Page 15 of The River of Hatred

“You may call me Jess, too,” I decide magnanimously.

His depthless eyes have a knowing look, and I decide to focus on my food instead. The sooner I’m done with eating, the sooner I’ll stop being a bug under the microscope for these demons.

∞∞∞

As I astutely predicted, the inn was the last foray into civilization for a while. Once we left, the demonic patrons pouting to see us go, it was Ithuriel’s turn to fly with me. After our understanding in the inn’s bedroom, the angel stopped flinching at my touch and he even let me caress the soft pearly feathers of his wings, though his expression got a bit pinched at that, so I didn’t ask to do it again since. His eyes had widened and then darted around before he sucked in a gulp of air. It must be really hard for him to let someone into his personal space.

I’m determined to make him see me as a friend though. There’s something about his stoic presence that’s healing to me, like a cold cream over a bruise. I always feel lighter when I’m near him and, at night, I’ve been putting my bedroll as close to his as I can without causing him anxiety.

The caffeine was well and truly out of my system by the time we set eyes on the Lethe for the first time. Though Lana told me Ashtaroth’s fortress is a sight to see, she’s gonna have a hard time convincing me anything in Hell can be more majestic than the misty cliffs and clear waterfalls surrounded by almost jungle-like plantlife.

Sariel says we’re close enough to the area where the rift is now rumoured to be and that we should start sticking to the ground as much as possible, keep our senses sharpened for any signs of it.

Now that we’re walking more than flying, I see how quickly I’ve gotten used to being in their arms. Not being in constant contact with one of them is making me feel oddly… lonely.

Chapter 9 – Sariel

“Why are you brooding alone in the dark?”

I smile at the Nephilim’s teasing question. We’ve been camping along the length of The Lethe for weeks now, searching the canyons and caves for signs of the rift, warding off nearly nightly attacks from lesser demons. I rather miss having the firecracker in my arms in the air all day long, or watching the angel’s discomfort when it was his turn to fly with her.

I’m sitting on a jutting rock overlooking the river’s rapids, one foot dangling off the edge. The perfect position for brooding. I snicker to myself. The girl’s humor has been a bright side of this mission. Pissing Ithuriel off has lost its luster somewhat, and I didn’t expect this to take so long. As a result, I’ve been cranky and, yes, brooding.

Jessica sits down and scootches over to the ledge. “Wow,” she breathes. The beauty of Lethe hasn’t worn off on her. It is a majestic place, as far as Hell goes, and even has a facsimile of a sun and moon, of the daily light cycle. A hazy ball of light in the sky that’s yellow during the day and pitch black at night. “So, why are you here alone? You’re usually trying to get under someone’s skin at this time of the day.”

I huff and roll my eyes. “Even chaotic servants of Hell like a bit of peace and quiet here and there, poppet.”

“Mhm,” she hums. “It wasn’t Ithuriel taking his armor off to fix the tear in his doublet?”

I eye the flush on her rosy cheeks. Someone else liked the angel showing some ab muscle. “Do I look like someone who would leave when a bit of skin is shown?”

Jess shakes her head, some of the rosy-blonde curls dancing around her face. “I think it’s more of whose skin it is that bothers you. Why are you so afraid of Itha?”

My brows lift and I scoff. “Me, afraid of him?”

“You are. Something about him scares you.”

“Honey, I didn’t even know there were things to be scared of until Armaros died.” The mortal’s mouth closes with an audible click.

“I’m sorry about that,” she whispers.

“Yeah. I am too.”

I pick up a loose rock and throw it into the water. It sails through the air until the dark and mist swallow it far below us. She’s gearing up to say something else on a topic I don’t want to discuss so I beat her to it.

“So, did you expect the eight-pack?” I wiggle my eyebrows as a gust of air leaves between her now-parted lips.

She fights with herself for a moment before giving in. “Fuuck.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t know what to expect from all that armor. The hardest part was not wolf-whistling.” She giggles quietly. I look over my shoulder at the tense-looking angel and my lips stretch into a grin.

“Don’t you wish you could run your hand down those juicy slabs of muscle? Tickle that adorable silver fuzz?” I have to suppress laughter at the way the little human stuffs her fist into her mouth.

“He smells so good, too,” she speaks into her hand. “How in Hell can you still smell that good after weeks of field-washing?”

“I wonder…” I purposefully trail off.

She bites. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering if he took his armor off in front of us today because he wanted us to watch. The other times, he’s been hiding away like a nun.” I pitch my voice conspiratorially low, fully aware the angel is listening in and hearing everything. “Maybe he wanted us to see him?”

---