16. Uriel

16

URIEL

I lean against the window frame of my study, a half-finished blade forgotten on my desk. The garden stretches behind the main house, vibrant and alive in the late afternoon sun. Raven's lounging on one of the stone benches, her dove-gray wings spread wide to catch the warmth. Her leg's propped up - though she thinks I don't notice how she favors it.

But it's not Raven who holds my attention. It's the little human who's managed to draw actual laughter from my usually sardonic friend. Athena kneels in the herb garden, those honey-blonde ringlets catching the light as she gestures animatedly. Her hands are covered in dirt, but she doesn't seem to mind as she shows Raven some plant or another.

"You're telling me this tiny leaf can stop bleeding?" Raven's voice carries through the open window, thick with skepticism.

"Only if you prepare it properly." Athena's smile lights up her whole face, those golden-green eyes sparkling.

Sometimes she looks so innocent. So pure. But her soft beauty doesn't show what lies beneath. She's dangerous, full of fire that I am willing to get burned by just to have her again. I can feel the threads of my control snapping.

My fingers dig into the wooden frame. Humans shouldn't be allowed to look so... clean. So untouched. In New Solas, they're all grime and desperation, fighting for scraps. But this one? She's like a porcelain doll someone left in my garden.

Athena jumps up, brushing dirt from her skirts as she rushes to grab another plant. The movement sends a fresh wave of her scent toward my window - honey and sweet herbs. My wings twitch, feathers rustling with the urge to swoop down and snatch her up. To see if she'd still laugh so freely with my hands around her throat.

If she'd fight me or lean into it.

"Little demon," I mutter, the nickname tasting different on my tongue today. Less mocking, more... possessive.

Below, she's showing Raven how to crush the leaves, those delicate fingers working with surprising strength. Such gentle hands, meant for healing. I wonder how they'd feel clawing down my back instead.

A cruel smile twists my lips. There's something intoxicating about the thought of corrupting all that sweetness, of teaching those healing hands how to hurt instead.

I barely get any work done with them out there. My eyes stay on Athena until she and Raven are gone. Then I'm replaying that look on her face as I buried myself in her throat, how she tasted as she came on my tongue.

I can't get her the fuck out of my head.

By the time dinner rolls around, I know that I can't keep ignoring this. But I don't know what else to do, either. I never thought I'd be so physically attracted to someone, but my body is igniting with a desire I've never felt as I exit the workshop and head into the main house.

The dining room glows with golden light from the enchanted sconces when I enter. I sit at the head of the massive oak table, immediately trying to fix my attention on the rare delicacies Koros brought back form his latest trip, but my attention keeps drifting to the other end where Athena sits beside him.

She's telling him about some healing potion she's perfecting, those small hands moving through the air as she explains. Her voice carries none of the tremor it held when she first met him. No more shrinking away from his hulking frame or averting her eyes from his scarred face.

"You should've seen the look on his face when the wound sealed." Athena beams up at Koros. "I thought his eyes would pop out."

Koros's deep laugh rumbles through the room. He leans closer, his massive frame dwarfing her. "Show me tomorrow? Could use something for these old battle scars."

My fork bends between my fingers. The metal groans, drawing Raven's attention from across the table. She arches an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing at her lips.

"Of course!" Athena's practically bouncing in her seat. "Though some of them might be too old-"

"Speaking of old," I cut in, my voice harder than intended. "Koros, that blade you promised?"

His mismatched eyes meet mine, understanding flickering across his scarred features. "Tomorrow. Got something special."

Athena touches his arm - actually touches him - to regain his attention. "But first, you're letting me look at that shoulder. I saw you favoring it earlier."

Pride and possession war in me. She's flourishing here, growing bolder by the day. No longer the frightened little mouse who flinched at shadows. But watching her gentle confidence with Koros sets my teeth on edge. Makes me want to remind her who she belongs to.

My wings spread slightly, casting deeper shadows across the table. Athena glances up, catching my stare. A blush creeps across her cheeks, but she doesn't look away.

Little demon's getting braver indeed.

I find her in my workshop the next morning, organizing my medical supplies with those precise, gentle movements. She doesn't hear me enter, too focused on sorting vials by color. The sunlight streaming through the windows catches in her hair, turning those honey-blonde ringlets to pure gold.

"Playing healer, little demon?" I know that she prefers it, she's studied it. But she hasn't requested that I let her do more since she's been here.

I'm not sure why I feel inclined to offer.

She jumps, nearly dropping a bottle. "I'm not playing at anything." Her chin lifts, defiant. "Your organization system is atrocious."

I close the distance between us, crowding her against the cabinet. I can't seem to help myself. Her breath catches, but she stands her ground. "Is that so?"

"Yes." She reaches past me for another vial, her arm brushing my chest. The contact sends heat racing through my blood. "How do you find anything in this mess?"

"I manage." I trap her between my arms, hands gripping the shelf on either side of her. "Though I suppose I could use a healing touch."

Her pulse jumps in her throat. Those golden-green eyes dart to my lips before skittering away. "Well, you could manage better if you let me-"

"Fuck's sake, get a room you two." Raven's voice cuts through the tension. She limps in, throwing herself onto my office couch. "Some of us are trying to work."

"You haven't worked a day in your life," I growl, but I step back. The loss of Athena's warmth is immediate.

"I work plenty." Raven stretches her wings, smirking. "Speaking of work, Koros says your little healer promised to look at his shoulder."

" My little healer?" The words come out as a growl.

Athena slips past me, cheeks flushed pink. "I did promise. And I'm not anyone's anything."

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." Raven winks at her. "Just try not to break our weapon-maker here. He's been walking into walls since you arrived."

I grab the nearest object - a leather-bound tome - and hurl it at Raven's head. She catches it with a laugh, but the movement makes her wince.

"Your leg's bothering you." Athena's there instantly, professional mask sliding into place. But her hands shake slightly as she examines Raven's injury, and I catch her stealing glances at me when she thinks I'm not looking.

The air between us crackles with unspoken possibilities. Every accidental brush of skin feels like sparks against kindling, and I'm running out of reasons not to let it all burn.

And for some reason I don't have the sense to get rid of her. I'm growing far too addicted to Athena, lingering next to her all day. She stays in the workshop, and when she grows tired, I join her and Raven out in the chambers.

Dinner is the same with the three of them far too friendly and me feeling like I'm going to climb out of my own skin. By the time I get back to my chambers, I already know I won't be able to sleep. It's chased away by thoughts of golden-green eyes and healing hands that should know better than to touch xaphan so freely.

I'm not even sure why I want her so much. She's such a delicate little thing, yet she dares to stand her ground. Orders me around in my own workshop. The audacity makes my blood burn.

I could break her. Show her what happens to humans who forget their place. But no - that's too simple. Too quick. I want to watch that innocence crack slowly, to see corruption seep in drop by drop until she's begging for it.

Maybe I'll start with those gentle hands. Show her that they are just as good twined in my hair or pinned down by one of my hands.

My wings snap open, feathers bristling at the thought of her pressed against my chest, those delicate fingers tracing battle scars instead of trying to heal them. Would she still look at me with that stubborn defiance if I showed her exactly what kind of monster she's with?

I may call her a little demon, but now I want to make her earn the nickname properly. Strip away that healer's compassion until she's as cruel as the rest of us. Until those golden-green eyes darken with the same hunger that keeps me awake at night.

But slowly. Carefully. I want to savor every moment of her fall, every crack in that pristine facade. Want to be the one who teaches her that healing isn't the only way to make someone scream.