Chapter Eighteen #2
“Alright,” I murmured, totally caving. “I can give you six minutes.”
He frowned slightly. “Is that long?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Rath had only ever lived in Heaven and Hell—the concept of time didn’t mean much to him.
“Some people think that’s forever,” I teased.
He grinned a moment before his mouth found mine again.
He kissed like he fought—a mix of precision and raw force that shouldn’t make sense together but somehow did.
I curled a hand around his neck and tugged him down with me.
He came willingly, pressing me into the slab, one hand bunched in my hair.
Our mouths came together again, and time blurred. I let myself sink into it, enjoy the feel of his lips against mine, of his tongue stroking mine. He slipped his palm beneath my tunic and palmed my waist, his fingers both tickling and exciting me, while I ran a thumb along his scarred jaw.
He eventually pulled back, a smile on his face. “You smell like Purrgy.”
“So do you,” I countered.
“Very romantic.”
“The height of it,” I deadpanned, then kissed him again, because we were both disasters, and we loved it.
Just beyond the door, a hellspawn shouted, soon followed by the sound of clanging metal. While a part of me wanted to storm out there and see what the hell was happening, I was in no rush to move. Not with Rathiel poised above me. Not when his tongue was in my mouth.
As though sensing my distraction, Rathiel kissed the spot at the corner of my mouth that he knew unravelled me. I nipped his lower lip in revenge. Two could play that game.
“Lily,” he warned, his tone darkening in a way that made me clench my thighs together.
“Rathiel,” I echoed, sliding my leg between his.
With a deep groan, he rolled, taking me with him, and sat me up so I straddled his hips, my hands splayed against his chest.
“Much better,” I decided, and bent to kiss him again.
He sat up and banded one arm around my waist while the other slid up my spine.
Neither of us progressed things forward, happy exactly as we were. But eventually, we had to come up for air when the room tipped from warm to hot. Or maybe it was our inner temperatures that had spiked.
I rested my forehead against his, panting for breath. “We should—”
“Not quite yet,” he said. “You promised me six minutes. I have no idea how long that is, but I’m fairly certain we aren’t done yet.”
I actually had no idea how much time had passed, nor did I care.
“I wanted to give you a morning that isn’t immediately all blood and strategy,” he said. “I know how things get when you’re leading an army. So I just wanted a moment that was just…us.”
“We’ll get more mornings like this,” I said, low, like saying it too loud would jinx it.
“We will,” he agreed.
That did something awful and beautiful in my chest. I kissed him once more for that alone.
When I finally eased off him, he let me go.
No sulking. No theatrics. He only caught my hand and pressed his mouth to the inside of my wrist, fangs skimming skin without breaking it.
I shivered, tempted to let him bite. I loved the feel of his teeth—and other, fleshier bits—inside me.
“Okay, okay,” I mumbled, my voice rough as I armed myself. “Now, I really need to get out there. I need to make sure Korrak didn’t assign the barracks using trial by fire.”
“He tried, but we vetoed him,” Rathiel said dryly. “So Varz suggested arm wrestling. Rathgor recommended a sprint along the wall with someone throwing knives for ‘motivation.’”
“See, you do need me.” I smirked and reached for the door again.
He caught up to me in two steps and placed his palm against the stone above my head, then leaned close enough for his breath to stir the air near my hair.
“If the darkness takes over, you tell me. Immediately.”
I hesitated. The darkness was there, a quiet pressure under my ribs, but it wasn’t demanding or enforcing itself.
“It’s quiet right now,” I told him. “It’s just you and me here.”
“Good,” he said, relief gentling his voice. “Let’s try to keep it that way.”
“I’ll do my best. If not, you’ll drag me back, remember?”
“Always,” he said, and kissed the spot just under my ear.
I cracked open the door. Heat surged in, along with the smell of rank bodies and metal.
The courtyard thrummed—shouts, clatter, the low thunder of hellspawn voices arguing about absolutely nothing and everything.
Purrgy had claimed a spot atop what remained of the outpost wall, and was washing a paw while Vol sat nearby, his legs dangling over the edge.
Rathiel’s knuckles brushed my spine. “You’ve got this.”
I did, but it was nice to hear.
“Go be terrifying,” he told me, stepping aside so I could clear the doorway.
I glanced at him over my shoulder, letting the look say everything I didn’t have time to say out loud, and stepped into the courtyard, ready to conquer the day.
The moment I stepped into full view of my army, they fell silent. Dozens of eyes cut toward me—hungry, expectant, half-wild—awaiting orders.
Perfect.
We had work to do. After all, Lucifer wasn’t going to kill himself.