Page 21 of How Not to Date an Angel

Rami’s cheeks flushed in irritation, eyes narrowing as Julian made his way to Rami’s desk, setting the mug down with a click.

“Shouldn’t let it go to waste, should you?” he asked, and then spun in a circle, hands on his hips. He gave a slow whistle, and paced over to the yellow couch, staring up at the bookshelves and all the books it contained.

Rami glared at the back of Julian’s head. Then their gaze lifted to the visible pair of horns.

“Please tell me you weren’t walking around outside like that,” they said, patience wearing thin.

“Like what?” he asked, running a finger along the spines on the shelf. “You’ve got quite the collection here.”

Rami slowly stood. “With your horns. Surely you weren’t out exposing yourself to the humans—”

“Don’t get your feathers crossed, I didn’t show anyone,” Julian said, not even bothering with more than a glance over his shoulder at Rami. “I let them out when I came in the door. This one’s still aching,” he admitted, and reached up to gently brush a finger over the broken end. “They’re very sensitive.”

At least it seemed less jagged than it had when they’d first seen it.

Rami winced in sympathy, and steeled themself. “If you wouldn’t mind, this is a private study, and I’d appreciate if you—“

“Private? But this is where you listen to your clients, I’m assuming,” he said, spinning in place to face them. He placed his hands on the back of the couch and leaned over. “They sit on this fancy yellow couch?”

Rami ground their teeth together. “Nothing in this room is of any concern to you, so—”

“It’s a nicecouch. Looks comfy. Bit bright for listening to humans drone on, though, isn’t it?”

He brushed a hand over one of the pillows, before grabbing it with both and compressing it between his hands.

“Julian!” Rami snapped, placing their hands on the desk quietly. The demon dropped the pillow, which filled out again as it landed on the couch. “This room is a sacred, safe space to my clients. You do not belong in here.” Rami’s frustration filled out their tone, which was smooth and even, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

“Sacred, you don’t say?” he asked, dripping with sarcasm as he stepped out from behind the couch.

“Quite. Now leave. I willnothave you tainting it with your… your bad vibes,” Rami bit out, waving a hand at the demon to encompass his… everything.

Julian’s lips twitched. “Bad vibes?” he teased, sauntering closer, coming to the side of the desk, hair brushing his cheeks as he walked.

Rami refused to straighten up, lest the demon think they feltuneasy.If anything, they pressed their palms harder into the desk.

They barely graced the demon with their stare, turning their head to meet Julian’s damned golden eyes.

They were filled with mirth, of all things, and something darker.

“You think I have bad vibes, angel?” he asked, voice dipping lower, smooth like Rami’s coffee.

The demon leaned in, placing a palm on the corner of the desk, swaying close, closer, until their noses were only inches away.

“That’s quite the compliment… coming from you,” Julian murmured, gaze slipping down a few inches for just a moment.

Rami made sure the lips beneath that stare moved solidly. “Leave.Please,” they added.Their voice did not waver.

The demon lifted his eyes, as golden as honey and just as sticky, holding Rami there in this limbo of tension that prickled across their skin.

“Alright, Feathers,” he said. “Guess it’s the least I could do.” Julian moved first, stepping away from the desk and toward the doors. And then he was gone, broken horn and all, as the left side of the door swung softly shut behind him.

Rami swayed into their chair, hands dragging across their desk, leaving smudged prints behind.

Their hands were sweating.

“Fuck,” they whispered. They wrapped their hand around their mug, stilling as no warmth met their palm.

Julian was right; it had gone cold again.

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