Shade stretched his legs out in front of him and looked about. “I’ve always liked this hall of yours.”
“Even when you were bleeding on its floor?”
Shade grimaced. “Less then, but it’s very appealing.”
“Why are you really here?” Wrath did not for a second believe Shade was here to swap interior design tips.
“I told you.” Shade held his palms up. “I came to check on you for Eddie.”
“And now you’ve done that—” The thing with immortal beings is that they knew each other far too well. “You can return and tell her I am well. Or you can say your piece, and then return to her and tell her that I am well.”
Chin resting on his palm, Shade studied him. “But you’re not really well, are you?”
“Don’t I look it?” For good measure, Wrath thumped his chest. No, he was not well. He felt as if his insides had been scooped out and laid in the sun to dry.
Taking his sweet time, Shade selected a snack and then took another sip of his wine before sitting back and dropping his head to the back of his chair. “Emotions are not really my thing.” He crossed his ankles. “Urges,” he shrugged. “Totally my thing. But emotions…eh.”
Here it came, and Wrath waited.
“You’re a coward,” Shade said.
“Pardon?” Wrath had to lean forward to make sure he’d caught Shade’s correctly. Shade would never throw that word in his direction. Shade! The being above all others who knew he was the very farthest thing from a coward.
Shade popped a handful of nuts into his mouth and grinned. “You’re. A. Coward.” He yawned. “Or to use an Eddie colloquialism—a little bitch boy.”
“Did you just…” Words failed him. And he did what he always did when words failed him and reached for a weapon. Only to find his dagger not at his waist and the scabbard over his back empty.
Vexia stood behind Shade with both weapons clutched to her chest. “I think you should listen.”
“He called me…” Wrath couldn’t even speak that phrase.
She nodded. “I heard, but I still think you should listen.”
“Have you turned rebel?” His voice thundered through the echoing space.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You know better than that.”
He did, and he huffed. “Fine.” Ever since Dee and Eddie had visited, Vexia had grown a personality to match her fighting skills. Most of the time, he appreciated the change. Now? Not at all. He turned his glower on Shade. “But if you call me that again, I’ll cut your—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Shade stirred the air languidly with his hand. “Cut off my balls. Eviscerate me. Rip off my head and shit down my throat. Blah, blah, blah.”
The situation was careening out of his control. “I mean it.”
“No, you don’t,” Vexia murmured. “Because Shade is beloved of Eddie, and you would never hurt what she loves.”
“Well I—” No, he wouldn’t, and he subsided into a stew of outrage and impotence. “What the fuck do you want?”
“What the fuck do you want?” Shade sat forward and pinned him with those irritating eyes.
Vexia whispered one word, and it hung in the hall like a death knell. “Haziel.”
“Exactly!” Shade snapped his fingers and pointed to her. “You want that angel. And what are you doing about it?” He glanced at Vexia.
She crossed her arms. “Nothing.”
“Two out of two.” Shade threw her an approving look. “Except maybe a little brooding, and it’s not a good look on our boy.”
The two of them infuriated him, and Vexia’s betrayal stung like salt in his wound. “She chose to return with him.”
“Yes, she did.” Shade nodded. “But when has Satanus, the hell prince of wrath, ever let a thing like an archangel stand in his way.”
Vexia was right there with the answer. “Never.” She sighed. “Until now.”
Chapter Forty
Wrath cursed himself for being all kinds of an idiot. He’d been in this position before, and it had cost him his heart and his pride. Still, he entered Ramiel’s demesne and waited at the portal for Ramiel’s host to recognize his presence.
A seraph appeared, wings out, sword brandished. “What are you doing here, hell prince?”
Wasn’t this going swimmingly? “I’ve come to see Ramiel.” Wrath held the angel’s stare. Feathery fuckwit had best think long and hard about his future if he sought to challenge him.
The seraph landed before him but kept his wings extended. “Ramiel is not expecting you.”
“Well.” See, this was the problem with angels—arrogant and entitled, every last one of them. Well, maybe not every one of them. Suppressing the desire to rip off all six of the seraph’s wings and shove them up his tight ass, he played nice. “It wouldn’t be a surprise visit if he did.”
The seraph eyed him suspiciously. “Wait here. I will check if he will see you.”
