Page 16

Chapter Sixteen

We sat in Eliza’s car in the lot outside my apartment building, the engine turned off but the cold creeping in. Eliza sat in the driver’s seat, her hands still resting on the wheel as if she wasn’t entirely sure what to do now that we’d parked. Beside her, Mason stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused, lost somewhere between disbelief and grim acceptance. Silence filled the car—heavy, stifling silence—the kind that said everything and nothing at the same time.

Rathiel sat beside me, his eyes closed and his head resting against the window. He needed the rest, though he’d never admit it. His injuries weren’t healing, and that scared me more than I wanted to admit. The hellspawn’s claws had done more damage than I’d realized, and the gashes embedded deeply within his back seemingly refused to close. If a hellspawn had injured me, I would have healed by now. So why hadn’t Rathiel?

I tore my focus away from him, and instead leaned forward, the leather seat creaking under my weight. “You both okay up there?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light, though the tension was suffocating.

Eliza let out a shaky breath, her knuckles white from gripping the wheel. She nodded slowly, though her eyes never left the windshield. “Yeah. Just…processing.” She finally glanced over her shoulder, her eyes locking on mine. There was no accusation in her gaze, just a mixture of exhaustion and disbelief. “So you’re…”

“Lucifer’s daughter.”

She gave another slow nod, as though that was something she heard every day. “And he’s…”

“Lucifer’s right-hand. Or was.”

A third slow nod. Clearly, she wasn’t processing this very well. “And you’ve just been living your best life up here until recently when your f-father”—she stumbled over that word—“sent that hellspawn vamp to bring you home.”

“That’s the gist of it. Except, as I said, now he wants me dead. It’s a whole thing. Look, if you’re done asking questions, I need to get Rathiel inside.”

Mason turned, irritation flaring in his eyes. “It’s a lot to take in, Lily. You could give us a few minutes.”

“You can take it all in on the drive home,” I said. “I really do need to get Rathiel inside.”

Eliza’s brow furrowed, her gaze softening. “You know, this explains a lot,” she murmured. “All the secrecy, the way you never seemed quite like other paranormals. It makes sense now.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Glad my lineage clears things up.”

Mason turned in his seat, his eyes narrowing. “And the portal—that’s the same one you came through?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Ten years ago. Iit’s closed right now, but that could change. And if it does, I’ll handle it. This isn’t your fight.” Maybe now that they knew my connection to the portal, they’d understand.

Eliza turned fully in her seat, her eyes sharp. “Oh, hell no,” she said firmly. “This is our problem now too. This is our home. And we’ll fight, even die, to protect it.”

Huh, guess not.

Her words hung in the air. I truly didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to push back, to tell her that she didn’t understand, that this was more dangerous than she could imagine. But the determination in her eyes was unmistakable, and I knew arguing was pointless. I wasn’t going to convince them to walk away—not now.

I looked at Mason, who gave me a small nod. “We’re in this together,” he said. “No matter what comes through that portal. You can’t continue guarding it day in and day out. We can help with that. Eliza has contacts with the merc guild. And I know people too. We can help , Lily. You just need to trust us.”

Ah, my least favourite words. But it seemed I didn’t have a choice in this matter. And honestly, I was willing to say anything if it got me out of this car and upstairs, where I could take a look at Rathiel’s wounds.

“Fine,” I bit out. “But I would like it stated for the record that I’m against this.”

“Noted,” Eliza said, smiling.

I nodded once, then reached for the door handle. “Alright. I need to get Rathiel inside before he passes out. We can figure out our next steps once we’ve all had some sleep.”

Eliza bowed her head with a mocking smile. “You got it, Princess.”

Oh, I was going to regret this. Grumbling under my breath, I reached for the door handle and stepped out before helping Rathiel. He wound an arm around my shoulder and staggered up against the side of the car.

“You got this?” Mason asked. “I can help get him upstairs.”

“We’re fine,” I replied, shutting the car door.

Eliza peered at me through her open window. “You sure you can handle him?”

“We’re good. Get going.”

I repositioned Rathiel’s weight, then hauled him toward the apartment door. Once there, I paused to watch Eliza and Mason drive off. Relief had me blowing out a breath. No more awkward FAQs—at least, for a little while. I could only imagine the questions they’d come up with next. But for now, Rathiel and I were alone.

I pulled him inside the apartment complex, then froze. Somehow, I’d forgotten that I burned everything. And no keys meant no building access.

I cursed quietly. Without my keys, we’d have to wait for someone to open the door, and at this hour, I wasn’t sure how long it would take. A quick glance at the time revealed that it was nearly four in the morning.

“Fuck it,” I grumbled.

I braced Rathiel against the wall, then grabbed the door handle and gave a sharp pull, one that broke the deadlock and allowed me to open the door. One hurdle down. I grabbed Rathiel and eased him into the hallway, then toward the elevator. Three floors later, we stood outside my apartment door, which also needed keys. I could also break this one down, but I’d prefer not to. So instead, I leaned forward and rested my forehead against the door.

“Vol,” I murmured, hoping the little imp heard me. “Now would be a superb time for some help. Can you unlock the door, please?”

The only response was silence. I cursed under my breath and was considering other options when a loud click echoed through the hallway. I grabbed the doorknob and gave it a twist, relief untwisting my stomach when the door opened.

Vol stood in the middle of the room, a triumphant grin on his wrinkly little face. I gave him a quick smile, then dragged Rathiel inside to the couch.

“Here, lay down,” I urged, helping him lower himself onto the cushions. He fell forward with a grunt, his face twisted with pain. I quickly knelt beside him and lifted his shirt to get a better look at the wounds.

His blood-soaked shirt clung to him like a second skin, but below were a series of four gashes where the vampire’s claws had ripped through his flesh. I couldn’t see the bone anymore, nor was he bleeding profusely, so the wounds were healing, but they hadn’t healed enough for my liking. Rathiel wasn’t a true celestial anymore, thanks to Lucifer’s meddling, but he should have been healing faster than this. I would have.

Celestials were a difficult lot to kill. I knew that from my own personal experience. I also knew a wound like this should heal in under an hour.

Well, it’d been two hours since the attack. And in that time, Rathiel had barely improved. Definitely cause for concern.

While studying Rathiel’s injuries, a small head popped up next to me. Vol’s eyes widened, though he quickly masked it with a smirk. “What happened to him? He looks like he’s been through a meat grinder,” he commented.

“Vol, not now,” I snapped.

“Go away, imp,” Rathiel growled, his voice tight with pain, though his glare lacked its usual intensity. At least he’d finally spoken. I was beginning to worry.

Vol raised his hands in mock surrender, though the grin on his face remained. “Hey, just trying to lighten the mood. You’re looking a little worse for wear, that’s all.”

Ignoring Vol’s commentary, I resumed my inspection. “They haven’t closed yet. Shouldn’t they have done that by now?”

Rathiel merely offered another grunt. Super helpful.

Purrgatory padded over with nary a feline concern. He brushed up against Rathiel’s arm, his purr echoing through the room. Rathiel’s hand absently reached down to scratch Purrgatory’s head, his touch gentle despite the pain he was in. The sight of it tugged at something inside me—a reminder that, despite everything, there was still a softness to him, something he rarely showed but was always there.

I rose to my feet and stared down at Rathiel’s back. Then, with a scowl, I said, “Be right back,” and hurried toward the apartment door.

“Lily—” Rathiel started, but I’d already ducked out into the hall before he could utter another word.

I jogged to the next unit and lifted my hand, about to knock, when I paused and considered the time. Most people weren’t up at such a wretched hour. But most people weren’t Willow Bick.

Willow was a professional baker, and an eccentric, self-proclaimed witch who spent her free time studying the Wiccan arts—or so she’d told me once during one of our shared elevator rides. She didn’t possess a lick of magical ability, but she was the type of person who believed in the power of crystals and moon phases. She was also the most grounded person I’d ever met, which led me to believe she’d have a first aid kit. Something I lacked.

And thankfully, since she always woke before the sun to get a start on her day, I knew she’d be up right now.

With that in mind, I knocked firmly on her door, and a few seconds later, it swung open to reveal Willow in her work attire including a flour-dusted apron, a hairnet barely containing her wild curls, and a bright, welcoming smile that never seemed to fade.

“Lily!” she greeted, her voice cheerful. “What brings you to my door at this hour? Not that I mind, of course.”

“Hey, Willow,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual despite the urgency. “Do you happen to have a first aid kit I can borrow?”

Her brow furrowed in concern as she quickly looked me over. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine,” I assured her. “It’s for a friend. He got a little banged up at the bar tonight, and I realized I’m not exactly prepared for that sort of thing.”

Willow’s eyes softened with understanding, and she nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! Let me grab it for you. I keep it in the kitchen, just in case I ever have a knife mishap. Happens more than I care to admit. But we’ll just keep that little secret to ourselves.”

I chuckled. Willow didn’t actually know the meaning of the word “secret.”

She disappeared into her apartment, and I could hear her rummaging through drawers. When she returned, she held a metal first aid kit and held it out to me with a smile. “Here you go. Take whatever you need. And if you need any help, just holler.”

“Thanks, Willow. I appreciate it,” I said, taking the kit from her.

“Anytime, Lily. You know where to find me,” she replied with a wink before closing the door.

I hurried back to my apartment, hoping Rathiel was still conscious when I got there. As soon as I stepped inside, I saw him lying exactly where I’d left him, his posture rigid, and Vol hovering nearby, looking far too curious about Rathiel’s injuries for my liking.

“If he dies, can I eat him?” the imp casually asked.

I froze, shock widening my eyes. “Vol!” I hissed. “What is wrong with you?”

Vol shrugged, his expression annoyingly indifferent. “What? Waste not, want not, right?”

“Your jokes are not appreciated.” At least I hoped it was a joke. But just in case… “Rathiel isn’t dying, and you’re not eating him,” I snapped, moving quickly to Rathiel’s side. The sight of him lying there, fighting to hold on to consciousness, sent a pang of worry through me.

Rathiel, despite his pain, managed a low chuckle, though it was more of a grimace than anything else. “Leave him be, Lily. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“Well, it’s working,” I muttered, shooting Vol a glare before hurrying over to Rathiel’s side. I knelt down beside him, placing the medical kit on the floor as I quickly assessed his condition. He was still bleeding, but not as badly as before. Still, that his wounds hadn’t healed completely was troubling.

The glint in Vol’s eyes suggested he found the whole situation more amusing than concerning. “I’m just saying, if he does kick the bucket, I’m first in line.”

Ignoring Vol’s morbid comments, I focused on Rathiel. “I got a first aid kit.”

He raised a questioning brow.

“It’s just something humans use when they’re injured. It’s—oh, never mind. Let me patch you up. I can explain what it is later.”

Rathiel didn’t argue, which was a bad sign in itself. He just closed his eyes and let out a slow, pained breath. I hurried to open the kit, pulling out what I needed to take care of the wounds on his back.

As I carefully cleaned the deep gashes, Rathiel remained silent, his expression set in a stoic mask. Though he didn’t flinch or wince, tension sang through his muscles, a clear sign that the pain was more than he was letting on. He lay there, his eyes half-closed, focused on the cushion beneath him, as if it could distract him from the discomfort.

I let out a soft sigh, more to myself than anything. “You really don’t have to keep pretending you’re made of stone, you know.”

He didn’t respond, his silence more telling than any words could be. It was like trying to get through to a fortress—one that had long since decided to shut the world out.

“Fine, be stubborn,” I muttered, focusing on finishing the task.

After dressing his wounds as best as I could, I took a step back, assessing my handiwork. The bleeding had slowed, but the injuries were still bad—worse than I’d expected.

“You’re healing,” I said softly, “But it’s so slow. I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Unclenching his jaw, Rathiel said, “I don’t heal like a celestial. Unfortunately, it’ll take more time.”

I frowned. He didn’t heal like a celestial? Why not? And why hadn’t I ever noticed that before? “Okay, I’ll bite,” I said. “What’s so different about you? And why is this taking so long?”

Rather than answer, he winced and averted his gaze.

“Rathiel?” I repeated, dropping back down to his side. “Talk to me. Tell me how I can help.”

“I need—” He broke off, then shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. It’ll just take some more time.”

“Or you could just tell me what’s going on,” I argued. “Maybe I can help? I’d rather get you back on your feet. You’re bleeding all over my apartment, and I’d like my security deposit back when I leave this place.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he grumbled.

That made me chuckle. “Come on, you stubborn oaf. Talk to me.”

Sighing, Rathiel slitted open his eyes and stared at me. “I’m a vampire, Lily. I’m not a celestial anymore, despite my wings. Your father—” His jaw tightened, and an angry growl rumbled in his chest. “Your father tainted me when he turned me into this .”

“So, you don’t heal like a celestial anymore,” I surmised. “And being that you’re a vampire…”

His eyes snapped open, and I saw something in them that unnerved me—hunger.

“You need blood,” I whispered, the realization startling me. Of course he needed blood. He was a vampire, and after a fight like that, especially with wounds that severe, he would need to feed to recover. “Oh,” I murmured, understanding washing over me.

“Just go to bed,” he uttered through clenched teeth. “I’ll be fine.”

I scoffed. Seeing as how I’d rarely obeyed his orders in the past, I didn’t see myself starting now.

“Okay, so you need blood,” I murmured, pushing to my feet.

I ran through the options in my head. Rathiel needed blood to heal if we wanted him to heal faster. That left me with three choices: I could lure some poor, unsuspecting mortal to my apartment for him to feed on, which wasn’t exactly ideal. I could let him drain Vol, a thought that was far more tempting than it should’ve been. Or…I could let him feed on me.

A shiver shot down my spine, and the little hairs on my arms and neck stood at attention. The thought of Rathiel biting me, feeding on me…it stirred something deep within. Something I couldn’t put a name to. For some reason, the idea didn’t disgust or terrify me. In fact, it did the opposite. It intrigued me. The concept felt undeniably intimate— too intimate. I should have been horrified by the idea of being his midnight snack. Except, I wasn’t. And I think that terrified me more than him actually biting me.

All I knew was I couldn’t let him suffer. His injuries were my fault. It seemed only fair that I gave him what he needed to heal.

Right?

“Alright,” I murmured, my decision made. “You can feed on me.”

Rathiel’s eyes widened in shock, a mix of alarm and something else—something darker—flashing across his face. “Absolutely not.”

I crossed my arms and lifted my chin. “You’re in pain, Rathiel. You need to heal, and feeding will help with that.”

“I’ll manage,” he replied through a gritted jaw, the strain in his voice betraying his desperation. “I’ve suffered worse. I won’t take blood from you.”

He had suffered worse. A lot worse. But that didn’t mean he had to suffer now.

I dropped to my knees beside the couch and grabbed his hand in mine. His eyes widened, as though he hadn’t expected me to willingly touch him. “This isn’t about you taking something from me,” I said, my voice firm. “This is about us helping each other, working together.”

He cursed quietly, conflict warring in his expression. If I wasn’t mistaken, I spotted a little hope in those eyes of his, even as he shook his head.

“I refuse to hurt you,” he muttered, as if trying to convince himself more than me.

“You won’t,” I assured him. I wanted to say more, tell him that I trusted him, but that would be a lie, and I tried not to lie to people unless absolutely necessary. People in my life— cough, Deidre, cough —had given me more than enough reasons not to trust them. Even Rathiel had contributed to that little emotional wound of mine, what with the whole stealing my memories conundrum. But he’d also given me enough reason to help him. He’d not only escaped Hell with the specific purpose of finding and protecting me, but he’d also stepped in and stopped that vampire from turning me into a nummy chew toy. Truly, this was the least I could do for him.

Rathiel peered into my eyes, as if searching for any hint of fear or hesitation. I merely smiled, determined to show him I had no intentions of backing down.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

“No,” I said, laughing. “But I’m the only one here, so… I mean, unless you want to munch down on Vol?”

“Hey!” the imp barked from across the room.

“Kidding, kidding.” I paused. “Well, mostly.”

“Lilith—”

“For crying out loud, Rathiel. I offered. Say thank you, and just get on with it already.”

His mouth flattened into a grim line, but finally, he nodded.

“Alright. We’re doing this,” I muttered more to myself than to him.

Rathiel started to push up from the couch, moving slowly, his movements deliberate. I slid an arm around his waist—mindful of his injuries—and helped steady him as he climbed to his feet. But as he stood, the space between us disappeared. His chest brushed against mine, and I realized a little too late just how close together we stood.

With each inch he rose, my head tilted back more, until I was staring up at him. My breath hitched, caught somewhere between a gasp and a sigh. I was used to his height—it was part of his whole intimidating vibe—but having him this close, feeling the solid warmth of his body pressed against mine, was intoxicating.

The world shrank to just the two of us. His hands, still resting on my shoulders for balance, tightened slightly, his fingers brushing against my throat. We slowly walked backward until my back hit the wall.

“You sure about this?” he asked again, his breath ghosting over my face.

“Positive,” I whispered, though my voice wasn’t as strong. “Now, are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to do what needs doing?”

His gaze darkened, something dangerous and alluring flashing in those celestial blue eyes. “Patience is a virtue,” he murmured, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I swallowed hard, all the while ignoring the sudden heat pooling in my stomach. “Do it.”

His expression softened, if only for a second, before his focus lasered in on my throat. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down, his lips brushing against my neck, right where my pulse beat frantically beneath the surface. I shivered, the anticipation making my heart race.

This was it. No turning back now.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” I breathed, barely recognizing my voice.

I just hoped I knew what I was doing.