Chapter 29
XXIX.
Rhythmic snores vibrating off the wall stir me from sleep, and I stretch my arms over my head and yawn.
Nate’s sprawled across the chair, his head lolling to one side, his mouth open.
He mutters something incoherent under his breath before shifting in his seat and closing his mouth, stifling his snores.
The blazing fire’s diminished to a modest flame, and I lay my blanket over him so he won’t freeze again.
Tiptoeing across the room, I test the pressure on my ankle, bracing for pain that never comes.
At least I won’t be reliant on Nate carrying me again.
Though it wasn’t the worst in his arms.
I pause in front of the closet, my throat tightening at the dresses dangling from metal hangers. Father bought these for my mother, yet they don’t resemble the subtle beiges and ivories of her clothing in the photos.
Maybe she ditched him because he never bothered to learn a thing about her.
A blood-red dress hangs deep in the back of the closet, and I tug it off the hanger and put it on before the full-length mirror. It’s a perfect fit, hugging my curves before falling to the ground in a long skirt, the straps crossing in an X between my wings.
My wings. They’re enough to steal my breath.
I haven’t seen them since leaving Dominus. I’ve felt them growing, dragging down my shoulders as I walk and pulling if I sit the wrong way. But I haven’t studied them. Not like this.
They frame my shape, surrounding me in black and gold, peeking over my shoulders and hugging my forearms. Sunlight breaks through the window and spills light across the room.
The gold in my feathers shimmers when I move.
Nate wasn’t lying when he called them beautiful. They’re nothing I’ve seen before.
I suck in a breath. I’d almost prefer they looked like Father’s wings. At least I’d know what to expect from those. These hold a mystery in their feathered layers I’m not sure I’m ready to explore.
Opening the door to what I assume is a second closet, I silently cheer when I find a small bathroom with a sink and two baby-blue plush towels.
Holding one of the towels under the water, I jump when the liquid hits my skin.
It’s as frigid as the ice outside. It probably is the ice from outside.
As far as I’m aware, Nix doesn’t have plumbing in the lots.
I scrub my skin and hair until the towel’s more brown than blue before tossing it aside, dampening the second one, and returning to the bedroom.
Nate murmurs softly as I sink to the edge of the bed beside his chair, but he barely stirs.
His features are calmer in sleep, lips fuller and pressed into a pout, cheekbones less pronounced.
His hair drapes over one eye, tickling his nose.
I push it off his face and wipe the damp cloth down his cheeks and forehead so that I can get a better look, clearing the caked-on dirt and tensing when he moves.
His skin is smooth, not a hint of stubble curving against his chin, as shadelings no longer grow or age down here.
It’s not scaled, like most of the demons in their true form, and it’s kissed pink from the cold.
When I’ve removed all traces of mud, I drop the rag and warm him with my fingertips, my heart fluttering in my rib cage.
How can a human be this perfect? Caring and unselfish, amusing yet thoughtful. Handsome, even after months without showers while navigating mud and snow.
He can’t be real.
I trace his nose and mouth, cup his chin, then run my hand down his neck and over his shoulder to his bicep, marveling at how it fills the curve of my palm. My fingertips whisper against his chest before trailing back up to his lips.
I’ve spent my life avoiding contact with shadelings. Father assured me they’re evil—and many of them are, or they wouldn’t be here—but Nate’s different. He’s never done anything to purposely harm me. Even when he learned I planned to betray him, he stayed with me.
I’ve spent my life in the hottest depths of the universe, but being with Nate is the first time I’ve felt real warmth. Even in the middle of a snowstorm while trapped in an ice castle.
Nate’s eyes fly open, and his hand grabs my wrist. My breath catches in my throat. I try to pull away, but his grip is firm, his eyes clouded with confusion.
“Devica?”
Heart thudding so hard it may burst, I lean forward and place my mouth on his.
He gasps against my lips but doesn’t pull away. I close my eyes and press harder. Nate’s hand releases my wrist and moves to the back of my neck, his fingers trailing up my skin and into my hair.
I’ve never kissed anyone before, but the way Nate kisses me back, I’m pretty sure he has. He’s confident in a way I’m not, and he caresses my cheek when I hesitate. He pulls me onto his lap and parts my lips with his tongue.
He still smells like ice and snow, and the fire’s barely a spark now, but neither of us stop to complain about the cold. I curl my fingers into fists behind his head so I don’t accidentally set him on fire as my temperature rises.
This is why everyone in those books of Father’s liked kissing so much. I used to skip those parts, since they seemed ridiculous and fictional, but I finally understand.
A white flash bursts before me, and visions dance across my eyes. They’re visions of Nate, so clear they’re like my own memories:
Nate as a boy, helping a girl stand after she fell off her bike.
Nate, a little older, aiding a middle-aged woman as she navigates a busy intersection.
Nate comforting a fellow orphan in a home full of terrified children.
And Nate, carrying me through the snow as shadelings clamber after us.
What is happening?
I push against his chest, breaking the kiss, and jump off his lap. My sword still lies on the nightstand, and I grab it and hold the blade to his throat. It visibly trembles, and I use my other hand to steady it.
“What are you?” I growl.
His eyes widen, and he holds up his palms, still caked with mud. “I’m Nate. You know, the dude you’re breaking out of here? I’d like to point out that you kissed me, not the other way around.”
Taking a trembling step, I jab the point of the sword into his skin and speak through gritted teeth. “No, what are you? You’re not human.”
“What?” His face scrunches, and he presses his back into the chair. “Dev, I don’t know what you’re talking about. But please, you’re scaring me and hurting me. Lower the sword and we can talk.”
I release some of the pressure of my sword from against his throat and study his face. He seems truthful, the same Nate who’s been beside me this entire journey. But none of this makes any sense.
“I saw your life,” I whisper. “Parts of it. Every good thing you’ve done, flashing in front of my eyes like I was there. I’m not supposed to see these things, Nate. How did you do that?”
“I didn’t do anything, I swear. Maybe it’s part of your abilities. They’ve gotten stronger since we left. Your wings are bigger, you’re chucking fireballs like a champ. The night I came to your room, you told me you weren’t good at the sight thing. Maybe that’s gotten easier, too.”
“Maybe.” I drum my fingers against my thigh, breathing heavily. He has a point. There are things I can do now that I couldn’t even a month ago.
Nate presses his palms over the sides of my blade and looks up at me. “Dev, I don’t know why this is happening, but I promise you I’m nothing special. Just a bounced-around foster kid who landed himself in Hell for a crime he didn’t commit.”
He has no reason to lie, and he seems as surprised about this as I am. I’ve trusted him this far, and he hasn’t let me down.
I lower the sword.
“I’m so confused,” I say, dropping onto the edge of the mattress. “I never imagined I’d be here with you, much less kissing you. None of this is going as planned.”
Nate stands and slides the sword from my fingers, placing it on the bedside table before sitting beside me on the bed. “Trust me when I say that zero of this is what I had planned for my life—or death—but even you have to admit it wasn’t half bad.”
I raise my eyebrows, and the back of my neck heats. “Half bad? I know I don’t have a lot of human kissing experience—or any kissing experience—but I personally thought it was pretty decent.”
He places a hand on my knee and gives me a small smile. “That’s not what I meant. The kissing was good. Amazing, even. I just could’ve done without you freaking out and stabbing me.”
“Oh.” Cupping his chin, I frown at the drop of blood easing down his neck.
I use the towel from the floor to dab it until the bleeding stops, unable to look up at him.
Maybe the mirrors were right. I’m destined to hurt him.
“I’m sorry, Nate. All of this is so new, and I panicked.
But I promise it wasn’t the kiss. It was the images it brought with it. ”
“Maybe that means we need to see if it happens again.” He takes the towel from me and drops it on the floor before caressing my cheek. “You know, for science.”
Pulling away, I stare at him, baffled. “Why in the world would you want to try that again? You ended up with a hole in your body last time.”
He shrugs. “Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. I mean, not what you people dole out in Lot Thirteen—but kissing you, I can do.”
My cheeks flush, and I pluck at an invisible fuzz on my dress. He has a point. I should know if this is something that’s going to happen every time I kiss someone. Not that I have many kisses planned in the future, but it could happen.
I close my eyes and sigh. “Are you sure?”
“The surest.”
When our lips meet this time, I tense my shoulders against the impending visions, but all I feel are flutters in my stomach when he scoots closer.
He breaks the kiss and stares into my eyes. “Anything?”
I brace for the images to return, but my head remains quiet, save for the pounding of my own blood against my ears. I peer up at him from under my eyelashes. “Nothing. Let’s try that again. Longer, maybe. For science, like you said.”
“I can do that.”
He grins, then kisses me, slow and soft. My entire body vibrates as he pulls me closer and wraps his arms around my waist. I tangle my fingers in his hair and skim the back of his neck with my nails, delighting when he moans into my mouth in appreciation.
My body relaxes the longer we kiss. His hands roam over my dress, then under it, but the visions never return. At some point, pieces of our clothing join the towel on the floor.
By the time we fall back onto the bed together, I’ve forgotten the visions existed.