“Hey, what’s the status of the books I requested?” I glance to my side, where Dusk walks with fluid poise, his heavenly body entirely unfazed by the day’s activity. With his golden tan skin dazzling in the fading evening light of the Abyss, he glimmers like a unicorn. Comparatively, I’m a smelly troll who crawled out from under the nearest bridge.
“They should have come in the mail today. You can stop by the front desk of our inn to check. They’ll also be able to concierge any future orders.”
An unlimited line of credit for my entertainment and luxury? If it weren’t for the sordid environment and lack of time in my busy schedule, I might actually like the little reprieve. “Remind me again how they get mail here?”
Dusk eyes me with a dashing grin. “Elohim loans them a field agent or two to run their errands. A highly unfortunate position for the lowest of grunts.”
“Sucks for them.” I bite back my own grin, trying—and failing—to keep my eyes off him. Yes, we’re ‘just friends,’ but that doesn’t keep us from flirting relentlessly with each other. He’s unbearably attractive, but I wouldn’t dare ask him to tone it down, let alone to put a shirt on.
The angels have what they call their ‘origin forms,’ but with a bit of time and effort, they can adapt even the smallest details to their preferences. Apparently, Dusk sees no reason to be anything less than perfectly formed. His physique is lean and flawless, every muscle perfectly sculpted, his abs drawing my eyes more times a day than I can count. I’m certain he enjoys the attention. Something has to feed his massive ego, after all.
I’ll admit, I’ve fallen into a dangerously comfortable rhythm with him.
I’ve never had someone so interested in the most mundane of stories from my human life. I appreciate his curiosity, but I truly don’t understand how anyone could be genuinely entertained by my stories. No matter how rarely he spends time getting to know humans on a personal level, I simply haven’t had much of an exciting life to share.
I’ve repeatedly tried to get stories fromhim, but I never have any luck. He doesn’t share a damn thing about himself. While I offer up my whole life story on a silver platter, he’s a champion at keeping me at arm’s length from his personal life.
At least in moments like this, when I try not to think about the nature of our relationship, I can simply enjoy his company. Between our smiles and laughter, I can almost forget the impending doom of the apocalypse.
Almost.
The castle looms before us on our approach, its stone edges melting into the shadows with a sinister hue. The few lamp posts that dot the courtyard garden aren’t yet lit, making its strange plants look like skeletons and tombstones at this hour. Strangely enough, though, I’m completely comfortable walking through this graveyard. I guess I should be proud of my own adaptability.
I’m about to open the castle doors when a movement in the shadows startles me.
Abaddon.
I hadn’t even noticed him standing there, just to the side of the doors. Was he there the whole time, hiding in the shadows like the little wraith he is? Is that his M.O.? In the past week, I’ve only glimpsed him a few times, briefly from a distance. I’m pretty sure he’s been avoiding me, actually.
Until now.
His haunting silver eyes are locked onto me, his face so stoic that it almost looks pained. I clutch my chest, instinctively backing towards Dusk, putting a little more distance between us.
“Good evening,” Abaddon greets, surprising me further. “I trust your training was productive?”
“Uh…” I do my best to swallow the lump in my dry throat. What is it about him that’s so off-putting? Is it just the way he looks, or is it something more intangible—like the melancholy inhumanness he carries around everywhere? “Yes, the training was, um… very rigorous...”
Abaddon drags his eyes to Dusk, an unmistakable scowl crossing his face as he looks over the sweaty, shirtless angel behind me.
Ah, fuck.
I can only imagine what’s going through his head. He’s already accused Dusk of ‘defiling’ me once. With my stupid ass response, I’m only making us appear more suspicious.Very rigorous.Goddammit. Why! Why am I like this!
I glance over my shoulder, hoping Dusk will somehow help remove the foot I’ve put in my mouth.
I’m fresh out of luck, it seems.
Golden boy is either entirely oblivious to the whole ordeal, or he simply doesn’t care what assumptions Abaddon makes. Maybe he even wants the King to assume we’ve just done something sexual together. Based on his smug face, I’m inclined to believe the latter.
That little fucking shit.
“Yep. Long day. Lots of activities.” As he passes Abaddon, he smacks one of his wings—which I hope and assume is the angelic equivalent of a friendly pat on the back. “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”
Abaddon clearly doesn’t return the sentiment, standing still and rigid as a statue. I have to force myself to walk past him.
When I do, it feels like my soul shrinks away from his simmering silence.
Dinner with Abaddon and Dusk issofun.
