Page 110 of A House of Gold
Before I can respond, Croesus reaches through the threshold and grabs Ash by the front of his jacket.
Ash yelps in surprise as Croesus yanks him through the barrier like he weighs nothing. The threshold ripples, resists; demon blood isn't supposed to enter angelic domains easily, but Croesus's power overwhelms it. One moment Ash is in the mortal world, the next he's stumbling into the entrance hall of the House of Gold, off-balance and wide-eyed.
"What the fu—" Ash starts.
Croesus slams the doors shut behind him. The sound echoes through the hall like a death knell.
"You wanted in," Croesus says, circling Ash like a predator. "Now you're in. The demon-blooded interloper who's so desperate to reach what's mine that he'll stand at my threshold and beg."
Ash staggers, his eyes darting around the entrance hall. Taking in the impossible architecture, the golden surfaces, the servants watching from the shadows. He knows angels exist, has known for years, but knowing and seeing are different things.
"Jesus," he breathes. "This is actually..." He stops, shakes his head. Focuses on Croesus. "I'm not here to cause problems. I just want to talk to Raven."
"Then talk." Croesus's smile is all teeth. "I'm curious to hear what you have to say that's so important you'd risk entering angelic territory. It can be hazardous if you stay too long, demon, did you know that?"
Ash looks at me, and there's something pleading in his expression. "Can we talk alone?"
"No," Croesus says before I can answer.
"It's not your choice."
"Everything about her is my choice. She's mine for the next ten months. Every breath she takes, every choice she makes, every person she interacts with, mine." Croesus stops circling, stands directly in front of Ash. They're nearly the same height, but Croesus radiates power that makes Ash look small by comparison. "So whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of me."
Through the binding, I feel Croesus's jealousy like acid. Hot and corrosive and barely contained.
Ash's hands clench into fists. "You left," he says, eyes on me. "You got those letters and you just left with no real goodbye. You called me once over the last couple of months, and you hung up before telling me anything real." His voice cracks slightly. "I've been going out of my mind thinking something happened to you."
"I told you I was fine."
"You told me nothing." He takes a step toward me, and Croesus shifts, barely perceptible, but placing himself between us. Ash stops. "You said you had to do contract work. I didn’t think..."
"What did you want me to say. You saw the letters yourself." I say.
"So you didn't try to even find another way?" The hurt in his voice cuts. "I've known you for five years, Raven. I've helped you through multiple purges. I know what you do, what you are. You think I wouldn't understand having to serve an angel?"
"It's not that simple."
"It never is with you." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I just wanted to know you were okay. That you weren't in over your head. That you weren't forgetting there's a world outside this place."
"She's not forgetting anything," Croesus says, his voice soft and dangerous. "She's exactly where she needs to be. Protected. Cared for. Given everything she requires."
"Everything except freedom," Ash shoots back.
"Freedom is overrated. Safety is much more valuable." Croesus tilts his head. "Tell me, demon. When was the last time you could offer her safety? Real safety, not the kind that depends on luck and wards that might fail?"
Ash's jaw tightens. "I've kept her as safe as she’d let me for five years."
"You've fucked her when she needed the lust purged." Croesus's voice is casual, but the words sink low into my gut like a punch. "That's not safety. That's convenience. Mutual using. Don't pretend it's more than that."
The temperature in the room drops ten degrees.
"You don't know anything about us," Ash says through gritted teeth.
"I know enough." Croesus leans closer. "I know she hasn't called you because she doesn't need you anymore."
"Stop," I say, stepping forward. "Both of you, just stop."
Neither of them looks at me. They're locked in some kind of dominance display, testosterone and supernatural power filling the air until it's hard to breathe.
