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“I am not letting you go alone,” he states, standing up.

I hesitate. “You don’t need to do that, Itha.” His face softens at my use of the nickname Sariel teases him with. A completely different reaction than the Fallen gets. “It was tough for you yesterday just walking past.”

“It will be fine… Jess.”

I beam up at him and brush past him to leave our room. As his scent hits me a shiver runs down the small of my back. How is he so delicious when he’s so forbidden?

When we get to the stairs, he gently blocks my path with his arm and takes the lead. I roll my eyes at the chivalry. I’ve been living in Hell for going on four years now. I’ve fought all types of demons – the majority quite recently, when that dickhead Belial attacked Purgatory to get to my team leader, Lana. I can handle breakfast at a demonic brothel – a term I willnotbe saying out loud where Itha can hear me.

We’re greeted by conversation and then laughter, like we walked down right at the punchline of a joke. Sariel sits at a long table, the only occupied one, surrounded by a scattering of mostly-humanoid-looking demons. He seems to be at the center of attention, reigning over his rapt audience. Yet, while his lips are set in a customary smirk, the implied joy doesn’t reach his black eyes. They’re flat and dead, the skin around them smooth and unwrinkled.

“Here comes my good side,” he drawls, waving us over. “Move, Zavrek,” he tells the handsome blond demon sitting to his left. “I don’t want my little angels sitting next to the likes of you.”

“You mean better looking than youandbetter in bed?” the hellion asks slyly, but gets up to move across from Sariel anyway. Fighting a smile, I sit down next to the Fallen, leaving space on my other side for Ithuriel.

“Tell me there’s coffee,” I ask no one in particular. From the corner of my eye, I watch as Ithuriel haltingly moves closer, obviously pondering sitting at a different table, but eventually deciding to gingerly place his ass next to mine. “You should see the riots in Abaddon when the bean runs dry,” I continue, trying to dispel the tension. A couple of demons chuckle and Sariel throws his arm around my shoulders. Though I’m now used to his touch, it’s hard to stay immune to his nearness. When I turn toward him, my heart notices just how close his face is and pitter patters an erratic rhythm in response.

“We’ll get you your java juice, sweetling,” he murmurs. I’m dazed, blinking at him, mesmerized by his low, sensual voice and my reflection in his obsidian eyes.

Wait.

“Did you just make a Star Wars reference?”

Sariel grins, and this time, his black eyes hold a slight sparkle. “Loved the movies.”

“Me too,” I breathe.

The hissing snickers of the demons around us break me out from under the fallen angel’s spell.

“If you two are done flirting,” the handsome Zavrek says with a grin, “Ruk brought food and coffee for the Nephilim.”

I flush. We were so engrossed we didn’t even notice stuff being placed before me. I try to pull away from the Fallen, but he pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head before letting me go. “The food’s safe,” he tells me.

“Of course it’s safe,” someone else grumbles darkly.

“Because the barkeep looks so clean and trustworthy?” Ithuriel all but rolls his eyes.

“Don’t get into a fight,” I warn him under my breath, making him give me an appalled look. Probably never imagined himself to be the problem. I lift my hand to give his a squeeze, then remember his reaction to my touch last night and drop it. He gives my hand a sad, possibly regretful glance.

Picking up my toast, I nibble on the edge. Crunchy and tasty. Next, I pick up the mug of a black liquid more precious to me than oil and close my eyes before bringing it to my lips.Mmm. “Yummy.”

Opening my eyes, I see I’m once again the center of attention. The demons are looking at me with varying degrees of lust, Sariel’s lips are curled on one side, and even Ithuriel is uncomfortably tugging on his collar.

I cringe. “Sorry, boys. Been on the road, so to say, for a few days and will be for some more, I’m just enjoying fresh food while I can.”

“Oh, please, don’t apologize,” the cocky blond drawls. “And don’t stop on our accord, we’re enjoying the show.”

Ithuriel hisses. “Mind your tongue around a lady.”

I blush again as the demons share amused glances. I mean I’m notnota lady, but I don’t know if I’d call myself one, and his doing so is just… suggestive. Like he’s invested. Between Sariel’s hug and kiss, and Ithuriel’s protectiveness, it really looks like the two are both romantically attached to me. Aaand, now I’m relivingthatdream.

“It’s okay, Itha, this is tame behavior compared to Topside.” He frowns so I rush to explain. “I don’t know how much time you’ve spent with modern humans, but most guys these days can’t string two meaningful words together to a woman.” I feel weird energy coming from my other side so I face Sariel, who is – shocker – smirking at me. I lift my brows at him. “You have something to add?”

“You called him Itha,” he replies with a low voice that coils around my happy parts.

I open and close my mouth a few times, searching for words. In the end, I decide on bravado. “Yes. And I’ll be calling you Sar from now on as well.”

He chuckles softly. “As you wish, poppet. But tell me, do you have something against angelic suffixes? Or is it suffixes in general?”