Chapter 4 – Sariel
I insisted on being the first to carry our dainty Nephilim toward our destination. It gives me a chance to test the waters. I have a plan and my plans are usually a lot of fun. Well, for me at least.
A couple of hours into the flight, she’s still enchanted by the new perspective of being hundreds of feet above ground. Every now and then she glances toward my black-feathered wings, her large, cornflower blue eyes gleaming. I remember that she must not have had a chance to see any up close before, what with the Fallen at Purgatory all rejecting an archdemon’s aid in regaining the power to summon them.
She’s also staring dazedly at Itha’s snow-white wings as he flies a safe distance away so that our wings don’t tangle, but close enough should Jessica need him. Because he doesn’t think she’s safe with me.
Ithuriel… a thousand years ago, he was one of the two reasons for my existence, right after the honor of serving God and executing His will. But that should have been the only reason. I knew not long after my creation, when I started exploring the purpose behind it, that there was something wrong with me for how much I longed to be in his presence. When we were in our mortal forms, I yearned to run my fingers through his pearlescent hair. To run the tip of my nose over the arch of his wings, perhaps eliciting a shudder. Desire would coil in my stomach, overpowering everything else, including reason.
Itha thinks I fell because I wanted to fuck mortals. I fell because I would have been his damnation. It took centuries for me to take my first lover, though he was always at the forefront of my thoughts as I’d find release.
My resolve to maintain his innocence weakened. I hoped he would come to see me. Back then I would have seduced him the moment I saw him and kept him by my side. But then more centuries passed in silence, until today, when it became obvious to me that he had forgotten I even existed while I’d been pining over him. My heart pounds in shame and betrayal.
I’m still going to seduce him. Just not to keep him. I’m going to ruin him. And little miss Nephilim’s going to help. I see the way she reacts to him, to the pale physical perfection, the goodness emanating from him. Even now she’s taking furtive glances at the angel’s sculpted face and chewing on her bottom lip. She couldn’t have been more obvious if she tried.
I lean in to speak in her ear, giving her the illusion of privacy, fully intending to be overheard. Our hearing far surpasses hers. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” I whisper, making her shudder. She might be attracted to Ithuriel’s holy perfection, but I know how to make unholy sin feel so, so good. In the corner of my vision, I can see Itha’s body stiffen mid-flight.
She quietly clears her throat. “I haven’t seen an unattractive angel.” She softly avoids answering directly, and I laugh.
“Ah, but there’s just something about Itha. Those high cheekbones,” I growl hotly. “The sad gray eyes. That pale, long neck. You’ve no idea how often I fantasized about just sinking my teeth into that perfect skin and marking it.”
Jessica gasps and I can feel her muscles shifting as she squeezes her thighs together. Looking at Ithuriel, I see wide-open eyes and flushed cheeks. He’s positively aghast. It’s all I can do to stop myself from laughing. Ah, this is just perfect. I plan on having them both eat out of the palms of my hands before we even enter Belial’s territory.
“This was before you fell?” the mortal asks. I cut my gaze back to her and narrow my eyes, but I see she didn’t ask to get back at me for embarrassing her – she’s genuinely curious about me.
“I don’t remember much from before I fell,” I lie. I remember everything. Every minute I spent apart from the angel flying beside us. Every restless night where I’d watch humans fall in love and give in to their primal urges. I would fantasize about spreading Itha’s white thighs and feasting on him.
Jessica tilts her head and squints up at me, possibly calling me out on my lie with her gaze. “Are queer pairings more common among Celestials?” she asks instead. Curious little kitten.
Though same-gender pairings were always rarer, I did not find it peculiar that I yearned for someone who chose to identify as the same sex, even back then. For the love of chocolate-covered peanuts, I was not supposed to yearn for anyone at all! Why would the genitalia on the outside of their being matter?
I shake my head and bring myself to the present. Being in Ithuriel’s presence is making me fall into the same cycle of self-flagellation I experienced before my fall.
“As there are no pairings in Heaven, your question’s really: ‘Are queer pairings more common in Hell?’ ” I allow us to drop a couple of feet, enjoying her frightened yelp and the way she clings to me tighter. “Demons are equal-opportunity fuckers, poppet.”
The Nephilim flushes again and I’m tempted to transfer her weight onto one arm and run the back of my hand against those scarlet cheeks, check how warm they get when she does it. “Are you trying to shock me with your words?” the kitten asks and I laugh loudly, making Itha turn toward us again, this time with an inscrutable look.
“Just making sure you’re not bored, poppet,” I murmur, my eyes still on my once-friend’s. After a couple of seconds, he looks ahead again.
“I’m being flown through Hell on the wings of angels, on a mission to save humanity via rift-closure. I’ll then go topside for the first time in years, and let me remind you, I haven’t seen the sun in that long. How could I possibly be bored?”
I snort at the Nephilim’s dry humor. “I’m pretty sure that’s the most you’ve spoken in one go since we met, kitten.”
She rolls her eyes. “First poppet, now kitten. How many more diminishing nicknames can I look forward to?”
I widen my eyes in fake affront. “Diminishing? Honey, if you were any smaller, you’d disappear. You’re practically a Christmas elf.” Instead of being offended, the mortal throws her head back and guffaws. At least she’s not one of those sticklers for political correctness.
I enjoy the sight of her mirth for a moment, then scan the ground below and in front of us again. There’s been minimal movement since we began our flight – just an odd minion here and there, doing depraved minion things. We’re flying away from Purgatory, away from Ash’s domain, and have just entered the missing Asmodai’s, just as vast and all-encompassing, just as perilous to the mortal in my arms.
“At least I don’t look like I mainline steroids,” she says, pulling me back to our conversation. It’s my turn to laugh. Even though I’m carrying her through the air (but we just determined she’s far from heavy), I somehow feel lighter than I have in months. Ever since Armaros…
Well. There went that.