Uriel (Speed Dating with the Denizens of the Underworld #39)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Uriel

The tires of the Audi Q8 crunch over gravel as we make our way back up the winding driveway. The rain, which had begun to let up during our drive, now pelts the windshield with renewed fury. I lean forward, squinting through the blur of water and wildly swinging wipers.

Beside me, Emilia fidgets with the radio dial, searching for a clear signal through the static. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, a small crease forming between her eyebrows that I find inexplicably endearing. I force my gaze back to the treacherous road ahead, chiding myself for the distraction.

Suddenly, a voice crackles through the speakers, cutting through the white noise. “...unexpected storm system striking Los Angeles and surrounding areas. Meteorologists are baffled by the sudden formation of this massive weather front...”

Emilia and I exchange a look, the same thought clearly passing between us. This is no ordinary storm.

“Residents are advised to stay indoors and avoid all non-essential travel,” the announcer continues. “Flash flood warnings are in effect for the following counties...”

I tune out the list, focusing instead on navigating the increasingly hazardous driveway. The rain is coming down in sheets now, reducing visibility to mere feet in front of the car. The windshield wipers are fighting a losing battle against the deluge.

“Uriel,” Emilia says, her voice tight with concern. “Maybe we should pull over and wait it out?”

I’m about to agree when I feel the car lurch beneath us. The tires spin, seeking purchase on the now-muddy ground. We’re sliding backwards.

“Hold on,” I growl, gripping the steering wheel tightly. I fight against the skid, trying to angle us towards the shoulder of the driveway where the ground might be more stable.

For a heart-stopping moment, I think we might go over the edge. But then the tires catch on something—a rock, a root, I don’t know—and we jolt to a stop.

We sit there for a moment, the only sound our heavy breathing and the relentless drumming of rain on the roof. Emilia’s hand is gripping the center console, her knuckles white. Without thinking, I cover it with my own.

“Are you alright?” I ask, searching her face for signs of distress.

She nods, a shaky smile forming on her lips. “Yeah. Just... not how I expected this little outing to go.”

I can’t help but chuckle at that. “Indeed. It seems the universe has other plans for us today.”

As if in response, a flash of lightning illuminates the sky, followed almost immediately by a deafening crack of thunder. Emilia jumps, her hand tightening under mine.

“We can’t stay here,” I say, reluctantly pulling my hand away to assess our situation. “The car could start sliding again at any moment.”

Emilia peers out the window, squinting through the rain. “How far are we from the house?”

I follow her gaze, trying to make out familiar landmarks through the downpour. “Not far. Perhaps a quarter mile?”

She nods, determination setting her jaw. “Okay. So we make a run for it?”

“It appears we have little choice,” I agree, already shrugging out of my jacket. “Here, take this.”

Emilia looks at me, confusion clear in her eyes. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, draping the jacket over her shoulders. It’s a futile gesture, really—the thin fabric will do little against the torrent outside. But some deeply ingrained instinct compels me to offer what protection I can.

“Ready?” I ask, hand on the door handle.

Emilia takes a deep breath, then nods. “As I’ll ever be.”

We burst out of the car simultaneously, immediately assaulted by the full force of the storm. The rain is cold, each drop feeling like a tiny needle against my skin. Wind whips around us, threatening to tear Emilia’s much smaller frame away.

I glance down at her feet, suddenly realizing the impracticality of her high heels in these treacherous conditions. Without hesitation, I scoop her into my arms.

“Uriel!” she gasps, clearly startled by my action.

“Your shoes,” I explain, raising my voice to be heard over the howling wind. “They’re not suitable for this terrain.”

She nods in understanding, wrapping her arms around my neck for security.

“Stay with me!” I shout over the howling gale, pulling her closer.

I stumble forward, fighting against the wind and rain. The path, usually so clear and well-maintained, has become a treacherous mudslide. Twice, I nearly lose my footing, but manage to keep us both upright.

Time loses all meaning as we struggle onwards. It could have been minutes or hours; I couldn’t say. All I know is the weight of Emilia in my arms, the burn in my legs as we climb ever upwards, and the relentless assault of the storm.

Finally, blessedly, the looming shape of the mansion comes into view. With renewed energy, we push forward, practically falling against the heavy oak door in our haste to reach shelter.

I gently set Emilia down, fumbling with the key, my usually steady hands shaking from cold and exertion. After what feels like an eternity, the lock clicks and we tumble inside.

The sudden absence of howling wind is almost deafening. We stand there in the foyer, dripping onto the marble floor, both panting heavily. Emilia’s hair is plastered to her face, my jacket hanging off her like a sodden second skin. I’m sure I look no better.

“Well,” Emilia says, a hint of her usual humor returning. “That was refreshing, wasn’t it?”

I’m about to respond when suddenly, with a fizzling sound, the lights go out. We’re plunged into near-total darkness, the only illumination coming from the occasional flash of lightning through the windows.

“Perfect,” I mutter. “Stay here. I’ll find some candles.”

I make my way carefully through the darkened house, relying more on memory than sight. In the parlor, I manage to get a fire started in the grand fireplace, its warm glow chasing away some of the gloom.

From a cabinet nearby, I retrieve an emergency kit—candles, matches, flashlights, and other essentials. I’ve always been one for preparation, a trait my brothers often tease me about. But in moments like these, it pays off.

When I return to the foyer, I find Emilia hasn’t moved. She’s shivering violently, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“We need to get out of these clothes,” I say, concern overriding any sense of impropriety. “Come on, we’ll find something for you in my closet.”

I lead her upstairs, the beam of the flashlight creating eerie shadows on the walls. In my bedroom, I rummage through drawers, searching for something that might fit her much smaller frame.

“Here,” I say, handing her a soft sweater and a pair of drawstring pants. “They’ll be too big, but they’re dry.”

Our eyes meet in the dim light, and suddenly I’m acutely aware of our proximity. Of the way her dress clings to her curves, how a droplet of water trails down her neck to disappear beneath her collar. Of how very alone we are in this vast, dark house.

Emilia takes a step closer, her eyes never leaving mine. “Uriel,” she breathes, and the sound of my name on her lips sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the cold.

I don’t know who moves first. One moment we’re standing apart, the next my hands are cupping her face and her fingers are tangled in my damp shirt. Our lips meet in a kiss that’s equal parts desperation and desire, hot enough to chase away the chill that’s seeped into our bones.

For a blissful moment, I lose myself in the taste of her, the feel of her body pressed against mine. But then reality crashes back, and I jerk away as if burned.

“I... I apologize,” I stammer, taking a step back. “That was... incredibly inappropriate of me.”

Emilia stands there, lips slightly parted, confusion and hurt entwining in her eyes. “Uriel...”

But I’m already retreating, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. “You should change,” I say, not meeting her gaze. “I’ll... I’ll be downstairs.”

I flee the room before she can respond, my heart pounding in my chest. What have I done? How could I have let myself lose control like that?

As I hurry down the stairs, my mind is a tempest of conflicting emotions. Millennia of celestial discipline war against the sudden, overwhelming surge of mortal longing. The burden of being the Archangel of Chastity weighs heavily upon me, a constant reminder of the sacred oaths I’ve sworn. Yet, for the first time in eons, I find myself questioning the very foundations of my existence.

These... feelings for Emilia—they’re not just fleeting human desires. They’re a force of nature, as powerful and unstoppable as the storm raging outside. They threaten to upend everything I’ve ever known, everything I’ve ever been.

But perhaps most terrifying of all is the realization that a part of me welcomes this upheaval. A part of me yearns to cast aside the rigid constraints of duty and simply embrace the intoxicating warmth of human connection.

I pause on the landing, gripping the banister as if it could anchor me against the tide of change threatening to sweep me away. How can I reconcile the Uriel I’ve always been with the Uriel I’m becoming? And more importantly, do I even want to?

And yet, the memory of Emilia’s lips on mine lingers, a temptation I’m finding increasingly difficult to resist. The way she felt in my arms, the soft sound she made when I kissed her... it haunts me, calling to something deep within that I’ve long tried to ignore.

I pause at the bottom of the stairs, leaning heavily against the wall. The house is silent save for the muffled sound of rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. In this moment of solitude, I allow myself to confront the truth I’ve been avoiding.

I’m falling for Emilia Thornton.

The realization hits me with the force of a celestial revelation. It’s terrifying, exhilarating, and utterly, irrevocably true. But as quickly as the thought forms, dread follows in its wake.

I close my eyes, my mind reeling. It’s one thing to acknowledge these... feelings. To recognize the warmth that spreads through my chest when she smiles, the way my breath catches when she’s near. But to act on them? To take her as my wife, to... consummate such a union?

The very thought sends a shudder through me—of disdain or desire, I can no longer tell. My brothers have their roles, but mine... mine is to stand at the crossroads of realities, ensuring neither light nor darkness gains too much power. I am the Celestial Harmonizer. How can I contemplate abandoning this sacred duty for mortal desires?

For millennia, I’ve been Uriel, the Archangel of Chastity. My vows are not merely words, but the very foundation of my being. To break them, even in the name of saving the world... can I truly contemplate such a thing?

The tremors that wracked the earth, the storms that even now batter at the windows—they are but a prelude to the devastation that awaits if we fail.

If I fail.

I think of Emilia, of her fierce compassion, her unwavering determination to help others. Would it not be the height of selfishness to prioritize my vows over the lives of billions?

But then, a darker thought intrudes. What if this is all part of some grand temptation? A test of my resolve, my dedication to my holy purpose?

I pace the room, conflict tearing me apart. On one side, duty, purity, eons of divine purpose. On the other, the warm brown of Emilia’s eyes, the sound of her laughter, the intoxicating possibility of a love I’ve never known.

And underpinning it all, the ticking clock of apocalypse.

I sink into a chair, my head in my hands. For the first time in my long, long existence, I find myself utterly lost. The path forward, once so clear, now twists and branches, each possibility fraught with consequence.

Yes, I am falling for Emilia Thornton. But whether that fall will be my salvation or my damnation remains to be seen.

How did I get here? When did Ms. Thornton—Emilia—become more than just an irritating colleague? Was it during our candlelit dinner, when I saw a softer side of her? Or perhaps earlier, in all those heated arguments at the hospital, where her passion and determination both infuriated and fascinated me?

The sound of footsteps pulls me from my reverie. I look up to see Emilia standing in the doorway, drowning in my oversized clothes. Her hair is damp and tousled, her face free of makeup. She’s never looked more beautiful.

“Hey,” she says softly, hovering uncertainly at the threshold.

“Hello,” I respond, my voice equally quiet. “Are you... warm enough?”

She nods, taking a tentative step into the room. “Yeah, thanks. These are... really comfortable.”

An awkward silence falls between us, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension. Emilia shifts from foot to foot, clearly debating whether to approach or retreat.

Finally, she takes a deep breath and moves to sit in the chair opposite mine. “So,” she says, a forced lightness in her tone, “are we going to talk about what happened upstairs?”

I stiffen, my gaze fixed firmly on the fire. “I... I’m not sure what there is to discuss. It was a momentary lapse in judgment. It won’t happen again.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Emilia flinch as if I’ve struck her. “A lapse in judgment,” she repeats, her voice flat. “Right. Of course.”

The hurt in her tone cuts through me like a blade. I want to take back the words, to explain that it’s not her, it’s me—but that sounds trite even in my own mind.

“Emilia,” I begin, finally turning to face her. “You must understand. I have responsibilities, vows that I’ve upheld for millennia. I can’t simply...”

“Can’t simply what?” she challenges, a spark of her usual fire returning. “Feel something? Care about someone? Live a little?”

I shake my head, frustration mounting. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” She leans forward, her eyes blazing in the firelight. “We’re facing the potential end of the world, Uriel. If there was ever a time to throw caution to the wind, I’d say this is it.”

Her words stir something in me, a longing I’ve kept buried for so long. But still, I resist. “And what happens when this is over? When the world is saved and we return to our normal lives? What then, Emilia?”

She falls silent at that, the fire in her eyes dimming. “I... I don’t know,” she admits quietly. “But does it matter? Can’t we just... live in the moment? For once?”

I close my eyes, the burden of immortal years heavy upon my soul. “I don’t know if I know how,” I confess, the words barely above a whisper.

I feel her move before I see her. Suddenly, she’s kneeling before me, her hands resting lightly on my knees. “Then let me show you,” she says softly.

I open my eyes to find her face inches from mine. There’s no guile in her expression, no hidden agenda. Just open, honest emotion that takes my breath away.

For a long moment, we stay like that, balanced on the knife’s edge of possibility. Then, slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, Emilia leans in.

This kiss is different from our first. It’s not born of desperation or impulse, but of choice. It’s soft, tentative, a question asked in the language of touch.

And despite every logical argument, every stern reminder of duty and propriety, I find myself answering. My hands come up to cradle her face, thumbs stroking gently over her cheekbones as I deepen the kiss.

Emilia makes a soft sound of contentment, and it’s like a dam breaking inside me. All the longing, all the desire I’ve been suppressing comes rushing to the surface. I pull her closer, lost in the taste of her, the feel of her body against mine.

When we finally part, both breathing heavily, I rest my forehead against hers. “Emilia,” I murmur, her name a prayer on my lips.

She smiles, a radiant thing that outshines even the fire’s glow. “See? The world didn’t end.”

I can’t help but chuckle at that. “No, I suppose it didn’t.”

As we sit there, tangled together before the fire, I feel a sense of peace settle over me. I know there are still trials ahead, still questions to be answered and obstacles to overcome. But for now, in this moment, I allow myself to simply be.

To feel.

To love.

The storm rages on outside, but here in this room, with Emilia in my arms, I’ve found a different kind of shelter. And for the first time in my long, long existence, I’m not afraid of what tomorrow might bring.