Ava flung her arm over Haziel’s shoulder and examined him with a hard, glittering gaze that scorched him from head to toe and back again.

“Tell me, Haziel.” Ava leaned closer to Haziel. “What do you think of our Wrath?”

Haziel’s tawny cheeks deepened to russet. “I like him.”

“Oh, we all like him, my angel,” Ava drawled. “Do you like all those muscles?”

“Yes,” Haziel whispered, blushing even deeper.

“Do you like those beautiful blue eyes of his?”

Haziel cleared her throat and looked like she’d rather fly headfirst into a hurricane. “Yes.”

News to him, and Wrath perked up. She liked his body and his eyes. He silently willed Ava to stay on her current line of questioning.

“What about those strong thighs?” Ava murmured. “Do you like those too?”

“I do,” Haziel squeaked. “Wrath is very attractive.”

Well, well, well, apparently, he wasn’t the only one having inappropriate thoughts.

“You know,” Ava whispered, “those strong thighs of his help him drive that thick, long⁠—”

“Ava!” Crap, Ava was going to make him blush at this rate. “Is this really necessary? You know why she’s here. You’re angry with me, not her.”

“You’re right.” Ava released Haziel and spun away from her and closer to him. “Sweet Haziel here has done nothing to me. Whereas you.” She closed the distance between them and jabbed him in the chest with a sharp fingernail. “You made a fool out of me.”

“No, he didn’t,” Haziel said.

Ava glared at her. “Yes, he did.”

“No.” Haziel shook her head, her face a study in honesty. “You’re not a fool. Thus, nobody could make a fool of you.”

Ava opened her mouth and shut it again. She stared at Haziel with far less malice as she said, “I think I like you.”

“I’m likable.” Haziel shrugged. “Unless you ask me if your ass looks fat in something and it really does, because then I’ll have to tell you that.” She flinched. “Not that your ass looks fat or ever could.”

This time when Ava laughed it was genuine amusement. “I’ve changed my mind. I know I like you.”

And with that, Ava’s posture relaxed, her eyes lost their dangerous glitter, and her tone changed. “So, what are the two of you doing here?”

“Could you?” Haziel indicated her bound wrists. “We really do need to talk, and my hands are going numb.”

Ava snapped her fingers.

Her demons leapt to obey, and Wrath found himself unbound and confused as fuck about what had just happened. One minute, Ava had been clawing at them like a cat with its favorite scratching post, and now she was motioning them to follow her out of the ostentatious throne room to what he knew was her much more comfortable sitting room to one side of it. Huh! Haziel might have her uses after all.

Haziel slid up beside him as they followed Ava. “You should apologize to her.”

“What?” He already knew he should, but somehow Haziel telling him to do so made him want to do the opposite. Although, that was a fairly good example of how he handled most beings who tried to tell him what to do.

“You hurt her.” Haziel turned those compelling green eyes on him. “And the least you can do is let her know you’re sorry for doing so.”

He didn’t like how much sense that made, so he played for time. “Maybe I’m not sorry.”

“Yes, you are.” Haziel gave him a reproachful stare. “You’re bad tempered, but you’re not nasty.”

“And you’re so sure of that?” It irked him that she saw him so clearly.

Haziel smiled, and it made him want to thump his chest and strut around like a peacock. “I’m sure.”

“And you’re also sure that you like my body,” he said. He wouldn’t be him if he crumpled in the face of a challenge, and Haziel had been winning far too many of their verbal sparring matches for his liking.

“Yes,” she said through a tight jaw. “And before you go there, I also like your blue eyes and your thighs.”

Heat shot down his spine and curled around his abdomen. “What else do you like about me, Haziel?”

“I like your sense of humor.” She grinned at him. “And I really, really like your ass.”

Chapter Eleven

Haziel woke to champagne light filtering through the gauzy curtains of the room she’d been shown to after they’d had a long chat with Ava that had lasted well into the small hours. By the time one of Ava’s demons had led her to a bed chamber, she’d been so tired it had been a struggle to keep her eyes open.

Being in hell was draining, and she grew as tired as the average human would on earth.

A virulently red bird fluttered to a perch outside her window and started a showy song to the morning sun. Ramiel’s demesne was considerably less colorful, and she rather liked the contrast here.

The bed was amazingly comfortable, and she took a long, luxuriant stretch.

Somewhere in the palace, Wrath would also be waking up. He was very different from Ramiel, which was not surprising, considering they were each other’s counterbalance. Being with Ramiel was soothing and calm. He revered order and reason and would never deign to flirt outrageously with her or force her to admit her attraction for him. He also didn’t make her laugh like Wrath did. She felt guilty about her disloyal thought. Of course Ramiel didn’t spend his time making jokes and trying to get a reaction out of her. He was busy, important, an archangel. Then again, Wrath was a hell prince. She took a deep breath and centered herself. Acknowledging her attraction to Wrath was healthy, sensible. Acknowledge, accept, and then move on. That’s what she’d do.

Being attracted to Wrath didn’t need to present a problem. She was a master at keeping her emotions in check and getting on with the task assigned to her. Once this mission was over, she would return to Ramiel’s demesne with a bunch of new and exciting experiences that other angels of her station could only dream about. Her contribution to Ramiel’s host would be more valuable with all that she was learning.

She got out of bed and padded into the adjoining bathroom.

A giant, crystal clawfoot tub took pride of place in front of towering bay windows. Beyond the pristine grass, a garden of insanely bright flowers competed for most garish color, yet somehow, blended in a delightful jumble. Large gold statues littered the garden and caught the bright sunlight in dazzling displays. Jewel colored ponds—blues, greens and even reds and yellow—nestled between the flower beds. So much color that it almost hurt to look at, yet Haziel enjoyed it.

She poured her bath and added lavender crystals from a platinum bowl thoughtfully placed beside the bathtub. Her clothing had been freshly laundered and sat folded on a chair close to the tub.

As urgent as their business was, Haziel lingered over her bath and getting dressed. She rubbed jasmine scented lotion into her skin. Tiny flecks of gold in the lotion turned her skin to a bronze sheen.

Ramiel would be horrified by the excess, but he wasn’t here, and she decided to enjoy it while she could.

A demon waited outside her bedroom door and bowed low as she opened it. “Seraph,” he murmured. “If you would follow me, the mistress is waiting for you.”

“Have you seen Wrath?” She found it hard not to gape at the lavish paintings and tapestries clawing for space on the walls.