Page 141 of Princess of Bael

And I felt a profound need to give him everything. All of me. Every heartbeat. Every ounce of trust. A true second chance.

He’d already stated his intentions to chase me, even into Hell.

I believed him.

Because if he ran up to Heaven to hide from me, I’d pursue him, too. Wings be damned.

“Maybe you’ll grow a pair,” he whispered, his lips curving up at the sides. “I hope they match your hair.”

I snorted. “Or they’ll look like my father’s bat wings.”

“Yes, that was a strange development,” he replied, his brow furrowed. “We should go to him.”

“We should,” I agreed, my palm pressing against his chest. “I just need some clothes.”

He hummed in agreement and pulled me off the counter before guiding me back into the bedroom with his hands on my hips.

“I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself,” I informed him dryly.

“I know.” He didn’t stop moving me until we stood beside the bed. “But I have a present for you.”

“I don’t think we have time for presents right now, Ezra.”

His lips quirked at the sides. “Not that kind of present, little heiress.”

He spun me to face the mattress before I could reply, causing my lips to part at both the motion and the items waiting for me.

Clothes—jeans, a sweater, socks, and a pair of boots. That didn’t necessarily impress me, but I appreciated him finding me something to wear.

However, it was the item beside them that had my hands reaching forward with excitement. “A sword.”

“A temporary one,” he clarified. “I’m giving you one of mine until I can make you a proper one.” He pressed his lips to my temple. “Test the weight of it and see how it feels. If it’s too heavy, then I’ll conjure some daggers instead.”

“How do you conjure them?” I asked as I lifted the weapon to examine the handle and the overall feel of the sword.

“It’s part of my natural gifts, which means you may one day be able to conjure your own weapons. It’s a protection ability tied to delivering justice.” His fingers trailed down my arm, his energy humming across my skin. “But it’s not something I can do with immediate results. It takes finesse to create the right tool. And unfortunately, I think this one isn’t suited to your frame.”

Considering how heavy it felt in my hand, I agreed with a nod.

The instrument disappeared, returning to wherever he hid his swords. He held his palm up beside me, calling forth a dagger that glittered with power.

My eyebrows lifted. “Is that a holy blade?”

“No, but it’s close. If you stab me with it, I won’t be pleased.” With those lingering words against my ear, he held it out for me to take from him.

I gripped it, then sliced it through the air before opening my hand and feeling the balance of it against my skin. It buzzed with magic that called to my soul, the rightness of the tool making me grin.

“That’s better,” he said, obviously feeling my contentment. “But I owe you a sword.”

“You owe me an armory,” I corrected. “Like the one in your library.”

He chuckled, his chest leaving my back as he went into a closet just off the bedroom.

I took that as a cue to get dressed and did. He returned in a black sweater that matched my own and a pair of sturdy boots that should have echoed loudly against the marble floor yet didn’t make a sound as he walked toward me.

His wings were tucked up off the ground as well, giving him an assassin-like appeal that had my insides humming in immediate approval. The way he ran his gaze over me said the feeling was mutual, but his expression held a severity to it that defined the moment.

We had work to do.