I touch his face. His skin is warm, solid, real. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For not understanding before. For thinking you were just a monster. Just an angel who takes because he can. I didn't know you were trapped. That you're suffering too. So much more than I ever imagined."
"Iama monster." He leans into my touch. "The suffering doesn't change that. I've still collected three hundred thousand souls. Still made deals that destroyed lives. Still chosen my survival over everything else."
"But you're not just that." I lean closer. "You're also this. The angel who gave me his blood to save my life. Who asks me to stay because he doesn't want to be alone."
"Which one is real?" His voice is barely a whisper. "The monster or this?"
"Both." I kiss him softly. "Both are real. And I'm choosing both."
He pulls me closer, and we sit there on the edge of his bed in silence. Just breathing. Just being, existing together without hunger or greed or the weight of three thousand years between us.
Eventually, he says: "Sleep. You need to rest."
I crawl under the covers, they're softer than anything I've ever felt, probably worth a fortune. He joins me, fully clothed, staying on top of the blankets like he's giving me space.
"You can come under," I say. "I don't mind."
He hesitates. Then slides under the covers beside me. Pulls me against his chest. And for the first time since I arrived in the House of Gold, I feel warm.
Not just physically warm. Warm. Like something inside me that's been frozen for years is finally starting to thaw.
"Raven," he murmurs against my hair.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For staying. For seeing me. For--” He stops. "For choosing both."
I close my eyes and let myself relax into his arms. Let myself accept this moment of peace.
Tomorrow, I'll have to face what this means. I’ll need to figure out what I'm becoming, what we're becoming, what any of this means for my plan to leave in a year.
But tonight, I'm just going to sleep beside an angel who's been alone for three thousand years and remember what it feels like to be held.
"Goodnight, Croesus," I whisper.
His arms tighten around me. "Goodnight, Raven."
I fall asleep feeling safe.
And for the first time in weeks, I don't dream of drowning in gold.
I dream of flying.
19
Iwake up drowning in softness. Black silk sheets. Down pillows which smell like smoke. Warmth pressed against my back, solid, real, breathing.
Croesus.
Memory floods back. The greed absorption. The ritual. His blood mixed with mine.
