He laid a while like that, eyes shut, face smothered against a pillow. He remembered Michael — those confident eyes, those strong arms — a ditzy smile quivering Lucifer’s lips, then his wings unfurling to curl up close to his body, hugging his form. ‘Stop, it’s not right to think of another angel so much.’ It was strange, it was wrong. Lucifer forced thoughts of the Lord, hoping he’d see Him again, in his sleep, and sit beside the great Throne. Instead, he dreamt of Michael.
