“You’re right,” I say, partly to him and to myself. “They’ll always be my parents.” I turn my head to the left to look over at him. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but in Hell, Jerif mentioned you don’t have family.”
Echo doesn’t pull away from the personal question or brush me off, and that right there shows me that he wants this emotional intimacy too. “That’s right,” he says, clearing his throat. “My parents died when I was very young. They had the same power as me, so they were one of the rare Trēs demons to get called to Lucifer’s army. They died in battle.”
I squeeze his arm in what I hope is a comforting touch. “I’m sorry,” I say, and then I scrunch up my face and mentally kick myself in the shin. “Shit, I don’t mean that,” I confess in a rush. Echo raises an eyebrow, amusement flashing in his black eyes. “I mean, I hate that you had to go through that, and I know it couldn’t have been easy. But after my mom and dad died, it drove me nuts when people would casually say, ‘I’m sorry.’ It always left me bitter. It felt like as soon as someone spoke those words, it was like they were trying to dispel the discomfort my loss and pain caused them, not that the words were spoken to really comfort me. Maybe I’m crazy, but I’ve always just hated it when that’s the first thing that pops out of someone’s mouth after I mention what I’ve lost.”
I look at him apologetically, knowing I’m doing a horrible job of explaining what I mean. I sound like a brat whining about the way people try to offer sympathy.
“I get it, actually,” Echo tells me, and I instantly feel relieved. “In Trēs, the thing to say was “For the balance.” Anything bad that happened was for the balance. Like that should somehow make it better. I hated when I was told that. Because yes, the fucking balance matters, but that didn’t make me any less sad. It didn’t take the pain away from what I lost.”
I nod, completely understanding exactly what he means.
“Anyway, it was a long time ago,” he tells me.
“We’re both orphans,” I say with a sad smile on my face. “Were you lonely?”
His black eyes sweep over me with soft affection. “Yes, but then I got called as a Gate Guardian. I didn’t dread it like Crux or hate it like Jerif. When the duty was passed down to me from my grandfather, I was fucking relieved. I needed to get out of Trēs and find a new purpose. The guys became my new family.”
Crux reaches over me and punches Echo in the arm in what I think is supposed to be a friendly bro-tap, though that hit would have definitely bruised me.
“That’s fucking right,” Crux tells him with a smile. “And I quickly became your favorite out of those other pricks, so you can finally just admit it,” he teases.
Echo rolls his eyes.
I shake my head at them, smiling. “I’d like to meet your family one day, Crux. Jerif’s too.”
At that, they both snort. “Jerif’s mom is the fucking best. How she ended up with a surly fucker for a son, I’ll never know,” Crux tells me, his green eyes filled with mirth. “She’s pretty much adopted all of us. If you asked her, she’d probably say that we’re the only reasons the realms haven’t fallen, which is just fucking adorable.”
“Remember those cookies she made us last time we visited?” Echo muses.
Crux groans at the memory, nearly as loud as he did when he was fucking me earlier. I’m simultaneously intrigued and a little put off by it. Seriously, what’s in those cookies?
“So what about Iceman? What’s his story?” I ask, redirecting them before they start making me crave cookies and more cock. After all the food I ate, I don’t need to stuff my face with anything else.
“He’s an Ūnus, the most powerful out of all of us, but Ūnus demons are stricter. He grew up with pretty rigid societal rules. They cart off all the young to be trained for Hell’s armies. But Raf got lucky, he took over the Gate from his father and didn’t have to go to battle,” Echo tells me.
“But I thought Heaven and Hell were working toward the same goal? Why all the fighting?” I ask, confused.