Above the Ashen Clouds (Twisted Worlds #2)

6. Zariel

Chapter six

Zariel

I tried not to show my relief, though it felt as if I’d been spared my execution.

Cat said yes. She said yes . She was coming with me. I wouldn’t have to choose between my home and having to leave my heart here, alone and exposed to the other mortals.

Yes, my heart.

My mate.

How had this happened? This shouldn’t have happened.

This couldn’t have happened.

It was impossible.

But it did. The urge to pull her close to me, the desire to tear apart anyone who so much as looked at her, revealed that it had. Not to mention how I already yearned to run my fingers through that fine golden hair, to taste those supple lips that beckoned to me, to feel for myself the curves that lurked under those ridiculous garments she was wearing. I was already dreaming of exploring the deepest parts of her, taking her and—

She was my mate. I couldn’t deny that fact any more than I could turn an entire mountain into ash.

And now, I had to figure out how not to lose my mind in pursuit of her.

Angels had mates as nature demanded, a remnant from our more feral origins. It was a phenomenon that only occurred when an ideal partner for rearing children presented itself. While some creatures had mates who were the partners that were ideal for them in every aspect, ours were subject to nature, not personal fulfillment. A mate for an angel wasn’t a single perfect counterpart. In fact, any angel had several potential mates in the world, and it was merely a matter of who they encountered first that triggered the bond. There were stories of mating bonds appearing at the worst times and circumstances, thwarting family rivalries and spawning the downfall of once-mighty houses. It was a threat that always lurked over an unmated angel, making some families shield their unmated from unfamiliar contact if a bond would be inconvenient, such as an arranged marriage between unmarried parties. Once the bond struck, it couldn’t be refused, no matter who it latched onto. The bond cared not one bit for our laws or who it hurt in the process.

Damn infuriating, was what it was. Nothing prepared me for the intensity that seeped into every part of me. Nothing .

But how could this have happened in the first place? The bond never appeared with someone who wasn’t an angel. The feeling was as overwhelming as I had been warned—it was hard to think. To focus. To do anything other than be consumed with the thought of touching her and making her mine. It was utterly ridiculous and illogical, but that was the mate bond. It was known for making fools of us all.

Did she feel the bond too? She wasn’t an angel. I had no idea what she was feeling. But she agreed to come with me, after barely speaking to me. That had to mean something, right? Surely, she was feeling something for me. Anything. I would take a small smile, a sly glance, a light brush of her hands. Anything, as long as it was from her.

Cat wasn’t an angel. There were no angels on this planet, other than us. Half-angels didn’t exist, because our mate bond didn’t occur outside our kind. Why would we bother reproducing outside of our species? She had no glamour on her that could be hiding her as an angel masked among the humans.

No, Cat was truly, fully human. A beautiful human. Light yellow hair framed a complexion that was somehow paler than mine, and a serious expression that focused on me. She wasn’t as tall as an angel, but if she stood on the tips of her toes, she would reach past my shoulders. To me, every single one of her features, from her little nose to her manicured brows, was perfect, as if no other woman could ever compare .

What was happening?

What would the Artists do? I couldn’t have a human mate. The idea was ridiculous. What would I even do with her in the Ashen Mountain? Humans didn’t go to the library—they weren’t permitted to study in our sacred halls. The library was a domain reserved for angels alone. Thus it had been for untold centuries.

And what would they do to me? They couldn’t punish me for just having a mate, could they?

Regardless of the cost, I couldn’t leave her here. Once I explained it to the others, once they sensed the change in my— our —spirits, they would know, and accept what I did. They wouldn’t be pleased, but I’d deal with any repercussions as they came. I wasn’t going to leave her here, and they wouldn’t separate us—separating mates unwillingly was treated as literal torture. Mate bonds were respected. Always.

Or so I told myself. In the past, some mates were killed to get rid of the bond. Before, I wasn’t important enough for such a thing as an inconvenient mate bond to matter. But now … I was known to the Artists. Cael was right—if it weren’t for Aniela, I probably would’ve been an Artist by now. Most potential mates of mine didn’t have the means to disrupt my entire world, and I already had a sister imprisoned for treason. Would the Artists think that I did something to cause this? Something that warranted my being placed in the prison too, a sacrifice for the next generation of angels? But it was unacceptable that I leave Cat here. I’d have to be pried away by force before I would leave her.

As of this morning, my plan was to keep my head down and work until we were truly home and justice could be set right. That plan had changed.

Trembling, I took Cat’s hand in mine, exhaling with the relief like I was on fire and her touch was cool water, stifling the simmering flames. Without hesitation I strolled through the crowd of oblivious humans and indignant angels with her at my side. I received stern looks and Cael gave me yet another raised eyebrow—they had to have sensed that something happened, something that made me single out a human, my wings hovering protectively over her. No one would be touching a human, much less leaving and bringing said human back to the mountain, unless there was a dire need and a reason. It wasn’t as if I was known for impulsive actions, or for doing things against the rules. My behavior after Aniela was accused was proof of that fact. I let my sister be cast into the deepest prison without protest after she admitted her guilt—because that was our law, and she had broken it.

I followed the rules. All the rules. It kept me alive and able to hold the position I had worked so hard to earn.

Regardless of what the Artists thought of my bringing a human to the mountain, any disagreement would be resolved privately, without the humans watching. At least she would be with me. At least I had taken this chance before I potentially lost her forever. They wouldn’t send her back. They couldn’t.

Or so I told myself. This had never happened before. I could guess at the outcome, but I couldn’t claim to know what would happen.

The High Artist watched us with minimal interest as he was still in conversation with some medal-festooned human, and a sense of foreboding made me want to hug Cat as close to me as I could. Cat’s own steps were measured, her breaths short, and she still clutched that bag against her. No matter—I wasn’t about to make her part with her possession. She could have whatever she wanted. Anything she wanted.

But would she ever want me?