Page 37 of Conflicted

Quill huffed and folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not a child. I don’t need babysitting.”

“Says the demon wearing pyjamas and living on a diet of cereal,” I pointed out.

“They’re comfy and cereal is yummy and easy to prepare. Sue me.”

“Would love to, but you’re skint. Unlike the rest of us, you haven’t bothered to steal any money yet.”

He shrugged. “Not much point really. You lot have enough already to last us all several lifetimes.”

Dahlia sighed. “You still need sin, Quill.”

I held up a hand to stop Quill firing back a response. “Nope. No fighting today, I’m too busy being lazy to clean up after you. Dahlia, we’ll be fine. You go, have fun. I’ve got things under control.”

Dahlia pursed her lips. “Sure about that? Because the arch on our roof would suggest otherwise.”

I froze. “Micah?”

“Yep,” she said. “I landed next to him and he didn’t attack. Just greeted me cordially like him being up there was completely normal. I assumed it had to be him.”

My gaze turned wary. “Why would you assume that?”

She patted my head condescendingly. “Because I was there that day in Hell, Nox. I’m not an idiot. I know who he is to you.”

My hands fisted on my lap. “He’snothingto me.”

“Then why is he on our roof?”

She didn’t give me a chance to respond, strolling off out of sight.

“Fuck.”

Quill yawned. “Are you going to go up there? Or do you want some Cornflakes instead?”

Part of me was tempted to leave Micah stewing up there for a bit longer, but a much bigger part of me wanted to find out why he was here. And, more importantly, why he hadn’t made his presence known.

Plus, maybe seeing him would give me a brief respite from the incessant need clawing at me.

“No,” I said roughly, shoving to my feet. “Start the next episode, I won’t be long.”

I hit the bottom step before realising I was unwashed and in my pyjamas.So? Who cares what Micah thinks? Fuck him.

I made it one more step before I was turning on my heel and sprinting for my room in the basement.

A quick shower and a change of clothes wasn’t making an effort, it was just common decency.

The extra-tight top I chose had nothing to do with the angel either. I liked the way it hugged my muscles. Nor was it because of him that I spritzed on my preferred cologne. I always wore it.

I glared at myself in the mirror. What the fuck was I doing and why?

The less said about the packet of lube I shoved into my back pocket, the better.

My heart started to hammer in my chest as I raced up the stairs. That was odd, exercise didn’t usually affect me.

The attic hatch was open, as it always was given we liked to use the roof to fly from. I didn’t bother with the ladder, just grabbed onto the sides and hauled myself up in an effortless movement. Making sure not to tread on the yellowing insulation, I picked my way across to the window. Ducking through it, I stepped out onto the roof.

My mouth went dry as Micah came into view. His back was to me, his shoulders tense. His shirt was black today, but he’d paired it with the usual smart shoes and trousers. Why he always dressed like he was about to deliver a speech in a boardroom was beyond me.

He didn’t turn to greet me, just stared into the distance like he was searching for an answer to something. His hands were in his pockets. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if he didn’t think me worthy of shielding against, but I couldn’t say it. I might not have liked Micah, but the idea of hurting him was somehow…abhorrent.

---