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“It’s kind of like the Underworld, eh?” Joy said, nudging her shoulder against his side. “You eat of the fruit of the place and now you can never leave, or something like that.”
Malachi’s lip twitched. “Something like that.”
“Have you ever been back to hell, then? Gosh, it feels so weird referring to your home as that. No offence.”
Malachi’s eyes darkened. “Hell is not my home,” he said roughly. “And I have not been back there since I left, nor do Iintendto ever go back.” He cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. “Why would I be offended? What else would you call it?”
“I don’t know.” Joy ducked her head. Her fingers were still tangled in his feathers, combing through the thick, fluffy strands. Malachi had his hands fisted in his lap. Her touch felt impossibly good. “Do demons not have families, then? There’s no one you left behind in hell?”
Malachi paused. “I have … memories of another … one who was created at the same time as I was, but we were separated not long after our birth.”
“Oh.” Joy’s scent mellowed. “I’m sorry.”
Malachi wanted to shrug her off, to say it was fine, that he never knew them at all, but it wasn’t really fine. He would’ve liked to know them. They’d probably been a nicquiri like he was. Had thePriestgotten to them? Were they, right now, trapped in hell, bound by thePriest’s spells to make endless trips to and from the mortal realm,farmingsouls and emotions for the sect, while they slowly starved and wasted away?
The thought was too much to bear. Once upon a time, Malachi had dreamed of going back to free the rest of the auxiliaries, but his sect was one of—if notthelargest sect in hell. There would’ve been hundreds of thousands of them; he never would have been able to do it, at least not alone. It made his heart break, so he forced himself not to think too much about it.
“What about you?” Malachi forced himself to ask. “Any family?”
Joy huffed out a breath. “Well, there’s my aunt, who you know about. My parents died nearly three years ago now. Plane crash.”
It was Malachi’s turn to say, “I’m sorry,” his wing tightening around her.
“Thank you.” She burrowed into it like it was a blanket. “As for my other family, I have my best friend, who is practically my sister, Iyore, along with her fiancé, Malcom—though I see Malcom more as hers than mine. And that’s about it.” She dropped her hands to the bench, staring up through the glass ceiling at the glittery night sky, and the swollen, full moon.
She turned when she’d gotten her fill, and peered at Malachi from underneath her lashes.
Malachi was hit suddenly by the force of her beauty. The glow of the moonlight, along with the slowly morphing colours of the flowers around them turned her into a living, breathing painting. She looked like something ethereal—like a Sovereign—like if he reached out to try and touch her, she’d disappear, burst into ashowerof sparks.
“You said hell isn’t your home,” she whispered, her long eyelashes fluttering each time she blinked. Malachi found himself mesmerised by the movement of them. “Can you tell me why not?”
Malachi forced himself to look away. “I was born to bring souls and emotions back to hell; I was a soldier, nothing more.”
Joy’s eyes felt heavy on the side of his face, herscent warmlike sunlight.
“I’d like to think you’re a little more than that, Malachi,” she murmured sweetly, teasingly, the whispered words forcing him to look at her.
She smiled at him, and Malachi was utterly destroyed.
“I like to think so, too,” he whispered.
At that moment, Malachi knew it like he knew his True Name. There would never be another. Joy wasit. Could he let her go now? When there was so much to discover between them?
“Thank you for the food earlier, by the way,” Joy whispered. “I forgot to say.”
“You’re welcome.”
They stared at each other, something almost terrifying expanding in the air between them.
Malachi reached for the words building up in his throat, but they refused to form, that damnable fear holding him back.
Too much, too soon.
Joy abruptly stood. Her scent had changed, turned static with electricity, her body jittery as well. Her eyes were hard with determination.
“Malachi,” she whispered, “take me to your bedroom.”
Malachi stood as well. He extended his hand,trembling slightlywhen she tangled her fingers with his. Once again, he opted not to use the aether, leading her back into the house from the kitchens.
