10. Nox

10

Nox

" D id that boxing bag do something to you personally, or are we working through some feelings ?"

"Fuck off," I said to Jeremiah, smacking the bag a few more times. "What are you doing here, anyway? I haven't seen you in days."

"I've been around." His amber eyes flashed in amusement as he stepped behind the bag. I grunted at him in thanks; with him holding it steady, I could really put my strength into it. "Think you've been too preoccupied to notice, to be honest."

I scowled, smacking the bag again. That was true. I'd thought of little else since Micah had flown away from me two days ago. Part of me had wanted to chase after him, but I'd stood my ground, remembering how he'd shoved me away. The callous words he'd thrown at me.

Cruel. Selfish. Uncaring.

He wasn't wrong. I was all of those things. I'd certainly been cruel in what I'd said to him, even if I knew it to be true. But knowing that Micah thought that about me? It fucking sucked. I might not think we'd be a good match, but I had pride. He thought I was good enough to sleep with, but that was as far as it went.

Which meant there was a reason why he was lowering himself by letting me fuck him, and it wasn't my skills in the bedroom.

It was my resemblance to the angel he loved. It had to be.

That knowledge was a sucker punch to my ego. My fated mate only wanted me as a replacement for the guy he couldn't have.

It made sense, really. The list of crimes I'd committed in Hell would have needed several libraries to hold it. It didn't matter that I'd been forced to do them. Nor did it matter that those I'd used my skills on were sinners.

At the end of the day, they were people. People I'd hurt. I'd ignored their pleas to stop. Denied their offers of bargains to take the pain away. Pushed them beyond their limits.

I was a demon. It was what I did. It was what I was born, raised, and instructed to do. Exacting justice went hand in hand with my very nature.

But it also meant I'd never be worthy of an angel like Micah. I needed to remember that. Fate giving me the promise of someone like him seemed like an appropriate karmic response for the life I'd led in Hell.

I'd waited on that roof for hours last night. For what, I couldn't tell you. Was it for a sign from God that I was being a moron? For Micah to return for another round? Or to maybe remind me again how much he hated that fate thought we should be together?

I had no idea. Whatever it was, it had kept me there for longer than it should .

The moon was high in the sky when I heard the telltale sound of wings in the distance. Not just one set either, but two.

I tensed but didn't raise a shield. My instincts were telling me I was safe, that whoever was approaching didn't intend me any harm.

Micah came into view, another vaguely familiar angel flying on his right. I knew enough about angelic battle units to know that was the position occupied by his second.

Up until recently, it must've been Dimitri flying there. I didn't know much about his unit, but everyone and their uncle knew Dimitri had held the role of second. Did Micah find it strange, looking over to see another in his place? Did it make him miss him more? Or was he relieved to not have him so close knowing he couldn't have him?

All these questions were ones I shouldn't have cared about. Ones I shouldn't need answered.

I didn't want to get to know Micah on a deeper level. I didn't want to worry about his feelings or his broken heart.

I wanted to be the uncaring demon he believed me to be.

Fuck, I wanted that.

His head turned in my direction as he swooped over. He didn't descend or give any sign that he'd seen me, just continued on his journey to wherever he was going.

The pull itched beneath my skin. Just open your wings and follow him.

Instead, I turned my back and went inside the house.

O ver the next few days, I waited for Micah to seek me out. We'd said we were going to continue having sex, but maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe the callous way we'd both spoken had made him think this whole thing was more trouble than it was worth.

He obviously wasn't feeling the same pull that I was. When the first twenty-four hours passed without any sign of him, I decided to see if I could tempt him out by going to a club again.

I'd waited all night, even tried dancing with a couple of guys, but nothing. For hours after the club closed, I'd walked the streets of London, hoping desperately that I'd hear his clipped footsteps behind me.

But there were none.

After that, I sat on the roof, trying to catch him flying overhead. I watched the sun rise, set, and rise again.

He didn't show.

"Still no sign of your angel?" Quill asked as I stomped into the kitchen. He was eating Weetabix this morning, leaning against the counter.

"Micah's not my angel." I banged a cupboard door closed. Next was the kettle, filled with water and slammed onto the base. I was a little gentler with my mug, not wanting to have to clean up crockery.

"Could've fooled me with how you had him moaning your name on Tuesday."

I pulled a chef's knife from the block, pointing it menacingly in Quill's direction. "I told you to forget about that."

Quill smirked. "Wow, you've got it bad. Does it bother you that I now know what he sounds like when he comes?"

The knife found its home in Quill's gut.

A few minutes later, I was sat at the table with my tea, feeling calmer. Jeremiah shuffled in, bleary eyed and hair in disarray. He paused at the sight of the blood pooling under Quill's body before stepping over it and clicking the kettle back on. "Guessing Quill didn't know when to stop."

"As usual." I sipped my tea. "Doubt he'll learn from this either."

"Probably not." Jeremiah yawned.

Sure enough, after coming to with a groan, the first words out of Quill's mouth had my temper rising again. "Amazing. You say he's not your angel, then gut me for talking about him."

I glared at him menacingly, my fingers twitching against the knife that was next to me on the table. "Carry on and I'll chop you into little pieces. Let's see how long it'll take you to reincarnate after that."

Quill sighed. "Fine. I'm just saying though, you're completely gone for the angel. Wouldn't hurt you to admit it."

He trailed from the kitchen, blood dripping in his wake. His wound was healed, but the blood didn't magically disappear.

"You need to clean up too," I called after him. "It's the rules."

Our house rules didn't prohibit us from murdering each other—there was no way any of us would be able to stick to that. Instead, the demon who instigated the argument was on cleanup duty.

The only exception was when Quill and Dahlia got into it. With them, it was often too difficult to determine who the perpetrator was. Given the carnage the two of them would leave in their wake, we often made them both do it.

Jeremiah sipped his own tea. "Want to talk about it?"

"Nope. "

He didn't push me yet. I stewed a bit longer, the itch under my skin getting harder to ignore. "I mean, what's his problem? He turns up, lets me fuck him, then disappears until the next time he fancies some. How come he's the one who gets to decide when we next see each other? Why does he get the control? Does he think he's better than me?"

I shook my head as Jeremiah eyed me in bemusement. "Don't answer that, he definitely thinks that. He might be the almighty leader over there at angel headquarters, but that doesn't mean he's in charge of me. He can't control what happens between us."

"No. Fate can though."

"This isn't about fate anymore," I muttered. "This is about Micah and his stupid pigheadedness. You know he accused me of being cruel? And selfish. And uncaring. What gives him the right, huh? He doesn't even know me."

Jeremiah's lips twitched. "I know you. You can definitely be cruel, selfish, and uncaring."

The heat in the room rose as my demon fought for control, wanting to remind Jeremiah just how cruel I could be. He wasn't fazed by it, dismissing me with a wave.

"Simmer down, Nox. You can be those things. But you're also loyal, fiercely protective, and considerate."

Mollified, my demon retreated. "Micah doesn't think that."

"Because he doesn't know you." Jeremiah loved to point out the obvious. "The real question is, do you want him to know you?"

"I don't know." I rubbed my hand over my jaw. "There's this incessant need pulling at me constantly. Like my soul knows he's close but doesn't understand how complicated everything is."

"Because he's an angel? "

"That's part of it," I said slowly. "Not just any angel either, but the leader of the Seraphim. Heaven wouldn't ever accept him being with a demon."

"Hmm. You have a point."

"Plus, he's so uptight. All this stiff upper lip bollocks. Can you really see him slumming it with someone like me?"

Jeremiah tilted his head. "You said he doesn't know you…can you really say you know him well enough to judge?"

My mouth opened then closed. Okay, he had me there.

"There is one thing I do know though, and that's what's driving me crazy most of all."

"What?"

I grimaced. "He's in love with someone else."

Jeremiah shrugged. "Meh. If you want him, you'll be able to win him over."

"Did I mention the guy he's in love with is almost a carbon copy of me?"

Jeremiah winced. "Well, fuck."

"Exactly." I tapped my fingers against the cup. "Even if I did want to be with him, if I thought we could overcome all the other obstacles, I'd never be able to trust that it's me he truly wants. Or, even worse, that he wouldn't wake up one day and realise I'm not Dimitri and walk away."

"You think he'll break your heart?"

I snorted. "Fuck no. Come on, you know as well as I do that we can't fall in love."

Jeremiah rocked back in his chair. "Actually, I'm not so sure about that. But continue."

I rolled my eyes. Of all of us, Jeremiah was the optimist. He claimed he didn't want a mate, yet he was the only one who believed in love.

"It's not about being heartbroken, but about Micah being mine . If he committed to me, if we had a mating bond and then he tried to leave me, my demon wouldn't allow it."

"Ah. You're worried about how you'd react."

"Yes," I said baldly. "I've been trained and taught to do very bad things. It's a side of me that I don't want Micah exposed to. Besides, I don't even know if I want anything with Micah. I just know I can't keep ignoring this pull. It's driving me crazy."

Jeremiah sipped his tea. "Okay, so it sounds like you need to stay away from him. Travel to the other side of the world. The pull is probably this intense because you're so close to him. Maybe if you go somewhere far away, it'll be easier to ignore."

"Maybe." I scowled down at my cup. Jeremiah's solution was the logical answer, so why did the thought of leaving make me feel this…angry?

"You should do it sooner rather than later," Jeremiah said. I looked up to see him studying me in concern. "Micah might not know you, Nox, but I do. The longer you stay, the deeper you get in with him, the harder it'll be for you to walk away. Do it now, while you still have the chance."

"You're right." I got up from the table before pausing. "Will you all be okay without me?"

Jeremiah shrugged. "I mean, there'll be more blood to clean up, but we'll survive. Besides, I might see if I can persuade Quill to let us join you. Just choose somewhere with better weather than here."

I laughed dryly. "Noted. I'll be back later to pack and say goodbye."

"Where are you going now?"

I inhaled deeply. "To tell Micah I'm leaving."

Jeremiah's nose scrunched up. "Why? "

"Because I don't want him tracking me down."

"You really think he'd do that?"

I thought about the wards Micah had left around the house. Him flying over late at night. Tracking me down at the club. "There's a chance, yes. I don't want to spend the next few decades looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to appear. I need to tell him. It'll be closure for both of us."

I could tell Jeremiah didn't agree with me, but as he'd said earlier, he knew me, and he knew better than to try and change my mind when it was set on something.

"Enjoy."