Page 8 of Prince of Wrath

With more frustration than I cared to admit and my lungs full of her scent, I traveled through the void back home. To my surprise, the lights were all on downstairs.

When Vassago returned from his entrapment, my brother moved into my spare bedroom. His former home had long since been demolished due to misuse and decay. He’d surely get another soon, but I liked having him around. Before he’d disappeared for fifty years, we’d been inseparable.

I came into the kitchen to find him flipping through one of the cookbooks my designer had placed on a stand for aesthetics.

“I know a chef or two if you’re hungry.”

His head popped up. Either he hadn’t heard me step through the void or he hadn’t expected me to be home yet. To be honest, I hadn’t expected him this early. He’d been out all day and night, pursuing his newest obsession.

“Do humans still eat that terrible Jell-O casserole?” He wrinkled his nose and looked at the pages he was thumbing through.

“Thank Satan, no. They’ve moved on to replacing meat with soy and nutmeats though.” I opened the fridge and pulled out a container of the prepped dinner my chef had made at the beginning of the week.

“Nutmeat? What does that mean?”

“They milk them too and use it in their coffee instead of cow or goat milk.”

He shut the book with a snap. “For the sake of all the fucking holy.” He sounded exhausted and annoyed at the world.

“We don’t talk about them in this house.” I shook my head and wagged my finger mockingly. “No need to invite the unwanted.”

I brought down two plates from the cupboard and offered one to him.

He raised a brow and took the plate. “Tabamiah doesn’t drop in on you anymore?”

“Not since I threatened to destroy them when they appeared at the foot of my bed when I had two models in it.”

He watched as I placed the prepped meal in the microwave. His cheekbones matched my own and his dark hair was a shade lighter, but that was all we had in common. His tall, broad build and chiseled jawline made him look more sinister. Not that it was the wrong impression, after all.

“I haven’t seen Syrael since I was freed. Not sure if that’s a blessing or a sign of something yet to come.”

Our constraining angels used to have shorter leashes. I wasn’t surpassed that Syrael hadn’t shown himself. The prince he had been instructed to monitor had gone missing. What sort of guard dog let their one and only charge slip away undetected?

I pulled a bottle of wine from the small fridge below the counter and unscrewed the top before pouring two glasses. “You have enough to worry about. Father’s favorites do as well.”

“Are the angels busier this end of the century?” He took a long sip and savored it in his cheeks before swallowing.

“Even less so. Wherever their focus lies in the universe, it isn’t here.” I lifted my glass. “And thank fuck for that.”

I finished my wine in one gulp.

After the microwave timer went off, I served the pasta, asparagus, and chicken cutlets then poured the white wine sauce over our portions. Vassago watched me take my first bite then gathered a similar arrangement on his own fork. A bite-sized piece of chicken, the top of an asparagus, then wrapping it with sauce drenched spaghetti.

The lines on his face morphed as each flavor profile hit his senses until he swallowed and smiled down to his plate.

“The food has improved. What is this?” Vassago took another big mouthful.

“Chicken Bianco,” I answered between bites. “The food industry has vastly grown since you’ve been away.”

He looked around at the mansion. “Many things have.”

I didn’t have such a large home half a century ago. Not that I couldn’t, but I hadn’t decided whether I was going to stay in the country. I’d planned on going back to Europe, but with the vacuum of a prince missing, one abdicating his duties, and another fleeing to the deserts of the Southwest, I’d had to stay put. Sitri, Orobas, and Stolas had begged for me to stay. They’d worried I would find myself in more trouble than they could handle when the means of communication were dependent on wires and stamps.

If I had gone, I wouldn’t have acquired Sloane. What a shame that would have been. To have never tasted her supple flesh or filled my hands with her soft curves.

It would have been a waste of a lifetime to never have fucked her sweet pussy.

I wonder if she’s still awake?