Page 65 of Alastair
My cheeks heated.“Never mind. Just come outside. We need to talk. I’ll be waiting in the courtyard.”
“And if I say no?”
“That wasn’t a request.”
“Your demands mean nothing to me now,”he responded.“Enjoy your night in the courtyard by yourself. I’m content right where I am.”
Defiant Nephilim brat.
I strolled along the moonlit path, battling against my clashing thoughts. A storm was upon us, one that would shake the very earth. It was already causing tremors—those tremors being the recent flood of attacks that would only intensify as Lucifer’s conviction grew. I should cast aside my selfish desires and focus on the war, but I’d spent two thousand years doing that very thing: living the obedient life of a warrior, taking nothing for myself.
Reaching the courtyard, I sat on the bench beside the fountain, waiting for Alastair. Because despite his sass, I knew he’d come. The need for answers was too great for him to resist.
Flowers sprang from the beds of soil around me. Among them was evening primrose, with its yellow petals that smelled faintly of oranges. Night-blooming jasmine grew along the outer path, the cream flowers emitting a sweet scent. A small area toward the trees housed another plant, the apricot petals a splash of color against the thick undergrowth behind it. The blossoms of the angel’s-trumpet thrived at night and, although beautiful, were poisonous.
As many beautiful things were.
Light footsteps came from the path. His presence caused an immediate acceleration of my heart rate. I stood from the bench and faced him. Alastair wore a button-down shirt that matched the shade of his eyes, the top two buttons undone to show the base of his throat and the top of his collarbone. His porcelain skin was even more striking beneath the moonlight, like the evening blossoms thriving around us.
He was the deadliest, most beautiful thing of all.
“Make this quick,” Alastair said in a clipped tone.
“Do you have somewhere to be?” I asked, echoing the conversation from when he found me in the lagoon.
“My business doesn’t concern you.” The muscle in his jaw jumped. “Isn’t that what you told me?”
“It does concern me, actually. It’s my responsibility to watch over you.”
“I don’t need you watching over me, Lazarus. I’d rather you return to the celestial realm and stay there. That’s where your bestie Uriel is, after all.”
Michael would growl at the implication that he wasn’t my “bestie.” The one thing sure to get under his skin when actual vexing things failed.
“My relationship with Uriel is complicated,” I said. “Though I assure you, he’s not my friend.”
“Lover, then?” The rage in his stare intensified.
“No.” My answer took some of that fury away from him. Had he been jealous by the thought of me and Uriel together? “He’s my superior. Nothing more.”
“Michael is your superior as well, and you seem awfully buddy-buddy with him.”
“As you’ve witnessed, Michael is good-humored and kind despite his rank.” Just as he was about to respond—probably to spout off—I added, “Cut the attitude for a moment.”
“Pardon me for not dealing with this deceit according to your terms. I’ll remember it for the next time you fuck me over.”
His sharp tongue poked at my self-restraint. I was trying to remain calm, but he was testing me. “Your anger is justified, Alastair. You didn’t ask for any of this. We’re at war and don’t need the distraction, but I didn’t predict that the seal would crumble like this, forcing us to speak of it.”
“This distraction wouldn’t have been necessary if you’d told me sooner, like, oh, I don’t know, maybe a few thousand years ago?”
“If we are ever to move past this, you need to stop being a brat.”
“Did you seriously just call me a brat?” he asked.
“If the shoe fits.”
He worked his jaw in that familiar way of his, and indecision clouded in his eyes. The intense emotions surfacing between us, in their infancy, were a lot for him to handle. I’d had much longer than him to come to terms with it.
“I admit, there are many things I should’ve done differently throughout the years. I’m not perfect.”
