Page 48 of Gray
“Yes I am!” I wiped at my eyes. “My dad was one of Lucifer’s Elite Seven, Mason. Eight, technically, but the eighth angel was killed not long after the Fall. But anyway. My dad was a general in Lucifer’s army. He waged war on humanity, ruthlessly killed people. And guess what? I was with him for some of it.”
Shock flitted across Mason’s face. But now that I’d started talking, I couldn’t stop.
“While he was out there setting fire to villages and slaughtering innocents, I was waiting for him back at camp so he could tell me a story before bed. I thought we were the good guys. When I got older, I even wanted to fight in those battles myself. I looked up to him. Loved him.”
Mason watched me.
“My very existence is a taint on the earth.”
“Don’t say that,” he whispered.
“It’s true though. When my dad followed Lucifer and rebelled against the celestial realm, a curse was placed on his bloodline. His firstborn son must bear the mark of his crime. All of us here? We represent the sins of our fathers. The literal seven deadly sins. We’re cursed.”
“The seven deadly sins,” Mason repeated, more to himself than to me. “So that’s what he meant.”
“Huh? What who meant?”
“Phoenix. He said he smelled Sloth all over me. I didn’t understand it at the time.” He studied me, head cocked. “I get it now. That’s your sin, isn’t it? Sloth? It’s why you fall asleep so much.”
“Yes,” I whispered. Alastair was right. Mason really was sharp.
“Your brothers each have a sin too?”
I wiped at my eyes again and nodded.
“Galen has to be Wrath.”
I snorted at that. “What gave him away? His flowery personality?” My smile was only surface deep. Part of me was still hurting. Afraid. “Alastair is Pride. Bellamy is Lust. And Raiden is—”
“Gluttony,” Mason interjected. “That explains his eating habits.”
“There’s more I gotta say.” I dropped my gaze to my shoes. “Did Al tell you about Belphegor?”
“Yeah. He’s working with the son of Lucifer.”
“That’s my dad.” My voice shook. “He’s helping Asa just like he helped Lucifer in the first war. That’s where I come from. So you see? I’m not as good as you thought I was, Mason. I’m—”
He kissed me, his big hand sliding to cup my face. The kiss surprised me, but I melted into it—into him. My cheek fit perfectly against his slightly calloused palm. The weight of our conversation lifted off my chest, little by little.
I could breathe again.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his breath tickling my lips. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I know.”
“For two years, I’ve hunted vampires, ghouls, everything. I’ve been filled with so much hatred it’s a goddamn miracle I haven’t suffocated from it.”
I could understand why it was a shock to him. He’d seen all supernatural beings as a threat, something that needed to be killed. No wonder it threw him for a loop when I talked about our friendship with Konnar. But still. It begged another question…
“Do you hate me now too?”
Mason pulled back to look at me, his hand still pressed to my face. “Why would I hate you?”
“Because I’m one of the deadly sins. Because my dad’s a general of the dark army.” More tears sprung to my eyes. “Because I have darkness inside me.”
“You? Having darkness? I don’t believe that for a second.” Mason smoothed his thumb along my cheek. “You’re like the sun, Gray. Bright. Giving. And so damn warm.”
I leaned more into his touch, at a loss for words.
