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

Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

Uriel

The door closes behind us with a soft click, sealing Emilia and me in a cocoon of sudden intimacy. The guest room, spacious by mortal standards, feels impossibly small. I stand rigid, hands clasped behind my back, acutely aware of Emilia’s warmth beside me.

Soft lamplight bathes the room in a gentle glow. The decor is tasteful—muted greys and soft blues that would normally soothe my celestial senses. Abstract paintings adorn the walls, their swirling patterns reminiscent of the cosmic dance of creation. A large window offers a view of the city below, its twinkling lights a pale imitation of the celestial realm I once called home.

My gaze falls upon the room’s focal point: a solitary king-sized bed. The sight sends an unexpected tremor through my usually unflappable demeanor.

I find myself adjusting my collar, an oddly human gesture that betrays my inner turmoil. Millennia of existence, of unwavering dedication to my role as the Archangel of Chastity, and yet here I am, undone by the prospect of sharing a bed with a mortal woman. Supernatural battles, narrowly averted disasters, my brother’s surprising romance, and now this absurd plan involving demonic speed dating—it’s almost too much to process, even for a being of my longevity and experience.

My internal deliberations are cut short by a gentle rap at the door. Raphael saunters in, his arms full of bedding, his expression one I’ve seen countless times over millennia—the look of an immortal about to thoroughly enjoy causing mischief.

Raphael’s words drip with barely contained mirth, “Here you go. I’m afraid there’s only one bed.” His eyebrows dance in a way that would be comical if I weren’t the target of his amusement. I feel a flicker of the exasperation that only a brother can provoke.

Emilia’s voice breaks through my irritation, embarrassment coloring her tone as she appeals to Raphael’s sense of propriety. But I know my brother too well—propriety has never been his strong suit.

“Sorry, no can do,” he interrupts, grinning. “This’ll have to do. I’m sure you two can... figure something out.”

“Raphael!” Helena’s voice calls from down the hall, tinged with laughter. “Stop tormenting them and come to bed!” I’m struck by how well she fits into our celestial family dynamic, despite her demonic heritage.

With a final wink, he’s gone, leaving us in a silence so profound I can hear the soft rhythm of Emilia’s breathing. Her scent—lavender and something uniquely her—fills my senses, threatening to overwhelm me.

I chance a glance at Emilia from the corner of my eye. Her cheeks are flushed, a strand of hair twirled nervously around her finger. Her visible unease surprisingly alleviates some of my own tension.

An eternity of angelic harmonies has not prepared me for this mortal silence, laden with unspoken words and unfamiliar tensions. I open my mouth to speak, to offer some words of reassurance or perhaps suggest an alternative arrangement, but Emilia beats me to it.

Our words collide in the air between us, and I’m momentarily struck by the symbolism—angel and human, our voices intertwining in this small, mundane moment.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to meet her gaze. Her eyes, warm and brown and so achingly human, threaten to undo me completely. I fix my gaze on a point just over her left shoulder, attempting to regain my composure.

Emilia takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. The movement draws my attention to the graceful curve of her neck, and I quickly avert my gaze, ashamed of my wayward thoughts.

I fall back on formality, offering to take the floor as propriety dictates. But Emilia’s pragmatic response catches me off guard. “We’re both adults,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact. “The bed is plenty big enough to share.” Her words send an unexpected thrill through me, equal parts anticipation and trepidation.

As we move about the room, preparing for bed with an awkward dance of politeness and averted gazes, my mind wanders to Helena’s plan. If it works—if we can stop War and prevent the apocalypse without fulfilling the prophecy—it means I’m no longer bound to Emilia. No divine mandate, no cosmic push forcing us together.

I should feel relieved. After all, isn’t this what I’ve wanted since the beginning? A way to save the world without compromising my vows, without having to confront the tumultuous emotions that Emilia stirs in me?

So why does the thought fill me with a sadness so profound it threatens to bring me to my knees?

I glance at Emilia as she brushes her hair, the simple act so human, so beautifully mundane. The lamp casts a soft glow on her features, highlighting the curve of her cheek, the arch of her eyebrow. A lump forms in my throat as I realize that without the prophecy, without this cosmic push forcing us together, I might never have allowed myself to know her. To see beyond Ms. Thornton, the troublesome social worker, to Emilia—brave, compassionate, infuriating, wonderful Emilia.

The realization hits me with the force of divine revelation: prophecy or no prophecy, I’m falling for her. The thought is terrifying, exhilarating, and utterly, irrevocably true.

We ease onto the mattress with deliberate caution, an invisible barrier separating us. I find my eyes drawn to Emilia, and in this muted light, her countenance takes on an almost ethereal quality, fragile and unguarded. Our situation, the fear and uncertainty that she’s been carrying, is visible in the slight furrow of her brow.

“Uriel?” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the soft hum of the air conditioning.

I turn to face her fully, drawn in by the softness in her voice. “Yes, Emilia?”

She swallows hard, and I find myself captivated by the movement of her throat. “Thank you,” she says softly. “For everything. For trusting me, for bringing me into all this. I know it can’t be easy for you.”

Her words catch me off guard. After everything she’s been through, everything she’s risked, and she’s thanking me ? I’m quiet for a long moment, searching for the right words to express the tumult of emotions she stirs in me.

“You don’t need to thank me, Emilia,” I finally say, my voice low and intense. “If anything, I should be thanking you. Your courage, your compassion... you’ve changed everything. Including me. ”

The words feel inadequate, unable to fully convey the depth of what I’m feeling. How can I explain that she’s shaken the very foundations of my existence? That she’s made me question everything I thought I knew about myself, about humanity, about love?

Emilia reaches out and squeezes my hand, the simple touch sending sparks of electricity through me. “We’ll figure this out,” she says softly.

I intertwine my fingers with hers, marveling at how perfectly her hand fits in mine. “We will,” I agree, the words a promise and a prayer.

As Emilia drifts off to sleep, her hand still in mine, I find myself more awake than ever. The warmth of her palm against mine, the soft sound of her breathing, the scent of her hair on the pillow next to me—it’s all overwhelming in its intimacy.

I gaze at her sleeping form, allowing myself to truly look at her in a way I never have before. The curve of her cheek, the flutter of her eyelashes, the slight part of her lips—every detail is seared into my memory. She is so beautifully, perfectly human. Fragile and strong, flawed and magnificent.

And I love her.

The realization doesn’t come as a shock, but rather as an acknowledgment of something I’ve known for longer than I care to admit. I, Uriel, Archangel of Chastity, am in love with a mortal woman.

The irony of it all is not lost on me. For millennia, I’ve stood as a paragon of divine purity, untouched by mortal desires. And now, in the span of a few short days, I find myself utterly undone by a social worker from Los Angeles.

If my brothers only knew… they’d hardly recognize me. Gone is the certainty, the unwavering faith in my purpose. In its place is a maelstrom of doubt, desire, and a love so profound it threatens to consume me.

I think back to my conversation with Lucifer, to his insinuation that this was all part of some divine test. At the time, I’d rejected the idea outright. But now, lying here with Emilia’s hand in mine, I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t some truth to it.

Not a test of faith, perhaps, but a test of growth. A chance to see beyond the rigid confines of my role, to experience the full spectrum of emotion that I’ve denied myself for so long.

Because loving Emilia—it doesn’t feel like a fall from grace. It feels like an ascension to something greater, something more profound than I’ve ever known.

And yet, the path forward is far from clear. The apocalypse still looms, War is still a threat, and our plan is tenuous at best. If we succeed, if we manage to thwart the end of the world without fulfilling the prophecy, where does that leave us?

The thought of returning to our separate lives, of going back to being Dr. Angelstone and Ms. Thornton, sends a pang through my chest so sharp it’s almost physical. How can I go back to who I was before, knowing what I know now? Feeling what I feel?

But the alternative—pursuing a relationship with Emilia outside the confines of the prophecy—is equally daunting. I am still an archangel, still bound by duties and responsibilities that span millennia. And she is human, with all the beautiful fragility that entails.

Could we bridge that gap? Could we find a way to be together that doesn’t compromise who we are?

I have no answers, only questions that swirl in my mind like a tempest. But as I lie here, listening to the soft rhythm of Emilia’s breathing, feeling the warmth of her hand in mine, I find that the uncertainty doesn’t terrify me as it once would have.

Each step forward, each new challenge, we’ll meet as one—her strength now woven irrevocably with mine. And that, I’m beginning to realize, is worth more than all the certainty in the universe.

As the night wears on, I find myself drifting closer to Emilia, drawn to her warmth like a moth to a flame. I know I should maintain my distance, should hold fast to the propriety that has defined me for so long. But in this moment, with the weight of the world quite literally on our shoulders, such concerns seem trivial.

I allow myself to relax, to sink into the comfort of her presence. And as I do, I feel something shift within me. It’s as if a wall I’ve maintained for millennia is crumbling, allowing emotions to flow freely for the first time.

Joy, fear, love, doubt—they crash over me in waves, each one more intense than the last. It’s overwhelming, terrifying, and completely exhilarating.

Is this what it means to be human? To feel so deeply, so intensely? If so, I begin to understand why my Father holds them in such high regard. There’s a beauty in their vulnerability, in their capacity to love despite knowing the pain it can bring.

As dawn begins to break, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, I make a decision. Prophecy or no prophecy, apocalypse or no apocalypse, I choose this. I choose her . I choose love.

As if sensing my thoughts, Emilia stirs beside me, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, confusion clouds her features as she takes in our close proximity. Then, a soft smile spreads across her face, chasing away the last vestiges of sleep.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, her voice husky from slumber.

“Good morning,” I reply, unable to keep the warmth from my tone.

We lie there for a moment, just looking at each other, the air between us charged with unspoken emotions. There’s so much I want to say, so much I need her to understand. But before I can find the words, a sharp knock at the door breaks the spell.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Raphael’s cheerful voice calls through the door. “We’ve got an apocalypse to stop!”

Emilia chuckles, the sound sending a warmth through my chest. “I guess that’s our cue,” she says, reluctantly pulling away.

As we prepare to face the day, to dive back into the chaos of our mission, I steal one last glance at Emilia. She catches my eye, a question in her gaze.

“Ready?” she asks, and I know she’s asking about more than just leaving the room.

I nod, feeling more certain than I have in eons. “Ready,” I confirm.

Together, we step out to face whatever comes next. And for the first time in my long, long existence, I feel truly, completely alive.