Page 7 of Deviled Eggs (One Handed Holidays: Crossed Swords Edition #4)

Micah

Three days is my limit, it would seem.

It has developed into a cycle. A carousel of emotions that won’t stop long enough for me to climb off, so I’m stuck spinning in circles. Over and over, round and fucking round until I’m dizzy with it. It’s a routine I’m unable to break—a habitual pattern of ridiculous actions that lead me back to the same outcome, no matter how much I convince myself that this time will be different.

That’s the definition of insanity, is it not?

I’d believe I’m going insane. Would believe he’s made me that way.

Self-loathing occupies most of the first day. It’s relentless… an internal war as I try to understand why I continue to succumb to these physical urges. As an Archangel, discipline is my specialty. It is my purpose. I never struggled with self-control before now… before him.

And there’s no reason I can’t stop. I will stop, I promise myself in another fruitless oath. It’s a lie I let myself believe until the following morning.

But then I wake up, and I remember.

The second day is filled with fantasies of the friction and heat of his skin on mine, and how, for the first time in ages, my mind was gloriously silent. The worries, the responsibilities… the fear that hides inside my head was squashed. It didn’t disappear—it can’t—but it created room for something else and let me feel like I could breathe, if just for those isolated moments.

The day is spent wondering if it’s my imagination. If the softness in his eyes was an illusion, or if it’s possible he’s feeling this, too. It’s failed distractions and forced busywork. Unhealthy obsessions and irrational anger, and trying to forget.

Then there’s the third day.

The day I break.

The one where I reach out and ask to see him again.

I’m a glutton for punishment, it would seem. A fan of getting kicked in the heart as many times as the useless organ can take it, coloring it in self-inflicted bruises because I keep replaying the sting of his rejection. I was a lovesick fool, lost in the heat of the moment—sucked into the chemistry that was a charged explosive around us. Needed his mouth on mine as much as I needed oxygen in my lungs.

I didn’t expect him to pull away as I guided his lips towards mine. Didn’t expect the crippling embarrassment to knock my legs right out from underneath me as my kiss landed on his cheek.

Didn’t expect it to hurt.

He might enjoy the physical release of our time together, but that’s where it stops. To him, I’m nothing more than a convenient conquest, and I’d do well to remember that.

Arms crossed, I wait outside Xalreth’s building, avoiding the gaze of the many demons that walk past. Whenever I come here to collect him, it’s an overload to the senses as they stare. Open curiosity and suspicion cover me like a dense fog, poking and prodding with its wispy little fingers. And while it can become overwhelming, it’s surprisingly less judgmental than the emotions thrown my way in the Heavenly realm. Hellions have always been more accepting, though, even if none of the Angels are willing to voice that admission out loud.

I sense Xalreth’s presence before I see him—a tingling wave of awareness that ripples across my body. My eyes move to the glass doors of his building as he pushes through into the warm afternoon. Even at midday, the realm's sky is dim. It leaves ample shadows behind in its red glow, but the effect isn’t as dreary as it sounds.

Hell is actually quite lovely when viewed through the right lens.

There’s a saunter to Xalreth’s steps as he walks closer, and the light reflects off the dips of his muscles as though it were crafted just for him. His attention drags over my skin like fingernails on my scalp. Intrigue and temptation backed with a penchant for sin.

I’m barely able to suppress a shudder.

“Did you miss me?” A cocky grin stretches across his face, revealing a flash of sharp, white teeth.

I lift a brow as I give him a sideways glance. “Hardly,” I say as I brush my fingers over my sweater, distracting myself so I don’t have to look at him.

“Are you sure about that?” His hand loops through the crook of my arm, and I try to ignore the way my pulse speeds up at the touch.

“Don’t flatter yourself by thinking you’ve even crossed my mind,” I snap, whipping my head to glare at him and immediately regretting my decision. To those that don’t know him, Xalreth’s solid black eyes can be disturbing. They’re cold and emotionless—nature’s defense mechanism.

But in the warm glow, they sparkle like polished obsidian and reflect the light with an unexpected depth. They communicate emotions I’m unable to decipher, speaking a language not meant for me.

“We have a job to do, so let’s get moving,” I say, my frustration coming out in my clipped tone, and he stares at me for a long second before he nods.

My magic washes over us, masking us with our human disguises. “Did you do as I asked?” He speaks as casually as if we’re discussing the weather, and it causes my cheeks to flush and a scoff to escape my lips.

“I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re referencing.” My pulse ramps up another few notches as he chuckles, squeezing my biceps.

“Oh, come on, Micah… you didn’t like my gift?” My face and neck burn as I recall the package that arrived at my doorstep. Wrapped up in a sleek black box and tied with a blood-red bow were a metal cage and a series of increasingly large plugs. Nestled in a bed of red velvet, he’d simply signed his name with an X.

The presentation was almost elegant.

I clear my throat as I fight the urge to pull at my shirt, not wanting to let him see me fidget. “If you’re expecting gratitude, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

“I picked it out special just for you.”

“That would mean you were thinking of someone other than yourself, Xalreth, which is a preposterous notion we all know better than to expect.”

He’s silent for a moment before a quiet laugh huffs from the back of his throat. “We’re pretending nothing happened, then?” When I don’t respond, his snort of laughter turns irritated. “Right. Okay then, carry on.”

Disappointment settles heavy in my stomach, but I scold myself for my foolishness and focus on our destination. The world fades into a misty obscurity, then brightens as we emerge beneath the shade of trees, surrounded by green. Xalreth glances around curiously. “Where are we?”

“A park.” I take a step away, needing to put distance between our bodies as his eyes burn into me. The silence stretches for an eternity until his grip on my arm loosens, and his hand finally falls to his side with a quiet thud.

“Thank you for sharing such amazing detail, Micah. Absolutely top-tier storytelling. It makes so much sense now that you’ve explained what we’re doing here.”

“You didn’t ask what we are doing, just where we are.”

“Fucking A.” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he blows out a heavy breath. “Okay, then. What are we doing in a park?”

“We’re observing.” I gesture towards the path as I start to walk, and he grumbles as he catches up to my side. “After our last… mishap… ”

“More like catastrophe,” he mutters, and I shoot him a glare that makes him smirk.

“… I thought it would be a good idea to watch humans for a while before we make our next move. Note their behaviors… see if we can understand their actions better. We have plenty of time before Easter, and it’s been decades since I mingled with humanity.”

“Let me get this straight… you pulled me away from a Hell’s Kitchen marathon to people-watch?”

My irritation flares at his blasé boredom, and I grit my teeth as I try to control my tone. “Is there a problem, Xalreth? If so, I’ll gladly return you home so you can spend the day in front of your television. Just don’t be shocked when I replace you.”

“Like you could replace me,” he snorts under his breath.

The cool air fills my lungs as I draw in a deep, calming inhale, knowing my composure will agitate him more than any outburst. He wants me to lose my temper—wants me to fight until the gunpowder ignites and we turn explosive once more. “Do you really believe I have no other options?”

My barb hits him right where I want it to, and he goes preternaturally still beside me. I twist to glance at him in question, trying not to show my satisfaction. “Options?” he growls, inching closer. “I’m going to need you to explain exactly what you mean by that.”

“Surely you didn’t think you were my only choice? You’re merely the easiest one.” My smile is cruel as his nostrils flare, and I let my eyes flit over his face. “Did you think this was more , Xalreth? You are nothing but a convenience.”

I’m not sure when the conversation shifted from his professional position to this high-stakes game we’re playing, but both of us sneer at the other as he pulls me closer. “You think you could replace me? Do you really believe anyone else could give you what I can?”

Twisted satisfaction curls in my stomach from his reaction, but I only lift my shoulder with a nonchalant shrug. “There’s no shortage of bodies willing to warm my bed. Bodies that don’t pull away and become cold the moment they get off.”

Recognition flashes in his eyes as they shift between mine, irritation warring with something softer in his expression. I scoff and turn to keep walking when he grabs my wrist and stops me.

“Micah…” He tugs on me again, but I don’t turn around. There’s a moment’s hesitation before he gives my arm a gentle tug. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“Hurt my feelings? I can’t say I know what you mean.” He grips me tighter and yanks, forcing me to face him.

“The other night, when I…” He trails off, and for the first time, he appears uncertain.

Anger burns at my skin as the sting of rejection slices through me once more, and my voice comes out abrupt. “Finish your thoughts, Xalreth. The other night when you what ?”

His head tilts, and his gaze drops to my lips. “When I didn’t kiss you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I rip my arm away and resume walking, his eyes scorching over my body before he takes a few long strides to catch up once more.

“If I did hurt your feelings—”

“Let’s not discuss feelings as though I am a child who requires your approval or your affection.”

“Well, don’t you?” he asks, and against my better judgment, I look at him.

“Don’t I what?”

“Require affection.”

The ache in my chest spreads, gripping me with its icy fingers as I give him my back once more. “A foolish concern. I’ve lived my entire life without it. What makes you think I’d suddenly start needing it now? I’d need to have feelings in order for you to hurt them.”

“You have feelings. You might try to hide them from the world, but you aren’t as successful as you’d like to believe.” His soft tone is like a hand around my neck as I shake my head, unable to voice an answer. He hesitates, but I don’t meet his eyes again. “Alright, I’ll drop it, but if I did hurt you… I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention.”

“Wasn’t it?” I snap, tempted to disappear and leave him stranded here while I cool down. A lifetime of refusing to expose myself to others makes me want to flee, but that would give him the upper hand, and I can’t have that. “Considering what we had just done, what other explanation is there for the way you turned away in disgust?”

“Micah—”

“It’s fine, Xalreth, and I do not wish to discuss it further. Drop it.”

“Micah, that wasn’t disgust. It was—”

I spin around in a whirlwind of fury, and he hesitates, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Faint purple reflects off his human face, and my composure is close to snapping as my voice takes on its deeper, angelic timbre. “Do not give me your pity. I do not want it.”

He stares for a long time. An ember ignites in my chest as I hold my breath, waiting for a few words to convince me this isn’t pity. That it’s something more, or at least it might try to be.

But hopes and wishes are the playthings of weaker men, and I do not indulge in such fantasies.

His expression hardens, and as he nods, that sparkling ember is extinguished. The hope is caustic as it dies inside me, and I turn away before he can see just how it burns. Silence is heavy between us as we walk, though I sense his attention on me. I stay a step ahead of him as we enter a large clearing, not yet ready to face him.

The warmer than usual day has drawn out families, and some walk around the path while others sit back and watch their children on the playground. The kids dash about, shrieking and laughing, chasing each other and shouting nonsense. Despite the noise, I find a small smile gracing my lips from their joy.

One tumbles to the ground and squeals in laughter, while his mother dashes over to check on him. She isn’t even halfway there before he pops up and sprints off again, blades of grass kicking up under his feet as he runs. A soft laugh leaves me as I watch in quiet fascination.

“I bet you were wild like that as a child,” I muse, gesturing at the rambunctious boy as he tackles another into the grass. His mom simply shakes her head, watching with a fond smile.

Xalreth steps forward until we’re side by side, and I can see his broad grin from the corner of my eye. “Yeah, I was. If there was ever a demon that could qualify for sainthood, it would be my mother. There were four of us, and I was the oldest with three younger sisters. You’d assume with those odds they would’ve talked me into dressing up as a princess or playing dolls, but it went the other way. I recruited them as my little terrorist minions.”

I glance over at him to find a giant, nostalgic smile lifting his cheeks. He’s handsome as a human, but what I wouldn’t give to see that smile in his actual skin.

He drags his hand over his mouth, continuing with a laugh. “One day, we found a feral hellcat outside and decided it would be our pet. We brought it in the house, and it went fucking crazy. By the time Mom made it home, the furniture was shredded, all four of us were bleeding, and three of her children were crying.”

A quiet chuckle leaves me as I imagine it. “I take it you were the stoic one?”

“Fuck no,” he laughs, “I was bawling with two of my sisters while the youngest, Nyxar, threw the rest of us under the bus.”

We both grin as we squint against the sun, absently watching the human children as they play. “What about you?” Xalreth asks.

“What about me?”

“Were you a mischievous child, or were you always the serious one?”

My smile fades as a heavy silence settles between us, bringing with it an awkwardness I’m unaccustomed to as I clear my throat. “I’m an Archangel, Xalreth. I was created, not born.”

His jaw slackens and his eyes are wide as he stares, and I turn away, unable to bear the scrutiny. “You don’t have… parents?”

“No. We were formed to serve the Heavens. My first memories are the day of my creation, though they’ve become fuzzy with time. A group of eight of us were willed into existence and given our assignments. I suppose they’re the closest thing to siblings I’ll ever have, but we aren’t close. There is mutual respect between us, but no love. Not the kind you have with your sisters.”

“That’s… terrible.”

I shrug, staring into the trees with unseeing eyes as the breeze blows through my hair. “It’s the only life I’ve known.”

“You’ve been working since the day you were born?” I nod, crossing my arms over my chest as the urge to shiver tickles my spine. “When have you ever been given the chance to be happy, Micah?”

The soft words hit my heart like a knife, the truth of them causing my jaw to clench as I try not to dwell on it. It’s quiet between us for a long stretch before I find my voice. “Happiness comes in singular moments for me, Xalreth. There are times I feel happy… hours or days when things are light, and the weight of my responsibilities aren’t so heavy.”

“What about the rest of the time?”

The chilly air causes my eyes to sting. “It’s the only life I’ve known,” I repeat, my voice thick. His knuckles bump into mine, and then he takes my hand, weaving our fingers together. I shouldn’t let him.

But I do.

“You deserve more than that, angel.”

Foreign emotions clog my throat as I force myself to swallow past them. “It isn’t a matter of what one deserves. This is the life I was created for, and there’s no point in fixating on silly dreams that can never come true.” He tugs on my hand, twisting me to face him. When his eyes drop to my lips, I know where his mind has gone.

I know what he’s about to do as his other hand reaches around the back of my neck and guides me forward.

And I want it.

God, I want it, and that’s why I can’t have it.

“Don’t,” I whisper in a plea, just before his lips find mine. “Don’t pity me. Don’t…” Using the last bit of self-control I have left, I put space between us as his wary eyes follow mine. “Don’t give me crumbs of your affection because you believe I’m so hungry for it that I will allow you to pretend.”

“This isn’t pretending, Micah.”

“Maybe not, but it isn’t real, either. Do not insult my intelligence by leading me on with counterfeit promises. People don’t like me. They don’t enjoy my company, Xalreth, and they don’t want me around. That includes you , and I have already suffered too much humiliation by your hands. I will not put myself in a position to be rejected again . ”

Guilt grows heavy on his face as he shakes his head. “It’s not that they don’t like you…”

“Please,” I snort with a scornful laugh. “No one has ever made any attempt to hide their feelings about me. You think I don't hear them mocking me behind my back? That I cannot feel that hatred clawing at my skin?”

“What do you mean, feel it?” he asks, and I clench my teeth. “Micah, come on. Talk to me. What you mean by that?”

“Archangel sense emotions. We understand intent. How do you think it feels when every horrid thought carves its way into your skin, regardless of whether you want it? Whether you asked for it or not?” An unamused laugh punches loose as I shake my head. “All that hatred, shoved down your throat every minute you are awake.”

“I… didn’t know.”

“Few do,” I say, dismissing him by waving my hand as I try to fight the tightness in my throat.

Xalreth’s lips pull tight, and it’s telling that he can’t meet my eyes. “I didn’t realize it bothers you when they talk.”

“You didn’t realize that ridiculing me would hurt? While I might be old, I am not invincible. Don’t insult either of us by playing dumb.”

He shifts uncomfortably between his feet, and the satisfaction that I once found in his discomfort is missing. In its place is the need to calm him… to tell him it doesn’t matter. To not worry about me, because no one ever does. “Things are different now,” he finally says. “I didn’t know you then.”

“You don’t know me now, either.”

“But I want to.”

My chest grows tight at the whispered confession, and I heave a tired sigh as I risk a glance in his direction. “Nobody wants to know me, Xalreth. They have to tolerate me. That is the Archangel’s curse.”

“Is that why you’re so closed off? Why you make yourself so hard to talk to?” I avert my gaze, not answering the question, but I suppose my silence is enough. “By pushing everyone away, you’re shielding yourself from hurt. Can’t lose what you never have, after all.” He leans closer, and I catch a whiff of his smoky amber scent on the wind. “Isn’t it exhausting, Micah? Aren’t you tired of carrying all that weight alone?”

I am tired , I think.

Exhausted .

But instead of letting that confession cross my lips, I do my duty and stay silent. Sunlight warms my face as I close my eyes, and I take a minute to stitch up all those seams that he just ripped apart. When I open my eyes again, I’m put together once more. Cool and collected, with those cracks in my armor mended, at least for the moment.

“We have a mission to accomplish,” I say quietly. “Can we keep this professional?”

“Is that what you want?”

No.

“Yes. It’s how it has to be.” He reaches over, his pinkie tracing a line along mine, but I don’t return the touch. A charged silence follows, a suffocating tension that compresses us both. He shoves his hands in his pockets, and we both stand there with the unsaid words cutting our tongues as we hold them in.

It’s how it has to be.