Fallen Angel's Harem in the Abyss

Nyxsha woke up with a full-grown angel on her chest.

Her first thought.

Kill.

Her second.

...No. Wait. Not kill. Scratch? Throw? Roll him off like a log?

Her third.

Why is he purring?

She blinked blearily, her muzzle twitching, her golden eyes adjusting to the dim corpse-light filtering through the cathedral's cracks.

The sound rumbled deep in her chest, a low, involuntary vibration that made her fur stand on end.

No—wait.

That was her.

She was purring.

Loudly, unapologetically, like a traitor engine humming in her core.

Azareel lay sprawled across her torso, his head tucked under her chin, his breath warm against her collarbone.

His arms wrapped around her like a body-length scarf, his leg tangled with hers like a vine that had forgotten how to let go.

Worse still, his presence radiated that cursed angel-heat, soaking into her black fur, melting the cold edges of her instincts, making it impossible to stay angry or cold or detached.

His silver-white hair, tickled her nose, and his scarred stumps pressed lightly against her side, a reminder of his fall that somehow made him feel even more fragile.

"Urghh…" she groaned, her voice like gravel scraping through a storm drain, her tail twitching beneath them.

Azareel didn't budge.

He just nuzzled deeper into her fur, mumbling something incoherent, his words slurred with sleep, his breath steady and warm.

Her left eye twitched, her claws flexing instinctively.

This was not okay.

This was dangerous.

She was a predator—violence wrapped in black fur and unresolved trauma, a beast who slept on bones and tore through the Abyss like a storm.

She was not a cuddle nest for fallen idiots who smelled like thankfulness and honeybread.

She tried to push him off, her paws pressing against his shoulders.

He made a soft sound—a sigh, content and vulnerable.

She froze, her golden eyes widening.

He sighed again, shifting closer.

A muscle in her tail spasmed, curling tighter around his leg without her permission.

This was a betrayal, her body conspiring against her.

This was not okay.

After a long internal debate—imagining pushing him off, then immediately missing the warmth, the weight—she managed to wriggle out from beneath him without waking him.

Sort of.

He rolled over with a murmur, landing in the blanket pile, mumbling, "Aww Sofy soffmm…" before falling back asleep, his silver hair splayed like a halo on the torn cloth.

Nyxsha stood over him, her arms crossed, her fur ruffled, her face very blank, her golden eyes narrowing as she watched his chest rise and fall.

Then, slowly, her ears twitched.

She chuckled—just once, a low, reluctant sound that slipped out like a thief in the night.

And then she slapped herself with her own tail, the scarred appendage whipping across her face with a sharp thwack.

"No. No laughing. Bad instincts," she muttered, shaking her head, her muzzle wrinkling in disgust.

She turned away, her tail stiff and twitching, trying to look casual as she prowled toward the den entrance, her claws clicking against the stone.

The Abyss outside was as she remembered—gray, jagged, quiet.

Mostly. Except—

She squinted, stepping fully into the dim light, sniffing the air.

Sweet.

Not rot.

Not blood.

Not ash.

Something… floral?

Her nose wrinkled, her golden eyes narrowing as she scanned the horizon.

She stepped forward, her massive paws sinking slightly into the cracked earth.

Her eyes widened, her tail freezing mid-sway.

The garden.

It was there, nestled gently beside the cathedral—closer than before, as if it had crept through the night.

A line of soft moss now grew across the stones, leading to it like a slow-creeping trail, inviting and insidious.

Orange berries shimmered in the faint glow, dew sparkling on the violet leaves like jewels on a trap.

It hadn't been there when they'd returned last night.

And yet… here it was.

No vines moved.

No petals stirred.

But it watched, quietly, patiently, its presence a silent whisper in the Abyss's cold.

Nyxsha narrowed her eyes, her claws flexing against the stone.

Then she muttered to herself, her voice a low growl laced with disbelief. "…She moved her whole damn yard to stalk him?"