Page 8 of The Devil You Know

He looked pale, nearly sick at the thought, as if he remembered the stench of burning wings like I did. I nearly let myself be swept back by this horrible recollection, but I pulled myself together and managed to stay in the here and now.

“Why... why didn’t it heal? Even my wings grew back. The other wounds you gave me are barely visible now,” I gestured at my naked body, where thin lines of faded scars curled around my limbs and torso. I knew that with proper care, by slowly unwinding the opposite energy from your own, all wounds could be healed with time. Unless you were a pompous ass like that one demon I knew, who liked his broken horn and wanted it to stay that way.

Unless you made sure it wouldn’t heal.

“That girl who taught you weaving... how long after the war did you meet her?” I asked, resisting the urge to shake the angel until the answers fell out.

“She... put me back together after I ran.”

I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. Was that why the army of Heaven didn’t strike a finishing blow against my rebelling side? Because their leader ran away? Instead of, I don’t know, throwing a victory parade? A triumph akin to celebrations of ancient Romans?

“You put your extremely wounded leg into the care of a human girl, instead of going to Raphael, a renowned Heavenly Healer. You stupid, bull-headed, moronish—”

“To be fair, he treated the wound.” Michael squirmed in my arms. “It was just... ah... too late to prevent some of the permanent damage.”

“Permanent damage...” I had to squeeze my eyes shut.

“Don’t cry,” Michael soothed me as if I was the one walking around with permanent damage. I wanted to protest that I wasn’t crying, but I could feel the tears slipping unbidden down my cheeks.

Instead, I glared.

“Let me help,” I said vehemently.

“You can’t—” The angel had to realize from my expression that I would go absolutely batshit insane if I couldn’t do something so he capitulated with a sigh. “How about you help me with washing clothes? And, um, maybe I will need a hand to get into the lake...”

I was nodding before he even finished.

I fussed over his position on the grass, making sure he was as comfortable as he could be, and when he tried to get up to help me with the clothes, I pressed him down firmly, yet gently.

“Stay here,” I insisted. I wasn’t going to let him do a damn thing now, and certainly not vigorous scrubbing while kneeling over the edge of a lake.

I got to work and threw occasional glances behind me, ensuring the angel stayed in place. He had to be bored by doing nothing, but fortunately he didn’t test my frayed patience. By the time I was done I was very ready for the promised swim in the lake. I approached Michael with a spring in my step and discovered he wasn’t as idle as I thought.

“A flower crown? Really?”

“Well, nothing around me would be sturdy enough for a basket,” Michael shrugged. “So at least I made something pretty.”

He put the crown woven from dandelions, clovers, and other plants I didn’t recognize, aside and I helped him up.

“Look, if you want me to help you get into the water let’s cut this modesty bullshit,” I looked meaningfully at my coat.

Michael squeezed the fabric tighter around himself for a moment, but then looked to the ground and started peeling it away. I helped him get it off and then threw it carelessly in the direction of the flower crown.

“My lord,” I offered a genteel hand teasingly. As I mock-bowed, my eyes widened at spotting one little detail.

So, watching my naked ass for an hour did have an effect on him, I thought with satisfaction.

Michael hurried into the water, probably praying for me to not notice his state. Too bad. God was dead and could no longer help him hide his half-hard cock from me.

I submerged myself into the cold water with a truly pornographic moan. The sun was shining brightly today, so it was a great way to cool down. And after days of not bathing properly (no, the rain didn’t count) frolicking in water put me in a good mood. Well, at least a better one than I had after all the revelations. I was a vindictive beast at heart, so I decided a bit of payback for worrying me so much was in order, and I attacked Michael with teasing touches.

“Stop it! Do you really think that, what, we will fuck and everything will be suddenly alright? That it will make me feel better?” Michael snapped.

“Why not?” I asked, putting a strand of his wet hair behind his ear. “How would you know it doesn’t work? Did you ever try to fuck your feelings out?”

“Did it work for you?” Michael looked at me intently.

“No. But that’s because when I was fucking my lovers, I was thinking about someone else.”

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