Chapter 19 #2
He watches me eat like he's memorizing every bite. Like he's afraid I'll disappear if he looks away.
"You're staring," I say around a mouthful of bread.
"I'm allowed to stare. You're in my bed, eating my food, talking about sacrificing yourself to save me. I think I've earned the right to stare."
"I'm not talking about sacrifice. I'm talking about possibility."
"They're the same thing." He sits on the edge of the bed again. "Every possibility you're imagining ends with you dead or changed beyond recognition. I won't allow it."
"You don't get to allow or disallow what I do."
"For the next year, I own your service. Your time. Your considerable abilities. That gives me some say in whether you attempt something suicidal."
"After the year, then."
"After the year, you'll walk away from here and never look back. You'll go home to your sister and your life and forget this place ever existed." His voice is hard. Final. "That's what's supposed to happen."
"What if I don't want that?"
Silence. Long and heavy and full of things neither of us is saying.
"What do you want?" he asks finally.
I look at him. Really look at him. Gold eyes that hide so much pain. Black hair threaded with actual gold. Hands that can turn anything to treasure but can't feel satisfaction from any of it. A curse that makes him hunger for everything while finding joy in nothing.
And underneath all of that, buried so deep he's forgotten it exists, the angel he used to be. The most beautiful things Heaven ever created. The rebel who chose free will and paid for it with eternity.
"I want you to be free," I say quietly. "I want all of you to be free. I want to break the curse that's been torturing you. I want—" My voice catches. "I want you to feel satisfaction. Just once. To take something and actually enjoy it. To exist as something other than hunger."
He's staring at me like I've grown wings. Like I'm speaking prophecy. Like I'm the most dangerous thing he's ever encountered.
"Why?" The word is barely a whisper.
"Because no one deserves so much suffering. Not even you."
His expression shutters. Goes cold. He pulls back, stands, puts distance between us like I've burned him.
"That's pity," he says flatly. "I told you, pity isn't the same as understanding."
"It's not pity."
"It is." He moves to the window, back to me. "You felt my curse for fifteen minutes and now you think you can save me. That's pity wrapped in noble intentions. And I don't need it."
"Croesus..."
"Eat. Rest. Recover your strength." His voice is cold, controlled, empty of the vulnerability that was there moments ago. "We have work to do. I can't have you collapsing every time I give you an assignment."
The dismissal stings more than it should. "So that's it? We're just going back to employer and employee?"
"That's what we've always been." He doesn't turn around. "Don't confuse proximity with intimacy, Raven. Don't mistake a few moments of weakness for something more."
"That's bullshit, and you know it."
"What I know..." Now he does turn, and his eyes are hard. "Is that you're human. Mortal. Temporary. And in less than a year, you'll walk away from here and never look back. So whatever you think this is, whatever you're feeling, it's irrelevant."
The words burn through me. Because he's right and wrong at the same time. Right that I'm supposed to leave. Wrong that what I'm feeling doesn't matter.
But I'm not ready to examine what I'm feeling. Not ready to put a name to the ache in my chest when he pulls away. Not ready to admit that somewhere between hating him and understanding him, something shifted.
"Fine," I say. "We'll pretend yesterday didn't happen. That you didn't hold me while I slept. That this is just business."
"It is just business."
"Then let me get back to work." I stand, ignoring the way my body protests. "Give me another assignment. Another contract. That's what you're paying for, right?"
His jaw tightens. "You need to rest."
"I need to be useful. Otherwise, what's the point of any of this?"
I kiss him. Cut off whatever protest he was about to make with my mouth on his. He makes a sound, part surrender, part desperation, and kisses me back.
But this time, after a heartbeat, he pulls back. Steps away. Puts the cold distance back between us like a wall.
"Don't," he says.
"Don't what?"
"Don't make this more complicated than it needs to be." His voice is carefully controlled. "You're here for a year. You serve. I reward you. Then you move on to the next house. That's the arrangement."
"That's not what this is."
"That's exactly what this is." He moves to the door. "Rest. Eat. I'll send for you when I need you."
And then he's gone. Leaving me alone in his bedroom with the food and the echo of his walls slamming back into place.
I sit there for a long time, trying to understand what just happened. One moment he was vulnerable, admitting he'd be destroyed when I leave. The next, he was cold as winter, pretending none of it mattered.
Maybe it doesn't. Maybe I read too much into a few moments of honesty. Maybe he really does just see me as a useful tool that temporarily quiets his hunger.
Or maybe he's terrified. Maybe admitting he cares is more dangerous than anything else he's faced in three thousand years.
I don't know which possibility is worse.
I spend the rest of the day alone in his chambers. Eating mechanically. Staring at walls. Trying not to think about the way he looked at me before he shut down. Like I was hope and terror wrapped in skin.
Later, after hours of being stuck in my own head, there's a knock. Nat enters with fresh clothes and a carefully neutral expression.
"Croesus asked me to check on you," he says. "Make sure you're recovering."
"He couldn't come himself?"
"He's busy." Nat doesn't elaborate and sets clothes on a chair. "How are you feeling?"
"Confused. Angry. Like I just got whiplash from someone who can't decide if I'm a person or a possession."
Nat winces. "He does that. The hot and cold. The walls." He sits on the edge of the bed. "He cares. That's why he's pulling away. Caring is dangerous for someone like him."
"Why?"
"Because everything he cares about, he tries to own.
And everything he owns eventually breaks or leaves.
" Nat's voice is gentle. "You're the first thing he's cared about in centuries that he can't just acquire.
And he knows in less than a year, you'll be gone.
You'll belong to Seraph. Then the others. It's terrifying for him."
"So he pushes me away."
"So he protects himself. And you, in a twisted way. If he doesn't let himself care too much, it'll hurt less when you move on to the next house."
"I'm not..." I stop. Because I am moving on. That's the deal. One year per house. Even if I want to help them, even if I'm starting to care about Croesus, I'll still have to leave when my time is up. "It's complicated. I want to help him. Figure out how to free him from the greed."
Nat studies me for a long moment. "You're falling for him."
"No." The denial dies in my throat. Because I am. It’s dangerous. Something that's making me want impossible things. "It's complicated."
"It always is with angels." He stands. "Get dressed. Come down to the library when you're ready. I'll show you more of your grandmother's research. If you're really going to attempt this insanity, you should know what you're walking into."
He leaves. I sit there in Croesus's bed, wearing his shirt, surrounded by his scent, and try to figure out what I'm becoming.
Not the woman who walked into this house a few weeks ago. Not the sin eater who just wanted to survive her year and go home.
Someone new. Someone who's seen the suffering underneath the gold and can't look away.
Someone who might be falling for an angel who can't decide if she's his salvation or his destruction.
I get dressed and look at myself in the mirror. The forty-seventh tattoo, a coin, gleams silver-gold on my arm. A mark of understanding. A brand of connection.
I trace it with my finger and make a decision. If Croesus wants to pull away, fine. If he wants to pretend this is just business, I'll let him. But I'm not giving up on breaking the curse. I'm not walking away from the mission.
Even if it means doing it alone.
Even if it means he never lets me close again.
I leave his chambers and head to the library, ready to learn everything I can about freeing all of them. And with it, saving countless souls. And myself..
I’m ready to become the kind of person who can do the impossible.
Or die trying.