Page 35 of Uriel
When we finally settle into bed, careful to maintain a respectful distance between us, I turn to look at him. In the pale light, his profile seems softer somehow, more human. The weight of eternity that usually haunts his eyes is muted, replaced by something I can’t quite name.
“Uriel?” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the soft hum of the air conditioning.
He turns to face me, his blue eyes catching the light, seeming to glow from within. “Yes, Emilia?”
I swallow hard, suddenly unsure of what I wanted to say. There are so many thoughts swirling in my mind, so many conflicting emotions. Finally, I settle on, “Thank you. For everything. For trusting me, for bringing me into all this. I know it can’t be easy for you.”
Uriel is quiet for a long moment, his gaze intense, searching. When he speaks, his voice is low, filled with an emotion I’venever heard from him before. “You don’t need to thank me, Emilia. If anything, I should be thanking you. Your courage, your compassion... you’ve changed everything.Includingme.”
His words send a warm flutter through my chest, a feeling so intense it’s almost painful. Before I can overthink it, I reach out and squeeze his hand. His skin is warm against mine, the touch sending sparks of electricity up my arm. “We’ll figure this out,” I say softly.
Uriel’s fingers intertwine with mine, a gesture so simple yet so profound. “We will,” he agrees, his voice barely above a whisper.
As I drift off to sleep, Uriel’s hand still in mine, I can’t help but feel that despite the chaos and danger that await us, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. And that thought, more than anything else, terrifies me.
Because prophecy or no prophecy, forced union or free will, I’m falling for Uriel. And I have no idea what to do about it.
CHAPTER 18
Uriel
The door closesbehind us with a soft click, sealing Emilia and me in a cocoon of sudden intimacy. The guest room, spacious by mortal standards, feels impossibly small. I stand rigid, hands clasped behind my back, acutely aware of Emilia’s warmth beside me.
Soft lamplight bathes the room in a gentle glow. The decor is tasteful—muted greys and soft blues that would normally soothe my celestial senses. Abstract paintings adorn the walls, their swirling patterns reminiscent of the cosmic dance of creation. A large window offers a view of the city below, its twinkling lights a pale imitation of the celestial realm I once called home.
My gaze falls upon the room’s focal point: a solitary king-sized bed. The sight sends an unexpected tremor through my usually unflappable demeanor.
I find myself adjusting my collar, an oddly human gesture that betrays my inner turmoil. Millennia of existence, of unwavering dedication to my role as the Archangel of Chastity, and yet here I am, undone by the prospect of sharing a bedwith a mortal woman. Supernatural battles, narrowly averted disasters, my brother’s surprising romance, and now this absurd plan involving demonic speed dating—it’s almost too much to process, even for a being of my longevity and experience.
My internal deliberations are cut short by a gentle rap at the door. Raphael saunters in, his arms full of bedding, his expression one I’ve seen countless times over millennia—the look of an immortal about to thoroughly enjoy causing mischief.
Raphael’s words drip with barely contained mirth, “Here you go. I’m afraid there’s only one bed.” His eyebrows dance in a way that would be comical if I weren’t the target of his amusement. I feel a flicker of the exasperation that only a brother can provoke.
Emilia’s voice breaks through my irritation, embarrassment coloring her tone as she appeals to Raphael’s sense of propriety. But I know my brother too well—propriety has never been his strong suit.
“Sorry, no can do,” he interrupts, grinning. “This’ll have to do. I’m sure you two can... figure something out.”
“Raphael!” Helena’s voice calls from down the hall, tinged with laughter. “Stop tormenting them and come to bed!” I’m struck by how well she fits into our celestial family dynamic, despite her demonic heritage.
With a final wink, he’s gone, leaving us in a silence so profound I can hear the soft rhythm of Emilia’s breathing. Her scent—lavender and something uniquely her—fills my senses, threatening to overwhelm me.
I chance a glance at Emilia from the corner of my eye. Her cheeks are flushed, a strand of hair twirled nervously around her finger. Her visible unease surprisingly alleviates some of my own tension.
An eternity of angelic harmonies has not prepared me for this mortal silence, laden with unspoken words and unfamiliar tensions. I open my mouth to speak, to offer some words ofreassurance or perhaps suggest an alternative arrangement, but Emilia beats me to it.
Our words collide in the air between us, and I’m momentarily struck by the symbolism—angel and human, our voices intertwining in this small, mundane moment.
I clear my throat, forcing myself to meet her gaze. Her eyes, warm and brown and so achingly human, threaten to undo me completely. I fix my gaze on a point just over her left shoulder, attempting to regain my composure.
Emilia takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. The movement draws my attention to the graceful curve of her neck, and I quickly avert my gaze, ashamed of my wayward thoughts.
I fall back on formality, offering to take the floor as propriety dictates. But Emilia’s pragmatic response catches me off guard. “We’re both adults,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact. “The bed is plenty big enough to share.” Her words send an unexpected thrill through me, equal parts anticipation and trepidation.
As we move about the room, preparing for bed with an awkward dance of politeness and averted gazes, my mind wanders to Helena’s plan. If it works—if we can stop War and prevent the apocalypse without fulfilling the prophecy—it means I’m no longer bound to Emilia. No divine mandate, no cosmic push forcing us together.
I should feel relieved. After all, isn’t this what I’ve wanted since the beginning? A way to save the world without compromising my vows, without having to confront the tumultuous emotions that Emilia stirs in me?
So why does the thought fill me with a sadness so profound it threatens to bring me to my knees?
