16. Nox

16

Nox

" W ant to talk about it?"

"Nope," I said to Jeremiah, storming through the house. Quill and Darius were behind us, Dahlia having fucked off somewhere else on the flight home. "I definitely fucking don't."

I didn't even know why I was pissed. Had I been expecting Micah to slip his arm through mine and introduce me as his fated mate? I didn't even know if I wanted that. It wasn't like I'd ever envisaged meeting the rest of his unit…but still. I couldn't help but wish it'd gone slightly better.

With hindsight, it was obvious that Ezekiel had been baiting me by killing Micah. The smart thing to do would've been to keep my cards close to my chest. To wait for Micah to reincarnate and deal with his second as he saw fit.

Obviously, that hadn't happened. As soon as the steel of Ezekiel's dagger slid across Micah's throat, my demon had taken over. I'd lost complete control. It didn't matter that Micah wasn't really dead. It didn't matter that he'd be fully healed in under sixty seconds. It didn't matter that we were supposed to be keeping whatever the fuck was happening with us under wraps.

All that had mattered was that Ezekiel had hurt Micah. My Micah.

And he had to pay.

I'd managed to hold back my demon from executing him permanently, but that had been the extent of my control. It wasn't until Micah opened his eyes that my demon receded.

So, yes. I understood why Micah was irritated with me. I may as well have pissed all over him and claimed him as mine that way. I even got why he'd asked me to leave—nothing was going to be resolved with his unit if I was still there.

I could understand it, but that didn't mean I had to like it. Micah was the leader of the Seraphim. The needs of his unit would always come above his own. Above mine.

He'd always choose them. Over me, over himself, over everything else. They'd always be his first priority.

I'd always known that in a vague sort of way. But seeing it happen before my eyes?

That fucking sucked.

"Talking is healthy." Jeremiah was like a dog with a bone as he trailed after me into the kitchen. He tutted as I pulled down the bottle of Adamanthea that we saved for special occasions. It was the only substance capable of intoxicating a supe. "Drinking away your problems isn't."

Ignoring him, I poured myself a healthy glass. Before I could take a sip, there was a loud crash in the living room, followed by Darius cursing.

Putting my glass down, I jogged after Jeremiah. We skidded into the living room to find Quill unconscious on the floor, Darius kneeling over him. Panic shone in his eyes. All of us were friends, but Darius and Quill were closer than the rest of us. "He just collapsed. Eyes rolled back in his head and he was gone."

"Shit." I knelt on his other side, my power leeching out from me. "He's alive. If I had to guess, he's exhausted. He's been running on fumes for weeks now—even with all the sin flying around earlier, it won't have been enough to restore his powers."

Darius shoved a hand through his hair. "Why isn't he leaving the house? He was as desperate as the rest of us to break free, why isn't he making the most of it?"

"I don't think it was about making the most of it for Quill." Jeremiah was standing, frowning down at the unconscious demon. "I think he just wanted to be away from there."

"He needs help," I said, sitting back on my heels. "Let's face it, none of us are qualified to fix this."

"Damn right," Jeremiah said. "No human shrink is going to be able to help him though. Do you think supe therapists are a thing?"

"If they are, I'll track one down," Darius said firmly. "I hate that I haven't been here. Little fucker has been lying to me every time we've spoken. I had no idea anything was going on."

"This is on all of us," I said. Jeremiah nodded in agreement. "We knew there was an issue, but none of us thought it was this bad."

Darius studied Quill's face closely. "I guess none of us really know what shit someone else is carrying. It makes us behave in ways we might never have believed until we're in that situation. Maybe Quill feels out of control. The house is his safe place. By not leaving it, he's escaping everything else that's crushing him. He can control how he feels here, but nowhere else."

Darius and Jeremiah began discussing short-term solutions that could help Quill while they searched for an appropriate therapist. I sat silently though, replaying what Darius had said in my mind.

All of what he'd said could be applied to Micah. I already knew he was struggling to cope with his role in the Seraphim. He never took prolonged time off. He always put them first. He didn't ever seem to step away from it…unless he was with me.

When it got too much, it was me he called. Me he escaped with.

My perspective on everything shifted. Maybe I was Micah's safe space. His home. The place where he could escape everything else and just be himself.

Suddenly nothing that had happened earlier mattered. The Seraphim might always be Micah's number one priority. I couldn't control or change that.

But I could make Micah my number one priority. If I was his safe space, I was going to make sure it was the safest, warmest, least judgemental place possible.

I was on my bike outside the Seraphim compound. I'd been there for two hours already, with no idea if or when Micah would reach out.

The whole time, I couldn't escape the negative thought pattern I was spiralling through. What if he never reaches out again? What if tonight reminded him of all the reasons why he can't spend time with me? What if he's decided I'm not worth the risk?

I didn't allow myself to think about the fact that we'd made each other no promises. The opposite, in fact. We'd both been perfectly clear that we weren't anything to or for each other.

I'd never hated anything more than that thought.

The hours ticked by without a message. I didn't leave, just stood sentry, a silent figure in the night.

It was a good thing I didn't leave. As the seventh hour drew to a close, Micah appeared in the distance. I watched him come closer, cataloguing every detail. His hunched shoulders. The exhaustion lining his face. His hands hanging limply at his sides.

My chest pinched. Micah looked like a man defeated.

He looked up, and some of those shadows seemed to disappear. His chest expanded fully, his lips lifting at the corners as his pace quickened.

I felt my own smile forming in response as I stepped forwards, the ache in my chest easing at the mere sight of his face.

Seeing him happy made me happy.

That was when another realisation hit me. A realisation that changed everything. It was as sudden and sure as a lightning strike, making me stumble.

"Are you okay?" Micah caught me by my elbow. "Nox?"

My mouth was so dry as I stared into Micah's beautiful eyes. Fuck. No. I was so far from okay.

I was in love with Micah.

That's what this feeling was. This insane need to protect him. To make him happy. To see him smile. To know he was relaxed. That satisfaction at knowing he was thriving wasn't satisfaction at all .

It was love.

I'd never felt it before. I hadn't even realised I was capable of feeling it.

But there was no mistaking it. Fuck.

I loved him.

It was going to ruin everything.

"Nox?" Micah's hand dropped from my arm, his expression turning cagey. "Are you upset with me for earlier? You have every right to be. I'm sorry that —"

"Don't." My voice was guttural as I cut him off. My hands slid onto his shoulders, stopping him from retreating. Even as my whole world was twisting and changing, the one thing I was certain of was keeping him there. With me. "You don't apologise to me. Ever. I suspect you spend enough time apologising to everyone else; like fuck am I letting you add my name to that list."

He swayed under my touch before slumping against me. "Everything's a fucking mess, Nox."

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. "I know, little angel."

"No, you don't understand," he whispered against my neck. "They know. The Seraphim, they know we're mates."

I stiffened. "They do?"

"Well, Benji and Ezekiel do. I doubt it'll be long before the others figure it out."

The borrowed time we'd been living in was suddenly running short. "What happens now? Are they going to tell the higher-ups?"

"No, they wouldn't do that." He swayed in my embrace. "But they'll find out, Nox. They always do."

I swallowed hard. There was no way they'd accept this. Us. "We aren't mated, Micah. We aren't together."

He stiffened, pulling out of my arms. He stepped back, folding his arms over his chest. "Of course we aren't. We hate each other."

My breath drew in, sharp as a knife. "Do we?"

Micah couldn't look at me, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "Yes. That's the way it is. The way it has to be."

I wanted to grab him and shake him. To insist we could fight against it. That we'd survive whatever they threw at us. But I didn't. Those weren't promises I could make. Not when I didn't know if they were true.

There was also the lingering shadow of Dimitri. Micah hadn't brought him up again, but the idea that I was his replacement was always there, lurking in the shadows. How could I be with Micah knowing I wasn't the one he truly wanted?

"Okay, so what do we do now?" If Micah said he couldn't see me anymore, I was going to have to leave. Fast.

Before my demon could come out and make his feelings known.

Micah rubbed the back of his neck. He looked so fucking vulnerable. I wanted to pull him into my arms again and vow to keep him safe.

"I can't risk them finding out, Nox. There'd be…consequences. Not just for me, but for the whole unit."

"What kind of consequences?"

Micah smiled without humour. "The kind I won't be sharing with you, regardless of how much you push."

My teeth ground together. "Want to bet?"

His eyes finally met mine and the hollowness there was another stab to my gut. "Please, Nox. I can't. Can you just trust me on this? It wouldn't be good, and that's all I can say about it."

Fuck, why did he have to plead with me? Didn't he realise I was only minutes away from throwing myself at his feet and promising him the entire world?

I nodded slowly. "Okay. I won't push."

We were silent, the few feet between us feeling like miles. The pull in my chest was almost agonising, like it knew something was coming.

Eventually, I couldn't stand the silence any longer. "What happens now, Micah? What do you want?"

"What do I want?" He laughed bitterly, lifting his head to the sky. "It's never about what I want, Nox. That's the problem. Being around you, it changes me. It makes me selfish. It makes me want things I've got no fucking right to."

I wanted to scream that he was allowed to be selfish. That after millennia of doing what he was told, he was entitled to do as he wanted. That he was just as trapped as I had been in Hell, but he couldn't see it.

None of that would help him right now. Instead, I stepped up to him and cupped the back of his neck. "Then be selfish. Choose the thing you want."

Micah leaned back into my touch. "I can't. I've already told you that."

My breath caught in my throat. I was what he'd choose. Not Dimitri. Me .

This feeling that had overtaken me…I wasn't the only one feeling it.

Fuck. This complicated everything. We couldn't be together. Ours wasn't some grand love story, but a doomed tragedy.

I'd be damned if I let him go on this memory though. Micah may not have known how to be selfish, but I was a demon. I could teach him.

"You can," I corrected him, my mouth hovering above his. "You can choose that for tonight. Just tonight. Say fuck everyone else and take what you want, little angel."

"What happens after that? Tomorrow?"

I shoved down the pain that was trying to rise, refusing to let it intrude on this moment. "Tomorrow doesn't exist right now. That's what we're pretending. There is no tomorrow, only tonight. So, the question is, how do you want to spend it?"

Micah answered me by crushing his mouth to mine.

My world exploded, everything disappearing except for Micah. I returned his kiss hungrily, drinking in every drop of him. My hand tightened around his neck while my other went into his hair. Our tongues met in a swirl of heat and desperation.

It wasn't our first kiss, but somehow, it felt like our last.

I dragged myself away from him, ignoring the pain in my chest. It wasn't the last kiss. We had the whole night. Hours to explore each other.

I wouldn't think about which kiss would be the last. Which moan would be the final one I'd hear. The last time our hands would touch.

None of that existed, not right now.

I wasn't a demon. Micah wasn't an angel.

We were just two beings in love.

Even if neither of us would ever admit it.