Page 22 of Deviled Eggs


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“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. “Donotgive 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 intomine, 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.