Mine

When his counterpart invited him to go hunting for the new Angel of Death, Wolf had been expecting someone dark and brooding. Another version of Azrael, tall, dark and brooding (and a stick shoved so far up his ass, you wondered how it wasn't coming through his skull). Upon hearing it was a woman, Wolf expected the worst; a female version of Azrael (complete with two sticks) or, just as bad, an angel that considered herself the 'real' Morticia Adams. Of the two, the first was the worst, as having two copies of Azrael wandering around was bound to implode the universe, and the second, well, Wolf knew he'd kill her just to see if another one would pop up with a new face.

So when he and his counterpart located the Angel of Death in a park, Wolf was surprised to see that she was nothing like Azrael. Azrael was known for his cold demeanor, ancient blue-gray eyes, and eternal frown. (The stick up his ass was a given based on frozen frown.) Wolf had met THE Angel of Death in battle once or twice, and had decided that he wanted nothing to do with Azrael. The knowledge that Azrael knew him on a level no one else, not even his King did, shook Wolf to the core. Everyone knew Azrael was the keeper of The Book; he witnessed every birth, wrote every name and transcribed their story, and then erased it when they died. It was that secret knowledge that stirred a powerful fear in Wolf, and it was well known that Wolf wasn't afraid of anything-except Azrael.

The Angel of Death he met in the park was beautiful, as he knew she would be, all angels were, but he hadn't expected the attraction he felt to her. Wolf worked with the living personification of Lust, and he was unaffected by her, but this angel, called to him like a drug. It was unnerving, because he knew two other women that shared her face, one, his counterpart's twin sister, and the other, his leader; and like Lust, he found neither of them attractive.

Her slender eyes were silver, and in them burned an innocent wonder but a fierceness he hadn't expected. He noted with a quiet growl of approval, that he towered over her by at least a foot, and she looked soft but she wasn't weak. He saw it in the way she looked down (how she pulled that off, he'd never know) at him, but she hadn't meant it insultingly; she had a regality to her poise he found interesting. Angels usually carried themselves arrogantly, but she didn't. Her eyes had been the first part of her he noticed, and when the wind picked up he noticed her hair; it was white. Pure and clean like the first snows of winter in his homeland. When she spoke to his counterpart, her voice wrapped around him, gentle and welcoming. Her silver eyes fell on him and she studied him with wonder and curiosity. Finally, she nodded to him in greeting:

"Wolf." Her voice was light, and but there was a smoky undertone to it.

He offered her a smirk, "Angel."

The smile she gave him was the most beautiful one he'd ever seen. It reached her shining silver eyes and she was a beacon of light and warmth. If he couldn't sense her connection to Heaven, he would think she was Lust, tempting him to her side with her unique features and the purity that radiated off of her in soothing waves. In that moment, a single, selfish thought, so old that he'd nearly forgotten it was possible for him to think it: Mine.