Page 21 of The Demon's Pet

He shook his head. “Celestials don’t interfere with personal haven affairs.” He moved back and sat on one of the benches near the stocks. “We give rules, and you follow them. As easy as that.”

“Well, one of your new rules sucks,” I spat. “Because, apparently, alphas don’t have enough privileges, so now they can have multiple mates, and—”

“Multiple mates?” He cocked his head. “I haven’t heard of that happening in a haven yet. Very celestial, though.”

I grunted. “You say that like you aren’t one.”

He was silent.

“What do you mean, very celestial?” This was an absurd conversation to be having, but it distracted from my imminent demise, so…

“Oh, you know, most celestial communities have some kind of sex-cult vibe. It’s practically the way to identify a celestial influence,” Sam said placidly. “Is there a male claiming to talk to a god or the gods? Well, the first thing he’s probably going to do is declare that he can have multiple wives, or concubines, or whatever they call them.”

“You have a pretty cynical view of celestials for being one of them,” I muttered.

He was silent again.

I couldn’t help relating to him, though. All the things I’d thought were ridiculous seemed ridiculous to him too.

Yet celestials like him and his friends were the root of my problems.

All the gods could go to hell as far as I was concerned.

“What would you even do if I let you out of there?” he asked, cocking his head. Gods, he looked beautiful, even in those robes.

I felt my body reacting to his presence, his smell, like burnt incense, spicy and smoky at the same time.

That beautiful body.

His wings weren’t out. I supposed when he was alone, he went incognito.

“Where are your friends?” I asked.

“Off to ordain other alphas,” Sam said almost apathetically.

He leaned back on the bench, crossing one leg over the other, and tilted his head back so that the breeze caught his hair, ruffling it and tossing it over his forehead.

It was a beautiful picture and not a bad last thing to see before I died.

“So you going to tell me what you did so I know whether or not to agree when they tell me to kill you?”

“It might not be me,” I muttered. “And besides, we don’t need an executioner. We do our own executions.”

“I wonder why I was told to stay behind, then,” he said cryptically.

“So you kill people?” I asked.

He nodded lightly, seeming unbothered by the topic.

“But I’m the one in stocks,” I muttered.

He grinned at me, even his teeth perfect. “Life isn’t fair, pet.”

Okay, now I wanted to punch his lights out.

I looked away from him, annoyed by all of this. My heart was strained, my chest tight, my forehead damp with cold sweat.

I talked a big game, but I really feared the stoning.

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