8. Nox

8

Nox

I hadn't expected the other night to end in sex with Micah.

I mean, I'd hoped it'd end in sex with someone . That maybe the affliction that had hit my libido would be a temporary thing.

Obviously that hadn't been the case.

Then, while I was working Micah open to take me, I'd prayed that maybe this would be a one and done. That fucking him would get him out of my system. That I'd be able to walk away from him and carry on with my life as normal.

But like I've said before, no one listens to the prayers of demons.

It was three days later and I'd been able to think of little else except how he'd moaned my name. How he'd begged me to take him roughly. The gleam of his skin in the moonlight.

How he'd politely buttoned his trousers and thanked me.

It was the only part of the encounter that hadn't surprised me. Of course he'd thanked me—even demons were worthy of manners when you were a high and mighty angel like Micah.

Everything else though…I was still in shock over it all. That he'd kissed me. Led me from the club. Asked me to fuck him and against a wall, no less. Not a crisp sheet in sight.

As for getting it out of my system?

That hadn't happened either. If anything, the pull I felt had only intensified. It was like a constant itch under my skin, refusing to be eased.

I'd known I was screwed the second I'd entered him. As I felt that warmth wrap around me, my hands curling on his hips, I'd known.

Micah was the home I'd been searching for. The home I'd never thought I'd find.

That thought fucking terrified me. I didn't want it. I didn't want him.

That didn't mean I could forget the connection I'd felt with Micah in that dirty alley. But that was all it was—a connection. It didn't mean anything. I didn't like Micah. He represented everything that was wrong with the world. The angels liked to sing about their piety and virtue, but they'd literally walk past a drowning child. Their cardinal rule was to never interfere, even to save a human's life. Some fucking bullshit about free will, like, the human has made that choice, so now they deserve to die.

Who the fuck does that? And they say us demons are the evil ones.

I'd have liked to believe Micah was better than that, but really, what did I know? I'd already deduced that the presence of angels in Hell for the battle had been driven by his love for Dimitri. It wasn't about saving humanity or preventing Armageddon. It was a purely selfish deed.

I might fuck with humans, but I made sure never to hurt them unless they deserved it, and you could fucking bet I'd help one in need. It wasn't like I'd seek them out, but if I walked past someone in danger…well, why wouldn't I help them? Life was tough enough, especially for humans.

Angels had no idea what true hardship was, Micah especially. I'd seen that mansion they lived in, the clothes they all wore. I doubted they resorted to petty things like theft to get them the way I had.

No, they lived a charmed life where everything was handed to them on a golden platter. And the most pious of them all, that's who fate thought was my perfect match?

Well, fate was fucking wrong.

If I could just forget how Micah had trembled under my touch then I'd be able to move on. If this damned pull, the constant fucking itching, would leave me, then I'd be okay. It was bound to happen eventually. It had to.

Until then, I was going to hide in this house. It turned out that fucking Micah had filled my power reservoirs to the very brim, which made sense given he was an arch. Sin from him must have been worth a hundred times what I'd get from a human.

That was another nail in my coffin. Knowing he'd lusted after me that much was a dangerous ego boost. Something I knew my demon could quickly get addicted to.

I wasn't going to give him the opportunity. With no reason to leave the house, I'd joined Quill in having cereal days.

My demon was less than pleased. Between that and the constant pull, it was a wonder I hadn't lost my mind, but I was determined to ignore it for as long as I could .

We were on our third cereal day, both of us in pyjamas, sprawled across the sofas. Our empty bowls sat on the coffee table, waiting for our next snack break. We'd started with Nesquik and followed it with Coco Pops. Next up was going to be Cornflakes.

All day, the pull had been building to an almost unbearable level. Trying to insist I go up to the roof. To let my wings unfurl and take me in the direction of the angel I couldn't get off my mind.

Well that wasn't going to happen. I was concentrating on the documentary Quill had put on, willing myself to think only about that.

"Why the fuck don't they pay their cheerleaders a fair wage?" I said, gesturing at the smug rich bitch on the tv. "Because it's an honour to take part? Fuck off. They don't say that to the footballers, do they? No, they pay them fucking millions."

"It's disgusting how they treat women topside. Who gave cis straight white men the audacity to behave as they do? One of my favourite things to do in Hell was to tell the sexist fuckers that God is female. Their faces…" Quill gave a happy sigh. "It used to bring me so much joy."

I glared at the screen where the woman was still spouting saccharine poison. "She isn't a cis white man. Talk about betraying your sex. Cunt."

"We should get Dahlia to pay her a visit."

"To pay who a visit?" Dahlia's lilting voice entered the room a second before she did. Her gaze fell on the TV, and her lip curled in disgust as she listened to what the woman was saying. "Is she for fucking real?"

"Apparently so," I said darkly. "Fancy a trip Stateside?"

Dahlia took one more look at the screen before shaking her head. "Tempting, but no. I've got other plans. "

"Where've you been anyway?" Quill asked curiously. "You've been as absent as Darius, and that's saying something."

Dahlia did something I'd never seen her do before. She blushed . "I've been…busy."

Quill and I exchanged a smug look. "Is busy code for fucking?" I asked.

She flicked my ear. "Don't be so coarse."

"We're demons, Dahlia. I'm pretty sure it's in the instruction manual."

Quill squinted at us in confusion. "Wait, we got an instruction manual?"

"Obviously not." Dahlia rolled her eyes. "Nox is just being facetious as usual."

"It's what I do. So you're not going to give us any details?"

"Nope. I don't want to jinx anything before it's settled."

She moved around the room, grabbing the few articles of hers that were scattered there.

"I guess you're not stopping long?" Quill said.

She froze, her gaze flicking to Quill guiltily. "Um, I was going to head straight out for a few days, but I can stay if you need me to?"

Quill huffed and folded his arms over his chest. "I'm not a child. I don't need babysitting."

"Says the demon wearing pyjamas and living on a diet of cereal," I pointed out.

"They're comfy and cereal is yummy and easy to prepare. Sue me."

"Would love to, but you're skint. Unlike the rest of us, you haven't bothered to steal any money yet."

He shrugged. "Not much point really. You lot have enough already to last us all several lifetimes. "

Dahlia sighed. "You still need sin, Quill."

I held up a hand to stop Quill firing back a response. "Nope. No fighting today, I'm too busy being lazy to clean up after you. Dahlia, we'll be fine. You go, have fun. I've got things under control."

Dahlia pursed her lips. "Sure about that? Because the arch on our roof would suggest otherwise."

I froze. "Micah?"

"Yep," she said. "I landed next to him and he didn't attack. Just greeted me cordially like him being up there was completely normal. I assumed it had to be him."

My gaze turned wary. "Why would you assume that?"

She patted my head condescendingly. "Because I was there that day in Hell, Nox. I'm not an idiot. I know who he is to you."

My hands fisted on my lap. "He's nothing to me."

"Then why is he on our roof?"

She didn't give me a chance to respond, strolling off out of sight.

"Fuck."

Quill yawned. "Are you going to go up there? Or do you want some Cornflakes instead?"

Part of me was tempted to leave Micah stewing up there for a bit longer, but a much bigger part of me wanted to find out why he was here. And, more importantly, why he hadn't made his presence known.

Plus, maybe seeing him would give me a brief respite from the incessant need clawing at me.

"No," I said roughly, shoving to my feet. "Start the next episode, I won't be long."

I hit the bottom step before realising I was unwashed and in my pyjamas. So? Who cares what Micah thinks? Fuck him .

I made it one more step before I was turning on my heel and sprinting for my room in the basement.

A quick shower and a change of clothes wasn't making an effort, it was just common decency.

The extra-tight top I chose had nothing to do with the angel either. I liked the way it hugged my muscles. Nor was it because of him that I spritzed on my preferred cologne. I always wore it.

I glared at myself in the mirror. What the fuck was I doing and why?

The less said about the packet of lube I shoved into my back pocket, the better.

My heart started to hammer in my chest as I raced up the stairs. That was odd, exercise didn't usually affect me.

The attic hatch was open, as it always was given we liked to use the roof to fly from. I didn't bother with the ladder, just grabbed onto the sides and hauled myself up in an effortless movement. Making sure not to tread on the yellowing insulation, I picked my way across to the window. Ducking through it, I stepped out onto the roof.

My mouth went dry as Micah came into view. His back was to me, his shoulders tense. His shirt was black today, but he'd paired it with the usual smart shoes and trousers. Why he always dressed like he was about to deliver a speech in a boardroom was beyond me.

He didn't turn to greet me, just stared into the distance like he was searching for an answer to something. His hands were in his pockets. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if he didn't think me worthy of shielding against, but I couldn't say it. I might not have liked Micah, but the idea of hurting him was somehow…abhorrent.

I'd done a million cruel things during my immortal lifetime, but hurting Micah was one I'd never add to the list .

"What are you doing here, little angel?"

His shoulders tightened further. "I've asked you not to call me that."

"No, you told me." I prowled closer, unable to stop myself. The pull in me eased with every step I took, quieting completely as my breath ghosted over the back of his neck. "If you'd asked me, maybe I might've listened."

"I doubt that very much."

The creamy skin of his neck was just begging me to press my lips to it. I fought against the urge. "Why? You asked me to fuck you roughly and I did that."

He spun, finally facing me. "That never happened."

Micah's eyes were practically sparking. I grinned, feeling alive for the first time in days . "I assure you that it did. Do you need me to refresh your memory?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you. I bet you've been sat in your house all this time reliving it."

"You say that like you're not the one perched on my roof."

Guilt flickered in his eyes. "That's got nothing to do with it."

"Then why are you here?"

His gaze cut away. "You haven't left the house in days."

Without him looking at me, that itchiness was back. My demon didn't like having Micah's attention elsewhere. Touching his jaw lightly, I forced him to meet my eyes. "Have you been stalking me, little angel?"

"Of course not."

"Then how'd you know I haven't left the house?"

He tried to look away again, but I tightened my grip on his jaw, refusing to let him. To my amusement, he huffed, but made no attempt to shove me away. "I warded your house, okay? "

My mouth fell open in surprise. What the fuck? Was he trying to protect me or something?

"Not because I care about what happens to you," he said quickly, squashing that notion before it could take hold. "But because I need to know when you leave the house to cause mayhem. I don't trust you, Nox."

"That's smart," I said, my thumb idly stroking over his jaw. There was a light stubble there, as though he'd skipped shaving this morning. I wondered for a second what it would feel like against my inner thighs. "I'm not really known for being trustworthy."

"No demons are."

I forced myself to let go of him and take a step back. Micah seemed to be slipping under my defences with terrifying ease. "So you're here checking up to make sure I'm okay? I'm touched."

His gaze was withering as he ran it over me. "Don't flatter yourself."

He went to repeat the action again, but his attention caught on my nipples. Thanks to the top I'd chosen, the rings in them were visible. Micah's Adam's apple bobbed as he stared at them, transfixed.

"Why would I flatter myself when I have you to do it for me?"

"I'm not flattering you." His eyes hadn't moved.

"That's what you think."

His cheeks flushed as he realised what he was doing. "I don't want you."

"Mm-hmm." I stepped closer, bracketing his hips with my hands. "Sure about that, little angel?"

"Fuck you," he said, a little breathless now.

Look at that. My little angel did curse.

"Actually, I'd rather fuck you." I caught his lower lip between my teeth, biting until he whimpered. I released him, my chest swelling with how he chased after me. "I'm assuming that's why you're here, after all."

"It's not." His hands rested on my chest, his forearms tensing as though he were about to push me away, but instead, his fingers clutched at the material. "You're so… irritating. "

I smirked, dropping a kiss on his cheek. "Yep."

"Argumentative."

A kiss on the other cheek. "I've been told."

Micah panted, his head tilted backwards, his hair illuminated by the setting sun. "Stubborn."

The next kiss went to the hollow of his throat. "Absolutely."

"I don't want this," he said, shoving his hands between us to unbutton his trousers. "I don't."

I would have believed that more if he hadn't just taken his cock out before undoing my own trousers. "Uh-huh."

He touched my cock before freezing. "What is that?"

I chuckled as his fingers traced each barbell down the underside of my cock. "My, my, your sexual encounters have been limited. It's called a Jacob's Ladder."

Micah paused his exploration to give me a withering look. "Yes, thank you. I'm aware of what a Jacob's Ladder is. I was just surprised. You didn't have this in when…"

I wrapped my hand around his leaking cock, delighting in how he gasped. "When I fucked you? You can say the words or not, Micah. It doesn't change the fact that it happened."

He didn't answer, his head dropping onto my shoulder as I stroked him. He wasn't jerking me, just gently exploring me. I didn't mind—just having his hands on me in any way was calming me .

"You going to let me fuck you again, little angel?" With the hand not on his cock, I touched the edge of his shirt. "Maybe we could get naked together this time?"

There was a pause, and suddenly Micah ripped himself away from me. He stopped several feet away, his chest heaving. His erection had wilted, all the blood drained from his face. Fuck. Was he scared?

I took an uncertain step towards him, but I must've been mistaken. That wasn't fear, it was disgust, a fact cemented by his next words. "You can fuck me, demon, but let's not pretend it's anything more than that. We'll never be naked together. We'll never make love. This isn't love, remember? It's hate. You told me that."

"Hate," I echoed, rolling the word on my tongue and trying to make it fit. "That's what you want? Hate sex?"

Micah blinked a few times before I saw him force the steel into his face. It hit me then, how often I'd seen him do that. Like he seemed to let down his guard around me before needing to remind himself of who he was. What his role was.

Was that something he did around others too? Or was it only me who got to see the true Micah?

I didn't know whether I wanted that to be true or not.

"It's all I can offer you," he said finally. "I'm tired of denying the pull between us, Nox. I don't want a relationship with you; it's the last thing I want. I don't want romance. I don't want to care. I don't want love. I just want to fuck away this feeling and carry on with our lives."

"Fine." I agreed with everything he was saying, so what was this fury building within me? "Hate sex it is."

"Maybe if we meet up to fuck regularly, the bond will settle for that," he said quietly, almost like he was trying to convince himself. "It'll be enough. I'm sure of it. "

I closed the distance between us, leaning in as though I was about to kiss him. Despite his words, he tilted his head back earnestly, his lips parting in anticipation.

At the last second, I grabbed his arm and twisted him so he was facing away from me. I slammed him against me, his back colliding against my chest. "Hate sex, remember?"

Micah hissed, his cheeks flushed. "You're a fucking arsehole."

"And you've got a terrible potty mouth for an angel." I grabbed the packet of lube from my back pocket. Fine, maybe a small part of me had expected it to end up like this. That didn't mean anything. "Maybe I should fill it with something else so I don't have to hear it."

Micah groaned, his cock twitching. He liked that idea. "Next time. Right now, I need you to ruin me. Fuck me like you're trying to break me."

"That I can do."

There was a small table up here, and a chair beside it. Leading Micah over to it, I motioned for him to brace himself on the back of the chair. Part of me wanted to insist he face me, maybe let me hold him, and take him down to my bed where I could seduce him properly.

That would have been stepping over the careful line he'd drawn though. Worshipping his body wouldn't count as hate sex. Besides, I'd promised myself I'd never worship anything or anyone again. I wasn't going to break that promise for Micah.

Yanking his trousers down, I made sure to expose as little as possible. The knowledge that he wanted to hide himself had me gritting my teeth. I was good enough to fuck him, but not good enough for anything more than that.

A sickening thought hit me. Did he want it like this because he was picturing Dimitri? Did he not want to look at me because then he could pretend?

The thought had flames flicking at my wrists. "Sit on the table."

"What?" Micah glared at me over his shoulder. "Do it like this. Like we did before."

"No." I didn't care that the itching was coming back, or that my demon was roaring to be released. "You don't want to be naked, and that's fine. You want me to fuck you like I hate you—also fine. It's your prerogative to demand as many conditions and limits as you like, but this is mine. Either I see your face while I fuck you, or it's not happening."

Micah didn't move. I brushed a hand over my hair as disappointment flooded me. Guess this wasn't happening after all.

I wasn't backing down though. I couldn't. Things were already fucked up and toxic between us, but this? Him letting me fuck him so he could pretend I was someone else?

That was a step too far.

"Goodbye, little angel."

I was turning to leave when Micah spoke. "Wait."

There was a shuffling of material followed by the sound of metal creaking. I turned slowly to see Micah naked from the waist down, sat on the edge of the table.

He lifted his chin defiantly, but behind that defiance was a touch of vulnerability. It struck a chord in me somewhere—the one I wasn't supposed to have. The one Hell had tried so hard to beat out of me.

The need to care for someone.

"The shirt stays on," Micah said. "That's my limit."

I could work with that. "You've got it, little angel. "

"That name." He eyed me as I stalked closer. "I think you love calling me that."

"I think you love hearing it," I drawled back, tearing the lube open with my teeth. "Maybe one day you'll have a cute nickname for me."

"Highly unlikely," he hissed as the cold lube slicked between his cheeks. "Actually, I already have a few."

"Really." I smirked at him, one finger sliding into his tight hole. "Do share."

Micah leaned back on his hands, widening his legs to give me more access. "Wanker."

"That's a good one."

"Prick."

"A classic."

I hit his prostate and his head fell back on a whine. The lines of his neck were perfection, just begging me to explore them with my tongue.

"Tosser."

"That's a bit close to wanker. Come on, little angel, you can do better than that."

"Motherfucker," he groaned as I brushed the small bundle of nerves.

I chuckled. "I've definitely been that. A fatherfucker too, if we're being specific."

"How about we don't mention other people you've been with?" Light was sparking around his fingers as he glared up at me.

Interesting. I'd never seen Micah's control slip before. At the casino, the riot, even in the club, there hadn't been even a hint of the power that I knew lurked within him.

"It's okay. It's only you I'm hate fucking now, I promise."

Micah frowned, like he was going to say something, but I twisted my finger and he seemed to lose the ability to speak.

Removing my finger, I picked Micah up and moved him back a few inches. Before he could do more than give a small squeak in protest, I'd released him. "Relax, I'm not going to touch you more than necessary. I'm just making sure I have the room I need."

Pushing on his chest, I encouraged him to lie back. Then I was shoving his knees up there too, raising an eyebrow at him until he begrudgingly held them there.

Rising to my full height, I bit my lip as I admired him. Even half dressed, there was no denying that Micah was the most beautiful creature to ever grace any plane.

"Well? Are you going to do something? Or just keep staring at me?"

"That depends," I said, my voice gravelly as I sank to my knees. "Do you think rimming can be part of hate fucking?"