by Sadie Moss
“I get it.” She scowls at me. “You’re Greed. You always want something, so you assume everyone else does too.”
It doesn’t escape my notice that she cleverly dodged my question, but instead of forcing the issue, I cock my head at her. “What’s your name, angel? And if you say Olivia Pope again, I’ll throw you out the window, and you better hope your damn wings are healed enough to fly.”
She has the grace to look a little sheepish at that, and she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth before she answers. That small action makes my cock twitch. There’s something open and vulnerable about this woman—this angel—that makes her incredibly alluring. She does things that, if another woman did them, would seem overtly sexual, but there’s not an ounce of intent behind her actions.
She has no idea what she’s doing, or what affect it has on a hot-blooded male.
“Trinity,” she murmurs. “But most people call me Trin.”
Her eyes are soft and dark as they stare at me, as if she expects me to haul her off the couch and hurl her out the window anyway.
I’m not gonna fucking do that, and I tell myself that the only reason why is because I still haven’t gotten my precious answers.
“All right, Trin.” I sit on the coffee table, spreading my legs and resting my elbows on my knees. “Why did you come to my office today? What are you doing following me around? Huh? An angel like you? What rank are you anyway?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Trinity sits up a little straighter, more strength coming into her voice. The potion’s doing its work. “You were there! You saw that portal. It’s small for now, but it’ll expand, and I can’t have closed it permanently. I’d need a stronger angel to do that, or—or some kind of supernatural magic. Why did it even appear?”
That’s a good question, actually, and one I don’t think I’m likely to get an answer to soon. I’m not as accurate as a polygraph test, but I still have a good sense for when people are lying to me, and she’s not feigning her shock and surprise at the portal’s appearance.
I spread my arms, letting a half-smile curve my lips. “I wish I could take credit, but alas.”
“I’m serious.” She leans forward earnestly. “We need to figure out why that portal opened up, why those demons invaded Earth. They didn’t come for me. And if they weren’t here for you…”
“They weren’t. Unless I pissed off Downstairs and someone forgot to tell me.” I rub my chin thoughtfully. “But you’re right. Portals to Below don’t just open up for no reason. Earth is neutral territory. So what is a group of demons doing here?”
“Ugh, that’s what I’m asking myself.” Trinity falls back against the couch, scrubbing a hand over her face. “There has to be a reason, and I need to figure it out. Do—” She breaks off, her eyes widening suddenly. “Oh no, do the humans know what happened?”
Good question. I grab the remote and switch on the large television that dominates one wall of the room.
Looks like there’s a minor news story about a mysterious sinkhole appearing in an alley and growing bigger. Just as I expected, they’re blaming it on local construction and sewer problems. From what I can tell, it looks like Trinity successfully closed the portal. Temporarily anyway. But it still exists as a sinkhole even if the bottom layer doesn’t lead to Below anymore.
“That won’t hold,” the angel whispers, fear in her voice. “If it’s still growing and getting bigger, then it’s only a matter of time until the bottom opens up again and more demons pour out.”
“Has anything like this happened before?”
“Not recently.” Trinity looks like she’s thinking. Her nose scrunches up and her brow wrinkles. “Not that I can remember.”
“Great. So we need to figure out what this means.”
Even as I speak, I’m not sure why I’m saying we. I don’t see how this is my problem. But at the same time, I don’t like the idea of Below having a strong influence here.
And I especially don’t like the idea that this could bring the war to Earth. If Heaven and Hell begin to battle for control of this plane, there goes all my fucking fun. My brothers and I exist because free will exists on Earth, and if that goes away, there’ll be no one left for our sins to influence.
I’m not fond of that idea.
So, fuck it. I guess I’m trying to figure out how to stop a portal to Hell from opening again.
“I need to go and handle this.” Trinity gets up, stumbles for a moment like she’s woozy, then starts for the door. She glances over her shoulder at me. “You can help me or not, but I need to hurry up and get going. If I don’t fix this, Upstairs is going to find some way to blame me for it just because I was there when it happened. I really do not need another stain on my record right now—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I step in front of her, blocking her body with my larger one. “You almost just died,” I point out. “You were bleeding out in my arms. You ruined my fucking couch. You’re still not at full health, and if I hadn’t had a healing potion to spare, you’d be dead right now. You can’t go marching into battle right now.”
“I’ve had worse,” Trinity replies, tilting her chin up and glaring at me.
That’s a fucking lie. She’s not a battle angel and she already admitted as much.
“Sure you have.” I steer her to the couch and make her sit back down. “You’re staying here.”
“But we have to take care of this!”
“And we will.”
The words are out of my mouth before I consider them, something I almost never do. But I make no effort to take them back.
Normally I would not stick my neck out like this. But… well, if a bunch of demons are running around New York City then that’s bad for fucking business, isn’t it?
Trinity gives me an odd look, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Are you… you’re seriously going to help me?”
“I can’t exactly run a Fortune 500 company if there are demons overtaking Midtown, can I?” I drawl. “But we’re going to be smart about this. Wrath is the one you want to go to if you’re spoiling for a fight. Do I look like my brother?”
“Um, I don’t know. I don’t know what your brother looks like,” Trinity replies.
Fucking hell.
“It’s a figure of speech.”
“Oh.” She blinks. “Sorry. I’m still learning some things about humans. They’re hardly ever literal. It’s confusing.”
“It can be. I think it’s very creative of them.”
I’ve lived among humanity long enough to have gained a healthy appreciation for their species, but I’m not going to get into a philosophical discussion about the value of humans with an angel. Angels are stuck up. Think they’re better than humans—better than everyone. It grates on my goddamn nerves, which is one of the many, many reasons I avoid angels.
To my surprise, the little angel lights up. “They really are such creative creatures, aren’t they? Have you ever seen Stranger Things? I don’t know how they came up with half that stuff!”
My eyebrows rise. That is… not the response I was expecting. I’ve never met an angel who actually enjoys humanity before.
Letting the subject drop, I give her a hard look. “We can figure out what this is after you’ve got some strength in you.”
I can whip something up for her. And something for myself. I’m starving.
Not wanting her to destroy any more of my furniture, I point her in the direction of one of my bathrooms and tell her she can borrow a robe from the linen closet beside it.
I leave the television on as I head into the kitchen, allowing me to keep an eye on the news as I begin to pull ingredients from the fridge. The sinkhole is already a non-story, shoved aside in favor of other, flashier pieces of news. Several minutes later, the TV program cuts to an interview with Ryland Eastwood, and my lip curls instinctively.
Pride.
What a fucking cock.
Trinity returns from the bathroom, padding into the kitc
hen wearing a fluffy white robe and bare feet. I tear my attention away from my brother as she enters the room, schooling my features into a neutral expression.
She stops, staring at the ingredients I’ve piled on the marble countertop. “Are you… cooking?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
I arch a brow at her. The fact that I can handle myself in the kitchen shouldn’t be an insane concept. I’ve been busy dealing with an upcoming merger, so for the past week, I’ve been eating out or ordering in. But I like to cook when I can.
Trinity walks slowly toward the counter, staring at the food.
“It’s not going to bite you,” I inform her dryly, setting a pot of water on the stovetop to boil. “And I’m not going to poison you with it.”
“I just thought—um, I figured you’d have a personal chef or something.”
“I did, back in the day,” I admit, thinking back to some of the insane medieval feasts I hosted. “But what’s the point of having all this wealth if I can’t use it to enjoy the things I have? I like to cook. I find it soothing. Why should I sacrifice something I enjoy? Otherwise, what’s it all for?”
“That’s… not the point of view I expected Greed to have,” the angel concedes.
I snort. “That’s because you angels all just see us one way.” I add arborio rice to the water. “You’re missing the point if you think having ungodly wealth is so that you don’t do things. It’s to enable you to do the things you want.”
Trinity blinks at me as if I’ve literally shoved her. Knocked her off balance. I try to hide my smirk by turning back to open the salmon and apply the creole rub to it, but I’m not sure I fully succeed. Not that I care. I’m a sin; it’s perfectly within my rights to gloat a bit. And it’s not every day I get to stun an angel speechless.
“Will you grab the plates?” I ask her over my shoulder. I want to have them ready for when I put the salmon and risotto on.
Trinity nods absently. Without hesitating, she reaches up to the cupboard third from the left, opening it to grab the plates.
Wait.
Hold on just a fucking minute.
How would she know where my plates are? She couldn’t, not unless…
I turn around to face her. “You’ve been watching me, little angel.”
The look on Trinity’s face says it all.
Chapter Nine
Trinity
Ah, frick. Busted.
My breath catches in fear as Beckett turns around. His eyes are dark like a predator’s.
“How did you know where those plates were so quickly?” His voice is almost a purr, and I can’t tell if it’s the purr of a cat with cream or of a tiger about to devour its prey.
“I…” My voice dies out.
Not waiting for an answer, Beckett stalks toward me, and I stumble back, hitting the fridge. Crap. There’s nowhere to run. And I’m weak right now. I don’t want to be, but he’s right, I was injured; there’s no way I could beat him in a fight right now.
“You’re just a little voyeur, aren’t you?” Beckett’s only inches from me now, and he braces his hands on the cabinets on either side of my head, pinning me in. I swallow, trying not to shiver at the heat radiating from his body. It would take only the slightest shift of his large form to press against me, to pin me to the refrigerator.
“I’m—I’m not,” I protest, even though that’s a lie and, well, as an angel I try not to do that.
“You were spying on me.”
“Even if I was,” I insist desperately, my cheeks flaming, “spying is different from voyeurism.”
It’s a stupid distinction to make, maybe. But it’s not like I was watching him for my own creepy pleasure. It’s not like I wanted to see what he did to that actress in this very kitchen.
Thoughts of that night explode inside my brain, making my breath pick up, and I drop my gaze, embarrassment flooding through me at my remembered arousal.
“How long have you been watching me?” Beckett’s voice deepens into a growl. I can practically feel the rumble in his chest, and a new wave of heat pools in my gut.
“A—a week. I can turn invisible,” I whisper, giving in. Maybe if I’m honest, or as honest as I can be, he’ll drop this faster.
“Well, then we’re going to have to add voyeurism to spying, because if you were watching me for a week…” Beckett reaches up, his fingertips skimming my cheekbone. “…then you saw quite a few dirty little deeds. Did you enjoy that? Hm? Did it get you all… hot under the halo?”
He leans in farther, his lips almost skimming my jawline as he moves his mouth up to my ear. “Did you like watching how I made them moan? Made them beg? Do you want to beg for me? Is that why you watched me, little angel? Why were you sneaking around my apartment? What the fuck do you want?”
I’m trembling. I’m hot all over, and I want to deny I saw any of it, claim it didn’t affect me at all. I want to lie—but I can’t, because at that moment, my wings pop out.
Oh, no.
Um, so the thing about angel wings is that they reveal our emotions. It’s why it’ll be extra hard for me to lie or keep secrets now. Because my stupid wings will show what I’m feeling. So if I’m feeling scared, my wings will be all puffed up and arched back ready for defense. If I’m sad, they’ll be droopy.
If I’m turned on, like I am right now, they’re going to burst out of me, all fluffy and luminous.
It makes me feel a whole lot like I’m a fourteen-year-old boy who just popped a boner in algebra class.
Beckett jumps back a little, like he was expecting an attack, only to smirk once he realizes what just happened. “You were saying?”
“I…”
Crap. I’m caught dead to rights, and I know it.
I tug my wings back before they can do something stupid like try to brush up against Beckett.
For a second, neither of us moves. He’s looking at me with a dark, assessing expression, the green of his irises gleaming as my skin burns under his gaze. But underneath the anger and mistrust, there’s heat in his eyes too. He sort of looks like he wants to eat me for dinner instead of the salmon.
“Um… I’ll get the plates,” I mutter quietly, shifting away from him a little. I’m close to scrambling up onto the counter just to put a bit more distance between us.
He keeps me pinned with his large body for a second more, then steps back, making a mocking gesture toward the cabinet with the plates. I never got a chance to grab them before he busted me earlier.
I grab two large plates, and when I turn back to face him, he’s still watching me. But some of the intensity has faded from his expression, replaced by a thoughtful frown—as if I’m a puzzle he’s trying to piece together. “So, you really are an angel. What are you doing here on Earth?”
I shrug. “The same reason any other angel is on Earth.”
It hurts to say it, but there’s no point in denying it. There are secrets it’s important I keep from this man, so telling the truth about everything else is the wisest option.
“You’re fallen.” Beckett’s eyes gleam with interest and he leans back against the kitchen island. “Which leaves me wondering what a fallen angel is doing following me around.”
I can’t tell him the full truth. If I even whisper the word “redemption,” he really will throw me out the window. If the sins could so easily be turned toward one side or the other in the war, it would’ve happened long ago. He’ll never listen to me if he thinks I’m just here to preach at him and recruit him to fight on our side in the war. Which I suppose is kind of what I’m doing, but I don’t want to think of it that way. I’m doing what I have to do to get back home.
And he’s a sin, so it’s not like I’m hurting some innocent person here. It could be worse. I’m saving him, after all. Aren’t I?
“Well…” I tuck my wings back inside me. “I’m trying to get back home.”
“To Above.” Beckett winces slightly, like he doesn’t want to say the name.
“Yes. And I thought… I don’t know. You’re a sin, right? You’ve been around for ages.”
“You thought I might know how to get you back home?” Beckett shakes his head, like he thinks that’s adorable. “Sorry, angel, but I don’t know squat. And if I did, I wouldn’t be sharing that information with any random fallen who crossed my path.”
I try to look properly crestfallen, and it must work because Beckett softens a little as he walks over to check on the risotto. “Look, a half dozen demons just appeared in New York City. I know Heaven doesn’t usually give a shit about what happens on Earth, but still—if you handle this mess, that’ll get the attention of your superiors, right? So in a way, this is good news for you.”
“I don’t think something that could kill a bunch of humans should ever be called good news,” I say primly, although I can kind of see his point.
Any ease that seemed to be developing between me and Beckett vanishes. He shakes his head, anger passing over his expression. “Fucking angels.”
I shut up after that, not wanting to push him any further. He hasn’t kicked me out, and he’s agreed to help me. Heck, he’s even feeding me. So it would be unwise to poke at him when I don’t have to.
He finishes cooking, and we sit down in the large dining room to eat. The risotto is… okay, I admit it, it’s delicious. It’s possibly the best meal I’ve ever eaten, and I try not to compliment him, but my wings unfurl and are twitching happily, so I’m pretty sure Beckett knows even though I don’t say anything.
“Something like this is bigger than just you or I can handle,” he explains as we eat. “I’ll have to call in some of my brothers, see if they can help us. They’re a handful, but they’re the only ones I trust.”
I swallow a bite and chew my lower lip. “Well, actually… I was thinking I should try to call in some other angels.”
“I’m not dealing with angels,” he says shortly. “If they’re in, I’m out.”
