Page 52 of Wrath

Wrath reared back as if Apassionata had struck him. “My demons are forbidden from attacking this demesne.”

Haziel’s heart twisted. Wrath loved his daughter so much he had declared a truce on his perpetual enemy because of her. He blustered, he fought, and he loved with such intensity. It was impossible to remain neutral about such a being.

“Forgive me, lord.” Apassionata glanced at her. “I misspoke. The attacks have come from mixed hordes. Some of Lord Lust’s joined before I could prevent them.”

“Are you telling me that you are all that remains of Shade’s horde?” Wrath glowered at Apassionata.

Apassionata smiled and it made his perfect face warmer and reflected in the honey of his eyes. “Not all joined our attackers,” he said. “Some merely chose not to stay here and become targets. They have hidden and are awaiting the return of our lord.” He shrugged, an effortlessly elegant gesture that Haziel wished she could imitate. “I have the means to defend myself and was elected to remain and protect the palace.”

Haziel had fought enough high order demons to know that despite his suave exterior, if he was the only remaining demon, Apassionata had all kinds of nasty tricks he could deploy.

“May I enquire as to why you are here?” Apassionata managed to say those words without sounding like a challenge, but somehow making it clear that it was a challenge.

Heavens, but Haziel wished she could achieve that.

“We are merely passing through,” Wrath said. “We are on our way to the hell gate, and I wanted to check on the condition of the lust seal.”

As if in answer to his question, the seal sent out a hearty pulse that turned Haziel’s blood to lava and her good sense to oblivion. Before she could stop herself, she inched closer to Wrath.

Apassionata gave her an understanding glance. “It weakens daily. Our lord should be here.”

“Your lord is searching for my daughter.” Wrath’s tone turned to steel and ice.

Apassionata inclined his head. “As we have heard, Lord Wrath. We are sympathetic to the quest of our lord. Love is such a precious rarity, is it not?”

Wrath growled, and to her surprise, Apassionata chuckled.

Time to step in before the blood flowed and the feathers flew. “Have you any news on how many of these rogue hordes are in the demesne?”

“Indeed, seraph.” Apassionata frowned. “They are still plentiful, but if you will allow me a few hours, I can gather an escort to aid your way.”

Wrath swelled to twice his size. “I don’t need a fucking escort.”

“I misspoke.” Apassionata changed tack smoothly. “I merely propose such an arrangement for expediency. Our demesne is particularly beset by these hordes.”

They had encountered trouble on the way through Shade’s demesne to Ava’s. It would help if they didn’t have to keep stopping and fighting their way to the hell gate, but this was not her decision, so she turned to Wrath. “Wrath?”

“You have an hour,” he snapped.

“How generous,” Apassionata murmured. “Perhaps some refreshments while you wait?”

Wrath remained silent, so Haziel said, “Thank you.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Apassionata threw her a mischievous glance. “In hell, we are always ready to welcome travelers. Regardless of where they come from.”

She couldn’t help but like him, and Haziel laughed. This trip to hell had been the first time she had ever bothered to really speak to a demon. Most of her previous encounters with them had been decidedly bellicose. In Ava’s domain, she had befriended Rapace with his wicked sense of humor and keen, incisive mind. She would always have a soft spot for Covet, and Apassionata made another demon she would like to know better.

Wrath turned when she laughed, a cold expression on his face. “We have to get to the earth realm. We’ve delayed too long as it is.”

And that was because he’d come to fetch her and then she’d injured her wing.

“Indeed.” Apassionata winked at her. “Rumor has it that your brother has been seen there.”

Haziel couldn’t resist his charm. “You seem remarkably well informed for a demon stuck in a palace alone.”

“Ah, seraph.” Apassionata looked wicked and contrite at the same time, and it made him roguishly handsome. “I catch but whispers in the wind.”

“You’ll catch my boot up your ass if you keep flirting with my angel,” Wrath growled.

---