11. The Pure Light of God
Deyva
“Y ou’re sulking.”
I glared down at the three human men standing at the front of the church and resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at them.
Sulking, that was what Stavros had said.
Like my being concerned by the way these humans just let a Fallen angel through their gates without a second thought was in some way a childish reaction.
“Idiots,” I muttered, not really caring if the word floated down to human ears from where I was tucked away in the balcony.
Except the only face that looked up was that of the angel’s. Azariah. Which was a pompous fucking name.
He stared at me without blinking as the men and women knelt and prayed at Zach’s urging. Even Stavros, my beautiful hedonistic lover, was on his knees. And the angel looked up and met my gaze, impassive and all too fucking observant.
I raised my hand, pointing two fingers at my eyes and glaring back down at him, before turning my hand and pointing them down at his face.
He shook with a little laugh and then winced as it jostled his wings.
Broken wings, twisted feathers, a few places where they were missing entirely, no doubt plucked away by some sadistic hand.
Fine. So Azariah had been tortured in hell. Wah, wah, hadn’t we all? What did he want, a medal? I’d get the gold on that one, buddy , I thought.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, swallowing my groan.
Shit, the humans tasted good though. They were incandescent with happiness.
They thought God had sent them a savior.
What they didn’t realize was that it was more likely Hell had sent a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
I’d been tossed from Hell under Kimaris’ petty temper, but there was no way Hell was casting off one of their Fallen.
Fallen were like the infinite food source, if they didn’t sign up to be Hell’s greatest warriors.
I suspected this one was the former. I’d called him Hell-touched, but it seemed to be mild so far, just a couple decorative claws at the top of his wings and some black embellishment to his feathers. He hadn’t sprouted horns yet or anything.
Ha, ha.
A chorus of amens rose from the audience and then, before their heads were raised, that fucking angel winked at me.
Oh game on, you imperious little asshole , I thought.
The townspeople dawdled in their pews, gazing at the angel. They were waiting on another miracle, and I was simultaneously gleeful and wary of the moment that they realized he certainly wasn’t it.
“I know we’re all very excited, but let’s remember, folks, that there’s always work to do, every day. Go on home and get some rest. Our new guest isn’t going to fly away, right?” Kais said, an awkward and nervous attempt at humor made. Shit, even he was giddy.
“Not until my wings are healed at least,” Azariah said, attempting a sheepish shrug and then doing a drama queen’s best performance of a pained wince.
I rolled my eyes as the room cooed with worry and happiness. Give me a fucking break.
Slowly and reluctantly, they cleared the chapel, heading out the front doors.
Stavros glanced up at one point, checking on me and grinning, his arms crossed over his chest and a dopey kind of happiness in his gaze.
I wanted to believe that look was there because of me, which was a shocking revelation on its own.
It was worse to know that it probably had more to do with the angel than the heady depth of emotion he’d been sharing during our sex tonight.
Because he’s just fucking me so no one else has to, I reminded myself spitefully. I was getting...too human about this arrangement.
I sighed and pushed off the balcony, ready to slink back to the office for the day.
“Deyva,” Kais called up to the balcony, stopping me in place. He and Zach were crowding around Azariah’s wings, frowning at the torn and mangled feathers. “What do you know about wings?”
A lot, actually. Before Belial passed me off to Kimaris, it’d been in my job description to patch up the Fallen and then remind them of the perks of being aligned with a succubus after they’d landed. I was good advertisement for the perks of Hell.
Azariah watched me, and the three men, my men in some ways, stared up at me.
“Just don’t...touch anything until I get down there,” I said.
Oh Deyva, we don’t trust you, but can you take care of our new best friend the angel from fucking Hell? Isn’t he pretty and shiny? We love his horns and his sin-stained feathers.
My mouth pursed and twisted with my petty inner monologue as I stomped my way down the stairs and heaved open the side door to the chapel with a bang that made Azariah flinch and then shudder with a groan.
“Feel free to stop being dramatic at any time,” I muttered, stomping my way over. Okay, maybe I was sulking just a little.
The three human men eyed me warily as I approached the Hell-touched angel, like the two of us in close proximity would create a black hole or something. But the star of the show just angled his head in my direction with a wry smile.
“Not all of us are as well-seasoned to the fiery pits as you, little succubus. Although I can sense your little vacation here on earth has treated you very well.”
“Aren’t you full of insight,” I scoffed.
Anyone who knew what to look for could tell I had recently fed.
I opted to ignore him in favor of examining his bad wing.
“You have a clean break here,” I pointed to the long bone that was misshapen and out of place, just below the main joint.
“I can set it, but I’ll need stuff to make a splint to hold it while it heals. ”
“I’m on it.” Stavros immediately jumped up from the front pew and headed for the nearest door.
Even with Azariah watching me closely, I couldn’t help but train my gaze on Stavros' wide back as he hurried to find what I needed.
The sting was palpable, that he would be so quick to help this creature rather than stay here with me.
Zach or Kais would have made more sense, but why him?
Did seeing this angel suddenly restore his faith?
And if it did, what did that mean for our… time together?
I hated to admit that being with him was about more than just feeding now.
It had been so long since I enjoyed the physical act of sex for the simple, mechanical motions that it was.
The sweet ache of a cock filling me, the heat of bare skin, and pressure of another body on top of me.
At some point, maybe just today, I stopped viewing Stavros as a mere sacrifice.
His visits became a treat, something I looked forward to after long, boring days futzing around the church.
I had succumbed to the age-old human malady of catching feelings.
The door closing after him felt like the metaphorical slap in the face of him reinforcing that he was just fucking me to keep everyone else safe.
Keeping my face blank, I turned back to Azariah, moving around to examine him for other injuries until Stavros came back.
The angel missed nothing though, bright blue eyes tracking me like a bird of prey.
Kais stood atop the pulpit, ever the watchful soldier with his crossbow still in his hands as he stood over us.
Zach on the other hand, couldn’t tear his eyes away from Azariah.
He sat on the edge of the stage, a full body length between himself and the injured angel, as if he dared not encroach on this holy creature’s space.
The youngest priest just gazed openly, staring in awe, with wonderment in his eyes, mouth parted slightly. Azariah didn’t seem to mind—rather he seemed to bask in the attention.
“You may come closer, Father Zachariah,” the angel smiled at him, holding out a hand. “Do not be afraid of me.”
I held back a snort as Zach scooted closer, accepted Azariah’s outstretched hand. He was falling hook, line, and sinker—which would be one hell of a problem if this angel really was under Hell’s orders.
“Can I get you anything?” Zach managed to ask in an awed whisper. “Some water or food, maybe? A change of clothes?”
“Sweet child of God,” Azariah cooed, wrapping his fingers tighter around Zach’s. “Sheltered in the house of our Lord with kind souls such as yourself, I need nothing else.”
Behind Azariah’s back, I rolled my eyes hard. Kais huffed out a breath that could have been a laugh.
“However,” Azariah continued. “I would be most grateful for some wine and a clean pair of pants, yes.”
Zach jumped up to obey so fast, he nearly tripped over his own feet on his way out of the chapel. I brought my forehead down to my palm, but had to give Stavros some credit. At least he wasn’t a complete overeager puppy as far as the angel was concerned.
“You don’t have any other major injuries,” I said flatly, hopping off the pulpit to face Azariah from the front.
“Once I set that wing, and we deal with some of these feather issues, you should be in flying shape after enough time to heal. A good soak in the shower and maybe cleaning with oil should repair most of the surface damage. Kais would probably share some of his holy oil for this.”
“Of course,” Kais said with a shrug.
“You have my deepest gratitude, First Daughter.” Azariah inclined his head toward me, but his smile was mocking. His eyes were cunning. I didn’t trust this guy as far as I could throw him.
I crossed my arms with a narrow-eyed glare. “So who sent you here?”
“Devya,” Kais warned, his voice sharp with authority. “Take it easy. We’ll be questioning him after he’s treated and we’ve all been able to rest.”
“Really?” My gaze shot up to him, standing guard with his weapon like the warrior priests of centuries past. “You think you guys are the most unbiased, impartial judges here?”
“Are you?” he fired back. “Azariah just got here, and you’re stomping around like a petulant child.”