Page 8 of Michael
“Feels like a century,” I say under my breath.
I can’t help the hint of longing in my voice. The hospital keeps me so busy—or it used to. I don’t think Uriel’s gonna let me work another shift anytime soon.
Bobby, a hulking man wearing an ill-fitting tuxedo, crosses his arms, studying me with a suspicious gaze. “You huntin’ someone?” he asks.
I shrug, doing my best to look nonchalant. “Nah. Not really,” I reply.
He grabs the door handle with a shaking, eager hand, and swings it open as if I’ve solved an ancient riddle. His face lights up as he gives me a warm and energetic pat on the back and says, “Come on in. Good to see ya.”
“Same,” I say, and taking a deep breath, I walk through the entrance.
At once, the air conditioner’s cold air blasts against my skin, bringing back old memories. Even though it’s been years, it feels like I never left.
Humans upstairs, supernaturals downstairs—that’s the way it works around here… or it used to.
I tread into the bar, the low hum of conversation suddenly dying down. Above me, human eyes widen in surprise and admiration, but those heading downstairs know exactly who I am—an angelic presence in a room full of mortals, demons, and ancient gods.
I’m used to being stared at. But something feels different this time. A piercing gaze stabs me in the back.
“Michael,” a woman breathes, her voice quivering with emotion.
I spin around to face her, immediately captivated by the woman’s exquisite beauty. She’s radiant in a sleek red dress that clings to her curves. Her voluminous, dark curls caress her bare shoulders as they cascade down her back. She looks like a flawless porcelain doll, with high cheekbones and blue eyes that glimmer with joy.
I greet her, rolling her name like thunder on my tongue. “Aphrodite,” and give a slight bow of my head.
She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow as her gaze turns shrewd. The goddess rests her index finger against the side of her chin, coolly considering me. “I’ve not seen you here in ages. Iknowyou’re not looking for a date, so what brings you around?” Her tone is skeptical and her eyes narrow with scrutiny.
“I’m looking for someone,” I say quietly, my voice barely audible above the buzz of the bar’s patrons.
Aphrodite knits her brows, her expression one of resigned weariness. “Mmm…” Concern flickers on her face. “No slapping cuffs around here,” she warns me.
“You’ve got nothing to worry about.” I try to sound confident, but a hint of anger seeps through my words.
The truth is, I’m taking no prisoners, but I will beat the crap out of the motherfucker if it comes to it. Sammy deserves better than this. My fists are suddenly balled and my jaw is set, despite the feeling of helplessness that’s settled in my gut. I despise Jack Langley with a passion, but he’s still the father of Samantha’s child.
“I’m off duty,” I add in reassurance, but Aphrodite eyes me skeptically, slim fingers tugging at the hem of her dress.
She examines my face for a moment before biting her lower lip and shrugging. “The word of anangelmust be worth something, I guess,” she says with a dry laugh, quirking up her eyebrow again. She then exhales sharply and looks away from me, picking at her nails in a near-imperceptible display of restlessness.
“Archangel warrior,” I reply, keeping my voice steady and confident.
With a deep sigh, the goddess folds her slender arms across her chest, her glare locked on me. And after an unbearable moment of silence, she finally asks, “Who do you want?” Her voice sails like a sweet lullaby, and a wave of relief washes over me.
“Jack Langley,” I tell her fast, before she gets a chance to reconsider. “He’s gonna be a father soon.”
“Again?” Aphrodite pinches the bridge of her nose and lets out a heavy breath. “Why can’t he ever learn?” She throws up a dismissive hand, gesturing down the hall. “He’s downstairs. You remember the way. I’m not standing up for him this time.”
“I’ll be discrete,” I promise with a swift nod, eager to seize the demon.
Her stare travels over me, taking in my bulky frame. “Hey, Michael...” she says. “Will I ever sign you up for a Wednesday?” she asks. “Anarchangel warriorin my bachelor list is just what I need.”
I purse my lips, not particularly thrilled at the idea. “Yeah. I tried dating once,” I admit reluctantly. “It’s definitely not for me.”
Aphrodite’s gaze becomes intense, and the corner of her mouth twitches as if trying to suppress a sad expression. “She broke your heart,” she whispers, wistful as she speaks each word.
I freeze, taken aback by her revelation.
Stepping closer, her gentle hand lands on my chest, her touch radiating fathomless empathy. “But broken hearts can be mended, you know,” she adds in the same soothing tone.
