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But it was all a means to an end. I would prove my worth, show that I was more than capable of leading. That I could navigate the treacherous politics and power plays of the supernatural world as effortlessly as I wielded my celestial blade. Once theysaw my leadership, my strategic prowess, there would be no stopping my ascent. The idea of commanding a team loyal only to me, one without the taint of demonic influence, spurred me on.
The sound of approaching footsteps broke through my reverie. The demon himself. Precisely ten minutes had passed. The man kept to schedules, it seemed. At least he was punctual. I watched as he approached. He moved with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his stride sure and powerful. Muscles bunched and stretched under the same clothes as he'd been wearing before, and for a moment, I caught myself admiring the way his muscles flexed beneath his attire, the image of strength and command.
I shook my head, casting aside such dangerous thoughts. "It's the heat," I justified to myself. It had to be the heat, because there was no room for admiration, no space for distraction when so much was at stake. Nothing could undermine my focus, least of all the allure of the demon who now stood before me, punctuality his solitary commendable trait.
"Ready to go, Sariel?" he asked. He didn't smile as readily as Theo did, but his tone was warm, and I felt my irritation starting to face.
I forced myself to meet his gaze and nodded, determined to keep my thoughts in check. "Yes, let's get this mission started," I replied, my tone brisk and professional.
He regarded me closely for a moment. "Loosen up a bit, Sariel. We're not headed into battle, just a recon mission. It's going to be a bit of a trek though. Do you have enough water?"
"Plenty. And the rest of the gear you recommended in your email."
"Well, it's nice to have someone who actually takes my recommendations into account." His mouth turned up briefly at the edges, but I didn't respond. I wasn't sure how. He’d told usto bring certain items, so I had. Why would anyone not bring them?
"Sunscreen?" His voice held a hint of concern. "The desert doesn't care for pale skin."
I blinked, caught off guard. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind amidst all my other preparations. "I... don't have any," I admitted, loath to reveal even this small oversight.
Alastor reached into his own pack without a word, producing a tube of sunscreen. Instead of handing it to me, he stepped closer, unscrewing the cap. My instincts screamed to step back, to maintain the barrier between us, but the rational part of my brain reminded me that refusing his help over something so trivial would be foolish.
I had thought he'd just squeeze the cream out into my hand, but instead he reached up and began applying it himself.
His fingers were long and thick, strong fingers suited to heavy weapons, but they were also deft and surprisingly gentle as they brushed across my face, spreading the cool lotion over my skin. He took his time, ensuring no patch of vulnerability was missed—over my cheeks, around the delicate shell of my ears, along the vulnerable column of my neck. I found myself holding my breath, hyper-aware of every point of contact. The sensation was alien, intimate in a way that set my nerves on edge, yet it wasn't entirely unwelcome.
"Can't have you burning up on your first day," he murmured, the softness of his tone at odds with the stern lines of his face.
I managed a terse nod, unable to form words as he finished his task. His voice, low and resonant, sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. Heat pooled somewhere deep inside me, a warmth that had nothing to do with the scorching desert sun. It was an unsettling sensation, stirring long-dormant yearnings within me — feelings I had sworn to forsake in my service.
"Thank you," I managed, the words nearly catching in my throat.
"Of course," he replied, stepping back to survey his work.
His concern grated on my nerves, igniting the guilt that lay buried beneath the layers of gratitude and unwanted attraction. A demon caring for an angel—it was absurd, laughable even. And yet there he stood, looking at me as if I were worth that care.
Suddenly, the heat and the closeness became too much. My composure shattered, and the frustration that had been simmering within me burst out.
"Are we going to stand around all day or actually do something productive?" I asked, my tone sharper than intended as I anchored myself back into reality, away from the deceptive warmth that threatened to soften my resolve.
Alastor frowned, and I felt a flicker of guilt at the sudden surprise on his face. He screwed the top back on the tube and put it back into his pack.
"We are. But I need to ensure my team is taking care of themselves."
"Care won't matter if this mission is poorly planned," I snapped. "We should have conducted reconnaissance from above before setting foot on the ground. It would have been more strategic."
The tension between us crackled. I watched as he seemed to wrestle with my outburst; I had struck a nerve, and it was clear he wasn't used to being challenged, especially not by someone like me. Part of me knew I was being immature, and part of me really didn’t care. He unsettled me, and I didn’t like it.
"Your concerns are noted," he finally said, his voice low and controlled. It was apparent he was doing everything in his power not to snap back at me. "But enlighten me, Sariel, how exactly would you have orchestrated this operation?"
"An aerial reconnaissance," I said, not backing down. "Before we took to the ground. It's standard protocol. You could have sent me. I can survey the area. See if it's even worth checking out before we waste our time."
Alastor's brow furrowed and he gestured broadly toward the dig site, where workers moved like ants in the simmering heat, oblivious to our exchange.
"Doing so would risk alarming them," he countered. "Many here haven't seen anything beyond hellions. A supernatural display might cause unnecessary panic. It's going to be difficult enough with Theo's wolf shifters providing security, but they know how to be subtle."
I could feel the tension ebb slightly, leaving room for begrudging respect. His point was valid, even if it irked me to admit it. I shifted uneasily from one booted foot to the other, my gaze locked with Alastor's. His eyes, dark like the heart of a storm, held mine with an intensity that matched the relentless sun overhead. I refused to look away, despite the intensity. I was still right about the reconnaissance if they had drones.
"Before we set foot here," Alastor said, as though he'd read my mind, "Cole sent up a drone to scan the area." His tone was matter-of-fact, as if this titbit of information should have been obvious to me.
