Page 43 of Quiver

His hand sweeps in my direction, energy crackling in tiny sparks off his fingertips. “This is a level of sheer idiocy that even your terrible track record can’t explain. Tell me, have you ever considered using that brain of yours, or do you just assume it to be worthless?”

Az cowers, shame flooding his face and neck in a crimson tide as his gaze drops to the floor. He’s helpless—timid in a way he hasn’t been since I first met him.

“That's enough. You’re nothing but a bully,” I growl as something inside me snaps. A dangerous glint flares in Micah’s wide eyes as they whip to me, but I refuse to back down. “Find someone closer to your size to pick on, you overgrown butterfly.”

Fury overrides my sense of self-preservation as I press my hand against his brick wall of a chest and shove. It doesn’t accomplish a single thing other than enraging him, but I stand my ground even as Az pleads for me to stop.

“Foolish human,” he snarls, squinting his eyes and leaning closer until we’re nose to nose. Despite the natural urge to clench my ass, piss myself and flee, I hold steady. “This does not concern you.”

“If it concerns Azrael, it concerns me. I won’t stand by and watch you terrorize him just to satisfy your need to be a playground bully. Angelic, my ass. If all the Heavens offer is a bunch of gym-rat know-it-alls, send me downstairs to Hell and I’ll take my chances with the fiery pits.”

“That could be arranged,” he says, every word deliberate as the lightning storm in his eyes flashes brighter.

“Try me, angel boy.” I give him a snarl of my own, and for a long second, we face off, neither of us blinking.

And then he throws his head back and laughs.

It’s a deep, bellowing sound, and I can only stare in shock. When I glance over my shoulder at Az, he looks just as confused. Micah swipes at his eyes with a giant smile illuminating his otherworldly face. All those stupidly perfect angles are devastatingly beautiful when he wipes the scowl away.

“Finally,” he says, a chuckle still rumbling in his chest as he shakes his head. “A human with some balls. It has been centuries since anyone stood up to me. Please, sit.”

The occasional rogue huff of laughter slips loose as we follow him into his office, both of us hesitant. A marble monstrosity of a desk stands in front of a white leather executive-style chair, and Micah’s wings fall seamlessly into the slits carved into the back.

Why doesn’t it surprise me that he’s too vain to put them away?

Azrael and I both sit in the chairs opposite him, and I weave his trembling fingers through mine, squeezing as I rest our joined hands on his thigh.

Micah watches us, his scrutiny still heavy, but with more room to breathe. “You are well matched,” he observes, his voice holding a clinical curiosity. For the first time, he assesses me as more than an annoyance, a hint of genuine interest in his eyes. “Verywell matched, actually. This is the human you have spoken to me about, Azrael?”

He takes a fortifying breath before he nods. “It is. And if you want me to stay on as The Cupid, we’re going to have to figure something out, because I won’t give this up… I won’t lose him.”

“You are not in any position to be making demands, Azrael,” Micah warns, and I tense as I wait for him to lose his temper again. Instead, he purses his lips, staring thoughtfully at Az.

“Actually, I think I’m in exactly the position to make demands.” Az’s false bravado is lessened by his giant, terrified eyes, but I’m proud of him for speaking up, even if his voice went a little squeaky.

Micah, on the other hand, does not look quite as amused.

It’s been quiet for so long that I startle when the archangel speaks. “You have proven to be quite the surprise, haven’t you? We haven’t seen such high success rates from TheCupid in at least fifteen hundred years, and believe me when I say no one, and I meanno one, was as shocked as I was.”

“Always with the vote of confidence,” Azrael mumbles, and Micah smirks with an indifferent, one-shouldered shrug.

“You're well aware I did not support you stepping into the role, Azrael. I made my opinions known.”

“Bet you did,” I mutter, and his eyes flicker my way, narrowed.

“Which means,” he continues, focusing on Az again, “that even the oldest and wisest of us can be proven wrong from time to time.”

“Modest of you to admit that,” I say.

He lifts that perfectly sculpted brow in my direction. “Watch yourself, human. You are entertaining, but my patience wears thin.” That pointed stare stays locked on me as I mime zipping my lips shut. I stay quiet, letting him have the win.

Better than him lifting his leg and peeing on me to assert his dominance.

“So, where do we go from here?” Azrael asks, forcing both of our attention back to him. “We are at an impasse, because there are only two options. I continue my role as The Cupid, knowing that Beau will age without me, or I give up my wings and live my life with him as a human. You know which one I’d choose.”

Micah sighs, leaning back in his chair as he taps his fancy pen on the desktop. When he finally speaks, he drags the words from his mouth, like each syllable tests his willpower. “There is a third option you haven’t considered.”

Az tilts his head. “And that is?”

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