Page 16 of Angels Don’t Date

I spit out his arm and tried to sit up, but I was wrapped in his arms with golden soft feathers over both of us, like the softest, fluffiest, best duvet in the world. We were lying on a lovely red couch, now covered liberally in my blood. Happily, I was very good at getting blood out of things.

Around the room, quiet conversations continued, and there in the center, still burning with heavenly flame, was the sword. But nothing was left of Mini. My heart lurched, that time from emotional pain. She’d been a friend of mine. Why did she shoot me? And why did the angel kill her?

Said angel stood up, bringing me to my own feet. “It’s been a pleasure,” he said, giving me a smirk that had me wanting to rip his face off and throw it into the fire. Then he left me, pulled his sword out of the floor, extinguishing the flames, and then walking out, wings still fluffy and delicious, framing his golden head.

Chapter

Six

“Ihate angels,” I muttered to Mitt as I scowled at the ruined dress, days after the incident. There was no coming back from the gaping wound in the bodice. Maybe I could cut off the top and keep the pretty chocolate and pink scallop on the bottom, except now it was stained with so much blood. It matched the cocoa cup. The one that had shattered as I fell.

“He kept you alive,” Mitt growled. “Pity he killed Mini, or we could have found out who hired her.”

I looked up at him, hesitating because I had an idea what he was going to say. “How would you do that?”

His voice was flat, golden eyes burning with rage. “Torture. She betrayed us. She played love until I became blind to her true motives. She’s lucky she’s dead.”

My stomach lurched. Had her crush on Mitt been a lie this whole time? “But to attack me on live television? She must have had nothing to lose, or she would have done it subtly and made it look like an accident. She’s a goblin. She should have done it better than that. It’s almost like she didn’t really want me to die, not really.”

He hmphed and turned. He’d been grumpier than usual ever since the cocoa fever dream. I’d been more cold and achy. During the last week, I’d gone on a walk with each of the contestants, down a nice, protected path with Mitt directly behind me, but each conversation had been stilted. The angel hadn’t bothered talking. What could he have to say after killing my friend? And cuddling me on a couch in front of the fire for the whole world to see?

Sunrae was the only one to ask, Are you okay? Are you sick from his blood? I’ve never been so terrified! Don’t die, okay?

And then she posted a picture of the cutest broccoli cake, giving the broccoli guy on top a smile like she was trying to cheer me up. It was different from her usual background, wood counter instead of marble. Maybe she’d given up on pastry. Marble was best for pastry, or so everyone said.

The rest of the world was telling me how hot Richard the Lion was and sharing video clips of him carrying me to the couch with my face in his arm, all hyped about the most romantic moment in the history of television. Why did he look so good? I couldn’t go online, and my own platform had started to feel like it had nothing to do with pastel princess cuteness, and everything to do with other hot guys. Who cared about princess dresses when we had death, blood, and romance? I shouldn’t have attacked Richard like that in public. It was too stupid of me, too goth vampire core instead of pastel princess. Also, and more importantly, I should have stopped Mini instead of being paralyzed because she was my friend. I didn’t get to have friends. Not really. I was the ward of someone terrifying, so people didn’t bother me except for now when everyone was trying to kill me, but we weren’t friends. Even Sultry looked at me more as an assistant than a friend.

It was a good thing Sunrae kept her distance or we wouldn’t be real friends either.

I sniffled and tried to keep it together. At least today was the first voting day, and I’d get to vote the angel off and never see him again. Every time I saw him it was like a slap of my own idiocy. It hit hard.

I shoved the ruined dress in the bottom of the garbage can and went back to the closet, shoulders back and spine straight. After tonight, I’d never have to see him again. Eventually, people would forget about that moment of blood and stupidity.

I dressed in a sparkly gown, pink, with lace trim, the sleeves off my shoulders framing them. I put on diamonds—necklace, tiara, bracelets—lots and lots of diamonds. For the past fifty years, that’s what I got for my birthday from my vampire father. Diamonds because that’s what vampires were supposed to be. Eternal, dead, and lifeless. But so beautiful.

I should sell everything after this show and then disappear in the woods with my kittens. They were the only happy things in my life. All else was despair and misery. I sniffled again before I went to work on my perfectly pastel princess makeup.

Finally, it was time to head towards the monstrous castle I’d been avoiding all week.

At the door, I stopped and stared at the angel. She was tall, broad-shouldered, chapped-cheeked like she’d spent five weeks camping somewhere really dry and windy. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a sensible ponytail, and she wore light armor.

“The angels came after the show to protect their own,” Mitt growled.

I beamed at her. “So glad you can protect Richard. He’s dangerously annoying. Someone’s bound to kill him sooner or later.” I bit my lip. I shouldn’t have said that.

She only nodded. Her voice was low and monotone. “If he wasn’t so difficult to kill, he’d already be dead. Did he poison you with his blood? He likes to do that.” She shook her head, disapproving. “He wishes he could be fallen, but he’s not tempted by any of the usual vices. He should just become what he was born to be instead of fighting against it.”

“Um. Right.” Shouldn’t she have more loyalty towards him instead of gossiping about him behind his back? Then again, he’d probably done something unforgivable, like kill her friend and make a spectacle of it on live TV. “Thanks for being here!”

She gave me an angelic smile. “Of course. I’m actually here to protect you, not him. He doesn’t need protection. Or he’d already be dead.”

Awkward. “Oh. Thanks. I hope you’re getting enough to eat. Mitt here’s really great at making things people like to eat, even if it’s something across the spectrum, like angelic to his werewolf.”

The woman looked at Mitt behind me, seeing him in the shadows. She nodded. “I would appreciate it, when you aren’t protecting the princess. The food here is all nutritionally deficient.”

“They’re focused on looks instead of substance,” Mitt said, the least growly he’d been in a week.

Did he like her? I glanced at him and then saw the way he was eying her light armor. No, he liked that she was here to protect me. Angels like her were incorruptible. He almost trusted her. Not that angels couldn’t fall, but they were much less likely than a goblin who started half-corrupt.