Yanking his hand free and whirling back towards the armory to find something more durable to vent his frustrations upon, Michael could feel the tension rising in him again. He forced himself to stop, to take several deep breaths, and tonottake a swing at the new object in the arena—the angel stepping silently towards him.
As always, his immediate thought was of how good it would feel to punch Gabriel right in his smug, sculpted face, high cheekbones breaking easily under his knuckles.
“Gabriel,” he greeted him curtly, trying to disguise the tremor of anger in his hands. “Rare to see you here.”
“Concerned, Michael?” He arched a perfectly groomed black brow, smirking. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to challenge you. Lord knows I’d hate to mar any of thatripplingmasculinity.”
Michael didn’t need to study the other angel’s slight build to know he spent little to no time training. He practically lived in this arena, and this was the first time in weeks that Gabe had entered it. He rolled his eyes. “You and I both know it wouldn’t be a fair fight.”
“Would you like to test that theory?”
Michael scowled at him. "Is there some reason you’re here to bother me? I have bigger things to worry about than amusing you.”
Gabriel ceased his taunting, bored with his game for the moment. “You’re worried about something? Maybe I can help.”
As much as Michael didnotwant to accept help from Gabriel, who was an annoyance on a good day and a painful reminder on a bad one, he paused to consider. If anyone in Heaven held more sway with Jehovah than he did, it was the angel standing before him. Even if said angel looked more like a bored trust fund heir in his fitted slacks and cashmere sweater than an advisor to the Ancient of Days.
Still, Michael hesitated, something in him recoiling from the idea of telling Gabe about what Mags had shown him.Don’t be petty,he chided himself. Mags had come and laid bare her fears. If he couldn’t petition Jehovah, the least he could do would be to seek an outside opinion.
Michael described everything as briefly as he could, but he withheld some key details—such as the identity of the monstrous figure. If history had taught him anything, it was that Gabriel was even more biased in matters of Lucifer than Michael was.
Gabriel nodded along, silent while he followed the story. When the blond got to the armor-related part of Mags’s plan, Gabe’s dark brows shot into his hairline.
“Sorry, she saidwhat?”
“I know,” Michael groaned. “It’s a crazy idea.”
“Well yeah, that girl is insane as they come.”
Michael scowled. “No, she isn’t.”
“She has free reign to waltz around up here and chooses to spend most of her time in Hell with... well. You know with who.”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
Something mischievous glinted in Gabriel’s eyes, and Michael already knew he was going to be pissed off by whatever came out of his wicked mouth next.
“Are yousureyou don’t want to talk about him, Michael?”
“Extremely,” he said curtly. “I’ve spent enough of my life on... that man.”
“You always did have rose colored glasses for him.” Gabriel sighed, then his expression shifted into a sweet grin. “Among other... predispositions.”
Michael’s blood had already been simmering with anxiety, and then annoyance at dealing with Gabriel. Now it spiked sky high. “Fuck you.”
He shoved Gabe aside, storming past him. Stupid—so stupid to think he could seek Gabriel’s perspective; to think it was possible to work with him toward a solution. Gabe had proven a long time ago that he didn’t deserve Michael’s trust.
Michael left through the nearest archway, sending a group of meandering angels scattering from his path with indignant noises as he blew down the corridor like a storm. His tawny wings fluttered restlessly, longing to take flight, fury blinding him to everything but the sliver of perfect daylight shining at the end of the hall.
Gabe sauntered to the doorway after him but made no effort to call the warrior back. There was no point—Michael would just ignore him, and he was done having his fun for now. The brute nearly bowled over a group of bystanders as he ran to the exit, those powerful wings flaring wide as soon as he cleared the doorframe. Sunlight glinted off golden curls as he dipped and then swooped up, soaring off toward the glittering waves in the distance.
Perfect form, perfect figure, perfect weather and perfect world. Gabe sighed dreamily at the classic imagery, affection swelling for the realm he inhabited. Heaven truly was paradise
With his source of entertainment gone, his thoughts turned to Christos’s little girlfriend and all the fun he could have workingherinto a frustrated rage. It was too easy to get under people’s skin—Gabe had always had a talent for it, andit certainly made life interesting, especially with eons of days to occupy. Heaven was beautiful, but it could also be so dreadfully boring.
The images Michael had described flashed in his mind, and Gabe frowned. Not boring for long, it seemed. He wondered if there might be any credibility to Mags’s plan and then shook the idea sharply from his mind. No, it would be too catastrophic. Lucifer would be enough of a threat if he got his full powers back—the Armor could never fall into his possession. Gabe would make sure of it himself if he had to.
With a last lingering look down the hall, Gabe turned and strolled back the opposite direction. It might be prudent to take a trip to the library. Just to check on things.
