Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
Emilia
The gentle pitter-patter of rain against the windows rouses me from a deep slumber. I blink slowly, the world coming into focus in hazy increments. The first thing I notice is that this isn’t my cramped apartment bedroom. The ceiling is too high, the sheets too soft, the air too... clean. For a moment, panic flutters in my chest before the events of the past few days come rushing back.
Right. The mansion. The earthquakes. The apocalypse.
Uriel.
A groan escapes me as I roll over, burying my face in the pillow. My head throbs with a dull ache, a reminder of the wine I indulged in last night. Last night... Oh god.
Bits and pieces of the evening flash through my mind like a disjointed slideshow. The elaborate dinner. The stars. Uriel’s intense gaze across the candlelit table. And then...
Heat rises to my cheeks as I remember my behavior. Had I really touched his face? Called him my hero? Mortification washes over me in waves. What must he think of me now?
But as embarrassment fades, another emotion takes its place. A warm, fluttery feeling in my chest as I recall Uriel’s gentleness. How he’d steadied me with a hand on my elbow, guided me carefully to my room. He could have taken advantage of my inebriated state, but he didn’t. He was... a perfect gentleman.
Or maybe he just doesn’t care about me that way at all.
The thought sends an unexpected pang through my heart. I push it aside, refusing to examine it too closely. This is Uriel we’re talking about. Dr. Stick-up-his-ass Angelstone. The bane of my professional existence. I can’t possibly be developing feelings for him.
Can I?
Shaking my head to clear it—and immediately regretting the motion as it intensifies my headache—I force myself to sit up. The room spins for a moment before settling. I need coffee. And maybe a gallon of water.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, toes sinking into the plush carpet. The patter of rain has intensified, no longer a gentle background noise but a steady drumming against the windows. Great. Trapped inside with my confusing thoughts and an archangel who may or may not be starring in some very inappropriate daydreams.
Just another day in paradise.
With a sigh, I heave myself up and shuffle to the closet. Time to face the day, and whatever awkwardness it might bring.
Twenty minutes and one long, hot shower later, I’m feeling marginally more human. I stand before the open closet, frowning at my limited options. Whoever packed for me seems to have focused on cocktail attire rather than practical, mountain-appropriate clothing.
After some deliberation, I settle on a Chanel dress—a secondhand find from my favorite thrift store. It’s a classic little black number, elegant but simple. Completely impractical for a rainy day in a mountain mansion, but it’s the least formal thing I have.
As I slip it on, smoothing the fabric over my hips, I can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous. Here I am, dressed for a Parisian cafe, about to have breakfast with an archangel while the world potentially ends outside. My life has taken a decidedly surreal turn.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever the day might bring. Then, head held high—despite the lingering headache—I make my way downstairs.
I find Uriel in the parlor, standing by a rain-lashed window with a steaming mug in his hand. He’s forgone his usual suit for a crisp white shirt and dark slacks, the top button undone in a rare display of casual elegance. The sight of him, backlit by the grey morning light, sends an unexpected flutter through my stomach.
He turns as I enter, and for a moment, I swear I see something flicker in his eyes. Surprise? Appreciation? But it’s gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “How are you feeling?”
I force a smile, pushing down the butterflies in my stomach. “Like I went ten rounds with a cement mixer,” I admit. “But I’ll live. I don’t suppose there’s more of whatever you’re drinking?”
The corner of his mouth twitches in what might be a smile. “Coffee’s in the kitchen. Black, I believe you said? Strong enough to raise the dead?”
I blink, surprised he remembered. “That’s the one. Thanks.”
As I move to the kitchen, I feel Uriel’s eyes on me. Self-consciousness creeps in, and I resist the urge to fidget with my dress. “I, uh, I know this isn’t exactly proper attire for a rainy day in,” I gesture vaguely, “all this. But it was either this or an evening gown, so...”
“You look lovely,” Uriel says, then clears his throat as if surprised by his own words. “I mean, it’s... suitable. For the circumstances.”
An awkward silence falls, heavy with unspoken things. I busy myself with pouring coffee, grateful for the distraction. When I turn back, mug in hand, Uriel is still watching me, his expression unreadable.
I take a sip of the rich, dark brew, sighing as the caffeine begins to work its magic. “So,” I say, desperate to break the tension, “any word on the apocalypse front? We haven’t been struck by lightning or swallowed by the earth, so I’m guessing that’s a good sign?”
Uriel’s brow furrows slightly. “No further seismic activity, as far as I can tell. But I fear our respite may be temporary.”
I nod, chewing my lip thoughtfully. An idea forms, and before I can second-guess myself, I blurt it out. “I was thinking... maybe I could pop back to my apartment? Pick up some, you know, normal clothes. Things better suited for averting the end times.”
Uriel raises an eyebrow. “You want to go shopping? Now?”
“Not shopping,” I clarify quickly. “Just... retrieving. From my own closet. Where I have jeans. And sweaters. And shoes that don’t have four-inch heels.”
He seems to consider this for a moment, his head tilted slightly. It’s almost... endearing. I quickly banish the thought.
“I suppose that could be arranged,” he says finally. “Though I’ll need to accompany you, of course. To maintain our... proximity.”
Right. Because being apart might trigger more earthquakes. Somehow, in the coziness of the morning, I’d almost forgotten the reality of our situation.
“Of course,” I say, aiming for nonchalance. “You’ll need to come with me. To avoid the end of the world, and all that.”
To my surprise, Uriel actually chuckles. It’s a warm, rich sound that I immediately want to hear again. “Indeed. Far be it from me to risk global catastrophe for the sake of your wardrobe.”
I can’t help but smile in return. “My hero,” I say, then immediately cringe as I remember using those exact words last night. But if Uriel notices, he doesn’t comment.
“We should leave soon,” he says, glancing out at the rain-soaked landscape. “The weather may worsen as the day progresses.”
I nod, draining the last of my coffee. “Just let me grab my things.”
Ten minutes later, we’re climbing into Uriel’s car—a sleek, midnight blue Audi Q8. Of course he drives an Audi , I think. Practical, luxurious, and just a touch pretentious. It suits him perfectly.
As we pull out of the long, winding driveway, the rain intensifies. Sheets of water cascade down the windshield, the wipers working overtime to maintain visibility. Uriel leans forward slightly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.
“Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.
I’m about to agree when suddenly, the car lurches to a stop. Water sprays up on either side as Uriel carefully reverses, but it’s no use. We’re stuck.
“What’s happening?” I ask, peering out the window. The world beyond the glass is a blur of grey and green.
Uriel’s jaw clenches. “The creek must have overflowed. The road ahead is flooded.”
My eyes widen as I take in the scene. Where the road should be, there’s now a swiftly moving stream of muddy water. It doesn’t look deep, but it’s certainly not something we should attempt to cross.
“Can we go back?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
Uriel shakes his head. “The driveway behind us is on an incline. In this rain, we’d risk sliding off the road entirely.”
Great. Just great. Trapped in a car with an archangel in the middle of nowhere. If this were a romance novel, I’d be swooning. As it is, I’m just... nervous? Excited? I’m not sure which, and that uncertainty is maddening.
“So... what do we do?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.
Uriel lets out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “We wait,” he says simply. “The rain will let up eventually, and the water level will recede. We just need to be patient.”
Patient. Right. Because I’m so good at that.
An awkward silence descends, broken only by the steady drumming of rain on the roof. My fingers toy with the hem of my dress as I remain intensely attuned to Uriel’s proximity. The car suddenly feels very small.
“I, uh... I wanted to apologize,” I say finally, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “For last night. I was... not at my best.”
Uriel turns to look at me, his expression softening. “There’s no need to apologize, Emilia. You did nothing wrong.”
The use of my first name sends an unexpected thrill through me. “Still,” I persist, “I’m not usually so... forward. Or clumsy. Or, well, drunk.”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “I assure you, I’ve seen far worse behavior in my time. You were... charming.”
Charming? Me? I feel heat rising to my cheeks and quickly look away, focusing on the rain-blurred landscape outside.
“So,” I say, desperate to change the subject, “what does an archangel do for fun when he’s not saving the world or running hospitals?”
Uriel is quiet for so long I wonder if he’s going to answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is thoughtful. “I enjoy music,” he says. “Classical, mostly. There’s a purity to it, a mathematical precision that I find... soothing.”
I turn back to him, intrigued. “Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a music lover.”
He raises an eyebrow. “No? And what did you peg me for?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Spreadsheets? Corporate law? Professional chess?”
To my surprise, Uriel laughs. It’s a full, rich sound that transforms his entire face. “I’ll have you know I’m terrible at chess,” he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Raphael beats me every time.”
The mention of his brother reminds me of how little I actually know about Uriel’s life. “What’s that like?” I ask softly. “Having siblings who’ve been with you since... well, the beginning of time, I guess?”
Uriel’s expression turns contemplative. “It’s... complicated,” he says finally. “We love each other, of course. But we’ve also seen each other at our worst. Made mistakes. Fought wars.” His voice drops so low I have to lean in to hear him. “Sometimes I think they know me too well.”
The vulnerability in his admission catches me off guard. This is a side of Uriel I’ve never seen before—uncertain, almost... human. Without thinking, I reach out and place my hand on his arm.
“That sounds lonely,” I say quietly.
Uriel looks down at my hand, then back up to my face. Something shifts in his eyes, a warmth that wasn’t there before. “It can be,” he admits. “But it has its moments of beauty, too. Watching humanity grow, evolve. Seeing the best of what you can be.”
The intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch. We’re so close now, I can see the flecks of silver in his blue eyes. Time seems to slow, the patter of rain fading into the background.
Uriel leans in slightly, and for a wild moment, I think he might kiss me. My heart thunders in my chest, torn between anticipation and dread. Do I want this? Do I want him?
His hand reaches up, and I hold my breath as his fingers gently brush my cheek. With exquisite care, he tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. The warmth of his skin against mine sends a shiver down my spine.
Time seems to stretch, elastic and surreal. Every detail etches itself into my consciousness—the soft patter of rain on the roof, the faint scent of Uriel’s cologne, the way his eyes have darkened to a stormy blue. He’s so close now that I can see the faint stubble on his jaw, a humanizing detail that makes my heart flutter.
His gaze drops to my lips, and I find myself leaning in, drawn by some invisible force. The air between us feels charged, electric. I’m trembling, though whether from nervousness or excitement, I couldn’t say.
But before our lips can meet, before I can decide if this is what I truly want, a loud crack of thunder shatters the moment. We both jump, the spell broken.
The abruptness of it leaves me breathless, my skin tingling where Uriel’s fingers had been moments before. I blink rapidly, trying to process what just almost happened—what I had wanted to happen, I realize with a jolt of surprise.
Uriel pulls back, his features etched with regret and something else I can’t quite decipher. The loss of his proximity leaves me feeling oddly bereft, and I have to resist the urge to reach out for him again.
I pull my hand back quickly, suddenly aware of how inappropriate this all is. We’re supposed to be averting the apocalypse, not... whatever this is.
“The rain’s letting up,” Uriel says, his voice slightly rough. He clears his throat. “We should be able to head back soon.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As Uriel starts the engine, I can’t help but wonder what might have happened if that thunder hadn’t interrupted us. Would he have kissed me? Would I have let him?
And why does a small part of me wish he had?
As we make our way carefully back up the driveway, I steal glances at Uriel’s profile. His jaw is set, his eyes focused on the road ahead. But there’s a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before.
I lean my head against the cool glass of the window, watching raindrops race down the pane. This situation is already complicated enough without adding... feelings to the mix. And yet, I can’t deny the spark between us. The way my heart races when he’s near. The comfort I find in his presence, despite our rocky history.
Maybe it’s the apocalypse talking. Maybe it’s just proximity and adrenaline. Or maybe... maybe it’s something more.
As we pull up to the mansion, I make a decision. I’m going to figure out exactly what’s going on between Uriel and me. And I’m going to do it before the world ends.
Assuming, of course, we can stop that from happening first.