“You’re talking about my birth name.” He huffs as if he finds it funny. “I haven’t been him in a very long time.” “What was his name?” He smiles against my lips, finding it all so amusing. “Michael.” I snort. Oh, sweet irony. When he raises his scarred brow, I laugh at how adorably clueless he looks. “You know who Michael is, right?” He shakes his head. “He’s God’s favorite archangel.” He scoffs. “There’s nothing holy about me.”
