Eternal Sin (Primal Sin #2) - Ariana Nash Page 0,6

eventually. And maybe then his body would be more willing. “I’ve been away a long time. Tell me what’s changed. The lords, do they still squabble?”

Samiel tilted his head. “Why?”

“So I can…” What? Fit in again? Become a lord again? Walk freely among demons? That wasn’t ever going to happen while he looked like an angel. “…figure out a way to fix this.” He swept a gesture at himself.

“How does knowing about the lords fix that?”

Fuck. Why couldn’t he just obey, like he had before? Like they all had. “Beneath this skin, I am Konstantin of the Red Manor. Tell me everything I’ve missed.”

Samiel raised an eyebrow. “Jeseph allowed me to bring you here under the condition you don’t leave,” he replied, ignoring the order. Typical demon.

“I’m your prisoner?”

“You are. And if you’re truly Konstantin, you’d understand why.”

Severn huffed a laugh and ran a hand through his wet hair. “This wretched body will be the death of me. So, what… I’m supposed to stay here, in this room. We fuck, and I feed, and then what?”

Samiel’s glare darkened. “Maybe you’d have preferred execution?”

Severn laughed harder, shoved by Samiel, and strode out of the small shower room, needing space to breathe. He tried the main door, found it frustratingly locked, and glanced at the window. Samiel emerged from the shower room as Severn threw open the window and peered down some fifteen floors to the street below. London’s scattering of office blocks and houses, old and new, sprawled into the distance, toward the cloud-clad, imposing, half-broken disks of Aerie.

If he’d had his wings, he could have climbed from the window and simply taken flight.

But without wings, he was trapped.

Mikhail was out there somewhere, beyond the gray clouds, fixing his city and systematically killing demons. Eventually, he’d find one who talked. But only Jeseph knew he was here, holed up with Samiel. Severn was safe, for now.

“I almost had him,” he whispered into the brisk wind. It wasn’t entirely true. He had had him. His heart, anyway. And then he’d lost it. He could get it back. But not like this… not while wrapped in weak angel-skin and wingless. He’d get him back with the truth. It was the only way. He had to make Mikhail see that even as demon, Severn still fucking loved him. As wrong as it was, in the end, the love hadn’t been a lie. And for that, he needed his wings.

Wings that were hanging on Mikhail’s chamber wall. Impossible to reach. Almost.

Weak, wingless, and broken, he was of no use to anyone. He had to become useful again. Indispensable. He had to become Konstantin so thoroughly that his angel-skin didn’t matter to the demons. He had to make them see through the blue eyes and golden hair.

He had to feed.

And he had to fuck.

And he had to be incubi.

To have any chance at making Mikhail see the truth, he had to be the very thing the guardian hated. And they’d stand as equals. If it ended there, with the truth, then so be it. Severn was willing to die for love. Destiny would have it no other way.

He’d spent ten years as a demon, trying to convince the angels he was one of them, and now he was an angel trying to convince demons he belonged with them. It would have been hilarious if it weren’t so fucking painful.

The next day and physically recovered, Severn had his target fixed. Before leaving that morning, Samiel had lain out some clothes for him. None of which he had any intention of wearing. Samiel was right. He did need to feed. Tower Bridge and then being tortured for a few weeks had exhausted his reserves. Until he was stronger, there would be no escape, no reclaiming his title, and certainly no retrieving his wings.

What happened next was necessary, even if it did feel like he was betraying Mikhail.

Naked, he stood at the window, arm braced against the frame, and watched London’s shifting moods. Bright sunshine had turned to torrential rain, then to a soft drizzle, the suffocating kind that soaked every surface. He was tracing the distant line of the Thames when Samiel entered the room. In the window’s reflection, he saw Samiel lock the door behind him and slip the key into his pocket.

Samiel’s gaze roamed Severn’s back, fixing on the wing stumps. Severn hadn’t spared the energy to illusion those away, and in fact, he’d hoped they might trigger something more familiar in Samiel. It worked. The