15. Athena

15

ATHENA

I lay in my bed, the silk sheets cool against my heated skin. The moonlight streams through my window, casting silvery patterns on the walls that remind me of Uriel's wings. My heart flutters at the memory of him towering over me, that perfect face twisted into something dangerous yet captivating.

I touch my wrist where his grip left phantom sensations, not bruises but the lingering imprint of control. The scent of citrus and metal still clings to my skin, and I breathe it in deeply. It's intoxicating how he made me feel - small yet cherished, controlled yet free.

My golden-green eyes drift closed as I replay his commanding presence. The way he moved with such fluid grace despite his imposing height. How his golden curls caught the light when he bent close to me. That cruel smile that should have frightened me but instead sent thrills down my spine.

When he forced me to my knees, I shouldn't have felt excited. But I did. I loved feeling used by him, dominated by him. I loved seeing someone like Uriel lose all control because of me.

I've spent so long trying to prove myself, to show I'm not some fragile thing to be protected. Yet with Uriel, submitting felt like strength. His dominance awakened something primal in me, something that recognized and welcomed the power he wielded.

Rolling onto my side, I hug my pillow close. The gentle night breeze carries the sweet scent of night-blooming flowers through my window, but all I can focus on is the lingering essence of him. My body tingles with the memory of his presence, of how naturally I yielded to his will.

I should feel conflicted about giving up control so easily. After all, I've fought against being seen as helpless my whole life. But there was nothing helpless about how I felt with him. His dominance didn't diminish me - it elevated me, made me feel more alive than I've ever been.

The morning sun streams through the dining room's tall windows as I pick at my honeyed bread. My mind keeps drifting to golden eyes and cruel smiles.

"Earth to Athena." Raven waves her hand in front of my face, her violet eyes narrowing. "You've been staring at that same piece of bread for ten minutes."

I jump, nearly knocking over my tea. "Sorry, I was just..."

"Thinking about our resident weapon maker?" She smirks, running fingers through her midnight hair. "Your face goes all dreamy every time he enters your thoughts."

Heat creeps up my neck. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please." Raven stands, her dove-gray wings adjusting as she grabs my arm. "Come with me."

She pulls me from the dining room, her slight limp barely noticeable as she leads me to a secluded alcove. The morning light catches the silvery scars on her exposed forearms - battle marks she wears with pride.

"Listen." She leans against the wall, crossing her arms. "I might like to fuck with Uriel, but I do care about him. He's like the big brother I never had. So if you aren't interested in him - really not - then you need to tell him. Because this game you're playing, he's enjoying it too much. He's obsessed with me."

My cheeks burn hotter. "No, he can't-"

"Oh please, I see how he looks at you. Like a predator sizing up prey." Her lips curl into a knowing smile. "And you're not exactly subtle with those lingering glances."

"Raven!" I cover my face with my hands.

"Don't be shy about it. Just know what you're getting into." She taps my chin, making me look up. "He's possessive, territorial. Uriel might seem like to put up a front, but once he decides that something - or someone - is his, he doesn't let go. Ever."

My breath catches. "He hasn't claimed anything."

"Not yet." She winks. "But don't let him if it's only going to get him hurt. Sex is one thing, but for Uriel…" She sizes me up, and I don't know how to feel about it. "Just be honest with him."

I press my cool hands to my flaming cheeks, unable to meet her gaze. The thought of Uriel's intensity, his complete control, the fact that he might really want me has me feeling overheated.

"Just remember," Raven adds, her voice softening, "you may not have magic, but that doesn't make you powerless. Sometimes surrender is its own kind of strength."

I ruminate over Raven's words after she walks away. What do I want? I've always wanted to feel in control of my own life, more independent. But the power I felt on my knees before Uriel yesterday…

That's intoxicating.

It takes me to Uriel's workshop, pretending to browse his collection of blades mounted on the walls. His presence fills the space behind me, a tangible weight of power and control. The scent of citrus and metal grows stronger as he moves closer.

"Need something, little demon?" His voice carries that edge of danger that makes my skin tingle. I wonder how he feels about our encounter, about how he left me on the floor after he came down my throat.

"Just admiring." I reach up toward a particularly ornate dagger, letting my fingers "slip" on the hilt. It clatters to the floor with a metallic ring. "Oh! I'm so sorry."

His jaw tightens as I bend down slowly to retrieve it, knowing the leather pants show off all my curves. Maybe I'm playing with fire, but I want to feel that same thrill with him again. It's like he's the only one that really sees me and doesn't treat me like I am less than, like I'm breakable.

And I want more.

"Careful with those." Golden eyes narrow as I smile at him over my shoulder. "They're not toys."

I place the dagger back, trailing my fingers along the blade. "They're beautiful though. The craftsmanship is..." I knock over a small box of whetstones, scattering them across the floor. "Oh no, how clumsy of me today."

This time when I bend down, his massive frame towers over me. His shadow falls across my form as I gather the stones, taking my time with each one.

"You're playing a dangerous game." The words rumble from his chest.

I glance up through my lashes, feigning innocence. "I don't know what you mean. I'm just admiring your work."

His wings spread slightly, the light gray feathers catching the workshop's glow. The gesture is pure dominance, a reminder of his otherworldly power.

I straighten up, purposefully brushing against him as I move to place the stones back. Another "accident" sends them tumbling from my hands.

"Oops." I bite my lip, preparing to bend down again.

His hand catches my wrist, grip firm but not bruising. "Enough."

I meet his gaze, heart racing at the barely contained hunger in those golden depths. His perfect features are twisted into something predatory, and I feel my breath catch.

"Is there a problem?" I ask sweetly, testing the strength of his hold.

His cruel smile emerges, transforming his angelic face into something deliciously wicked. "You know exactly what you're doing, little demon." His fingers flex around my wrist. "Since you're so intent on making messes in my workshop, you can clean it. All of it."

The command in his voice shoots straight through me, igniting places I didn't know could burn. The defiance is still there, but I want the punishment that comes with it. I'm eager for the chance to prove I can take him again.

"I'm not your servant." I jerk my wrist free, rubbing the tingling skin where his touch lingers.

His wings spread wider, casting dancing shadows across the workshop floor. "No, you're a spoiled little human who thinks she can play games without consequences."

Heat floods my cheeks - from anger or arousal, I'm not sure anymore. "I'm not playing games."

"No?" He steps closer, and my back hits the weapon rack. "Then what do you call deliberately making messes in my space?"

I tilt my chin up, meeting those burning golden eyes. "Maybe I'm just naturally clumsy."

"We both know that's a lie." His perfect features contort into a snarl. "Clean it up."

The authority in his voice makes my core clench, and I hate how my body betrays me. How dare he command me like this? How dare my treacherous flesh respond?

"And if I refuse?" I press my palms against his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath. "What will you do if I don't? Punish me?"

His pupils dilate, swallowing the gold. For a heartbeat, I think he might actually show me exactly what punishment means. But then he jerks away, storming toward the door. His wings snap tight against his back, feathers bristling with barely contained rage.

I watch him go, knowing why he fled. I felt his control slipping, saw the way his hands shook with the effort not to grab me. He's running from his own desires as much as mine.

The door slams behind him, leaving me alone with scattered whetstones, racing pulse, and the maddening ache between my thighs.