Eternal Sin (Primal Sin #2) - Ariana Nash Page 0,54

waking Mikhail and padded downstairs to brew coffee. Angels weren’t the sort to have ever experienced breakfast made for them, the war was too important for frivolous fancies. So Severn making breakfast would be a treat. He dug out the eggs and bread and set the pan down on the heat when a rayvern cawed outside the window.

“You’d better not fuck this up,” Amii grumbled.

Severn didn’t jump, not this time, but only because the damn rayvern had been a warning. He braced both hands on the edge of the counter and bowed his head. “You need to leave.” How had they even found him here? If Mikhail came down those stairs now—

“Me an’ Jasper are a goin’… Just figured we’d drop in. How are them shiny new wings workin’ out for yah, eh?”

He whirled.

The kitchen table, where he’d expected to find them sitting, was empty.

The rayvern cawed again at the windowsill and took off.

Maybe they hadn’t even been here, and Severn’s ragged mind was screwing with him.

After checking the locks were still bolted, he finished making breakfast in time for Mikhail to appear, hair a mess and eyes sleepy. He wore the borrowed shirt again, but now it was wrinkled, along with the trousers. He scratched at his chin and regarded the breakfast spread with widening eyes. Fuck, sleepy Mikhail was adorable.

“What is this?” His tone suggested he suspected Severn had poisoned the food.

Severn swept a hand over the display. “A chance to talk while we eat.” One thing that had taken the most adjusting to was the angels’ preference for eating on the fly. They ate when they were hungry and did so as quickly and efficiently as possible. It was not a social thing. Whereas demons feasted and reveled and often ate for hours, using the time to debrief from battles or catch up on news. This breakfast was a little of both. Too small to be a feast, but large enough to slow Mikhail down.

Severn pulled out a chair and sat first, hoping to encourage Mikhail to do the same, but Mikhail loomed, uncertain. “It’s just food, all right? Not a bribe for… anything else.” He regretted the words as soon as Mikhail’s sharp glance cut to him. “Just sit and eat, will you. We can do that without trying to kill each other?”

Mikhail finally relented and selected his food. Severn poured the coffee. And lo and behold, they could sit across a table from one another without bloodshed. It felt like a victory, even if just a small one.

Severn let him eat, avoiding his glances in the hope it would convince him he was safe. But the happy little domestic scene couldn’t last forever. “We need to talk.”

“Firstly, I want your word,” Mikhail said. “No more lies.”

“No more lies. You have my word.”

Mikhail’s lips twisted. Words weren’t enough.

“Ask me anything.” Severn picked up his coffee. “Anything at all. I promise to reply truthfully.”

Mikhail swallowed, and his fingers teased the handle of his cup. “Samiel. What is he to you?”

Fuck, he went straight for the jugular. Severn looked him in the eyes. “He was my lover. I thought he’d died. His death set me on the path of vengeance—to you.”

“But he’s not dead?”

“No.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

Severn set his cup back down and leaned forward. “It’s… complicated.” He lifted a hand to stop Mikhail’s protest. “I’m getting there. Give me a second. It’s something I haven’t dealt with.” He looked up at the kitchen’s quaint ceiling beams, trying to organize his thoughts around Samiel. “Samiel pulled me out of the Tower Bridge rubble. Without him, I’d be dead.” Severn hadn’t said it to hurt him, but Mikhail flinched anyway—knowing he’d been the one to put Severn in that rubble. “He’s a good demon. He’s a friend. We matured together, fought together. I loved him, but things have changed. I’ve changed.”

“Did you fuck when you returned to him?”

“Yes.”

Mikhail flinched at that, too, and Severn sighed, suddenly feeling the weight of their differences. “I look like an angel, but I’m still an incubus inside,” he said, keeping his tone soft. “I need ether to survive. I assume you know how it works?”

“I do.” Mikhail folded his arms and sat back in his chair, beginning to close down. The topic was an uncomfortable one, but he’d asked, and in the spirit of this new alliance, Severn was going to lay all the truths on the table.

“Emotions produce ether, but there’s a reason the concubi are known for their