Page 21 of Claimed By Midnight

"Look at you," his deep voice rumbles through the glass, barely audible. "Picked a fight with something bigger, didn't you?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks like dried herbs, crushing them between his fingers before sprinkling them over the wing.

The bird's feathers ripple with a soft golden light - healing magic. My fingers itch to help, to learn, but I stay rooted in place. This feels private, like stumbling upon a secret that would shatter if discovered.

Koros smooths down the bird's feathers with a single finger, his touch impossibly delicate. His wings, nearly as black as the shadows around him, curl forward like a protective shieldaround his work. For a moment, the fearsome weapons dealer vanishes, replaced by something else entirely.

The bird gives an experimental flutter, and Koros's face transforms. His usual stern expression cracks into a smile that softens the brutal scars crossing his features. It's like watching a mountain crack open to reveal gems inside.

I turn away before I get caught staring, but the moment stays with me. Are any of the xaphan as I expected them to be? And why am I so thrown off by it?

Maybe it's because it's easier to handle hating them. To want to escape and go home. But last night and all day today has left me feeling…conflicted.

The workshop door creaks as I push it open. Heat rolls out in waves, carrying that familiar scent of citrus and metal that makes my pulse quicken. The setting sun streams through tall windows, painting the walls in shades of blood and gold.

Uriel stands at his workbench, his massive wings spread wide as he leans over something that pulses with blue light. Magic crackles in the air, raising the fine hairs on my arms. His golden curls catch the dying sunlight, creating a halo effect that feels like a cruel joke given the predatory grace of his movements.

I hover in the doorway, caught between fascination and fear. The dagger he's working on seems to sing, its blade drinking in the enchantments he weaves through careful gestures. Blue sparks dance along its edge, and I find myself drawn closer despite my better judgment.

"Come to watch, little demon?" He doesn't look up, but his wings shift, adjusting their span. Raven's words echo in my mind - aggression or interest. My mouth goes dry.

"I'm ready to help," I manage, moving closer to the workbench. "If you need it."

"You can just watch for now." His hands pause over the blade. "If you want."

I nod, moving closer to him and taking a seat. I watch the artistry in the way the magic flows, how it settles into the metal like frost patterns on glass. Each gesture of his hands weaves another layer of deadly intent, yet there's something almost hypnotic about the precision, the control.

"Show me?" The words slip out before I can stop them. He's had me organizing and cleaning, but I want to do more. Gods know he needs the help.

His golden eyes lock onto mine, and that cruel smile curves his lips. "Dangerous request." He steps aside, wing brushing against my shoulder as he makes space at the workbench. "But then, you're not as fragile as you look, are you?"

The heat from the forge burns my cheeks, but I lean closer to him. The magic pulses around us like a living thing, and despite everything - despite knowing what he is, what he thinks of humans - I can't make myself step away. Can't make myself stop this.

Gods, what am I doing?

12

URIEL

Ipace the length of my chambers, wings twitching with restless energy. Even though it's been a full day, the taste of Athena lingers on my lips - so sweet. So pure. My fingers curl into fists as I remember how she moaned as I plied her body with pain and pleasure, how she rode my face until I was drowning in her.

How I want nothing more than to have her straddling my mouth, suffocating me, until I use my last dying breath to make her come again.

"Fuck." I slam my palm against the stone wall, welcoming the sting of pain. It does nothing to clear my head.

I shouldn't have kissed her. I shouldn't have given in and had a taste of her pussy. Yet the memory of her little gasps, the way she melted against me...

My wings snap out, knocking a crystal decanter off the side table. It shatters, spilling purple liquid across the floor. The scent of aged amerinth fills the air, mixing with the metallic tang that always clings to my skin.

I drag my hands through my hair, messing up the golden curls. The perfect image I maintain slips as I picture her face - those golden-green eyes wide with want, her honey-blonderinglets tangled from my fingers. Despite her fire, she is still such an innocent little thing, and I'd wanted to devour her whole.

Still want to.

My reputation, my position, everything I've built since retiring from the warrior ranks - none of it matters when she's near. One look from those doe eyes and I'm ready to burn it all down just to taste her again.

A growl builds in my chest as I stalk to the window. The workshop lights glow in the distance where I should be working on commissions. But how can I focus on crafting weapons when all I can think about is the way she trembled in my arms?

"Little demon," I mutter, resting my forehead against the cool glass. She's made me weak, and I hate it. Hate how much I crave her. Hate how I can't bring myself to regret crossing that line.

How I want more.

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