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“They don’t understand the danger. Parasites are nothing compared to a chimera swarm.” Arsene’s chest expands with righteous frustration.
Nur considers giving him something else to focus his pent-up energy on. Instead he squeezes past, escaping into the night. “That sounds terrible,” he agrees before slipping away.
Arsene’s annoyance and the faint damp-hot scent of his arousal follows Nur into the dark, and Nur gnaws on his knuckle to hide a smirk. Maybe tomorrow he’ll redirect Arsene’s frustrations. He looks forward to the angel’s vigorous attention.
Unfortunately Arsene picks up the conversation in the morning, unexpectedly falling back to walk with Nur at the rear of the caravan. The committee seems to have made theirdecision without his input, and he’s frothing with all the reasons it’s a terrible idea.
“A detour will put us closer to the Pit when we enter the Deadlands. What if there are demons? We won’t be able to avoid the road to and from the Seraphim Wall. A company of demons would be?—”
“—A tidy snack,” Nur interrupts.
Arsene shakes his head. “There are thirty to a company. Not even you could handle that many.”
“I doubt there are companies anymore,” he mutters.
By the time Nur was unceremoniously ejected from Hell, the King had lost all control of the Court. It’s unlikely they’ll run across companies of the King’s army in their original form—the deadly soldiers trained to throw themselves on the enemy’s sword and gain ground at any cost.
“What does it matter to you if a few humans get picked off, anyway? What difference does it make to your mission?”
Arsene growls. “Don’t pretend you’re unsympathetic to their fate. I’ve seen you with that boy, Rhys.”
“Jealous?” Nur raises and eyebrow.
Arsene leans in. “A human can’t give you what I can. The boy might idolize you, but I’m the one making you howl.”
Nur pretends to scoff, but his pulse spikes. There’s no way Arsene doesn’t pick up on his interest through the bond. His nostrils flare before he falls away to put a respectable distance between them.
“Protecting them is my duty,” Arsene goes on, as if the air isn’t burning up between them. “It’s part of the mission. To fail is to deviate from the Seraphim Council’s orders. If only they would listen to me.”
“Why send you, then, not a diplomat?”
“I’m diplomatic,” Arsene snaps immediately.
A rasping laugh bursts out of him. “You’re a classic soldier. Quick on the draw, no foresight. I’ve seen my share in the Court.”
“I’m nothing like those demons. I was chosen because I have palace training.” High spots of color bloom on Arsene’s cheeks, and Nur’s stomach twists with desire—and worse, sympathy.
“Or you were chosen because you’re disposable to them. Because they want an easy target to blame if the mission fails. A soldier on his own, far from home—who can say if he followed orders? Or if he was disobedient and weak?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“What about bonding with a hollow and fucking him into the blankets every night?” Something about Arsene’s parroted words infuriates him, and he can’t help needling the angel unwisely. “Is that a deviation from your precious Council’s orders?”
An ugly look flashes across Arsene’s expression. “It doesn’t matter. When I’m successful, the Council will reward me with a new life. A vergis mate. Pups. A place of honor as a sentinel.”
Nur turns away to hide how it hurts. Yet the pain satisfies him, validating what he already knows.That’s right. A mate who isn’t you. A life you could never be part of. “Don’t be naive, angel. The Seraphim Council is no better than the King of Hell. If they wanted you to have those things, you already would.”
“You know nothing about New Yden,” Arsene says coolly. His bright eyes harden into perfect flecks of ice.
“I know enough.” Vasia was treated as disposable all his life. Looked down on for never having a heat. He deserved better—and it took a demon to give it to him. “I had a friend in Hell, a vergis angel who was abused and neglected by your people. They treated him like dirt just because he wasn’tusefulto them.”
“That’s impossible. There are no vergis in Hell. And in New Yden, all vergis are treated like princes. They live a life of ease and comfort, pampered and given all the luxuries they want.”
“Not this one,” Nur says darkly.
But Arsene only shakes his head. “You must be lying.”
A chill chases away the warmth of the last few days, and Nur shrugs.
