Although, not the most pitiable. That title was divided equally between Wrath and Shade. They were both absolutely gutted by the missing Nephilim, Edme. Wrath, her sire, paced the confines of the room that everyone called a greenroom but was mysteriously painted an unassuming beige. In fact, nothing in the room was green. Other than Ramiel’s gorgeous eyes.
Sophia caught her eye over Ramiel’s nobly shaped golden head and gave her a grimace of sympathy.
Haziel couldn’t even pretend ignorance. Every being in heaven, and judging by the smirk Avarice was giving her, a goodly portion of hell, were well aware of her infatuation with her boss.
Shade remained sitting beside Sophia, elbows on his knees, head slumped. One would be a fool to judge his mood by the dejection of his pose even though energy radiated from him in crashing waves that more than one being was struggling to assimilate.
She had no idea what Shade’s connection to the missing Nephilim was, but if the looks Sophia was casting him were anything to judge by, he was in love with the Nephilim.
Poor Sophia. She’d waited years for Shade to spend one iota of the energy and attention he was currently spending on Edme on her. Haziel wrinkled her nose back at Sophia in sympathy. They were in the same leaky boat—in love with another who barely noticed them.
They were angels, divine beings with near immortal lifespans, and still, they could not conquer romantic love. Apparently, the hell princes hadn’t done much better. Rumors abounded about Wrath and Edme’s human mother, Rosabella, and how she’d rejected him.
Now, Haziel adored Ramiel, but objectively speaking, it was hard to picture any female rejecting Wrath. An inch or two taller than Shade and Ramiel with broad shoulders and the packed muscle of a born fighter. His face was more rough-hewn than classically handsome, but those blue eyes could blaze with the very fires of hell at a female. And the fires of hell burned hot, hot, hot. Then there was his mouth, the contradiction in the chiseled angularity of his face, full and sensual and hinting at another side to the bellicose hell prince.
Even thinking about Wrath in a positive light made her feel disloyal to Ramiel. As counterbalances to each other, Ramiel and Wrath were exact opposites. Ramiel was classically handsome with his silky blond hair and those melting green eyes in the flawless perfection of his aquiline features. And when he turned those eyes on her, most often when he wanted something, or when he had a task he could trust to no other, that brilliant jewel gaze would soften and his smooth, molten baritone would warm as he said, “Haziel, I need you.”
Even thinking of him saying it made her shiver. She’d give her immortal soul to have him say that and mean something entirely different and a lot more intimate.
Shade looked up suddenly as if sensing the direction her thoughts were taking. Well, of course, he sensed the lascivious direction of her mental ramblings. He was, after all, the hell prince of lust.
The annoying head of the human guardians was on his feet again, staring at the room’s occupants as if they’d personally bundled Edme up and handed her over to the demon, Ashe. Haziel recalled his name was Chris something or other. She guessed that it was because there were so many of them that humans needed both a name and a surname. It might get very confusing otherwise.
“You have lost the Nephilim,” Chris thundered. “How could you have been so irresponsible?seraph
You, more than anyone, understand how powerful it is.”
“How powerful she is.” Shade didn’t raise his voice, but waves of violence radiating from him made Haziel stiffen. It didn’t take much to get a room full of hell princes and archangels fighting, and Chris’s tone would do the job neatly. “She is not an it, and she has a name. Edme.” Shade’s tone softened. “Eddie.”
“What he said.” Wrath jerked his head at Shade. “And if you speak of my daughter in that way again I will—”
“Wrath.” Ramiel’s velvety voice rumbled a warning. As Wrath’s counterpart archangel, it fell to Ramiel to manage him.
She nearly snorted aloud. As much as anyone could manage Wrath. Of all the hell princes he was the most unpredictable. In terms of irascibility in any case.
The other hell princes had their own quirks. Avarice, or Ava as she preferred to be called—and who could blame her when she’d been saddled with the moniker Mammon—marched to her own drum and did exactly as she pleased. Dainty, China doll looking Belphegor—or Belle—never said much and was not often at these gatherings. She also refused most attempts to engage her. Beelzebub split his time between stirring trouble with his fellow hell princes and pursuing Leviathan, who was insistently independent. Haziel didn’t know much about Levi. She was beautiful, aloof, and liked to irritate the archangels. Then there was Lucifer, currently absent from this meeting, and if Wrath and Shade were to be believed, the reason Edme was missing. The self-styled king of hell delighted in making life difficult for everyone.
“There is no cause for threats.” Gabriel smoothed her already impeccable gleaming red hair. “If we’re going to solve this crisis, we are going to need to work together.”
Ramiel grumbled, and Haziel nearly snorted again. Work together? Archangels, demons, and guardians, all in one happy little pot boiling away together under the heat of this unprecedented crisis. Pressure, inflated egos, phenomenal cosmic power, and ancient enmity all bubbling around each other. What could go wrong?
“This is my child we speak of.” Wrath stood and glared at the room.
Ramiel shuddered at the notion. Haziel had already listened to Ramiel’s diatribe on the idea of having relations with humans. She hadn’t said anything, merely listened and nodded, but Haziel didn’t feel that humans were that distasteful. They had a charm about them that had always drawn her to them. They were fun and threw themselves into life with such enthusiasm. Of course, there were always the nasty ones, and the evil ones who gave the hell princes a run for their money in that department, but for the most part Haziel rather liked humans. She loved the children. Those were so sweet with their eager little faces and bright eyes. Yes, the children were delightful.
“We, understand, Satanus.” Gabriel even looked like she might mean that. “But the guardian is correct about Edme being powerful, and we have not seen how her power has manifested yet. We certainly do not want it in the wrong hands.”
“Christ!” Dee, Edme’s grandmother, slapped her hands on her knees and stood. “All you do is talk, talk, fucking talk. And in all this jabbering, I’ve yet to hear one solid idea for getting Eddie back.”
“Sit down, Deandra,” Chris snapped. “You are only tolerated here because of your relationship to Edme.”
Dee did no such thing and shot Chris a look so scorching Haziel expected his perfectly pressed suit pants to catch fire. “Bite me, fuckwit.”
That there was one of the things Haziel liked about humans. They didn’t back down, and they didn’t give up, especially when it came to people they loved.
She’d give anything to have Ramiel speak to the others in this room about her like Dee had about Edme. Of course, she’d never done anything to warrant a spirited defense of herself, but the idea was enthralling.
“Your guardian status has been revoked.” Chris—and she really should remember his surname. She’d wager Raguel, Gabriel’s second, knew it well—curled up his lip in distaste. “You are no longer under our protection.”
“She doesn’t need your puny protection.” Wrath pounded one gigantic fist against his chest. “She has mine.”
Well, judging by the breadth and depth of that chest on Wrath, Haziel had no trouble believing that would be more than adequate protection for any being. Another tiny shiver snaked down her spine. So inappropriate.
Shade looked up with death in his gray eyes at Chris. “And mine.”
“And mine.” Sophia raised her hand. “I like Eddie, and I like Dee, and if you guardians hadn’t come charging in here like your asses were on fire, we might have had a chance to deal with this before it became critical.”
Chris yelled, “What?”
“Sophia does not stutter.” Michael broke his silence and yelled back. “And she speaks for me as well.”
And the entire room disintegrated into chaos for about the four hundredth time. Dee was right. They did a lot of talking and not a lot of doing.
“Haziel?” Ramiel’s soothing voice reached her through the hubbub. His warm breath caressed her ear and made her skin prickle. “I need you.”
But not in the way I want you to. Still, she leaned closer and caught his unique citrus and bergamot scent. “I am here, Ramiel.” In any way you need.
“Wrath is unpredictable.” He scoffed. “More unpredictable than usual.”
