* * *
Joriel came back sometime later wearinga plain black T-shirt that hid the star brand on his chest, but there were still plenty of scars visible on his arms, around his neck, and through the tears in his jeans.
He was carrying a bundle of black fabric and a pair of black combat boots similar to the ones he was wearing but smaller and decorated with silver studs.
“Sorry they’re a little damp,” he said, handing me the armful of clothes.
“Where did you get them?”
“You probably don’t want to know.” Which I was going to assume meant I was about to be wearing a dead demon’s clothes.
I held the pile of clothes to my chest and raised my eyebrows at Joriel.
He turned his back to me, and I figured that was as much privacy as I was going to get.
I undid the tie around my neck, letting the top half of my dress fall away from my body, and pulled on the plain black bra. The tank top was loose with giant armholes that showed off half my sides and a decent portion of the bra. The front featured a picture of a bandanna-wearing skull. There was writing above the skull, but I couldn’t read the language.
The pants were sturdy and laced up the front. A long zipper ran along one outer thigh, giving me access to my skin for reasons that were beyond me. But the pants were comfortable and they’d hold up much better than my skirt had. The studded boots were a little big, but when I tightened the laces, they worked well enough.
When I was dressed, I tore a strip of fabric from my dress and used it to tie my hair up in a high ponytail. It was partially practical and partially sentimental. I wanted to hold on to the last thing I had from Heaven.
“Okay, you can turn around.”
Joriel’s eyes drank me in, and his lips parted as he sucked in a breath. He looked sort of pained. “You look…”
“Like I’m wearing a dead woman’s clothes?”
“Badass,” he finished.
“I’m honestly not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”
“It is.” He didn’t exactly sound happy about that. “There’s something else.”
“Oh?”
He knelt and pulled a slim dagger from his boot. It looked wickedly sharp, and the handle was fashioned like it was made out of metal scales. “It’s a close-range weapon. Demons mostly fight up close and personal.” He made it sound like he was apologizing.
“It’s gorgeous,” I breathed.
His lips tipped up at the corners. “Does that mean you’ll wear it?”
I nodded.
He gestured toward the zipper in my pants. “May I?”
I nodded again and watched in fascination as he tugged the zipper down and slid a leather strap around my thigh. He fastened the dagger in place and closed the zipper as much as he could around the weapon. At least now I understood the purpose of the non-pocket.
“Have you ever used a blade before?” he asked, looking up at me. He was still on his knees, his hands still holding my leg.
“No,” I whispered. My voice sounded off, too low and husky. Joriel’s fingers on my thigh were making me feel things I didn’t want to be thinking, not after I’d watched him kiss someone else like she was the only woman in the world.
“We can work on it, but I think we should get moving. We’ve been in one place for a while already.”
We trekked through the marshland for hours, Joriel’s eyes constantly scanning for any signs of danger. The landscape never really seemed to change. No matter how far we walked, it was the same wet grass and shallow pools. The fog never cleared, and the humidity made it feel like we were swimming through the air.
“How long do you think this swamp goes on?” I asked.
“I have no idea.”
