Page 5 of Deviled Eggs (One Handed Holidays: Crossed Swords Edition #4)

Micah

“What is the point of this again?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose as I try to summon patience. “For the last time, this is a big part of their celebration, and we need to have a better understanding why.” Xalreth stares off into the distance with his head resting on his fist, not bothering to answer me as my tolerance wears thin. “Come on, we’re running out of time, and you can’t be seen like this amongst the humans.”

“There you go again, insinuating I’m ugly,” he mutters.

My eyes slide across his thick, muscled frame, then zero in on the details of his face. Thick, dark lashes surround those enormous black eyes, and his brow ridge is prominent. Unlike most demons, he has no horns or tail, and instead of hair, a series of thin, blackwork tattoos cover his head. The bridge of his nose is wider than what a human might consider normal, and his square jaw protrudes just enough to make his dark lips form a pout when he isn’t smiling.

Though he’s usually smiling, and I can’t figure out why.

He’s not classically beautiful, but Xalreth’s unusual features are striking. Angels have been conditioned to find the symmetry and delicate lines of our own kind attractive, but I prefer the unique angles of his face to that of my brethren. He caught my eye the very first time we met, though I never gave it much thought.

Not until now.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately? Of course you aren’t ugly, you fucking imbecile. It has nothing to do with my opinions about your appearance, and everything to do with the fact that humans are not accustomed to seeing a giant, gray-skinned demon with solid black eyes.”

He tilts his head at me as he climbs from his seat, and his hips roll as he saunters in my direction. “Sounds like you think I’m hot,” he teases, poking me with his pointer finger and dragging it down my stomach.

“ That is what you took away from the conversation?”

“What can I say? Demons are suckers for compliments. Actually…” His fingertip slides lower, following the dips in my abdomen as I fight not to react. “Fine, I’ll agree to taking this little field trip with you on one condition.” He keeps tracing lower until he’s sliding that suggestive finger along the top of my pants.

“Are you going to say it, or shall we sit here for hours while I guess?”

“Feisty today,” he murmurs, and hooks his fingers through my waistband, giving it a small yank. “Give me one compliment and I’ll go with you, no complaints.” When I raise my brow, he chuckles. “Okay, fine, minimal complaints. But it has to be genuine, not some passive-aggressive bullshit or something generic that belongs in a performance review.”

“Feeling insecure, Xalreth?”

“Not at all,” he says easily, still grazing those fingertips along my lower abdomen. It’s oddly intimate. “Just want to hear you say it.”

“You’re indecent,” I say, glancing down to watch his hands exploring my body.

“You’re dodging the question.” I shouldn’t entertain his childish demands, but the past few days have been rougher than I’d like to admit. It seems like no one is happy right now. Meetings are turning into warzones, and every word that comes out of my mouth is met with an argument. Sometimes it’s spoken aloud, but the other times it just slices through me as they let their mind do the shouting.

It’s exhausting, and my defenses are battered from shielding myself from it all.

And then I arrived in Hell to transport Xalreth, and his smile was genuine and his attention was soothing. It was like being dropped into a warm bath after hours spent in the cold, and for the first time in days, I found myself relaxing as he took my arm and we teleported to our workspace in the Heavenly realm.

We’re still fighting—God knows we probably always will. Xalreth loves to dig his heels in and be catastrophically stubborn. We argue, but I can begrudgingly admit the sharp banter between us is the closest thing I’ve had to a civil conversation in days.

How pathetic is that?

I give a low, thoughtful hum before I say, “You aren’t horrible to look at, as far as demons go.”

He laughs in surprise, and I have to bite back a smile as he shakes his head. “Not going to cut it, angel boy. Try again.”

“Your face is tolerable.”

“Clock’s ticking.” He levels me with a sharp glare, but there’s playfulness behind it. “And if I have to waste an entire day standing here waiting, I will.” I reach for him, but I hesitate as I remember how he commanded me not to touch him last time. When our eyes meet, he gives a single nod of his head. My palm lands on the swell of his pecs as the muscles twitch and tense under my hand.

“Your size,” I blurt out, and he doesn’t hide his surprise. “I… like how big you are.” My voice is barely above a whisper as my hand explores. “No one is bigger than me, ever , and I’ve never felt small like I do when I’m beside you. Your body is sculpted… so much thicker than mine, but you still move with such grace.”

When my eyes find his again, there’s a curious expression in them—one that’s almost tender. I rip my hand away while heat burns my skin, waiting for him to mock me for my honest admission.

Waiting for the consequences of letting him in, even just for that tiny moment.

“I love your neck,” he murmurs, and I suck in a sharp inhale, lifting my chin as he gets closer. “How it feels under my hands…” A soft brush of his lips presses against the column of my throat. “The way I imagine it would thump under my tongue when your heart is racing.”

“You’ve thought about that?”

Another quiet laugh blows from his nose, and his fingers curl around the waist of my pants as he jerks me forward with a playful yank, forcing our bodies flush. “What do you think, angel?” His lips make another feather-light pass over my skin as I fight back a moan.

My entire body is on fire, burning alive, and I can’t even form words as he releases me and takes a step backward. “Alright then,” he purrs as a filthy smile crosses his lips. “A deal’s a deal. Let’s get this show on the road.” It takes a few moments for the clouds in my mind to settle as I remember we’re here for a reason. I clear my throat, fighting to stave off my body’s reaction to his touch.

“Glamour first,” I remind him, my heart still pounding as I try to regain my composure. My magic disguises us to appear human, although there’s nothing to be done about our size. We’re going into this knowing we will attract attention.

My wings vanish as I dismiss them, leaving me with a foreign sense of vulnerability. Wings are a status symbol in the Angel community, and their span correlates with status. The larger the wings, the more powerful the being. Keeping mine exposed is a power play—one that forces others to recognize my authority without ever speaking to them.

But now, with their weight missing from my back, I’m off balance.

My magic surges, a tingling wave that shifts my opalescent skin to a sun-kissed tan and my white hair to a bright golden blonde. The harsher angles of my face soften until I appear as human as possible, despite my size. A faint hint of vanilla and sandalwood fills the air as the magic works, and Xalreth takes a deep inhale as I step closer.

“Your magic smells like you,” he mutters as I place a hand on his shoulder, preparing to apply his disguise. He curls into me, pressing his nose into my neck. “So good... so sweet.”

“Oh, um… thank you,” I whisper, cringing at how formal I sound as he chuckles. This playful, affectionate side of him is new, and I don’t know how to handle it. A spark flares in my gut at the heat of his skin against mine, and I focus on applying his glamour so I don’t get stuck in my head. My magic makes quick work of his appearance, brightening his gray skin to a rich brown. His solid black eyes morph into their human counterparts, with bright whites and mahogany irises. Even his teeth appear straight, no longer the razored points he loves to use with his meaningless threats.

When I pull my hand away, he walks to the mirror and stares at his reflection, running his fingers over his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose that’s more defined with the glamour. “That’s crazy. I can feel that my bone structure hasn’t changed if I concentrate, but my brain is telling me it has.” He opens his mouth and pokes a tooth, a bead of blood on his fingertip despite them appearing mundane and flat. “So fucking weird.”

Thankful for the distraction, I remove a sage green sweater from a hanger and pull it over my head, instantly hating the scratch of the material against my skin. “Dear God, do they really wear such atrocious fabrics?”

“Afraid so,” he says as he dons his own shirt. “In a particularly cruel corner of Hell, they’re forced to endure days of wearing coarse, scratchy wool without an undershirt.”

“Ghastly,” I mutter, and a grin spreads over his mouth. It’s strange seeing him this way, and I find I miss the points of his teeth and smokey hue of his skin. “Are you ready?”

He loops his arm through mine, and startles as I subconsciously place my hand over his. There’s a curious glint in his eye as he cocks his head, and I force myself not to look at him and acknowledge the fact that I’m touching him again.

Willingly, and beyond what's necessary.

Before either of us can overthink it, I teleport us to our next destination.

The hallway is a nightmare of shuffling feet and murmuring voices where no one is walking fast enough. A thick, cloying smell of unwashed bodies hangs in a dense cloud of… what is it that humans call it? Funk. It is funky in here, so much so that my eyes sting.

People stare as we walk through the crowd, and I peer inside the glass doorways and floor-to-ceiling windows that line the walls. “What sort of place is this again?” Xalreth asks, sneering at a human man who examines him too closely. The man yelps and quickly looks away from Xalreth’s self-satisfied smirk.

“A mall ,” I answer with a sniff, wrinkling my nose. “It’s quite common, is it not?”

“God, you’re such a snob,” he snorts with a derisive puff of air.

I give his shoulder a shove, just hard enough to throw him off balance. “Is that not the case? You have someone’s grandmother selling pretzels across from where a teenage girl is trying to encourage children to let her punch holes in their ears.”

He wrinkles his nose as he stares at the giant cookies arranged in a glass display. “It is strange that even with all this food, it smells like sweat and piss.”

“See? Don’t act like you’re not looking down on them, too.”

Humans part out of our way as we approach our first stop, and I grab his elbow to steer him towards it. A young blonde woman does a double take as we walk in, a flicker of surprise in her expression as she scans our large frames. “H-Hi, can I help you?”

“Yes, we have inquiries about… chocolate.”

“Well,” she says, a nervous giggle escaping her lips before she clears her throat, and her hand sweeps across the shelves. “It’s safe to say you’ve come to the right place. What questions do you have?”

“Could you explain the lore of chocolate and how it ties to Easter?”

Her brows snap together, and she scratches her nose. “Oh, uh, well… there are so many types of eggs… different sizes and fillings. Dark, milk, and white, hollow or solid. And, of course, chocolate bunnies.”

Xalreth hesitates for a moment before he shakes his head. “And huma—” He stops abruptly and clears his throat at my glare. “People enjoy this? These chocolate eggs?”

“Well, yes.” She has a light, tinkling laugh, but Xalreth looks unconvinced.

“It just sounds… weird.”

“Weird?”

“Disgusting, even. I mean, it’s not only me that thinks that, right? It can’t be. The crunchy shell and runny egg yolk leaking out of the chocolate? That doesn’t sound appetizing in the least. It sounds downright fucking disgusting and makes me want to gag just imagining it.”

“ Oh ,” she says, her eyes round. “Well, um, they aren’t, uh, runny…”

“The eggs are cooked first? Ugh, that’s worse, somehow.” His skin takes on a slight green hue as he holds a fist up to his mouth, and I have to agree. Hard-boiled eggs dipped in sugar sounds revolting.

The blond shakes her head, staring at Xalreth. Her expression is so bewildered that I discretely check to make sure his glamour hasn’t failed. But the handsome lines of his human face are intact, even if he looks queasy.

“That isn’t… no,” she finally says, crossing her arms. “They’re just shaped like eggs. Pure chocolate, or filled with something… caramel, for example, or peanut butter.”

“Fascinating,” I say, glancing over the displays. “I assume the same is true for the bunnies?”

This time, she doesn’t even blink as she stares at me. “You’re… I’m sorry, are you asking whether they put actual rabbits inside chocolate bunnies?”

My brow lifts defensively at her tone. “I'm not implying they aren’t cooked first.”

“Is this a joke? Am I being punked? Are you guys from one of those prank pages? Ugh, I am so not dressed to go viral.” Her head whips around as though she’s searching for something or someone. Xalreth and I meet eyes, and he gives a tiny shrug.

She hinted at being viral, so perhaps she’s sick. I take a casual step away from her while she’s distracted. Archangels might be immune to human illnesses, but it doesn’t mean I want to be face to face with one. “I assure you, we are merely curious. This is not… a punk .”

She stutters for a few more seconds before she gathers her wits, taking a sharp breath and forcing a smile back onto her face. “If a chocolate is shaped like an object, that object isn't included as an ingredient. It's simply for appearances. A Christmas tree chocolate, for example, would not be made with pine.”

“ But a candy cane shaped one includes peppermint,” Xalreth argues, and I cross my arm and nod in his defense.

“This is a good point.” He flashes me a brief smile that I return.

She looks flustered as she scoffs, and both of us focus on her once more. “Well, okay, yes, that is true…”

“Or oranges,” I add, picking up a golden-wrapped chocolate shaped like an orange cut into slices.

“Fine, that is also correct, but—”

“Thought so,” Xalreth mutters with a satisfied smirk, then leans forward until he’s uncomfortably close to her, lowering his voice. “And when does the Bunny come for his deliveries?”

Her eyes dart between us as she takes a small step back. “Excuse me?”

“Come on,” he prods, flashing her a giant, conspiratorial smile. “You can tell us. When does the Easter Bunny pick up his chocolate? Or do you deliver it?”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times as she glances over her shoulder, towards the door. “Um, well, the parents—”

“Ah ha!” I shout, and she jumps clear off the ground as she clutches her heart. “The parents are pretending to be the bunny!” Understanding washes over me as the pieces fall into place, answers clicking together in my mind. I nod, tapping my chin with my pointer finger. “Of course they do… I should’ve expected as much after their Santa impersonations. You’re telling me the adults do not believe in the existence of this Easter Bunny?”

“… No.” She stretches the word out as she takes another step backward, and I can sense the unease drifting from her as I turn towards Xalreth. “We do not need to be concerned with luring the parents with this chocolate, just the children.”

“I’m sorry, what ?!” she sputters, but I ignore her.

“What ages are children most likely to believe in the Easter Bunny?” I ask, and her eyes go wide, darting between me and Xalreth with a look of dawning fear.

“Pr-probably under ten? I-I don’t really know.”

I nod thoughtfully as I glance around the shop and wave my hand towards the vibrant display of colorful baskets. “Bright colors make sense for their simple minds. Tell me, what are the best sort of chocolates to tempt young children?”

“I’m… I’m sorry?”

“Not in a creepy way,” Xalreth interjects, shaking his hands in front of him as though the giant things could reassure this nervous human.

“No, we are not creeps.” I offer her a reassuring smile, channeling my magic into it and hoping it will calm her. “We are only trying to find the best way to convince the kids he is the Easter Bunny.” I gesture at Xalreth, who agrees with an overenthusiastic nod.

“That way, we can make them do whatever we want.”

Another thought strikes me as I twist back to her. “Do you have any of these Peeps I keep hearing about?” I ask, but she’s already sprinting away.