Page 67 of Grave Consequences
I hate how I must look to him at this moment. Weak. A blubbering mess. A pathetic puddle of grief and pain, set off by something as natural as a rainstorm.
“Look at me, Delta,” Iceman says, and I immediately lift my eyes to his. I ready myself for theit’s okayor theI’m sorryor even thepull it together, we’re in fucking Purgatorypep talk.
But Iceman doesn’t say any of that.
Ice-blue eyes look at me like he can see right down to my very soul. “We will weather the storm with you. Always.”
My eyes fill.
How can this demon, who’s only known me for a short time, speak such perfect words?
He leans forward and presses his lips against both cheeks, like he’s happy to take on the bitterly brined streaks of my sadness.
I practically fall forward against him, hugging him hard, settling my ear against his chest. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, not just to him, but to all four of my guys. “I’m so embarrassed,” I admit, keeping my face buried against Iceman, not yet ready to face the rest of the room. I’m utterly humiliated to have had such a personal, acute breakdown in front of all of these people.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Iceman tells me.
“He’s right,” Echo says, and I lift my head up enough to see that he’s kneeling on the ground too, while Crux is sitting beside me on the chair, and Jerif is standing, arms crossed and face pissed as he looks out at the room, like he’s just daring anyone to say anything. I love him for that.
“Yeah, no apologizing, and don’t be embarrassed,” Crux tells me. I notice that my left wing has curved around him, like it’s trying to hug him close. He doesn’t even flinch when the feathers wrap all the way around to his front, the tips brushing along his crotch like they’re trying to flirt.
I puff out an exasperated breath and try to bat them away. They pull back slightly, like they’re sulking, and Crux’s green eyes glitter with amusement. “I think they like me.”
“Well, at least they like someone. I think they just like to fuck with me,” I mumble before sitting up straight and taking a calming breath.
I wish I had some more of that hump blood to pour on my scythe right about now. Escaping through a portal that makes the ground swallow me whole and letting me run away from the embarrassing panic attack I just had would be nice. But that’s just not in the cards for me. I’m here for answers, and breakdown aside, I need to get them.
I try to comb down my frazzled hair, and I wipe my cheeks with my hand before swiping beneath both eyes. My face feels tight and shaky, but I give them a little smile. “How do I look?” I ask quietly. “Am I sporting theI just had a meltdown in Purgatorylook?”
“You look beautiful,” Iceman assures me.
“A little splotchy,” Echo teases.
I reach forward and bat him away with my hand, but I’m inwardly grateful for his levity to break up the heavy moment. He pulls me into him and pecks me quickly on the lips. I smile against his mouth and shed some of the apprehension and embarrassment still floating around me. I can still hear the rain, but at least the thunder has calmed down, and I try to shake away the chills that want to crawl up my skin.
I pull in a deep breath and focus as I scoot to the end of my seat. Jerif hands me my scythe, and I give him a small smile of thanks for watching over it while I lost my mind. Tazreel has once again taken up residence in the chair directly across the room, and Nefta is leaning against the arm of the sofa as far away from him as she can be.
“When did your parents die?” she asks me calmly, and for a brief moment, I’m grateful that she doesn’t do what Taz has been doing, and pretend she’s my parent. She’s nothing more to me than the person who gave birth to me and then walked away.
“I was nineteen,” I tell her, and she nods solemnly.
The vibe in the room is more sober, and as much fun as having a breakdown in front of everyone is, I’m at least glad that Nefta and Tazreel have stopped bickering. Maybe now I can get some answers.
I stare at Nefta expectantly, and like she knows there’s no getting out of it, she sighs and rubs at the back of her neck. “I am not a warm person,” she begins. “It’s not personal, it’s just who I’ve always been. I was made for battles and strategies...not motherhood,” she explains, and I sit back and give her the space to unfold her story. “Playing with Sin is a rite of passage for us angels. Some will pretend like it’s not, but everyone knows what’s up,” Nefta adds, looking at Louquin like she’s challenging him to say it’s not true. He stays silent, keeping his eyes on the ground, away from her heavy stare.
“I thought I was being careful, that my protections against pregnancy worked for the Fallen just like it worked for other angels, but I discovered that wasn’t the case.”
Tazreel snorts at her use ofFalleninstead of Abdicated like they prefer to be called,but he thankfully stays quiet.
“When I knew for sure I was with child, keeping you was never an option,” she goes on, not shying away from the truth or doing me the disrespect of looking away in shame. “When I discovered who Sophoclesreallywas, I also knew that I couldn’t hand you over to Tazreel either. So I did what I thought was best. It sounds as though it didn’t quite work out for you as I had planned, and that’s unfortunate, but I’m not sorry I made the choice that I did. It may not seem like it, but I was protecting you. It was by far what was best for you, and—”
“Protectingher?” Tazreel snarls, shooting up to his feet. “What wasbest? No. What would have been best is telling me the truth and affording me my rights as a Sire!”
Nefta snorts incredulously, not at all cowed or affected by Taz’s rage. “You would have used her, bent her to your prideful will. You don’t even know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what she is at her core. You couldn’t have been a good Sire to her any more than I could’ve been a good mother. She’s not some pawn, which you would have made her out to be.”
“Oh, please,” Tazreel scoffs.
“You wouldn’t know what was in anyone’s best interest, aside from your own, if it scythed you across the throat,” Nefta challenges, cutting him off. “You’re just pissed that I made a decision without you. But what does it really matter? Is this just about your bruised pride? Because we both know you never wanted progeny.”
