Haziel stopped in the middle of her training session with the younger angels and lowered her sword. For a minute there, she felt sure she could feel Wrath, but that couldn’t be. Wrath rarely came to Ramiel’s demesne, and it was merely wishful thinking on her part.
Zephon winged into the training ground, looking like he was ready to rip heads off and apologize later. She wasn’t in the mood for one of Zephon’s tantrums, so she turned her attention back to her trainee. Taking him by the hand, she shifted the dagger in his clasp. “Like this. You keep holding it the other way, and it’s too easy to knock out of your hand.”
“Yes, Haziel.” He nodded and gave her his shy smile.
His smile reminded her of Issy, the sick human girl, and the promise she had made. She would need to journey to the earth plane and fulfill her promise soon. Not that she foresaw any issue getting permission from Ramiel. He was contorting himself to make her happy, and it made her feel a bit guilty. Not guilty enough to stop taking advantage of the situation, but she did feel a mite of pity for him. After all, very few knew as well as she did the constant pain of unrequited love.
Her own feelings had shifted so suddenly that she might be accused of being fickle. But then she remembered Wrath and all the things that made her heart beat faster. It was more than his raw, primal beauty. It had to do with his quiet sense of humor, his intractable honor, the way he cared so deeply for those he loved, and his strength and determination. These were all qualities she’d seen in Ramiel, only to discover that they existed in her imagination.
“Fucking hell prince.” Zephon thwacked a small bush with his sword. “They have no rights here.”
The hair on Haziel’s nape stood on end. Her pulse throbbed erratically in her throat. Could she have felt Wrath?
She turned to Zephon. “There is a hell prince here?”
“As if you don’t know.” He sneered at her. Her fellow seraphim had not been happy about her association with Wrath and were keen to share that opinion with her. She didn’t care about the opinion of beings who swaddled themselves from experiencing the life they had been created to preserve.
But Haziel did care, very much, about the possibility of Wrath being there. She cared so much she might hang around in the background to catch a glimpse of him. He wouldn’t have come here for her. She’d left him and followed Ramiel. Despite what her stupid heart wanted to believe. “Is Wrath here?”
Zephon turned his back on her.
Now that was just plain rude and fucking annoying. Launching herself at him, Haziel struck him with her full body weight between the shoulder blades.
He hit the ground with a grunt.
Haziel still had her trainee’s dagger in her hand, and she pressed it against his throat. “I asked you a question politely.” She spoke directly into his ear. “And I will get a polite response.”
“Fuck, Haziel.” Zephon squirmed beneath her, trying to free himself. He was welcome to try. She was Ramiel’s second, and her power was part of the reason she’d been granted that position.
“I’m going to ask you again.” She applied a bit more pressure with the knife. “Is Wrath here?”
“Yes,” Zephon snarled. “He is with Lord Ramiel.”
Every part of Haziel softened as she absorbed that news.
Beneath her, Zephon managed to wriggle free and toss her off him.
She barely even noticed him as she sat with her ass on the ground and tried to get her mind to work. There was every possibility that Wrath was here to talk about the issue with the seals, or the mixed demon hordes. Maybe he had new information he needed to share with Ramiel. But then surely he would call a gathering and share it with all the others at the same time.
She didn’t want to think impossible things. Wrath had made her no promises, as she had made him none. And in the end, he would see what she had done as the same abandonment and rejection he had suffered from Rosabella.
But Wrath was here, and she wanted to see him with every functioning part of herself.
“Haziel.” Her trainee crouched in front of her. “Are you all right?”
Was she all right? Haziel stared at his pretty, eager young face and had no idea how to answer that question. She was suddenly laughing with no idea why or how to stop it.
“Get a hold of yourself,” Zephon snapped, dabbing at the small nick she had given him with his forefinger. “Your behavior is setting a poor example to the young.”
She barely heard him. Would Wrath want to speak to her before he left? She was too terrified to even entertain the hope. And what would she even say to him if he did? That she was sorry, but she had given her word to Ramiel that she would leave. That she would do it again if it meant Ramiel would help Wrath heal his daughter.
“Haziel.” Ramiel appeared through the door leading into the palace. “I need to speak with you.”
She clambered to her feet, keenly aware of how hot and sweaty she was. Her hands shook so badly that she handed the dagger over to the trainee. Now was not the time to entrust her with a weapon.
Ramiel’s expression was unfathomable as she approached him. He motioned her to follow him inside. “You’ve heard.”
It was not a question. “Yes.”
“He is here for you.” Ramiel stopped and faced her. The open longing in his green eyes made her heart constrict. He was hurting, and despite everything, she didn’t want that for him. “And you, my sweet Haziel, have a decision to make.”
She shook her head and her throat constricted as she said, “No, I don’t.”
Pain shadowed Ramiel’s eyes. “It shall be as you want.”
“Thank you.” Now she needed to hear the words from Wrath.
“Oh, and Haziel.” Ramiel smiled. “You could say that I did you an unintentional favor by insisting you return here with me.”
This she needed to hear. “And how is that?”
“Now you know, without doubt, how much you mean to him.”
Wrath felt as nervous as a stripling as he waited for Ramiel to fetch Haziel. He should have prepared a speech and not flown up here with no clear intention other than to get his female. He should have asked Vexia to give him some talking points, or better yet, Shade. Shade knew how to speak to someone you desired. He should have worn something other than fighting leathers.
And then she was there, standing in the open doorway. Light glanced off her dark hair, and all the white was a perfect setting for her warm skin. She approached him slowly, the cloth of her wide-legged pants floating around her legs. “Wrath”
