Hell’s Consort

Newest Chapter for Highest Tier (November 2021)

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"Yes."  Archangel Uriel's eyes were beautiful—full of honesty, gentleness, and innocence--that she didn't care what shade it was as long as she could drown in them forever. "Very much." 

However, those glowing irises reflected pain in them. "But I'm afraid that this …" He gestured at the both of them and whispered, "--something wouldn't last." 

She let out an uneven breath and settled a palm on his massive chest.

Uriel laid on his back to face her while she sat beside him on the bed, "No one can hurt me when I'm with you. If you want to keep me safe, don't leave me  without saying goodbye." Merle managed to tell him as she glanced into his sweet eyes.

The truth hurts but she will have to face the inevitable in the future like what Archangel Uriel implied. "Being in the face of danger isn't new to me but I am grateful for your protection, Archangel."

"I will let you know if it's time for me to leave." 

"It's not the time yet." Merle corrected him and she backtracked the rest of her speech the instant she realized she sounded too desperate. 

Archangel Uriel settled his hand on the fingers she had settled on his chest, "Yes."

Merle asked him if he was going somewhere and he said yes and the Archangel Uriel had tried to explain his plans for the day to her.

Merle nodded her head in understanding as she clutched the hem of her blanket for comfort. 

He offered to distribute the fruits of the Four Seasons to the nearby village instead of her to keep her safe. 

Walking around in public using her usual glamour—the woman with silver-blonde hair and amber eyes—would get her arrested by the ruling nobilities slowly establishing their own armies,  for the upcoming war.

The Watcher's existence abolished the royal family who wanted to rule the Faerie Realm.

Most members of the previous Fae Monarchs were all hungry for power.

Now, that no one was sitting on the throne, even commoners with strong influence can compete for the glory of becoming King and Queen. Well,  Merle could if she wanted to. 

  Currently, she was the most wanted criminal in the eastern part of the Faerie Realm because of Prince Balthasar's orders.

Merle wasn't scared of the other old creep—Prince Balthasar-- searching for her to get the magic fruits in her possessions.

The precious fruits were in Uriel's hands now.

He insisted that he would be the one to dispense it to the nearby village the instant news had broken out that Faeries were in hot pursuit. 

She didn't think that Archangel Uriel would make this initiative. 

Merle never told him what to do but she will be eternally grateful if he did this favor. 

"You should go to the next village now. They needed you there. I heard the situation there had gotten worse. The demons seemed to multiply from all the creatures trying to kill the Nephilim like they were pests—"

Archangel Uriel cut her off by circling a huge arm around her waist and pulling her towards his massive frame. 

He brought her even closer as her forearms leaned on either side of his head.

His half-naked body was warm against her chest and stomach.

His unique scent was like milk, pinecones, orchids, and sandalwood washed over her senses, making her mouth water. 

Merle desired to get a taste of his skin but alas, the Archangel was a forbidden fruit that wasn't worth the risk.

A soul only seeking pleasure will never be happy, always searching for what was out there—bigger and better options and experiences. 

She prayed that this obsession will come to pass because this was so wrong. 

"Are you going to be alright while you are alone?" Uriel murmured and she felt his heavy exhale caressing her cheek. 

  Merle nodded her head or else she might say something stupid. 

"I'll be quick." 

Merle waved him goodbye as he climbed out of the bed he made for them and flapped his white wings.

It was so large that the thick gorgeous feathers of white and gold cramped the two of them inside the hut before Uriel flew into the sky.

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'How did Merle come to love Uriel even if the Archangel didn't tell her his feelings outright?'

That thought abruptly crossed her mind while she poured grapefruit wine in a male aristocrat's goblet. 

Her brows had furrowed in concentration.

  It wasn't because of her guest's satisfaction but to indulge her perfectionism, making her appear like she had life by the reins even if in reality, she was losing every ounce of control.

  She hated messing up.

This anxious obsession made her breathing accelerate out of nowhere.

And here she was along with the rest of the Faeries and she was forced to watch her control slip past their fingers.

It was the worst feeling ever.

Merle currently worked as a serving girl in a cozy and luxurious tavern catering to the rich--especially the ruling nobility.

Curse these stuck-up noblemen's existence! 

She tucked the stray strands of her dark hair behind her ear or else some of them might fall on the snobby, unscrupulous aristocrat she was currently assisted.

The large hat had covered the nobleman's entire head that she could barely see his face.

  He refused to glance up at her, either, no matter how long she boreholes in his shirt with intense stares to get his attention—to get him to show his face.

Merle's lips pressed into a white slash as she tilted her head a little to get a good look at this nobleman's features but to no avail.

He wore a long sleeves silk shirt and a black tie underneath a light blue vest with golden buttons lined at the center of his flat stomach.

A light yellow jacket with the same color as his breeches covered his broad shoulders. 

Merle had the most expensive wine she had in her grasp.

She had to be attentive in handling this decanter or she was going to pay the innkeeper with her life.

Well, if she got in trouble, maybe, her Archangel could help. 

Her jaws were clenched, her posture was stiff,  her muscles were rigid and the smile plastered on her face was bland.

Merle wasn't used to this kind of job.

All her early life she was training to be a high-ranking Knight only for some lustful pig and a conceited prince ruin her chances of earning more money.

Now, she resorted to becoming a serving wench in a tavern.

She did not understand how can this useless establishment thrive in these trying times when some members of the Fairfolk—especially females and children—had nothing to eat at this point. 

Merle's eyes fell inconspicuously on the upper half of her customers' physique, observing the way he dressed because that was the only thing she could see from her angle at the moment.

The male Fae was silent yet she knew his eyes were fixated on the wine bottle in her hand as his fingers had tapped the wooden table with impatience.

Merle released a soft sigh of relief, knowing that he didn't make her squirm in discomfort like most of the entitled men of higher status when they visited this tavern.