Page 36 of Alastair

“Perhaps his freedom gave me my own,” I said, tone hardening. “This angers you because you wish for me to remain a bird in your cage, wings clipped and obedient.”

“I’ve never wished for such a thing. Was I tough on you and the others during your training? Yes. But it was never to be cruel. Everything I’ve done was to make you stronger. To protect you from the darkness desperate to sink its teeth into you. To ensure your survival.”

“No. Everything you’ve done was to please Uriel. You don’t care about me or my brothers. You only care about the power in our blood. We’ve always been tools of war to you. That’s all we’ll ever be.”

“If that’s true, then why was I willing to lay down my life to protect yours in Echo Bay?”

“Out of duty.” I fought the twinge in my chest. “Without us, the angels lose the war. You did it to protect them. They’re who you care for. Not us.”

“Enough of this.” Lazarus grabbed my jaw and dropped his voice lower. “If you think so poorly of me, why am I the one you call out to when you’re in trouble?”

I swallowed the sudden tightness in my throat. “Because I know you’ll hear me.”

Lazarus’ forehead softly bumped mine. The contact lasted only a second before he pulled back again. A pained gleam shone in his eyes. “Stop testing me, Alastair. There’s only so much I can handle before I…” His words trailed off, just like his hand as he released my jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”

That close, his scent tickled my nose and wrapped around me. Burrowed in my chest. He smelled like a late-autumn morning when the breath of winter exhaled upon the earth for the first time, bringing crisp air and a promise of snow.

“You…” I stepped back, blinking several times. I felt like I’d been in a sort of fog. “You should have Clara look at your shoulder. I need to check on Phoenix. Excuse me.”

I quickly nodded to him before heading inside the villa. My heart thrummed wildly, and a weird pain struck me dead center. It was strange. Something had shifted inside me. Feelings I didn’t quite understand stirred. An ache that wouldn’t dissipate.

I kept seeing his face in my mind—those last few moments as he held Lucifer back with his whip and watched us leave without him. There’d been resolve in his expression but also something almost sad.

I filed the image away, placing it in a box and slamming the lid shut. Compartmentalizing was how I’d always survived. And it was how I’d continue to do so.

***

“Here.” Raiden handed me a steaming cup. “Looked like ya needed a pick-me-up.”

“Thank you.” I accepted it and stared down at the tea. He had added just the right amount of cream, not too heavy and a tad more than a dash. Exactly how I liked it. Then again, that was one of Raiden’s gifts—knowing the palates of those he loved.

That evening, I had curled up in a chair beside Baxter’s infinity pool, listening to the soft whirring of the jets. I was consumed by thoughts of Lazarus and the strangeness of our earlier conversation. And his scent… like the air before the first snowfall.

I placed the cup to my lips, inhaling the subtle floral notes before taking a sip. The bold, full-bodied flavor soothed going down, the taste hovering between bitter and sweet, combined with the rich cream.

Raiden was right. It was the pick-me-up I’d needed. If only life could be as simple as sipping a perfectly brewed cup of tea. Or as easy.

The afternoon had been a blur of activity as Michael called more of his warriors from the celestial realm and introduced them to our army. Having the archangel show up to take control of the military didn’t sit well with Pride. However, the more reasonable part of my brain knew that where I specialized in my intellect, Michael was… well, handy with a sword and definitely knew his way around a battlefield, leading mass forces of warriors. His presence boosted morale and would only benefit us in the end.

“We don’t need him,”Pride growled.

Suppressing a sigh, I took another sip. The flavor was more bitter that time. Probably due to the thought of the archangel with his flawless features, valleys of muscle, and an attitude that grated on my nerves. Butwhydid he perturb me so much? Was it only because he outranked me? Because he’d taken away a bit of my authority?

“Wanna talk about it?” Raiden asked, standing beside my chair. His black hat, worn backward, had seen better days. But it was his favorite snapback. Castor had bought it for him years ago for Christmas, and now Raiden practically lived in the thing.

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever’s botherin’ you,” he said. “I may not be able to read your thoughts, but they’re written all over your face. Regret, frustration, maybe a craving for pie.”

A smile pulled at my lips. “I’m fairly certain the craving for pie is coming from you.”

“Yeah. I’m always up for some dessert. Remember that apple pie I made a while back when we were still at Clara’s? I should make it again. It was so good it even tempted Laz. I mean, he didn’t eat any. But he eyed it like he wanted to. My goal is to get him to eat a slice next time.”

“Speaking of Lazarus…” I sipped more tea, wetting my throat. “Any update about his injury?”

After our little chat outside the villa down the road, Clara dragged Lazarus to her clinic—a room in her temporary house on the island—and doctored his shoulder. We had avoided each other for the remainder of the day. We’d stayed out of each other’s heads too. Silent treatment on both sides.

I had been too confused to reach out to Lazarus. I didn’t understand what was going on between us—why he’d pressed his forehead to mine, why his voice had thickened, turning unusually raspy. Why I was suddenly noticing his scent when I never had over the thousands of years he’d been in our lives. More so, my urge to burrow deeper into that smell.