Moving forward, I would wear my shame like a badge of honor. I was a fucking shifter, and even if they took my wings, Mel would still be my mate. She would still be mine, and I’d be hers.
And that’s all the mattered.
“Look how far you’ve fallen, Gabriel. I thought better of you once. I didn’t think an angel like you would succumb to such human temptations.”
Azraella glanced at Mel, her lips peeling back over too-white teeth. “And for what?”
Oh. Hell. No.
She didn’t get to insult my mate, my sweet Mel.
Of course, she was envious of her, envious and jealous that her stone-cold heart wasn’t enough for me and that I’d found myself between the legs of a human. How small and insignificant the archangel must feel.
Throwing the cushion from my lap, I hopped to my feet and stood naked before both women without an ounce of shame. I flashed my ex a brilliant smile.
“Come on, Azrealla, you knew I was a rule breaker. I fucked you, didn’t I? Should have known I’d break more rules down the line. You’re just salty that they weren’t rules broken inyourfavor.”
Both women gawked at me with varying levels of shock on their faces. Azraella gathered herself before Melanie could.
“They aren’t simple ‘rules’ you broke, Gabriel. This isn’t like the human grade school you subjected yourself to. These are sacred, holy laws you’ve desecrated by taking advantage of your ward!”
“He didn’t take advantage of me!” Mel interjected, her eyes blazing with a renewed spark of defiance. “We’re fated mates!”
At this, the archangel rolled her eyes. It was a reaction most angels, at least those Paradise bound, would have toward any sort of statement suggesting we’re at all similar to human shifters.
“Sounds like you’ve let your ward spend too much time around werewolves, Gabriel.” Azraella gave a sniff, her pointed nostrils twitching. “Smells like it too. Though it’s hard to detect under the scent of your seed.”
Melanie’s eyes practically popped out of her head, and a vein ticked in her brow.
My girl was a fumbling fury, wrapped in a cute afghan package. It was time to cut this short before Mel decided she could take on the arch celestial herself with a pop in the jaw or a kick in the shin.
“Enough of this,” I said, channeling as much power and force into my voice as possible. Both women froze.
“You came to take my wings from me, right?”
“Naturally,” the celestial answered flippantly.
“Fine, then take them,” I gritted out. I spun around so that my bare back faced both of them, holding out my arms in open invitation. I called to my true nature. Today, the beast was reluctant to rise.
He knew what was coming, but a coward, he was not.
A moment later, my entire body was wracked with convulsions. It felt like cold steel cutting through my shoulder blades. My forearms grew hot as my inner eyes focused. I would miss my wings, but I would also miss my celestial sight. It was because of them I could see the beta’s moves seconds before they’d actually happened. It would make future fights with other supernaturals difficult, and I’d be reduced to seeing the enemies’ moves as they happened.
I’m sorry, old friend,I told my beast.
He said nothing to me. Probably best that way. I didn’t want to show any sort of weakness in front of Azraella.
My wings unfurled, my powerful shoulders flexing beneath their weight. The energy coming off them was intoxicating, their aura not unlike the kind of light that Melanie emanated. Like pure, concentrated magic that made up Paradise’s every atom.
Paired with the adrenaline of what was to come, with my ex-girlfriend and bonded mate watching like it was a freaking show, anxiety began to claw at me.
“Come on, get on with it,” my voice cracked.
I watched the reflection of Mel’s face intently in a little mirror that sat on my dresser. She looks utterly horrified.
“It’s okay, Mel Bell,” I said with a tone I hoped was comforting. But my efforts to put her at ease were overshadowed by the sound of roaring flames, and Mel’s eyes grew to saucers as her gaze turned from my wings to what Azraella held in her hand. I didn’t have to turn around to see what it was. Although, by the crackling fire and Mel’s reflection bathed in an orange glow, I knew. A flaming sword forged in The Silver City’s legendary forge. Valkyries, and arch celestials wielded them.
And of course, Azraella toted hers around in the same manner a Beverly Hills socialite carried a Chanel handbag.
