Dark Kings (Feathers and Fate #1) - Sadie Moss Page 0,22

one. “You almost just died,” I point out. “You were bleeding out in my arms. You ruined my fucking couch. You’re still not at full health, and if I hadn’t had a healing potion to spare, you’d be dead right now. You can’t go marching into battle right now.”

“I’ve had worse,” Trinity replies, tilting her chin up and glaring at me.

That’s a fucking lie. She’s not a battle angel and she already admitted as much.

“Sure you have.” I steer her to the couch and make her sit back down. “You’re staying here.”

“But we have to take care of this!”

“And we will.”

The words are out of my mouth before I consider them, something I almost never do. But I make no effort to take them back.

Normally I would not stick my neck out like this. But… well, if a bunch of demons are running around New York City then that’s bad for fucking business, isn’t it?

Trinity gives me an odd look, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Are you… you’re seriously going to help me?”

“I can’t exactly run a Fortune 500 company if there are demons overtaking Midtown, can I?” I drawl. “But we’re going to be smart about this. Wrath is the one you want to go to if you’re spoiling for a fight. Do I look like my brother?”

“Um, I don’t know. I don’t know what your brother looks like,” Trinity replies.

Fucking hell.

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“Oh.” She blinks. “Sorry. I’m still learning some things about humans. They’re hardly ever literal. It’s confusing.”

“It can be. I think it’s very creative of them.”

I’ve lived among humanity long enough to have gained a healthy appreciation for their species, but I’m not going to get into a philosophical discussion about the value of humans with an angel. Angels are stuck up. Think they’re better than humans—better than everyone. It grates on my goddamn nerves, which is one of the many, many reasons I avoid angels.

To my surprise, the little angel lights up. “They really are such creative creatures, aren’t they? Have you ever seen Stranger Things? I don’t know how they came up with half that stuff!”

My eyebrows rise. That is… not the response I was expecting. I’ve never met an angel who actually enjoys humanity before.

Letting the subject drop, I give her a hard look. “We can figure out what this is after you’ve got some strength in you.”

I can whip something up for her. And something for myself. I’m starving.

Not wanting her to destroy any more of my furniture, I point her in the direction of one of my bathrooms and tell her she can borrow a robe from the linen closet beside it.

I leave the television on as I head into the kitchen, allowing me to keep an eye on the news as I begin to pull ingredients from the fridge. The sinkhole is already a non-story, shoved aside in favor of other, flashier pieces of news. Several minutes later, the TV program cuts to an interview with Ryland Eastwood, and my lip curls instinctively.

Pride.

What a fucking cock.

Trinity returns from the bathroom, padding into the kitchen wearing a fluffy white robe and bare feet. I tear my attention away from my brother as she enters the room, schooling my features into a neutral expression.

She stops, staring at the ingredients I’ve piled on the marble countertop. “Are you… cooking?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

I arch a brow at her. The fact that I can handle myself in the kitchen shouldn’t be an insane concept. I’ve been busy dealing with an upcoming merger, so for the past week, I’ve been eating out or ordering in. But I like to cook when I can.

Trinity walks slowly toward the counter, staring at the food.

“It’s not going to bite you,” I inform her dryly, setting a pot of water on the stovetop to boil. “And I’m not going to poison you with it.”

“I just thought—um, I figured you’d have a personal chef or something.”

“I did, back in the day,” I admit, thinking back to some of the insane medieval feasts I hosted. “But what’s the point of having all this wealth if I can’t use it to enjoy the things I have? I like to cook. I find it soothing. Why should I sacrifice something I enjoy? Otherwise, what’s it all for?”

“That’s… not the point of view I expected Greed to have,” the angel concedes.

I snort. “That’s because you angels all just see us one way.” I add arborio rice to the