"The angel's sister," Hermes said through his teeth. "I don't have her name, and why the hell would I bother tricking you when I'm trying to do everything I can to keep him safe. I'm not playing you, you paranoid prince. The angel's name is Samandriel. He's set over Imagination and...and fertility, I think. If you'll please decide that neither choking me or ripping my throat out is a good idea and let me go, I'll tell you what I managed to pull out of his head while I was riding his cock for my Master's pleasure." He glared at the wolf, getting angrier and more afraid by the moment. "Unless you really distrust someone who has never played you false so much that there's nothing I can say to convince you, in which case, maybe pull that whole alpha peeking on memories trick? I'm not lying to you. You're family. Family doesn't pit itself against each other. Christ, what part of me trying to get you to talk to Him about all this shit implies that I'm trying to hide anything about what happened?"
Usually, Hermes was amazing with words, danced around them and said things in absolutely particular ways so that he could use the loopholes he created with them when he needed to. Now, he was desperate and inarticulate, repeating himself trying to get Russell to understand that none of them were the bad guy here. Maybe even the angel wasn't the bad guy. He didn't know. All he knew was that he loved Carrick and there was a lot that was bullshit about what his vampire did and what the angel might allow to happen.