Page 202 of Sorrow & Strangers

Angel sperm and demon egg. Only good because of what I am. A prisoner tricked into a deal.

“I didn’t know you were Fallen until after we fucked,” she says, glancing at my wrist again, the water around her cooling. My anger eases as well, some of the past leaking off me, absorbed by the lapping waves. Now that I think about it, I was wearing long sleeves until she burned my shirt off, so she couldn’t have known. The only true mark of a Fallen is the black ring around our wrists that marks our burned halos.

“Then why did you go with me?” Why did you think I was worthy? What did you see in me that I can’t see in myself?

She steps closer until I can feel the heat coming off her, but she doesn’t touch me. “Because I was attracted to you. Very.”

That can’t be everything. There has to be a reason.

“Do you know many demons?” I ask, trying to read her and failing miserably.

“Of course I do,” she answers, her brows furrowed.

Closely allied with Hell.

“So you’ve slept with a lot of them?” I wince as the words come out of my mouth.

Mira’s lip curls back, and she crosses her arms. “And if I have, are you planning to shame me for it?”

“I . . . No!” I stumble. “No, it’s not that. I don’t care. It’s your business.”

“Then why ask?” she hisses, but her arms lower.

I rub the back of my neck. “I’m not just a Fallen,” I admit, and she blinks again, looking at my wrist in confusion. “I’m the heir.”

Shit, I shouldn’t have said that.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” she says, the water heating around her again. “But I don’t have the time or the patience for this back-and-forth bullshit.”

“My uncle really wants me there,” I say, by way of explanation, though that is severely understating the situation.

“Well, tell him I said hello,” she snaps, stomping past me toward the beach, leaving a swathe of nearly boiling water in her wake. The demon revels in the warmth, easily reminded of Hell and how clean I felt during the Fall. No, she can’t leave yet.

“You’re not going to convince me?” I ask, grabbing her wrist before she gets out of reach.

Her eyes flash, the water steaming as she looks back at me. “Convince you of what?” The embers in her eyes flicker with anger, but there is also a glimmer of confusion.

“I’ve never . . . Last night . . . I’ve never experienced anything like that . . . done anything like that,” I say, shame flushing up my neck. My eyes drift away from hers, mortified to admit the truth.

“Fucked a random phoenix in the sand?” she asks, her wrist growing hot under my fingers, and the ends of her hair sparking.

“Consented.” The word slips out. Fuck. “Never mind,” I say, dropping her wrist and turning away, staring out at the water. Prisoner. Stud horse. A child.

She’s quiet, and I can’t bear to look at her and see the pity. She steps in front of me and reaches up to cup my cheek. “What do you want now, Rafe?” she whispers.

I close my eyes and lean into her touch. “I like this. Your touch.”

It eases the demon. With such a simple gesture, he seems content, satiated, and warm.

“If I’d ‌known, I’d have taken it slower.”

My eyes open, her words touching on something I didn’t even know was there. She wouldn’t have stopped. She would have just gone slower because she doesn’t consider me broken. Maybe I could live inside her eyes, a place where I don’t need fixing.

“I didn’t want slower,” I say, covering her hand on my cheek. “It helped. I know that’s stupid.”

“Can I help now?” she whispers, moving closer to me, and I slide my other hand around her waist.

“Did you mean what you said earlier about it being good?” I ask, the vulnerability I’m feeling forcing the words from me.