, I was surprised you decided to enter my demesne.”
“No, you weren’t.” He hated the games and he didn’t have time to indulge her. “You knew if I was here, I was going to enter. Regardless of what your horde thought about it.”
Her pitch-black eyes flashed anger at him for a moment before she composed herself. “Remind me what it was I said when you were last here.”
“If I crossed your borders again, you would rip me limb from limb and let your horde feast on my entrails.” Not that he gave her pathetic horde much of a chance of managing that. Even with his power only about two thirds restored. This lot wouldn’t stand a chance if he got angry, which was the only thing keeping his temper currently in check. That, and the fact that he and Ava had been good together, and he hadn’t done right by her. “Would a belated apology interest you?”
She threw back her head and laughed. He’d always enjoyed her laugh. Husky and warm like whisky and honey, and damn near irresistible. “I’m not sure,” she said. “It would all depend on what brings you here.”
Losing interest in him, she turned back to Haziel. Stopping in front of her, she removed Haziel’s gag and stroked her cheek to soothe the marks the gag had made. “I know you.”
