“I deserve your anger, but death is temporary for me, princess. After I regenerate, I’m going to work to earn your forgiveness.”
Each labored word he spoke was said with a ridiculous confidence that no man should have while he died, like he knew it was only a matter of time before I forgave him. I had no clue how he thought he could fix things between us. Was he truly that egotistical? Every moment I’ve had with Malcolm was a letdown. His insults, general disdain for me, and actions hurt. He never made me feel like I was welcomed into their little family…after they literally ripped me from my own. If he really wanted to earn my forgiveness he had a long road ahead of him, and he wasn’t guaranteed to receive it.
When he died, everyone stared at me, the fear palpable in their eyes. Archangel Michael even looked a little green around the gills.
“I don’t know why you’re all looking at me like I’m the female Ted Bundy. You all fucking pushed me to this point,” I snapped. “From the very beginning you took my choices away from me, in every way. I fell for you, and was too dickmatized to see what you actually did to me.”
I returned to the couch, glaring at the men in the room. Every single one, with the exception of Michael, looked like a kicked puppy. He just lookedextremelyuncomfortable and angry, if the scowl on his face was any indication. They each owed me an apology. Sex, gifts, riddles, and good looks wouldn’t distract me. I wasn’t going to back down, or go easy on them either. If they wanted my help with Satan, things had to change around here.
It only took a couple of minutes for Malcom to come back to life. The gaping hole in his throat stitched closed at rapid speed. He gasped loudly for air, and immediately swung his gaze to me. His piercing blue eyes studied me for a moment, and then he smiled. I was disappointed that he wasn’t angry.
“You’re so gorgeous when you’re angry,” he quipped, like I hadn’t just stabbed him in the throat. Un-fucking-believable.
“You look like a corpse. It’s an improvement on your normal appearance,” I responded, my tone dry.
Desmond fixed his face as he stood tall and squared his shoulders. He was steeling himself for what I was sure would be a rousing speech about personal responsibility, controlling my emotions, and wasting time. “Diana, I regret being a controlling piece of shit. I’ll include you in the decision-making process from now on. I do want you to know that I didn’t get involved with you to distract you or control you. Everything I said, and everything we did together came from genuine feelings I have for you.”
“Hmmm, seems to me like you're giving me a non-apology so you can feel like the ball is in your court again,” I mused. “Actions speak louder than words, but I guess your apology is a start.”
My eyes strayed to the damage around the room. The furniture was on fire, and the carpet had black burn marks. I ruined the wall I sent Desmond through. Ares’ pants were scorched. Somehow, my own clothes were fine. I’d have to research why they didn’t burn off. Michael raised his hands, and a beautiful iridescent magic poured from them, like liquid opals. The room slowly righted itself. The plaster floated back to the ceiling, the burn marks lifted from the carpet, and the couch was fixed. Everyone thanked him for setting the room back to normal. I guessed that was something angels could do?
“Can we all sit down and talk? Azazel and I have no clue what’s going on, and we’d really like to work together on this,” he said.
I rolled my eyes and sighed. I was starving, and it wouldn’t hurt to have help from upstairs, as the guys called it. “Fine. It’s Tuesday, so y’all better have tacos on deck.”
Ares had gone upstairs to change his pants and brought me a fresh outfit, insisting I change into it when he returned. I assumed he didn’t like seeing me in Azazel’s clothes, territorial douche knuckle. When I went into the bathroom to change, I realized he’d brought me a black thong and sports bra, a pair of black leggings, and a shirt that said Taco Tuesday with a dancing taco on it. I felt a warmth flooding through me, but stamped it down quick. There was no way I would allow him to weasel his way back to my heart without an apology for what he did. I was done letting him get away with his antics.
An awkward silence settled at the table while we ate. Azazel was on my left and Desmond was on my right. Bash kept his predatory gaze trained on me from across the circular table, but I ignored him.I am not giving in.I had no emotional space for his red flag behavior right now. Even without his words, I could feel his lack of remorse from here.Fucking psychopath. I had caught everyone at the table staring at me at one point or another. I couldn’t blame them. It was common sense to keep your eye on the most dangerous person in the room. My earlier outburst proved that I had zero fucks to give anymore.
When everyone was done eating, Mal snapped his fingers. All of the silverware, plates, bowls, food, glasses, and the tablecloth disappeared from the table. He snapped them again, and a fresh linen tablecloth appeared. Bash waved his hand, and a cappuccino appeared for everyone, except me. I got an iced coffee, with milk, whipped cream and caramel drizzle in a tall glass–my favorite. He smirked at me, but I pushed the coffee away.
“No thanks, it’s too late for me to have caffeine,” I said in a saccharine tone. I raised a brow at him, and he returned the gesture. I wasn’tthateasy; he’d have to work to make things right. No matter how badly I wanted to give in, it wasn’t happening.
“Okay, so long story short, Red called Mal in for a private meeting and possessed him with an unknown magical entity that fed off and amplified his basest anger. Mal had no clue, because his memory was altered. While possessed, he strangled Diana. I saved her. We all had a disagreement, and Diana tried to flee the house. Ares brought her back, and we subdued her for her own safety,” Desmond debriefed in an emotionless tone.
“Mmm, not the entire story. Bash claimed me without asking before I even came to live with you all–he’d been stalking me for two months prior to Satan assigning you to kill me. Ares burnt his name into my skin because he assumed I’d be okay with that. Andyouare a controlling fuckface,” I added as I pointed to Desmond.
All of the guys squirmed in their chairs, except Bash and Azazel, with varying looks of remorse on their faces. Bash literally grinned like a prideful, deranged asshat, giving no fucks about his actions. Michael’s jaw was set, and he seemed thoroughly annoyed as he grimaced at the men sitting around us.Yeah, now you know how I feel, dude.
“Diana wanted to leave, and Satan influenced Mal to take her to the airport. We had a huge showdown with him there, and he forced Mal to stab Diana. She time-hopped as she died, which is how we think she ended up with you, Azazel,” Bash added.
“Diana power-shared with us, and we almost killed Red before he faded away. We weakened him enough that no one has heard from him or seen him since then. Xavier is running Hell right now, which is causing unrest downstairs,” Desmond said. “Rumors of his demise are running rampant. People are starting to lose faith in him as a leader, on top of their growing dislike of him over the past few decades.”
Zaz and Michael made eye contact, for at least a minute. I assumed they were mindlinking each other.
Michael shifted in his chair and leaned back. Typical power move. “How do we know Malcolm still isn’t possessed? He could be relaying information back to Red right now.”
“Once I killed Diana, I fulfilled the terms of the deal Satan coerced me to make with him. That lifted the possession.” Mal looked to Bash for confirmation.
“I took the liberty of searching every nook and cranny of his mind and setting up some mental protections for him. He’s clear,” Bash announced smugly. “If anyone else is interested in setting up mental wards, let me know. I’m more than happy to help.” He glanced at me, as if he was encouraging me to take him up on the offer.
“Zaz taught me how to ward my mind against unwanted presences. I’m sure he can assist me in forming more advanced mental wards.” I smiled at Zaz, just to piss Bash off.
I could practically feel Bash’s and Ares’ jealousy from across the table. Zaz smirked at me, like he knew exactly what I was up to. He took his hair tie out, letting a waterfall of curly brown hair fall around his shoulders, down to his collarbone. Ilovedhis hair. If we weren’t all being dead serious right now, I’d ask him if I could touch it. It looked so soft and perfect, I’d rub my face into it. I had a feeling it felt like a fancy hotel pillow.
“Absolutely. Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll assist you inwhateveryou need,” he flirted back.
A loud sigh came from the other end of the table next to Bash. Ares’ face was red and smoke escaped through his nose. His fist was clenched on the tabletop, and his face looked like someone had pissed in his cappuccino. The glare he leveled at Zaz dripped with jealousy and hatred. I didn’t care how mad he or Bash were. They deserved it for their caveman behavior.