Page 99

“You’ve… You’ve walked through the castle, past every minion, dressed up as an angel.”

“A slutty angel,” Dove remarked, noting that the sheer dangling sleeves were the only piece of fabric that covered any significant length of skin. “Or are angels slutty, too? I didn’t get that from the books.”

“Definitely not.” Melchom scoffed, soon pressed to him, one hand on Dove’s lower back keeping him in place. “All us demons are rejects who didn’t pass angelic training, and you think this is acceptable?”

Dove hummed. “I thought it could be cathartic for you.”

“Oh, please explain.”

He wiggled before he could do as the demon asked. Another thing he didn’t consider was how sweaty the wings would make his back. What material were they? Definitely not a Hell-friendly one.

“You can chase me, yank the wings off me like they did you. Imagine you’re one of the enforcers in charge of it. Make me fear for my life for daring to dress like this, Your Grace.”

For a few seconds, Melchom didn’t say anything. Dove saw the storm brewing behind his eyes, though. One step deeper, and he saw the wind rustling every leaf in his forest.

“It will be my pleasure, Consort mine.”

Dove saw the shift in Melchom’s posture, the way his eyes glinted. He was letting his predator out, and Dove shivered with anticipation.

Sex was always better when Melchom had to quote-end-quote fight him for it.

Melchom even gave him the advantage, not immediately following the moment Dove started running. He let his heart rate pick up and his eyes focus on the bones around them, knowing he was leaving a trail of fear for his demon.

Melchom could never say Dove didn’t do things for him.

One of the wings got snatched by one of the tree looking things. Gaz barked at him. Beel had told him he simply needed to tell her to stay and behave, because she wasn’t a dog, but it was all lies. His hellhound saw him running, and she ran beside him.

At least she did know to turn away the second things turned sexual.

“It’s not my fault these fucking—oomph!”

Dove was yanked backwards.

He’d lasted longer than he’d expected, to be fair.

His heart thumped against his chest as Melchom held him, not saying a word. He breathed out against his neck, the hot air making him shiver.

“Had fun, tiny Dove?”

“I’m an angel.”

Melchom sneered—which meant that was the wrong-slash-right thing to say. Dove was thriving there. “So what is an angel doing down here?”

Dove swallowed. His demon was much better at dirty talk than he was. It made him self-conscious that one day the demon would realize he was all talk and no substance. He was pretty sure there was another expression for it.

It didn’t matter.

“I’m…” Dove gulped. Melchom moved one of his hands so it rested on his chest, and he dug his nails in. He wouldn’t be surprised to smell a hint of blood soon. His Grace wasn’t always the most careful. “I’m on a mission.”

“Yeah?” He could hear a hint of laughter in Melchom’s voice. “What mission?”

“Uh…” Melchom’s hand trailed upward, all the way to Dove’s throat. “An intel gathering mission?”

Was that how soldiers spoke? Dove didn’t know. There wasn’t a lot about angels he could find. Angels and demons were all born as cherubs, then tossed into a training facility. If they passed, they became full-fledged angels and were all about enforcing rules and whatnot. If they failed, their wings were cut, horns grew in their stead, and they sank down to Hell.

Quite inhumane, if they asked him.

“What intel would you possibly want?”