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“We have to get that off you,” I tell her. “Quickly.”
She works on the fasteners. From experience, I know these contraptions are a pain in the ass to take off, so I help her. It still takes longer than I’d like, especially once I remember that she’s only wearing a robe underneath. We’re already drawing entirely too much attention. Eventually we get it all off and I shove it in the trunk as Sophia slips into the passenger seat. Moloch left the car running for us. Good.
The car doesn’t look like much, but it’s a beast under the hood. We speed through town, well over the limit, following the GPS north.
“Unsafe driving detected,” the car tells me. “Please slow down.”
“Fucking hate these things,” I snarl, and put a little more pressure on the gas pedal out of spite. I shoot a glance at Sophia, remembering how nervous she was the first time I drove like this. She doesn’t seem to notice, she’s quiet, staring out the window. She’s a little disheveled—helmet hair is always going to look like helmet hair—but beyond that, she looks shocked and dazed.
I can’t blame her. So much has happened in such a short time, so much has changed. The moment when I recognized Meshach as Uriel plays over and over in my head, like I’m trying to poke holes in it. Was I imagining it? Could simply being back in Hell drive me so insane that I made Meshach over into Uriel in my mind?No.There was no mistaking it. Not his fighting, not his acknowledgment.
Uriel is alive, and trying to kill Sophia.
The city falls away behind us and the GPS directs us up into the mountains. Wherever we’re headed, it isn’t a place that’s familiar to me. I assume Moloch retired all of the safehouses Naamah had a hand in setting up. All of those are tainted now, potential traps if she revealed the locations to Cephalus.
“How is Uriel still alive?” Sophia questions, her voice distant.
“I don’t know,” I tell her.
She starts to say something else, then hesitates. I focus on the road, trying to keep my head clear. I can feel her anxiety spike. Then, finally, she asks,”Is it true that only angels can wear that armor?”
I grit my teeth, blocking out the sea of implications racing through my head. I nod once. “Yes.”
She opens her mouth, then silently closes it again. She stares straight ahead, her gaze glassy, her skin pale. She’s in shock—of course she’s in shock. She’s spent her whole life thinking her father was some deadbeat human, only to find out in the most shocking possible way that he was actually a deadbeat angel. It’s damned irresponsible to go running around mating with humans and everybody knows it.
“In five hundred feet, turn left. Then your destination will be on the right.”
For as much as I hate these things, I probably would never have found the turnoff without it. It’s a narrow dirt lane snaking off between the trees, the entrance nearly hidden by the giant ferns growing on either side. The ferns gently caress the car as we drive through, and I can feel the tingle of subtle magic.
We spend several more minutes navigating the narrow lane before the cabin comes into view. It’s on the small side and nestled beneath tall trees, its roof covered in fallen pine needles. It’ll be virtually invisible from above as long as we don’t build a fire. Perfect. There’s a carport, likewise covered in needles. I pull into it and turn the engine off. Neither of us move for a moment.
“Home sweet temporary home,” I joke weakly, trying to cut through the haze surrounding Sophia’s mood. She barely reacts, then shifts restlessly. Blood has dried on her skin, a physical anchor keeping her in that unfathomable moment. Sometimes the best solutions are the simplest.
I coax her out of the car and lead her into the cabin. For as rustic as it looks outside, the inside is nothing short of luxurious. Glass and steel features, a marble kitchen, pristine floors, and all sorts of high-end décor that I can’t give two-shits about. I locate the bathroom, complete with massive tub. I start the water running and look around for anything to add to it. A collection of soaps and salts, all unopened, is tucked away in one of the cupboards. After carefully selecting a few clean, soothing scents, I add them to the mix.
Sophia is sitting on the edge of the tub, staring blankly at the water flowing from the spout. Once the bath is the right temperature and mostly filled, I help Sophia out of her robe and into the tub. She sighs as she sinks into the water. Slowly and deliberately, I clean the blood off as I perch on the edge of the tub. It’s on her face, her arms, in her hair, and I start by ridding her of that mess, then move on to a more thorough cleansing.
There’s something about grooming and being groomed that settles the soul. She’s coming out of it, her eyes beginning to focus on the world around her. After I rinse her hair, I find a comb and go to work, gently breaking up tangles from tip to root. This, more than anything, seems to bring her back. As soon as I’m finished, she stands up, brushing suds off her body.
I bring her a towel, and she steps into it, letting me wrap it around her. I hold her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder. I can feel the storm stirring within her, the conflict I’m far too intimately familiar with.
“What happens now?” she asks, her voice rusty.
“That depends. I don’t anticipate anyone finding us tonight. For the moment, it’s best that we lie low and strategize.”
She turns in my arms with an almost impatient sigh. “That’s not what I mean.” There are tears glittering in her eyes. “Lucifer—if I’m an angel, and you’re a demon, we can’t—”
I crush the words from her mouth with my own, stopping her from finishing that sentence. I can’t bear to hear her say those fucking words.
Everything that’s transpired feels like it’s coming to a head in this kiss, and all I can think to do is hold her even tighter and attack her lips with my own. Everything, including our own DNA, is against us. But right now, I need to bewith herin spite of it all. I need to feel her, to remind myself she’s here with me, and that no matter what happens tomorrow, right now, she’s mine.
Sophia doesn’t push me away or protest again. Instead, she seems as overtaken by need as I am, attacking my mouth with the same fervor as I drink her in. She tugs at my clothes, managing to pull my shirt off before we end up pressed against the bathroom counter. I unwind the towel from her body and drop it to the floor, skating my hands over her warm skin before sliding my fingers into her pussy.
“Ahh,” she whimpers. “Please… I just need…”
She groans, trailing off, and I work my hand rapidly, fucking her with almost punishing thrusts of my fingers.
“I know,” I groan. “Fuck, I know.”
