I grimace and shove my hand over my face, yanking off my magic like it’s a mask, lifting my illusion, erasing the red cape that I donned in her dreams when I wanted to be her Superman.
“My name is Raziel.” My words come out husky, tense.
I hear her gasp, and I swallow the lump in my throat as I meet her eyes. I bristle, waiting for an attack.
But instead, all I get is a plaintive sob.
I rush forward and scoop Katrina into my arms. “Princess,” I croon into her hair, not quite sure what to say. Inside, I’m fucking beating myself to a pulp, throwing punches, roundhouse kicks, wishing for half a second that I had Akor’s pain magic so that I could punish myself sufficiently for making my girl cry.
“You’re real. I mean…he’s not real. He’s you. And you’re an asshole. A real asshole.” Her words come out punctuated by sobs and then hiccups. I pat her hair, and she clings to me, fingers digging into my back just below my wings, hugging me harder, even as she berates me. “You’re so mean. Letting me think he was real. I can’t even believe all the stuff I told you!” She swipes at her face, which has gotten red and blotchy. “How much do you—” Hiccup. ”Remember?”
Her eyes look up at me, all covered in tears and sheen, and I swear, right then and there, that Lucillania’s right about the universe. Love trumps all. I’ve known it for ages, known that one look from Katrina could send me into a tailspin. But seeing her in my arms, sobbing her eyes out because of me…that’s what makes me more certain than anything.
I’d take on the entire canyon of murderers in Hell. I’d destroy God’s garden of worlds. I’d do anything to make Katrina smile at me. It wouldn’t matter what.
“Please,” I growl, hands tightening around her as my throat tightens, and I can’t shove the damn words out.
I need her to stop crying. But I’m not Ziel, dammit. Not really. I can hear Akor’s wings flapping outside the balcony, wondering what the fuck is going on, and I growl. This is my moment. I turn her away from the window and spread my wings so the fucker can’t see her.
That’s when I spot one of those en suite doors, the kind that hotels use to let you travel between rooms. I let the claws come out on my right hand, and I swipe right through the side of it, ripping out the handle and any locking mechanism. I toss it aside and shove the door open.
There’s a couple inside the next room, but one look at me and they’re awake, screaming, running out into the hall, terrified. As they should be.
I shoot magic after them, letting them see monsters wherever they go, so that the manager thinks they’re just another pair of meth heads who’ve rotted their brains out.
I glance backward, worried all the commotion has woken Adam. But his little mop of hair is motionless on the pillow. Good.
I turn back to the adjoining room, with its king size bed and white duvet cover. I shove Katrina down onto the mattress on top of the comforter, and her pink curls splay out above her like a crown. My little princess.
I owe her an apology.
But I suck with words. So I just lean over her and show her I’m sorry with my mouth.
It’s not a sweet, tender apology, because I’m not playing Ziel right now. I’m apologizing for that shit. My lips claim hers in a rough kiss, and I press my entire body against hers. I want so desperately to pin her hands over her head and apologize with my mouth, until she’s come so many times that she’s forced to forgive me.
But my little princess needs it slow. I know that about her. I know everything, more than she probably wants. I break off the kiss and rise up on my elbows, so that I can hover over her and study her expression.
Her eyes are still rimmed in tears, but no more are falling. I gently swipe them away with my thumb and then kiss her forehead with the softest brush of my lips.
Forgive me, I mentally order her. But I’m smart enough not to say it aloud.
“Why, Raz? Why did you pretend?” Her voice cracks on the last word.
“Dreams—well, nightmares—are my job. I’m a nightmare demon. I can transform. And I can…” I wave