"Holy mother of god!" I bolted. My head spun as my legs collapsed. I fell smack on the floor, tangled in blankets.
He peered down at me with a doctor's appraisal. "You're weak from yesterday's ordeal." Gently, he lifted me up. "Now you're as pale as me," he mused, placing me on the bed.
I jibbered.
"Sphinx got your tongue?"
He returned to the paper and devoured his breakfast. I writhed internally, silent for half an hour. He stroked my hair affectionately like I was a chihuahua on sedatives. Finally, I regained my bark.
"I'm in Hell. With you. The psychotic demon. My daily tormentor. The Angel of Death. You?" I glanced at the plate in his lap. I cringed at the events of yesterday. "Oh my god, what did I do?" I traced the scar that puckered on my breast.
Samael guided my hand away. "It means nothing," he said quickly.
"Nothing!"
"I had a moment of weakness." He lounged next to me. His implements shone with faint light.
