20. Uriel

20

URIEL

W hile Athena and I have fallen into a rhythm, she still finds a way to grate on my nerves - and excite me. I wonder if that will ever stop, and I find myself hoping…it won't.

I slam the door of my workshop behind me, the hinges rattling. The little demon trails after me, her honey-blonde curls bouncing with each determined step.

"Storming away from me isn't going to work." Athena's chin tilts up, those golden-green eyes blazing. "I deserve to go to the market with you. I'm not a child."

"No?" I spread my wings, blocking her path to my workbench. "Then stop acting like one. New Solas isn't safe for humans."

"I've lived through worse." She plants her hands on her hips. The late afternoon sun streaming through the windows catches her hair, and it is distractingly beautiful how it highlights her. "I can handle myself."

A growl builds in my throat. "You think because you patch up a few scrapes, you know how dangerous it is?" I lean down, bringing my face closer to hers. "The things I've seen would give you nightmares."

She scowls. "You underestimate me." And then slightly lower, with just a touch less bite, she says, "I thought you wouldn't do that."

Fuck. The fire in her eyes, the way her chest rises with each angry breath – it drives me crazy. I want to shake her. Kiss her. Both.

"You're too precious to risk." The words slip out before I can stop them.

"I'm not some delicate flower." She steps closer, jabbing a finger into my chest. "And you don't get to decide what I can and can't do."

My wings curl forward instinctively, creating a cocoon around us. The scent of her mingles with the metallic tang of my workshop. "Watch your tone, little demon."

"Or what?" A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, challenging me.

I catch her finger before she can poke me again, wrapping my hand around hers. "You're playing with fire."

"Maybe I like getting burned." She grins up at me, all sass and defiance.

The tension crackles between us like lightning before a storm. My free hand itches to grab her, to show her exactly how dangerous I can be. But that smile of hers – equal parts sweet and wicked – keeps me rooted in place.

The defiance rolling off her small frame hits me like a physical force. Where others would cower, she stands taller. My wings cast shadows across her face, but those golden-green eyes still gleam with challenge. Fuck, she's beautiful when she's angry.

"You think those wings scare me?" Athena's lips curve into a smile that's pure sin. "I've been living with demons my whole life."

I drag my thumb across her captured hand, feeling her pulse race beneath her skin. The anger is twisting into something else - something more deadly. "Then you should know better than to provoke one."

Her free hand reaches up, fingers hovering near my wing. "Or maybe you're not as scary as you think you are."

Blood rushes in my ears. No one touches my wings. Ever. But I don't stop her. Her fingertips graze the edge of my feathers, sending electricity down my spine.

"Careful, little demon." My voice drops lower, rougher. The warrior in me wants to pin her against the nearest wall, show her exactly why creatures fear me. The man in me wants something else entirely.

She stretches up on her toes, bringing her face closer to mine. "Or what?" Her eyes dart down to my mouth and back up. "What will the big, bad xaphan do?"

A growl tears from my throat. My wings snap forward, caging her completely. The movement brings her flush against my chest, and I feel every soft curve press against me. Her breath catches, but that fierce light in her eyes only burns brighter.

"You have no idea what you do to me." I release her hand to grip her waist instead. "How much control it takes not to-"

"Then stop controlling everything." She fists her hands in my shirt, pulling herself even closer. "Especially me."

The scent of honey and herbs surrounds me, making my head spin. Every instinct screams to claim, to possess. She's too pure, too good for the darkness inside me. But the way she looks at me – like she sees past the monster to something worth wanting - makes me forget why I've been holding back.

Her chest rises and falls in quick, angry breaths - or maybe it's the arousal that I'm certain I see written across her face. Blood pounds in my ears, drowning out whatever argument she's making. All I can focus on is the way her bottom lip trembles, how her fingers dig into my shirt like she wants to tear it off.

"You're not listening to a word I'm saying." Athena's cheeks flush a deeper pink. A stray curl falls across her face, and it takes every ounce of control not to brush it away.

"I hear you." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "I just don't care."

She makes a sound of pure frustration, yanking harder on my shirt. The movement pulls her up on her toes, pressing those soft curves harder against me. My wings twitch, instinctively tightening around us.

"You're impossible." Her breath fans across my throat. "Arrogant, stubborn-"

"Keep going." I slide my hand from her waist to the small of her back. "Tell me what else you hate about me." Gods, it shouldn't turn me on so much to see her this worked up.

But I love how she is with me. She gives me parts of herself no one else gets to see, and her submission is so much sweeter when I have to force it from her grip.

"I don't-" She cuts off with a gasp as my fingers trace her spine. "That's not fair."

The scent of honey grows stronger as her skin heats. My other hand finds her hip, and fuck if she doesn't fit perfectly in my grip. The warrior in me wants to dominate, to show her exactly why she shouldn't challenge me. But there's something intoxicating about her fire, the way she meets my gaze without flinching.

"What's not fair?" I drag my thumb along the strip of skin where her shirt has ridden up. "This?"

Her pupils dilate, golden-green nearly swallowed by black. "You can't just-" She swallows hard. "You can't touch me like that and expect me to stay angry."

"Maybe that's the point." I lean down until our foreheads nearly touch. The metal and citrus of my workshop fades beneath the sweetness of her scent. "Maybe I'm tired of fighting."

Her fingers uncurl from my shirt, sliding up to my chest. The touch burns even through the fabric. "Then stop fighting."

I could. I could give in and take her like I know we both want. And while my body is screaming at me to do it, to punish the little demon and show her exactly how her defiance makes me feel, the other part is holding back.

I've never wanted someone the way I want her. And knowing that I forced her here, that she would run given the chance…

It has me recoiling, unable to give in fully. Maybe I have a shred of decency in me still - or maybe I'm too damn stubborn to take risks like I used to. But I just can't cross that line thinking she hates me still.

I'll take her anger. Her fire. But there's a pang in my chest when I consider it's coming from a place of hate.

I drop my hands from her waist like her skin burns me. I see the shock register over her face as I take a step back, and though I'm aching for her, I know now that giving it won't help me.

It will only cement this addiction I've been trying to fight.

But how much longer can I keep going?

At least for tonight, I decide.

"Fuck this." I spin away from her, wings snapping tight against my back.

"Where are you going?" Her footsteps follow, those damn honey-sweet curls probably bouncing with each step. "We're not done."

"Yes." My knuckles go white against the wood. "We are."

She grabs my arm, her small hand barely wrapping halfway around my bicep. The touch sends electricity through my veins, and I jerk away before I do something we'll both regret.

"Coward." The word hits like a blade between my shoulders. "You can't even look at me."

I whirl around, baring my teeth. "You want me to look at you?" My wings spread wide, casting shadows across her face. "You want me to show you exactly what happens when you push a xaphan too far?"

But she just lifts her chin, those eyes reflecting golden in the fading light. No fear. No submission. Just pure, maddening defiance.

"I want you to be honest." She steps closer, and I retreat. "For once."

The distance between us burns like acid. Every instinct screams to close it, to cage her against the nearest surface and make her understand exactly what she's playing with.

Instead, I stride toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Her voice cracks on the last word.

I pause, hand on the doorknob. The metal groans under my grip. "Out."

The door slams behind me hard enough to rattle the windows. Her scent – honey and herbs and everything pure I don't deserve – follows me into the evening air.