Page 174 of A House of Gold
"You're still leaving," he says. Not a question. Just fact.
"In a few months. When my year is up." The words taste bitter. "That's the deal.”
"I know." He's quiet for a moment, thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "What if you didn't have to wait?"
"What?"
"What if I released you early? Let you move on to the next house now, finish your contract faster?"
I stare at him. "You would do that?"
"I would do anything to keep you safe. And right now, keeping you safe means getting you through all seven years as quickly as possible." He leans forward, intensity radiating from every line of him. "You killed an archangel, Raven. Heaven won't forget that. They'll retaliate eventually. And when they do, the only thing that might protect you is completing your grandmother's contract, fulfilling your obligations to all seven houses. The faster you do that, the faster you're free."
"Free to what?"
"To choose." His voice drops. "Right now, you're bound by contract. You have to serve each house, whether you want to or not. But when those seven years are up? You're free. Truly free. And then..." He trails off.
I understand what he's not saying. "And then I can choose whether to come back. To you."
"Yes." The word is barely a whisper. "I'm releasing you from the remainder of your contract with me. Not because I don't want you here, I do, desperately. But because keeping you here for the sake of a few more weeks feels like greed of the worst kind. Selfish. Harmful." His hand tightens on mine. "I'd rather let you go now, get you through all seven years faster, and haveyou come back to me by choice than keep you here by contract and lose you forever."
My vision blurs with unexpected tears. "That's–you're the angel of greed. Giving up what you want doesn't…"
"I know what I am." There's something broken in his voice. "Three thousand years of taking everything, keeping everything, never letting go. And now I'm choosing to release the one thing I actually want to keep. It goes against every instinct I have. Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to chain you here, to never let you leave." He pulls my hand against his chest, over his heart. "But I love you more than I want to own you. And that has to mean something."
Through the binding, I feel it, the cost this is taking. The way it's tearing him apart to even suggest letting me go. The greed howling in protest, demanding he keep what's his.
And underneath it, the desperate hope that this sacrifice will be worth it. That by giving me freedom, he'll earn something money and power could never buy.
My choice. My love. Given freely rather than extracted by contract.
"You think I'll come back," I realize.
"I hope you'll come back." He corrects. "Hope isn't the same as expectation. But yes. I hope that after you've served all seven houses, seen all seven angels, experienced everything they have to offer...you'll choose me anyway."
By the time I'm free to choose, I won't be choosing just him. I'll be choosing all of them. Or none of them. Or some complicated combination that doesn't exist yet.
But right now, in this moment, he's offering me something precious. Freedom. Agency. The chance to complete my contract faster and get back to my life.
Even if it costs him everything.
"You're sure?" I ask.
"No. I'm the opposite of sure." He lifts my hand to his lips again. "But I'm doing it anyway. Because you deserve better than being kept like another acquisition in my collection."
I surge forward and kiss him. Hard. Desperate. Trying to pour everything I'm feeling through the binding and through my lips. Gratitude and love and sorrow and hope all tangled together.
He kisses me back with equal intensity, one hand coming up to cup my face. Through our bond, I feel his emotions crash over me, love and grief and terror and hope all at once.
When we finally pull apart, we're both breathing hard.
"When?" I ask.
"Take a few days to recover from the ritual. Make sure you're strong enough for the transition." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "Then I'll send word to Seraph. He's next in line, according to the contract. He'll be...pleased to receive you early."
Through the bonds, I feel a flicker of something from Seraph's direction. Anticipation, maybe. Or amusement. Like he already knows what's being discussed even though he's miles away in his own house.
"He'll try to break me," I say. It's not a question. I remember his warnings at the convocation, his cold promise to reshape me into something worthy of his attention.
