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She should rest. I have a feeling I will wear her out trying to distract myself from worrying about my son.

I kiss the top of her head and call for a servant to clean the floor.

Chapter 19 – Jessica

The Malebolge:The Trench of Evil Counselors

“Fuck, it’s getting hot again,” I whine. My armor is sticking to me and I’m crankier with each step.

“This trench is a fiery prison,” Itha murmurs after throwing me a sympathetic glance. “The sinners are encased within cells made of fire.”

Groaning, I fight the urge to stomp my feet. Didn’t I read somewhere it was meant to be cold in Dante’s Hell? Why is the titty-sweat to perky-nipples ratio favoring the former?

Sariel pokes my side. “Why are you so crabby, poppet? It’s too soon for you to have your period again.”

I blow air out of my nose. “Why are you mansplaining my cycle to me, Sariel?”

He opens his eyes to a comical degree and makes a show of backing away from me with his hands up. “You’re right, none of my business.”

Shit. Now I’m mad because I feel guilty. Ithuriel’s gloved hand lands on my shoulder and I’m so surprised that I don’t even mind the extra warmth.

“You’ve seen nothing but misery and suffering for over a week, not to mention nearly suffered the sinner’s fate yourself in a few of the trenches. It’s expected that you feel on edge.”

I deflate at his acceptance and look at Sariel from under my lashes. “Sorry, hotstuff.”

He gives me a crooked grin, then eyes Itha’s arm still resting on me, the leather of his gloves creaking as he subtly caresses me with his thumb. I bite my lip.

“Sure, sure,” he says with a wave of his hand. “If you want to take it out on me in a naked wrestling match, I’m here for you.”

Just like that, I’m laughing again.

“You’re magic, Sar,” I tell him with a wink. He looks taken aback for less than a second before his usual cocky grin is back.

“Took you long enough to realize, poppet.”

Itha’s arm disappears as he resumes walking and I immediately sense the loss of contact. Messed-up family aside, I never considered myself as having daddy issues. So why, for all that is unholy, is my mood depending on the attention of not one, but two males? Two very out-of-reach, forbidden males.

I groan again and Sariel chuckles. “Guess my magic didn’t last very long then.”

I pretend to stumble so I can bump into him. “Help me, oh, gallant knight,” I exclaim. “For my buns are already golden brown in this oven.”

Scoffing, he pushes me away, straight into the angel’s embrace. “There’s your knight. And your buns have seen nothing yet.”

Ithuriel’s breath caresses the back of my sweaty neck and an echo of pleasure blooms between my legs. “I’m afraid Sariel is correct,” he says near my ear. “If I am not mistaken, and I find that I rarely am, we’re about to walk into a flaming maze of sinners’ prisons.”

Sariel snorts. “You really know how to sweet-talk a girl, buddy.”

I’m surprised when the angel doesn’t utter his usual retort in the lines of ‘I’m not your buddy, buddy’ and just blushes. As his cheek is so close to mine, I can feel the warmth of the blood suffusing his face. It makes me want to lean back and fall asleep in his arms. There’s just something so… safe about him.

“I’m not sweet-talking her,” he murmurs, placing his arms on my shoulders as if to push me away. But he just holds me there.

Sariel raises an eyebrow. “Clearly,” he says quietly, then spins to continue the way we were walking.

∞∞∞

I observe the sweltering labyrinth of fire below us in awe. “Wow, you weren’t kidding.”

Sariel tugs on my drooping ponytail. “Feels like Lucifer himself made this trench, eh?”