Chapter 20 #2
Croesus guides me to a chair beside his throne, not on it, not equal, but beside. A clear statement of where I belong. He settles onto the gold throne.
"Now that we're all here," Seraph says, his voice quieting the murmurs, "we can begin. First order of business: territorial disputes in the mortal realm. Lysander, I believe you've been encroaching on my contracts in Europe."
The meeting devolves into exactly what Nat said it would be: political theater.
The angels argue about territories, about contracts, about souls they've claimed or lost. They're polite but vicious, every word a calculated strike.
Watching them is like watching apex predators circle each other, all teeth and claws hidden under beautiful faces.
I try to follow the discussion, but it's hard to concentrate. The room is too much, too many powerful beings, too much magic pressing against my skin, too much attention every time someone's eyes slide toward me.
And they do. Often.
Idris, especially, keeps looking at me with those mirror eyes. Lysander's gaze is warm and appraising. Even Kael glances over occasionally, his ember eyes assessing.
Croesus notices. His hand comes to rest on the arm of his throne closest to me, fingers drumming a slow rhythm. A warning? A claim?
After what feels like hours, Seraph calls for a recess. "We'll reconvene after refreshments."
The angels rise. Beings scatter toward tables laden with food and drink. And before I can stop him, Seraph is there, standing in front of me with that perfect smile.
"Dance with me," he says. Not a question.
"She's not—" Croesus starts.
"I'm not asking you." Seraph's silver eyes stay fixed on mine. "I'm asking her. Well? Will you dance, little sin eater? Or are you too afraid?"
It's a challenge. A test. And refusing would be showing weakness.
I stand. "One dance."
Croesus's hand catches my wrist. "Raven..."
"It's fine." I pull free gently. "One dance won't kill me."
His eyes blaze with something that looks like fury, but he lets me go.
Seraph leads me to the center of the room where a space has cleared. Music starts from nowhere, string instruments, elegant and old-fashioned. He takes my hand, places his other hand on my bare back, and I realize this was a mistake.
His touch is cold. Perfect. And when we start to move, it's effortless. He leads, and my body follows like we've danced a thousand times before.
"You broke my contract," he says pleasantly, as if discussing the weather. "Claire is recovering nicely, by the way. Impressive showing."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. I'm not complimenting you. I'm assessing you." He spins me, pulls me back. "You're stronger than you look. Braver than you should be. And Croesus is utterly besotted with you."
"He's not, I assure you."
"Please." Seraph's laugh is cold. "I've known him for three thousand years. I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Like you're the only thing in the room worth noticing. It's almost...romantic. If angels were capable of romance."
"What's your point?"
"My point?" He leans closer, his breath cold against my ear.
"Is that in less than a year, you'll belong to me.
And I'm very curious to see if you survive the transition.
Croesus is possessive, but at least his sin is predictable.
I, on the other hand, will expect perfection.
And you, little sin eater, are beautifully, perfectly flawed. "
The way he says it makes it sound like both an insult and a promise.
"I'll survive," I say.
"Will you? We'll see." He spins me one more time, then stops. "Thank you for the dance. I look forward to our year together."
He releases me. I'm standing alone in the center of the room, every eye watching, when Croesus appears. He doesn't ask. Just takes my hand, pulls me into his arms, and we're moving before I can protest.
His touch is warm. Possessive. The complete opposite of Seraph's cold perfection.
"Are you alright?" His voice is low, tight with controlled anger.
"I'm fine. He was just being an asshole."
"Marking you. Staking his claim on what he'll receive when your year with me ends." His hand presses into my bare back, fingers splaying across skin. "I should have forbidden it."
"I can handle one dance with an arrogant angel."
"Can you handle six more years of this? Six more angels, each one more dangerous than the last?" He pulls me closer, and we're barely moving now. Just swaying in place while the music plays around us. "You don't know what they're capable of. What they'll do to someone like you."
"Someone like me?"
"Someone who makes them feel things. You made me feel things I thought I'd forgotten. What do you think you'll do to them?"
I don't have an answer for that.
The music ends. The moment breaks. But Croesus doesn't release me. Just stands there, holding me in the middle of the room, golden eyes burning with something I can't name.
"Come with me," he says finally. "I need air."
He leads me through the crowd, past angels and demons and creatures I can't identify, toward a set of doors that open onto a balcony.
The balcony overlooks nothing.
Or everything. It's hard to tell. The view shows stars and darkness and impossible distances, like we're standing at the edge of reality itself.
I lean against the railing, breathing in air that tastes like ozone and magic, trying to calm my racing heart.
"That was overwhelming," I say.
"That was politics." Croesus stands beside me, not touching. "This is every gathering. Every meeting. Centuries of power plays and territorial disputes and angels who can't remember why they started fighting in the first place."
"Do you hate it?"
"I hate that you had to be there. That I had to watch them look at you like you're something to be acquired." His hands grip the railing. "That I had to watch Seraph put his hands on you and pretend I didn't want to burn his house to the ground for it."
"It was just a dance."
"It was a claim. He was telling everyone that you're temporary. That in less than a year, you'll be his. And then Idris's. And Kael's. And all the others." He turns to face me. "You'll pass through all of our hands like a coin, and by the end, what will be left of you?"
"I'm stronger than you think."
"I know you're strong. That's not what I'm worried about.
" He reaches out, stops himself. "I'm worried that you'll change.
That serving seven different angels, absorbing seven different curses, will break something in you that can't be repaired.
That the woman standing in front of me right now will be gone, and I'll have six years to regret that I couldn't protect her. "
My breath catches. "Croesus." I whisper softly.
"I've been cold to you, distant. Since the greed absorption, since you said you wanted to help me, I've been pushing you away.
" His jaw tightens. "Because letting you close is terrifying.
Caring about what happens to you is terrifying.
And tonight, watching them look at you, watching Seraph touch you. .."
He stops, takes a breath.
"I want to kiss you," he says quietly.
The confession hangs in the air between us.
"Then do it," I whisper.
He moves like he's been waiting for permission. One hand slides into my hair, cradling the back of my head. The other spans my bare back, pulling me against him. And then his mouth is on mine, and this...
This is different.
Not claiming. Not desperate. Not born from crisis or near-death or the complicated tangle of curses and contracts.
This is choosing.
He kisses me slowly, thoroughly, like he's memorizing the taste of me. His mouth is warm and demanding and careful all at once, and I feel it in every nerve ending. My hands find his jacket, fisting in expensive fabric, pulling him closer even though there's no space left between us.
He makes a sound, low and wanting, and deepens the kiss. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for him. Let him in. Let him take what he wants because I want it too.
The hand on my back slides lower, fingers tracing the line of my spine. The hand in my hair tightens, tilting my head back so he can kiss me deeper, harder, until I'm dizzy with it.
I've been kissed before. By him. By Ash. By other men over the years. But this...this is being devoured.
When he finally pulls back, we're both breathing hard. His forehead rests against mine, and his eyes are molten gold.
"That's not possession," he says roughly. "That's not hunger. That's..."
"What?"
"I don't know." His thumb traces my swollen lips. "Something I don't have a name for. Something I didn't think I was capable of feeling."
"Croesus..."
"Don't." He kisses me again, shorter this time. "Don't name it. Not yet. Let me just..." Another kiss. "...have this. Just for tonight."
So I do.
I let him kiss me under impossible stars. Let him hold me like I'm precious instead of temporary. Let him touch me like I'm his to keep instead of his to lose.
Just for tonight.
Tomorrow, the walls will go back up. Tomorrow, we'll go back to employer and employee. Tomorrow, I'll remember that this can't last.
But tonight, tonight I let myself fall.
And he catches me.
We return to the gathering eventually. The other angels watch us with knowing eyes. Seraph's smile is sharp. Lysander looks amused. Even Kael nods slightly, like we've confirmed something he suspected.
They know. They can probably taste it on us, the shift, the change, the fact that we just crossed a line we can't uncross.
The meeting continues. More politics. More posturing. But I barely hear it.
Every time someone looks at me, Croesus's hand tightens on the arm of his throne, the one closest to me. And when Idris's voice slides into my mind, Croesus's response is a flat, dangerous, "Stay out of her head." into the cacophony of the room.
He's staking his claim in front of all of them, making it clear that for this year at least, I'm his.
When it finally ends, hours later, Croesus doesn't let me walk back alone. He escorts me to my room, stands in the doorway, looks at me like he wants to come in.
"Goodnight, Raven," he says instead.
"Goodnight."
He turns to leave. I catch his wrist.
"Thank you," I say. "For tonight. For the kiss. For..." I can't find the words.
He brings my hand to his lips, kisses my knuckles. "Sleep well. We have work in the morning."
And then he's gone.
I close the door, lean against it, touch my lips where he kissed me.
This is dangerous. More dangerous than any sin I've absorbed. Because falling for an angel who owns me for a year and has to let me go to the next house is a curse worse than greed.
But I'm falling anyway.
And I don't know how to stop.