Seven Sins System Chapter 823. A Goddess in My Embrace IV

Seven Sins System Chapter 823. A Goddess in My Embrace IV

I laughed quietly into her hair.

“There she is.”

“You are impossible,” she mumbled.

“And yet,” I said smugly, “you’re still in my bed.”

That earned me a weak pinch on my arm.

Totally worth it.

Puriel slowly sat up after a moment, gathering herself together with what remained of her dignity. Which honestly wasn’t much considering her wings were puffed out in embarrassment and her halo kept flickering every time I looked at her too long.

She reached for her nightgown.

I immediately grabbed her wrist.

“No.”

She blinked at me.

“…No?”

“With all due respect,” I said seriously, “I did not survive emotional intimacy, divine politics, and near-apocalyptic stress just for you to leave immediately after.”

She tried to pull her hand back.

I tightened my grip slightly.

Not forceful.

Just enough.

Then with a lazy flick of my fingers.

[Telekinesis Activated]

The blanket floated upward dramatically like some overly romantic movie scene before wrapping around both of us in a warm cocoon.

Puriel stared.

I smirked.

“See? Problem solved.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m efficient.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t fight when I pulled her back down against my chest.

Warm.

Soft.

Dangerously comfortable.

Her wings shifted awkwardly at first before slowly settling around us both, feathers brushing my skin in slow, gentle movements.

Yeah.

Okay.

I understand why angels are addictive now.

I rested my chin lightly on top of her head.

“You won’t leave me after doing this, right?” I asked quietly.

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

And immediately, I regretted sounding sincere.

Puriel slowly tilted her head up toward me.

“Why did you say it like I’m the one who corrupted you?”

I snorted softly.

“Please. I was corrupted before civilization.”

“You know what I mean.”

Yeah.

I did.

I looked away toward the window for a second.

The city still glowed outside.

Tiny.

Fragile.

Mortal.

“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “This whole thing feels weird.”

“Weird?”

“You were literally one of my nemesis.”

Her lips twitched faintly.

“You tried to stab me several times,” I stated.

“You deserved some of them.”

“Some?”

“Most.”

I gasped dramatically. “Wow.”

Puriel laughed softly against my chest.

Soft enough that I almost didn’t hear it.

I tightened my arm around her slightly.

“And now,” I muttered, “you’re cuddling with me willingly.”

She traced slow circles against my skin with her fingertips. Puriel looked up at me again, softer now.

“You know,” she whispered, “you really do hide behind jokes.”

I sighed dramatically. “And you really do psychoanalyze after sex.”

“Intimacy creates emotional vulnerability.”

“Please stop sounding like therapy.”

She smiled.

Small.

Warm.

Beautiful enough to make my chest ache in really inconvenient ways.

Silence settled again after that.

Not empty silence.

Comfortable silence.

The kind where bodies naturally relax closer together without thinking about it.

My fingers drifted slowly through her hair.

Her breathing gradually evened out.

My head stopped spinning.

Just this.

A warm bed.

An angel curled against me.

And distant muffled shouting somewhere else in the penthouse that sounded suspiciously like Luci arguing with room service at four in the morning.

Honestly?

Perfect atmosphere.

Puriel stirred slightly against me.

“…Did he seriously order wine at this hour?”

“Yes.”

She groaned softly.

I grinned.

Then slowly, gradually, exhaustion finally started winning.

Her wings wrapped around us both fully now, shielding us from the cold city glow.

My eyes grew heavy.

So did hers.

I pressed one final kiss against her forehead.

“Sleep.”

She mumbled something sleepy and incoherent against my chest.

Probably a prayer.

Possibly an insult.

Hard to tell.

Then finally, we fell asleep.

And honestly?

That part was weird for me.

Not the angel in my arms.

The weird part was the feeling.

Comfort.

Actual comfort.

The kind that settles into your bones slowly without asking permission.

At some point during the night, I’d buried my face against Puriel’s hair while her wings wrapped around both of us like the world’s softest prison. Warm. Feathered. Stupidly calming.

And then came the dreams.

Not battlefields.

Not screaming souls.

Not fire.

Pillows.

A horrifying amount of pillows.

I was being hugged by giant floating pillows while some distant voice kept telling me to “rest emotionally.”

Which frankly sounded more terrifying than war.

For a Lord of Wrath?

That dream was an attack.

Still…

Best sleep of my life.

I opened my eyes slowly the next morning, sunlight spilling through the penthouse windows in warm gold streaks. My body felt heavy in that good way, relaxed instead of battle-ready for once.

Wow.

That’s concerning.

Puriel was still curled against me, asleep, one wing draped lazily over my waist. Her face looked softer asleep. Less goddess. More… girl who accidentally fell for a devil and now had to deal with consequences.

Then I felt it.

A presence.

Judgmental.

Spiteful.

I slowly lifted my gaze.

Luci sat in the armchair across the room.

Perfectly dressed already.

Hair immaculate.

Wine glass in hand.

And staring at me with the kind of hatred usually reserved for tax audits.

I blinked once.

“Morning, Luci.”

“Don’t ‘morning’ me.”

His voice was ice.

I looked at him.

Then at the wine.

Then back at him.

“You okay?”

“No.”

A beat.

“I could not sleep.”

I frowned slightly.

“Why?”

His eye twitched.

“Because,” he said slowly, “certain people decided to turn this penthouse into an audio drama.”

Oh.

OH.

I immediately looked down at sleeping Puriel.

Then back at him.

“You heard that?”

Luci stared at me in utter disbelief.

“The walls were vibrating, Azrael.”

I coughed into my fist.

“Right.”

“I heard moaning. I heard you flirting. I heard emotional bonding!”

That one made him sound personally offended.

I tried not to laugh.

Failed immediately.

A grin spread across my face while Luci looked more disgusted by the second.

“You’re smiling,” he accused.

“I can’t help it.”

Luci narrowed his eyes.

“I hate both of you.”

Puriel stirred slightly against my chest at the sound of our voices, mumbling something sleepy while instinctively clutching my shirt tighter.

Luci watched that happen.