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“My favorite go-to meal is macaroni and cheese. It’s the first thing I learned to cook on my own. I have a sweet tooth and love chocolate. My favorite movie is the Princess Diaries. My middle name is Penelope, and yes, Sariel, you are my type. You tick all of my boxes, even the ones that are a little toxic,” I answered in a rush.
He scooted closer so our shoulders were touching. “Peneloepe suits you. Mine’s—”
“Augustus,” I supplied. “Credence called you that.”
He hummed, moving closer to me. “My favorite movie series is Transformers. My favorite comfort food is tomato soup with grilled cheese; it’s the first thing I learned to cook, too. You are also my type, Aria. And more. I am sorry I ever led you to believe otherwise. You are one of the most authentically beautiful people I know.”
There was a flask of hot cocoa. Sariel shared it between us as the sun eventually set, which revealed fairy lights that had been hung in the trees. They were solar-powered ones that lit up the entire clearing and some of the stream. At one point, I cuddled into him as he told me a story about his childhood as the eldest of three boys with a mother like Lucy.
The woman had appeared dainty, yet she apparently ran her household with an iron fist. I hoped that wherever Azazel was holding her and Credence, they were okay. I hoped he wouldn’t use them as leverage against Sariel. I wasn’t confident he wouldn’t abandon this place for them—not that I could blame him.
We were in the middle of discussing our parents when he asked me something that jarred me. “You know your birth parents loved you, right?”
That gave me pause. It had never been a question I’d needed to answer before.
I couldn’t muster an image of my parents in my head, so it was almost like they weren’t real… except that I could sometimes hear in the back of my head a voice that hummed me to sleep, and the deep, soft chuckle of a man.
“I hope so,” I answered. “Do you think your mother loved you?”
“Yes,” he answered automatically. “Giving me to Azazel was a last resort, I think. Though I’m not sure what her plan was. The older I got, the more obvious it became that I wasn't like the rest of angels my age. She couldn’t hide what I was forever.”
“That’s true. I’m glad you’re confident that she loved you.”
I turned to face him and his arm slipped down to my waist.
“I heard the stars were really pretty this time of night,” he said, changing the subject.
“How are we going to see the stars with the fairy lights on?”
I squinted up at the sky. Sariel produced a little remote attached to one end of the lights. With the flick of a switch, we were plunged into darkness.
“Look up,” he whispered near my ear, dragging me into his side as we fell against the pillows.
The sky was clear of clouds, leaving the twinkling stars free for us to admire. “Holy shit… it’s beautiful,” I said truthfully.
“I’ll name one after you at some point,” Sariel answered seriously. “When we make it out of this shit, I’m buying you a star and naming it after you.”
I laughed. “That seems a little much. Besides, you can’t afford that, Sariel.”
“Firstly, there really is no such thing as ‘too much,’ and secondly, yes I can,” he answered.
He turned to look at me when I side-eyed him. “What?”
“You can afford to buy and name a star after me?”
“Yup. My mother left me an inheritance that became accessible to me when I turned twenty-one. I haven’t touched it yet, but there's quite a few zeroes at the end of it. I make my own money passively on top of that; I’m sure the accounts Azazel knows about have been frozen now, but I make so much money that I have offshore accounts that I get paid through. I’m rich, Aria. I’m going to spoil you a disgusting amount when this is over with.”
I was gaping at him when he rolled towards me to plant what he assumed would be an innocent kiss on my lips. He didn’t anticipate the way I would wrap my arms around his neck and deepen it.
He groaned. Rolling onto me completely, he settled between my legs in a pose reminiscent of the first time we’d made out like this.
He broke off the kiss to trail hot, wet kisses down the side of my throat, pulled me up a little to yank my cardigan off, then kissed across my collarbone and shoulders, now unhindered. He paused to suckle the sensitive spots at the base of my throat and where my neck and shoulders met before returning to my mouth.
This kiss was still different from the one we’d shared in the room. It was all-consuming, from the way his hips rolled into mine, the way his tongue lapped and licked and tangled with mine. It was messy, but not desperate; he was being patient, going slow, like how he toyed with the strap of my dress before slowly lowering it to my elbow, giving me ample time to stop him.
I didn’t. And was rewarded by an unfiltered groan bubbling from him at the sight of my exposed breast.
“No bra?” he asked, voice husky.
