ass and your bird out of this house, demon.” He added some guardian’s loftiness to his voice.
They tutted, pushed to their feet, and stretched, like they were so terribly old and frail.
“Save the bullshit,” Severn snapped. “I’ve seen it all before.”
Their dark eyes sparkled. “I’m sure you ’ave, eh? But see, I was passing, an’ I thought I’d drop by and see how my second favorite angel is doing.”
Wait. Did Amii know Remiel? No, that was absurd. Then Amii had to be referring to Severn. Fuck. How did they know? “I don’t know you.” He gestured wildly between them. “We don’t know each other. You’ve got the wrong house.”
“Nah, I don’t reckon I has.” Amii straightened, their backache miraculously vanishing, and with a familiar shiver of concubi power, they shook themselves, spilling red hair around a familiar male face and stripping back the old woman act into a nephilim far more appetizing. “There we go. How’s that? I remember yous like a bit of nephilim cock. Maybe more than a bit, eh?”
They sashayed closer. Severn pressed himself into the wall. “I’ll not tell you again. Leave.” He had an angelblade, and he would use it, if necessary.
“Pah, don’ worry yahself. I ain’t gonna touch you. Look a’ you. All ugly self-righteousness. I’d rather touch myself.” Their hand dropped to the impressive cock tenting their loose pants.
“Don’t. Just leave.” He bared his teeth in a demon snarl, giving up on the ruse. “If he fucking finds you here, it’s over.”
They huffed, and their pink nephilim tongue darted out, suggestively stroking their bottom lip as their hand stroked their own cock.
Red had been a delight. It was a fucking shame he’d died when half of Aerie fell, but now he was back, and this wretched demon—not a cambion, they were too powerful—was fucking with Severn’s head. “What do you want?”
“Stop talking, angel. Yap, yap, yap—”
“Caw!”
“And feed,” Amii-as-Red purred.
Ether rose off them, swirling about like an aura of sweetness Severn could tap into, and gods, he needed it. Whoever this demon really was, whatever their purpose, he was too drunk and too exhausted to fight them, not when they were willing to give him exactly what he craved.
They dropped their loose trousers and undergarments, taking themselves in hand, and Severn’s mouth watered, his own cock hardening in earnest. He wouldn’t need it. He couldn’t touch Amii anyway. He just needed the ether hit.
Power poured over him, into his mouth, down his throat, heating and filling and fixing all the pain and hurt he’d been drowning in since returning to Mikhail. Gods, it was almost too much—and certainly too much coming from one demon. But he was too lost to its thrall to question it.
He fell to his numb knees. The ether high rode him hard, and when the demon came with a cry, the ether slammed into him so fast and hard that he barely clung to his consciousness. He gripped the dresser, desperately keeping himself afloat as his body burned under wave after wave of power. The rayvern cawed somewhere distantly, and Red grinned into Severn’s face. “There you go. That’ll do you. Get it done, eh? Your new face upsets my Jasper, don’t it, Jasper… Yes, it does, that’s right…”
His eyes fluttered closed, and the overload of ether dragged him down to the sounds of rayverns cawing.
He woke stiff and aching in the exact same place he’d succumbed to the high. The only indication that he hadn’t been alone was the open window, letting in wintery air. He slammed it shut and plodded to the shower, stripping off yesterday’s clothes before standing under the pummeling jets.
Who in the ever-loving fuck was Amii, really? They just show up, jerk off like they somehow knew Severn was running on empty, and leave? Full demon. Definitely. The ether kick had been proof of that. Shit, not even Lux had drowned him in so much power, and the High Lord had unwittingly tried.
He toweled off, troubled by the encounter, and was about to brew some coffee when a knock at the door interrupted his wandering thoughts.
Solo stood on the step. Damp mist clung to his red hair. “Morning,” he smiled.
Severn ran his fingers through his wet hair while trying to recall the exact pitch and tone of his new guardian angel voice. “Good morning, Solomon.”
“I, er… can I come in?”
“If you don’t mind that I’m wearing only a towel.”
Predictably, the angel took in an eyeful of Severn-slash-Remiel’s chest and the towel tucked around Severn’s waist