Page 17 of Claimed By Midnight

The tension in my shoulders eases the longer I sit with Raven. She's funny, and she doesn't treat me different for being human. Instead, she talks with me and we trade stories, her quick wit drawing me out of my shell. There's something freeing about talking to someone who doesn't treat me like I might break - who sees the fire beneath my careful exterior.

Suddenly, the study door bursts open with enough force to rattle the ancient tomes. Uriel fills the doorframe, his massive wings spread wide, nearly spanning the entire width. Thefirelight catches his perfect features, turning them sharp and dangerous. His golden curls are windswept, like he's been flying, and his jaw clenches when he spots me lounging in his chair.

"What exactly is happening here?" His voice carries the kind of authority that doesn't work on me - but I'm more amused by the way Raven reacts to it.

She shifts in her chair, a subtle roll of violet eyes that speaks volumes. Her wings rustle with barely contained amusement, and I have to press my lips together to keep from giggling at her irreverence.

"Oh, calm down." Raven's voice drips with sarcasm. "I haven't corrupted your precious little human. We're just having tea."

Uriel's golden eyes narrow, and the temperature in the room seems to drop. "In my private study."

"The chairs are more comfortable here." I surprise myself by speaking up, meeting his gaze steadily. Something about Raven's presence makes me braver, less willing to be cowed by his imposing stance.

His perfect features twist into something between a scowl and surprise. "Little demon's found her fangs, has she?"

"Someone has to stand up to your dramatics." The words slip out before I can stop them.

Raven barks out a laugh, and even Uriel's stern expression cracks slightly at the edges. He stalks closer, each step predatory, until he towers over my chair. The scent of citrus and metal surrounds me, familiar now after weeks in his workshop.

"Dramatics?" His voice drops lower, dangerous. But there's a glint in his golden eyes that wasn't there before - something almost like approval.

The air crackles between us as Uriel looms over my chair, but a shadow darker than night falls across the study floor, keepingme from answering. The temperature plummets, and my heart seizes as I look around him.

A figure fills the doorway, blocking out all light from the hall. His wings spread like a demon's nightmare - pitch black feathers that seem to absorb the firelight rather than reflect it. My heart pounds against my ribs as I take in his massive frame, broader even than Uriel's impressive build.

His face bears deep scars that cut across alabaster skin like canyons, telling stories of battles I dare not imagine. One eye gleams golden in the firelight, but the other - gods above - the other is completely black, like staring into an endless void. Dark red hair falls in waves to his shoulders, framing features that seem carved from stone.

My fingers grip the teacup so hard I fear it might shatter. He moves into the room with deadly grace that belies his size, each step deliberate as a predator stalking prey. The black wings brush against the ceiling, sending shadows dancing across the walls.

His mismatched eyes lock onto mine, and ice fills my veins. There's no warmth there, no hint of the humanity I sometimes glimpse in Uriel or Raven. Just cold calculation as he assesses me like a terrifying predator.

"Koros." Uriel's voice breaks the spell. "Didn't expect you until tomorrow."

Koros's gaze doesn't leave me as he responds, his voice deep as thunder rolling across mountains. "Plans changed." Two words, yet they carry enough weight to make the air heavy with unspoken meaning.

I press back into the chair, trying to make myself smaller under that penetrating stare. The scars on his face twist as his expression shifts into something unreadable, and I swear the shadows in the room grow deeper, as if responding to his presence.

Uriel only smirks. "You'll get used to him."

I'm not sure I will.

10

URIEL

Ipace the length of my workshop, my wings twitching with barely contained irritation as the little human follows behind me, questioning every enchantment I explain.

"But why bind the steel with blood magic when solar enchantments last longer?" Athena's honey-blonde curls bounce as she gestures at the blade I'm working on. "It seems inefficient."

My fingers curl around the hilt of the sword. "Because some of us actually know what we're doing, little demon." The nickname comes out as more of a growl than the usual teasing lilt.

"I'm just trying to understand." She steps closer, her golden-green eyes fixed on the runes etched into the metal. "The properties of solar magic would enhance-"

"Enough." I slam the weapon onto the workbench, the clang echoing through the workshop. "You've been here a week and suddenly think you know better than centuries of xaphan craftsmanship?"

Her soft features harden. "I didn't say that. But these enchantments could be improved-"

"By a human?" I tower over her, letting my wings spread to their full span, casting shadows across her face. The perfect opportunity to remind her of what I am. What she isn't.

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