Page 36 of Conflicted

Angels had no idea what true hardship was, Micah especially. I’d seen that mansion they lived in, the clothes they all wore. I doubted they resorted to petty things like theft to get them the way I had.

No, they lived a charmed life where everything was handed to them on a golden platter. And the most pious of them all,that’swho fate thought was my perfect match?

Well, fate was fucking wrong.

If I could just forget how Micah had trembled under my touch then I’d be able to move on. If this damned pull, the constant fucking itching, would leave me, then I’d be okay. It was bound to happen eventually. It had to.

Until then, I was going to hide in this house. It turned out that fucking Micah had filled my power reservoirs to the very brim, which made sense given he was an arch. Sin from him must have been worth a hundred times what I’d get from a human.

That was another nail in my coffin. Knowing he’d lusted after me that much was a dangerous ego boost. Something I knew my demon could quickly get addicted to.

I wasn’t going to give him the opportunity. With no reason to leave the house, I’d joined Quill in having cereal days.

My demon was less than pleased. Between that and the constant pull, it was a wonder I hadn’t lost my mind, but I was determined to ignore it for as long as I could.

We were on our third cereal day, both of us in pyjamas, sprawled across the sofas. Our empty bowls sat on the coffee table, waiting for our next snack break. We’d started with Nesquik and followed it with Coco Pops. Next up was going to be Cornflakes.

All day, the pull had been building to an almost unbearable level. Trying to insist I go up to the roof. To let my wings unfurl and take me in the direction of the angel I couldn’t get off my mind.

Well that wasn’t going to happen. I was concentrating on the documentary Quill had put on, willing myself to think only about that.

“Why the fuck don’t they pay their cheerleaders a fair wage?” I said, gesturing at the smug rich bitch on the tv. “Because it’s an honour to take part? Fuck off. They don’t say that to the footballers, do they? No, they pay them fucking millions.”

“It’s disgusting how they treat women topside. Who gave cis straight white men the audacity to behave as they do? One of my favourite things to do in Hell was to tell the sexist fuckers that God is female. Their faces…” Quill gave a happy sigh. “It used to bring me so much joy.”

I glared at the screen where the woman was still spouting saccharine poison. “She isn’t a cis white man. Talk about betraying your sex. Cunt.”

“We should get Dahlia to pay her a visit.”

“To pay who a visit?” Dahlia’s lilting voice entered the room a second before she did. Her gaze fell on the TV, and her lip curled in disgust as she listened to what the woman was saying. “Is she for fucking real?”

“Apparently so,” I said darkly. “Fancy a trip Stateside?”

Dahlia took one more look at the screen before shaking her head. “Tempting, but no. I’ve got other plans.”

“Where’ve you been anyway?” Quill asked curiously. “You’ve been as absent as Darius, and that’s saying something.”

Dahlia did something I’d never seen her do before. Sheblushed. “I’ve been…busy.”

Quill and I exchanged a smug look. “Is busy code for fucking?” I asked.

She flicked my ear. “Don’t be so coarse.”

“We’re demons, Dahlia. I’m pretty sure it’s in the instruction manual.”

Quill squinted at us in confusion. “Wait, we got an instruction manual?”

“Obviously not.” Dahlia rolled her eyes. “Nox is just being facetious as usual.”

“It’s what I do. So you’re not going to give us any details?”

“Nope. I don’t want to jinx anything before it’s settled.”

She moved around the room, grabbing the few articles of hers that were scattered there.

“I guess you’re not stopping long?” Quill said.

She froze, her gaze flicking to Quill guiltily. “Um, I was going to head straight out for a few days, but I can stay if you need me to?”

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