Chapter Eight
Reaching for the door handle to Azagoth’s office,
Lilliana took a deep, bracing breath. But as her hand closed on the cold metal,
she hesitated. She’d seen her mate in rages before,
and she knew to give him space. Lots of space. Especially after he lost control
of his inner demon and let it loose to play.
She glanced at her watch. It had been an hour since he’d
flown away in a huff. What did it mean? What was going on with him?
Her gut churned as she steadied herself with one final
mental pep talk and opened the door.
He’d returned to his usual handsome form, standing so close
to the fireplace that flames licked at the hem of the black robe he must have
thrown on after shifting out of his beast form, which generally destroyed his
clothing.
“Hey,” she said softly.
His big body shuddered, but he didn’t turn around. “My
love.”
Every time he called her that, she melted a little inside.
She’d originally come to Sheoul-gra to steal something from him, and he liked
to claim that what she stole was his heart. He’d stolen hers, too, and even
when things were rough, she still felt like the luckiest angel ever.
The door closed behind her with a muffled thud. “Are you
okay?”
“Yes.”
Ignoring what was obviously a lie, she moved closer. “I’m
worried about you. You’ve been so cranky and distant.”
“It’s nothing.” He turned to her, affecting a smile that was
clearly meant to placate her. “Just work stuff.”
“I think it’s more than that.” She rested her hand on his
arm. “Please, darling. Let me in.”
He let out a low, seductive growl and tugged her to him.
“How about you let me in...”
Always before when he touched her like this she’d given in.
But not this time.
“No.” Gently, she shoved him away. “You aren’t going to
distract me again. I want to know what set you off
today. I also want to know more about the angel you were fighting with.”
Lilliana had never been jealous of his past lovers, mainly
because she knew that most of them had viewed him only as a
means to reproduce, a duty and a sacrifice. But she’d also never
expected any of them to come to Sheoul-gra now that he was mated. Clearly
Ulnara hated him, and he didn’t appear to be overly fond of her, either, but
hearing him say that she could thank their son for saving her had been
like a punch to the womb.
“What set me off,” he growled, “is that the Memitim Council
is refusing to reveal the locations of any of my young children who are still
living among the humans.”
She blinked in confusion. “Why do you want to know where
they are? You’ve never known, have you?”
“No, I haven’t. But I want to know now.”
His smoky emerald gaze locked with hers. “And I want them brought here.”
Whoa. She sucked in a startled breath. This
was...unexpected. Long overdue, perhaps, but unexpected
nevertheless. Especially given the fact that he’d said he wasn’t ready for he and Lilliana to have children. Yet now he wanted scores
of them, the ones he’d made with other females, to fill his realm?
“How long have you been wanting this to happen? And why
didn’t you tell me?” She tried not to be upset by the fact that he hadn’t
discussed this with her, but it was impossible to keep the thread of hurt out
of her voice.
“A while,” he said, and if he was aware on any level that
she felt bruised by his lack of disclosure, it didn’t show. “I didn’t tell you
because I didn’t want to say anything until I knew it was even a possibility. Which it doesn’t appear to be.”
“Why would they refuse you? Especially since our mating
changed how Memitim are created, right?”
“Precisely,” he growled. “It’s bullshit. New Memitim class
angels can now be born to any Heavenly angel. And unlike my offspring, they
won’t be abandoned for humans to raise. They’ll be raised and trained in Heaven
like normal angels of all classes and Orders.”
“So why was Ulnara here?”
“Because she’s on the Council now.”
She frowned. “Shouldn’t members of the Memitim Council be
Memitim?”
“You’d think. But that rule has been changed, because
apparently now that Memitim can be born to Heavenly angels, Heavenly angels get
to rule.”
Lilliana didn’t like that one bit. “So that means you’ll be
seeing more of your ex-lovers?”
“I hope not.”
Right there with ya.
Frustrated but not wanting to dwell on Azagoth’s baby mamas,
she changed the subject. “Look, why don’t we forget about all of this for a
while? We haven’t used the chronoglass to go anywhere in weeks. Let’s
visit a tropical beach or a mountain meadow. We can have a picnic, some
wine...and we can talk.”
Her ability to time travel and take him anywhere in the
world for one hour every twenty-four was a gift they’d used almost daily for
their entire relationship...until a few weeks ago when he’d suddenly become
“too busy.”
He waggled his brows playfully. “You know if we go someplace
romantic like that, we won’t be talking.”
“Yes, we will,” she said firmly. “I’m not falling for your
erotic tricks, Azagoth. Not until you tell me what’s really
up with you.” She held up a finger to cut him off before he said what
she knew he was going to say. “And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know that’s
not the truth.”
The temperature in the room plummeted so low she could see
her breath. But not her husband’s. No, he’d gone so cold his breath wouldn’t be
visible even in Antarctica.
“Are you calling me a liar?”
Annoyed by his sudden mood swing and tired of trying to get
him to talk, she let out a bitter laugh.
“Seriously? You cause pain and suffering every day. You
scheme with evil demons and plot with angels. And you’re going to feign outrage
at being called a liar? Especially when it’s the truth? You’re angry that I’m
not dumb enough to believe your denials, is that it? Or are you mad at yourself
for not being a better liar? Either way, knock it off. You’re a bazillion years
old. Act like it. Man up.”
She knew the moment she stopped talking that she’d gone too
far. Azagoth’s eyes went glacial for a split-second before they flared hot,
orange flames lapping at his irises.
“I love you,” he said in a deep, tortured voice. “So you should go.”
As angry as she was, as sure as she was that she was the one
who was in the right, she also knew that if she wanted
to win the war, she had to strategically retreat from certain battles. Azagoth
wouldn’t hurt her physically, she knew that without a doubt, but he was more
demon than angel, and when the angel inside him fled, the demon that remained
could flay her alive with his words. Staying here
would only lead to pain for them both and no one would win.
She glanced at her watch. “I have things to do. But Azagoth,
we aren’t done with this conversation.”
She slammed out of his office, and as she walked down the
endless hallway, his roar of anger echoed off the walls, jiggling the
chandeliers and rattling the artwork.
But nothing was more rattled than her nerves.