10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

B riar stretched his leg, sprawled across Aster’s bed with Chastity’s cool scales sliding over his belly. Her body dipped, cascading from hip to ribs, then around his shoulder. He pouted his lips at her puppy-shaped snout. She flicked her tongue, kissing him on the eyebrow, and kept on her way, slithering toward the headboard. Surprisingly, Chastity was lazy and mild-mannered. The only aggression he’d ever seen happened on feeding days—snatching dead rabbits from the air as Aster dropped them into her aquarium.

Aster rifled through his dresser, tugging on a pair of black briefs. One wing twitched. “Do you plan on wearing clothes at any point today?”

“For dinner, yes. Luca chose something ‘glamorous’, I guess,” Briar said. He trailed his fingers over Chastity’s back. “Are you feeling prudish, Great Duke? Offended by nudity all of a sudden?”

Aster tossed a playful glance over his shoulder. “No, but it is the solstice. The rest of the house will start sniffing around if we don’t make an appearance soon.”

They’d spent the day between the atrium and the bedroom, swimming and lounging. Later, in the bathtub, Briar’s hands had wandered between Aster’s legs, testing for reluctance. Do it , Aster had said, I want you to. Water had sloshed over the porcelain and puddled on the floor, tossed by Aster’s wings and his restless legs propped on the edge of the tub. His mouth had fallen open, pupils large and dark as Briar pushed inside him. It was strange, having Aster like that. To be in control, to stoke pleasure from within, widening his larger, stronger body, listening to him moan and pant. Briar had never experienced anything like it. Fucking the Great Duke tenderly, slowly, until his dick wept, reddened and swollen, and he came on a strangled gasp, thrusting up into the circle of Briar's fist, grinding down on his sheathed cock until Briar spilled inside him. Afterward, Briar had napped in Aster’s bed, drifting in and out of sleep. Wind howled. Ruckus from downstairs echoed. Reverently, Briar watched Aster dress. He wore his corset, a simple black button-down, and dark jeans.

So far, the solstice had proven lazy and fulfilling, blanketed in snow and yearning for the long night.

Aster scooped Chastity into both hands and draped her over his shoulders. “C’mon, good girl, let’s go see what’s happening in the kitchen, hmm?” He touched his thumb to Briar’s chin. “Clothes, darling.”

“Fine, all right,” Briar murmured.

Chastity flicked her tongue as Aster walked through the door.

Briar sighed, steering his gaze to the window. He watched snow flurry. Far out over the trees, the sun dipped low, sinking toward the horizon. How have I landed here? The thought had come and gone many times. He inhaled a deep, steady breath.

Perhaps fate had caused a collision. Aster and Briar, opposing forces, falling into each other. Maybe the creator had written them both into existence and left them wanting, waiting, until this sun cycle, this Celestial Auction, this tragic meeting. Or had their affair been accidental? He didn’t know—he would never know. But he was thankful for whatever had landed him at the estate, in Aster’s bed.

He put on his robe and snuck down the hall to his bedroom. An unzipped garment bag hung from the knob on his closet door, displaying a crimson shirt with polished black buttons and a pressed pair of pants. He pawed through the dresser. Carefully rolled sheer stockings over his feet, shins, knees, thighs, and hooked them to his garter belt. Tugged on thick winter socks. Pushed a leather belt through the loops on his trousers. Slid each button into place and pinched his cheeks until they pinkened. Lastly, he toed on his house-shoes and made for the staircase.

Downstairs, music played from the Bluetooth stereo in the foyer. The kitchen boomed with boisterous laughter, clattering dishware and bubbling pots. He peeked into the sitting room first, nodding to Luca who sat sideways in the recliner, sketching in a notebook. The tree adjacent the fireplace was strung with white lights and an assortment of ornaments, and stockings swayed from press-on hooks stuck to the mantle. People swept by in floor length gowns and dinner jackets, twirling and smiling. The manor felt younger and older at once. Brightened by celebration, yet sturdy and calm, as if this same night had come and gone. A memory replicated year after year.

Mallory rounded the corner, wearing a simple, satin cloth around her missing eyes, and a knee-length, long-sleeved dress. “Briar, is that you?” She reached out. He took her hand. “Oh, hello, dear. Aster has that dreadful beast out again. He knows I can’t stand snakes.” She shivered, grimacing dramatically. “I hope you’re ready to eat. Clementine’s outdone herself this year.”

Briar smiled. “I’m starving, actually. I’m sure I’ll try a bit of everything.”

“Good, good.” She patted his hand and crossed the entryway. “Luca! Dinner!”

The dining room was fit for a feast. A roast pig with a shiny red apple in its mouth filled the center of the long table, surrounded by wine decanters, glazed hens and beautifully arranged side dishes. Honeyed root vegetables sprinkled with thyme, potatoes slathered in garlic, meatballs soaked in a hearty cranberry sauce, green beans with walnuts and goat cheese—everything anyone could want on the longest night. Sam dipped a ladle into a crockpot filled with hot buttered rum and filled a mug, then another, handing the first to Jennifer. Other residents piled food onto gilded plates, sat casually in chairs or stood by the fireplace, eating and drinking together.

“I put her in the atrium,” Aster said through a sigh, walking from the kitchen into the dining room. “Yeah, I know, I know. Mallory will have a fit if I keep her out.”

Briar met his eyes from across the room, the same way he had the first time they’d met. His chest fluttered. Demon King, Briar thought, once again, you are not what I expected .

Aster gestured to the buttered rum and lifted an eyebrow.

Briar’s lips curved. He smiled, nodding.

“Happy solstice,” Aster said, and handed him a steaming mug.

Briar smirked. He lifted the mug to his mouth and sipped. Spiced, buttery cider bloomed his tongue. Rum warmed his throat. “I’ve never celebrated the solstice before. Is it always this extravagant?”

“Yes, every year. We usually feast for each solstice, but Yule is special. It feels like the start of something, you know?”

“It’s about making peace with our darkness, isn’t it? Accepting ourselves. Rebirth.”

Aster nodded. He took the seat at the head of the table. “That’s right.”

Briar sat beside him. “Have you made peace with your darkness, Great Duke?”

Clementine carved the pig, setting juicy pieces on each of their plates. Another server scooped potatoes, green beans, and a few other sides into perfect piles. Once Aster and Briar were fed, Clementine inclined her head, said, “Enjoy,” and took Mallory by the elbow, assisting her with her meal.

For a split second, Briar thought he may not answer. But after pulling a crispy potato from his fork, Aster said, “No, I don’t think I have. I don’t think I ever will. I’ll live with it, though. That’s all any of us can do—keep living.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Briar said. He poked a meatball with his fork. Around them, residents chattered and laughed, ate and drank, shared space as a family would. And a family they were, he thought. He leaned across the table and kissed Aster on the mouth. He tasted like cranberry and parsley. “I quite like your darkness, anyway.”

Aster smiled against his lips.

They ate. Laughed. Chatted with Luca and checked in with the rest of the residents. Talked about silly, domestic things with Sam and Jennifer— I would love to plant stargazers in the courtyard and Aster, have you thought about getting a few honeybee hives and Briar, the library looks stunning, well done . They shared desserts as Clementine set them out. Deep-dish apple pie, dark chocolate swirl cake, cherry-soaked shortbread cookies. Briar parted his lips for a bite from Aster’s fork, and Aster sucked buttercream from Briar’s thumb. Slowly, the dining room emptied. Dinner came to a close, snow fell in heavy flakes outside the windows, and residents retired to their favorite nooks and corners in the manor. Mallory joined Luca in the theater for a late-night movie. Jennifer and Sam had snuck off to the atrium. Clementine and the kitchen staff cleaned and talked amongst themselves, and Briar, of course, followed Aster into the lonely sitting room.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Briar asked. He draped his legs over Aster’s lap, settled astride him on the sofa.

Firelight streaked Aster’s fine-boned face. “What?”

“Companionship. This .” He rested his palms on Aster’s wide chest. “Luca was right. You were lonesome in this great, big house.”

Aster scooped his hands around Briar’s thighs, tugging him closer. He tipped his head. His mouth hovered below Briar’s chin. “You’ve found me out, Briar Wright.”

Briar met his slate gray eyes. Touched his fingers to Aster’s straight nose and the deep bow of his top lip. Beautiful , he thought. Beautiful and powerful and mine, maybe. He swiped his thumb across Aster’s flawless cheek, searching for the scar hidden on his ancient body. His clippings twitched, phantom limbs fluffing and stretching. One day he would feel them again. He had to believe that. He did believe that.

“It’s going to be a long night,” Briar whispered.

Aster held him. One hand crawled along his back, halting at the edge of his bandages. “Yes, I imagine it will be.”

“Keep my bed warm,” Briar said. He kissed Aster on the jaw, the cheek, finally, on the lips.

A cute, hiccupping laugh warmed his mouth. “Convince me.”

The fire popped and snapped. Music drifting from the foyer quieted.

Briar pressed his lips to Aster’s hopping pulse. “I. . .”

Everything stilled and went stiff as the dead. Even the wind paused, deeming the manor silent and stifled, until three hard knocks sounded at the front door. Plates clanked in the kitchen and voices whispered quickly in the library, but it was the fast-footed sound of Luca darting into the sitting room that caused Briar’s heart to drop into his stomach.

Luca’s bejeweled throat worked around a swallow. “Aster,” they said, and gathered another breath. “It’s your brother.”

“Uriel?” Briar asked.

They switched their gaze to Briar and flexed their jaw. “No, dear, I’m afraid not.”

Aster’s wide hands circled Briar’s hips and lifted, shifting Briar onto the sofa beside him. “Where’s my sword?”

Luca appeared struck. They shook their head, blinking rapidly. “In the foyer closet, I believe. Would you like me to retrieve it?”

“Yes,” Aster snapped.

Luca turned on their heels and rushed into the hall.

Briar reached for Aster. Took his palm and squeezed. “Aster, don’t. Let me handle this—”

“Go upstairs.”

“Absolutely not,” Briar bit out. He stood, pacing after the Great Duke. Aster blew into the hallway, shrugging away his button-down, unlatching the clasps on his corset, and snatched the sheathed sword laid across Luca’s raised, open palms. Briar stepped between him and the door. “Anger is clouding your judgement. Aster, please, I’m—”

“Luca, the door,” Aster said.

Luca offered a wilted, apologetic glance, stepped around him, and did as they were told. The heavy door floated open, allowing a gust of wind and snow to coast across the antique runner and polished floorboards.

On the porch, illuminated by a dim, yellow bulb, Michael stood with his hands clasped at his waist. Golden hair fell across his brow, and his perfectly tailored black suit fit snugly beneath a heavy, wool coat. Lines creased his eyes, as if time had met its mark like an arrow, whereas Aster still appeared boyish, as if the same sharpened point had hardly clipped his flesh. Pale stubble peppered Michael’s cheeks, and his massive, butter- colored wings twitched at his back. Like the sun, Briar thought. Burning mightily, brightly, terribly.

Michael gave Aster a slow once over. “Brother,” he said, not unkindly, then turned and met Briar’s wide, startled eyes. “Briar,” he said, gently, like love had once lived there. “May I speak with you?”

Without pause, Aster said, “No,” and promptly kicked Michael in the chest.

Briar knew panic. He recognized the shape of it, how it fit inside his chest like a cinder block, and he knew not to fight the shout tumbling over his lips. “Enough,” he hollered, but neither Aster nor Michael listened.

The Archangel and the Demon King staggered into the courtyard. Before Briar had the chance to yell again, to chase after them and demand peace, he was forced to shield his eyes from a fierce, blinding light.

Feathers flurried, growing larger, humming like machinery, and an army of unblinking eyes filled the sky. Aster and Michael became and unbecame. They lifted into the frozen, solstice night, gigantic and unknown, and clashed like opposing storms. Swords struck. Unholy sounds stitched an old, guttural language into existence—one Briar had never been taught—and he had to crane to see the two ancient beings locked in combat, hovering above the courtyard. For the first time in a long while, Briar remembered prayer. Be not afraid. But fear still throttled him, still burrowed bone-deep and stirred hot tears behind his lashes. Aster and Michael had no bodies. Only light and metalloid, feathers and incandescent eyes.

“Briar, let them work it out,” Luca said, voice wobbling.

“Work what out? A lifetime of betrayals? They’ll destroy each other,” Briar said. He’d meant for his voice to carry, but he hardly managed to whisper. He swiped at his leaking eyes and stepped toward the door, halted by Luca’s hand around his wrist.

The harsh light faded, and a body toppled from the heavens. Aster hit the courtyard, antelope horns arced away from his skull, wings spread wide and feathers ruffled. He braced on his palms, weakly attempting to stay upright.

Bravery was a learned thing for Briar. It wedged inside him like a splinter, sinking deeper whenever he tried to dig it out. Moments like this—as he tore away from Luca and ran into the snow—made him grateful for what he’d been. Angel of War. Battle ready. Accustomed to the sight and smell of blood. Snow sucked at his ankles and numbed his bare feet, but he still managed to snatch Aster’s weapon, kneel in front of the Great Duke, and raise his blade to meet Michael’s sword. Steel sang. Briar winced, buckling under the weight of a ferocious blow.

The Archangel of War leaned closer and a curious eye opened on his forehead. “This is why I sent a mediator. He’s impossible.”

“Enough.” Briar gritted the word through clenched teeth. “Lower your weapon or I will remove your hand.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Briar Wright.”

“God as my witness, you will walk away bleeding,” he snapped. He held tight to the sleek, black handle, pushing hard against Michael’s sword. “Kill me and Astaroth will cut your throat. Kill Astaroth and another brother will hunt you for eternity. Lower your weapon, allow me to tend to his wounds, and I will assist you in Olympia.”

Aster let out a hushed, surprised breath. “Briar, don’t—”

Briar set his knees hard against the frozen ground and locked his elbows. His shaky limbs hardly held the blade at bay. “You have my word, Michael!”

Michael hovered above him. Dual wings pulsed and eyes glinted between pale feathers. His fingertips had lengthened into knife-sharp claws and his mouth had thinned, widened, cut like a fragmented skull where his upper and lower jaws met. He tipped his head. “I would very much appreciate your assistance,” he said, voice low and honeyed. He tugged his short-sword away and sheathed it beneath his coat. His winter boots crunched the snowy ground. “I only came here to talk, you know.”

Briar sighed, relieved. “You arrived uninvited, unwelcomed, and unannounced.”

“It’s the holidays, isn’t it? Family always comes together this time of year,” Michael said.

At that, Aster barked a laugh. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“And you’ve been bested,” Michael said, matter-of-factly. He turned his eyes—all of them—to Briar. “I will retrieve you in the morning. Understood?”

“No,” Aster said, at the same time, Briar said, “Yes.”

Michael flashed a fanged grin. With a beat of his wings, the Archangel disappeared into the sky, kicking heaps of white powder into the air. Slowly, the glittering snow fell around Aster and Briar. For a long, suspended moment, Briar watched the inky blackness, waiting for Michael’s wings to unfurl, waiting for his worst fear to crash back to Earth, waiting for the flutter of a wool coat, hands latched around his shoulders, strong fingers digging at half-healed bone.

“He barely nicked me,” Aster said, wheezing on an exhale.

“Clearly,” Briar said, eyes still trained on the starless sky. Finally, he turned and sighed, framing the gash on Aster’s stomach with his thumb. “I assume you have a medical kit.”

Aster watched him darkly. His long, curved horns shadowed his face. He huffed, “Yes, Briar, I have a medical kit. Are you all right?”

“I’m not quite sure.” He took Aster’s forearm and helped him to his feet. “Let’s get out of the cold.”

Luca trudged through the snow, bundled in a fluffy robe, carrying Aster’s peacoat. “Well done, Great Duke! Always a pleasure to witness an angelic boxing match on the longest night,” they said, sighing. “Not to be preachy, but violence isn’t always the correct choice.”

“No, but it’s always the fun choice.” Aster took his coat and flinched, worming his arms through the sleeves.

“Oh, yes, clearly. Anyway, I see you’ve had your ass thoroughly beat. Whiskey?”

Aster rolled his eyes. “Yes, Luca. Neat, please. Make it a double.”

“Anything for you, Briar?” Luca tossed the question over their shoulder as they stomped into the foyer.

“Tea, thank you. Lemongrass with honey,” Briar said. “We’ll be in the library.”

Sam and Jennifer peeked into the entryway, huddling close near the kitchen, and Mallory held her skirt with one hand as she bounced down the stairs, carrying a sturdy, white medical kit. The rest of the staff stole quick, cautious glances, and Clementine clucked her tongue as she leaned into the hallway, glancing at Aster’s bare, bloody torso.

“Oh, stop,” Aster said, and sighed through his nose. “I’m fine . Go back to the festivities. Eat. Turn on the music. Enjoy the solstice.”

Briar glanced around the manor, flicking his gaze from one worried face to another. “I’ll see to him,” he said, gentling his voice. He took Aster’s arm. “C’mon, then. Let’s go.”

Aster ambled through the hall and mumbled, “Thank you,” under his breath when Briar opened the door. He sank onto the fainting couch, holding himself upright with his palms. “I’d like to not ruin the sofa. It’s an art piece, I guess. Luca would have my head—”

“I would, indeed!” Luca howled. They swept into the library with a serving tray balanced on their palm and a towel bunched neatly in the crook of their arm. “Here, let me put this down. Come, come, sit up, okay, and— there . Rest easy, sire. I’m sure you’re in wonderful hands.”

Mallory followed behind Luca, placing the medical kit on the secretary. “Is there anything else I can fetch for you, my Lord?”

“Your what? Good God, Mallory. No, no, go enjoy the solstice. I’m fine, really. Nothing to worry about,” Aster said. He plucked the glass from the tray and brought the beverage to his lips, taking a long pull.

“I’ve got him,” Briar said, nudging Mallory’s elbow. “Go on.”

Hesitantly, Mallory curtsied and left the library.