Chapter 36
Iwake to golden light and the feeling of being watched.
Not in a threatening way. More like...monitored. Observed. Cared for.
I force my eyes open, expecting to see Croesus sitting vigil beside the bed like he did after the collector attack. But the chair by the window is empty, the room quiet except for the soft whisper of fabric against stone.
The presence I'm feeling isn't in the room.
It's in my head.
Seven distinct threads of awareness, each one connecting me to a different fallen angel. I can feel them, not their thoughts exactly, but their presence. Their locations. Their general emotional states.
Croesus is close. Somewhere in the house, awake, and his emotions are a tangle of relief and exhaustion and watchfulness. Still monitoring me through our bond even from a distance.
Seraph is further away and his emotions are...complicated. Irritation mixed with reluctant concern. Like he's annoyed at himself for caring whether I survived.
The others are scattered at various distances.
They're all there. All connected to me. All feeling me wake up just as I'm feeling them.
It's overwhelming. Like having seven extra senses I never asked for, seven additional layers of awareness pressing against my consciousness.
"Breathe," a voice says from the doorway.
I turn my head, slowly, because even that small movement makes me dizzy, and see Croesus standing there. He looks rough. Hair undone, shirt wrinkled, dark circles under those blind gold eyes. Like he hasn't slept since the ritual.
Through our bond, stronger now, clearer than before, I feel his desperate relief at seeing me awake.
"How long?" My voice comes out as a rasp.
"Two days." He crosses to the bed, sits on the edge carefully like I might break. "The ritual took everything out of you. We weren't sure when, or if, you'd wake up."
"The bindings," I say. "I can feel them."
"I know." His hand finds mine, warm and solid. "I can feel it too. Not as strongly as you, you're the center of it. But there's something there. A connection to the others that wasn't there before."
I focus on the threads, trying to understand them. Seven distinct presences, each one unique. Croesus's is familiar, comfortable despite its intensity. The others are newer, stranger. But all of them are there, constant, unavoidable.
Croesus brings my hand to his lips, presses a kiss to my knuckles. "And before you get too upset about the invasion of privacy, remember, it goes both ways. They feel you too. Which means they all know exactly how terrified you were. How brave you were.”
Through the bonds, I feel echoes of agreement. Distant, faint, but there. The other angels acknowledging what I did. What it cost.
"Can they hear this conversation?" I ask.
"No. They can feel emotions, general impressions, danger. But not words. Not unless the feelings are extremely strong." He pauses. "Though our bond, our original binding, is different. Stronger. I can feel more of you than they can. And you can feel more of me."
I test that, focusing on our bond. He's right, his emotions are clearer, more detailed. I can feel his exhaustion, his relief, his love.
Oh.
Oh.
He can't hide it anymore. The binding lays him bare, makes his feelings as obvious as the sunrise. He loves me. Desperately, completely, with an intensity that takes my breath away.
And he knows I can feel it.
"Yes," he says softly, reading my realization in our connection.
"I love you. I have for a while now. And before the binding, I could at least pretend otherwise.
Could hide behind my curse, behind greed, behind possession.
But now?" He meets my eyes, those blind gold irises somehow seeing straight through me.
"Now you know. And there's no point in denying it. "
My throat tightens. "Croesus."
"You don't have to say it back. I don't expect, " He stops, laughs without humor.
"Actually, that's a lie. I'm the angel of greed.
Of course I expect it. I want it. I want you to love me back with the same intensity I feel for you.
But I also know that's not something I can take or buy or steal. It has to be freely given."
I feel his conflict. The greed warring with genuine feeling. The hunger for reciprocation fighting against the knowledge that forced love isn't really love.
"I do," I say quietly. "Love you, I mean. I've been fighting it, trying not to, because I knew it would make everything more complicated. But I do."
The emotion that floods through our bond is overwhelming. Relief and joy and possession and something almost like pain. Like my admission hurts him as much as it heals him.
"You're still leaving," he says. Not a question. Just fact.
"In a few months. When my year is up." The words taste bitter. "That's the deal.”
"I know." He's quiet for a moment, thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "What if you didn't have to wait?"
"What?"
"What if I released you early? Let you move on to the next house now, finish your contract faster?"
I stare at him. "You would do that?"
"I would do anything to keep you safe. And right now, keeping you safe means getting you through all seven years as quickly as possible.
" He leans forward, intensity radiating from every line of him.
"You killed an archangel, Raven. Heaven won't forget that.
They'll retaliate eventually. And when they do, the only thing that might protect you is completing your grandmother's contract, fulfilling your obligations to all seven houses.
The faster you do that, the faster you're free. "
"Free to what?"
"To choose." His voice drops. "Right now, you're bound by contract. You have to serve each house, whether you want to or not. But when those seven years are up? You're free. Truly free. And then..." He trails off.
I understand what he's not saying. "And then I can choose whether to come back. To you."
"Yes." The word is barely a whisper. "I'm releasing you from the remainder of your contract with me.
Not because I don't want you here, I do, desperately.
But because keeping you here for the sake of a few more weeks feels like greed of the worst kind.
Selfish. Harmful." His hand tightens on mine.
"I'd rather let you go now, get you through all seven years faster, and have you come back to me by choice than keep you here by contract and lose you forever. "
My vision blurs with unexpected tears. "That's–you're the angel of greed. Giving up what you want doesn't…"
"I know what I am." There's something broken in his voice.
"Three thousand years of taking everything, keeping everything, never letting go.
And now I'm choosing to release the one thing I actually want to keep.
It goes against every instinct I have. Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to chain you here, to never let you leave.
" He pulls my hand against his chest, over his heart.
"But I love you more than I want to own you. And that has to mean something."
Through the binding, I feel it, the cost this is taking. The way it's tearing him apart to even suggest letting me go. The greed howling in protest, demanding he keep what's his.
And underneath it, the desperate hope that this sacrifice will be worth it. That by giving me freedom, he'll earn something money and power could never buy.
My choice. My love. Given freely rather than extracted by contract.
"You think I'll come back," I realize.
"I hope you'll come back." He corrects. "Hope isn't the same as expectation. But yes. I hope that after you've served all seven houses, seen all seven angels, experienced everything they have to offer...you'll choose me anyway."
By the time I'm free to choose, I won't be choosing just him. I'll be choosing all of them. Or none of them. Or some complicated combination that doesn't exist yet.
But right now, in this moment, he's offering me something precious. Freedom. Agency. The chance to complete my contract faster and get back to my life.
Even if it costs him everything.
"You're sure?" I ask.
"No. I'm the opposite of sure." He lifts my hand to his lips again. "But I'm doing it anyway. Because you deserve better than being kept like another acquisition in my collection."
I surge forward and kiss him. Hard. Desperate. Trying to pour everything I'm feeling through the binding and through my lips. Gratitude and love and sorrow and hope all tangled together.
He kisses me back with equal intensity, one hand coming up to cup my face. Through our bond, I feel his emotions crash over me, love and grief and terror and hope all at once.
When we finally pull apart, we're both breathing hard.
"When?" I ask.
"Take a few days to recover from the ritual. Make sure you're strong enough for the transition." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "Then I'll send word to Seraph. He's next in line, according to the contract. He'll be...pleased to receive you early."
Through the bonds, I feel a flicker of something from Seraph's direction. Anticipation, maybe. Or amusement. Like he already knows what's being discussed even though he's miles away in his own house.
"He'll try to break me," I say. It's not a question. I remember his warnings at the convocation, his cold promise to reshape me into something worthy of his attention.
"He'll try." Croesus agrees. "But you're stronger than he thinks. Stronger than any of them think." His gold eyes hold mine. "You survived me. You survived killing an archangel. You'll survive Seraph too."
"And then Idris. And Kael. And all the others."
"And then you're free." He leans his forehead against mine. "And then you choose."
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of it. Six more Houses. Six more years. Six more angels who will each try to claim me in their own way.
And at the end of it all, if I survive, I'll have to make a choice that will satisfy no one, least of all myself.
"I'll come back," I promise. Meaning it, even though I know it won't be the same. "When it's over. When I'm free. I'll come back to you."
Through the binding, I feel his desperate hope. His fear that I won't. His love that demands he let me go anyway.
"I'll wait," he says. "However long it takes. Seven years. Seven decades. I'll wait."
We stay like that for a long moment, forehead to forehead, breathing the same air. Trying to memorize each other before everything changes.
Because it will change. We both know it.
"Rest now," he says finally, easing me back against the pillows. "Recover your strength. We have a few more days together before you leave."
"Will you stay?" The question comes out smaller than I intended.
"As long as you need me to." He settles beside me on the bed, pulling me against his chest. "Sleep. I'll be here when you wake."
I close my eyes, feeling the steady beat of his heart through our bond and through the physical connection of his arms around me. Seven threads of awareness hum in the background of my consciousness, but Croesus's presence drowns them out.
For now, I'm here. Safe. Loved by an angel who's learning to let go.
Tomorrow, I'll start preparing for what comes next.
But today, I rest.