“Release me,” the beauty beneath him said.
Azazel smiled. His words should have sounded threatening, but his voice was too melodic to his ears. “I don’t think so.” He tilted his head to the side. “So tell me, which one of my father’s lackeys are you?”
“Why does it matter? I came here to kill you,” he growled, with pale gray eyes glaring at him.
The thought that came to him as he stared at the man was that he was adorable.
Azazel played with the knife in his hand. “How's that working out for you so far?”
He felt the shift in the assassin’s body and knew he was about to attack, but Azazel didn’t dodge what was coming. Azazel wanted to see just how good his father’s subordinates had gotten since the last one that tried to kill him. He took the punch to his stomach, making him double over. The assassin was quick and pivoted his hips, throwing Azazel off guard and taking them both off the couch, with Azazel landing on his back, the other man straddling his hips and pinning his hands above his head.
“Usually, beauty, when I’m in this position, it comes with dinner and a movie,” Azazel teased.
“Don’t call me that!”
Azazel licked his lips, feeling rather playful, and buried his face in the man's neck then lightly nipped at his skin. “Make me.”
The assassin backed his head away and scowled at Azazel. "Why the hell did you do that?"
"You smell good," Azazel answered, then cracked a smile. "What cologne are you wearing? Tell me and I will buy the factory as a gift to you."
The beauty ignored his words and looked over his shoulder and saw the knife next to their feet, but in order to get it, the assassin would have to release Azazel’s hands, which he could tell the other man was not willing to do.
“I guess dear old Dad hasn't taught you properly.”
“I see why Lord Dio wants to kill you,” the beauty said, looking at him. “You talk too damn much.”
“Ah, what a crude thing to say when we’ve just met.” Even though he was enjoying the moment, he was growing tired of their banter and really wanted to see what the young angel could do in a fight. “Let’s make a deal.”
The angel looked at him speculatively. “What kind of deal?”
“As much as I enjoy being under you, I’d rather it be under a more intimate situation.” Azazel moaned and deepened his voice. The angel assassin scowled at his comment, but the adorable blush that stained his fair skin made Azazel aware that the man was pure in more ways than one. “Let’s have a proper fight. If you win, you get to kill me and take my ashes or whatever back to your lord, and if I win, you stay here and become my—”
“No,” the angel assassin said without waiting for Azazel to finish. “I will never make a deal with the king of evil.”
Azazel barked out a laugh, and it seemed to draw more of the angel’s ire. “I think you’ve watched too many cartoons, young angel. I can’t tell if you’re the hero or the villain.”
“Think whatever you want. I’ve already wasted too much time listening to your nonsense.”
With the last word, he swiftly got off Azazel, flipped back, and grabbed the knife. He moved to stab Azazel in the chest but Azazel was quicker than the assassin and dodged to the side, rolling to his knees, and grabbed the angel by the throat, throwing him back and watching as his back connected with the wall and slid down, landing on his knees.
Azazel stood and leisurely walked over to the beauty. He was lucky there weren’t any of his priceless art pieces on the wall, or Azazel would have gotten angry if they had gotten damaged. But nevertheless, this was the first assassin that Azazel found remotely interesting.
“Have you had enough?”
“Hardly!” the young angel snarled and swept one of his long legs, hoping to bring Azazel down, but he’d seen that move far too many times and stepped back.
“Hey, young angel, it doesn’t look like my dad’s teaching you anything. How about staying here and I’ll teach you to fight properly.”
“I’ll pass, thanks.” The young angel stood and brandished a sword, pointing it in Azazel’s direction. “Stop playing around and take me seriously.”
Azazel studied the young man in front of him. In human age he was probably about twenty years old, which was a shame that Dio sent him to die so young. However, Azazel couldn't look past the fierce fighting stance the other man took.
The young angel meant business.
Azazel did not want to fight the angel and send him back bruised and bloody to Dio. He also did not want to kill him like the others. The fight wasn’t between him and the angel standing in front of him; it was with his negligent, ego-driven father.
“Listen to me carefully,” Azazel said. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
