Chapter 3
ELYSIA
Iwake to the sound of purring.
Something soft and warm is pressed against my neck, vibrating gently. For a moment, I imagine I'm back in Heaven, that everything—the betrayal, the fall, the demon—was nothing more than a nightmare, but when I try to shift positions, pain lances through my wings, and reality comes crashing down.
I'm not in Heaven anymore. I'm... I’m where? I force my eyes open, groaning when it takes far more effort than it should. Where am I?
The first thing I see is a black cat curled against my shoulder, watching me with glowing golden eyes that seem far too intelligent. When we make eye contact for the first time, it chirps and bumps its head against my chin.
"Shadow," a deep voice warns from somewhere nearby. I’d jump if my body didn’t feel like it’s been hit by a freight train. "Give her space."
I turn my head—slowly, because everything hurts—and find the demon from last night sitting in a large chair beside the bed.
He looks different in daylight. Still intimidating, with his impressive height and muscled frame, but less otherworldly.
His tattoos are quieter now, no longer dancing with lightning, though they still seem to shift slightly when he moves.
He's wearing simple clothes—a black t-shirt and dark jeans—that do nothing to hide his powerful build.
"You're safe," he says, before I can speak. "Your wings are bandaged, but you shouldn't try to move them yet."
My wings. My fucking wings. The memory of their breaking sends fresh pain through my chest. Daring to meet his eyes, I force out a whisper, "Why?"
His eyebrow arches at my question. "Why shouldn't you move them?"
"Why did you save me?" My voice is hoarse, barely recognizable. "You're a demon. We both know you were supposed to kill me the second you found me."
Emotion flickers across his face, but it's gone too quickly to read. "Maybe I don't always do what I'm supposed to do." He stands, and for a moment I think he's leaving, but he returns with a glass of water. "Can you sit up?"
I try, but my muscles feel like heavy, wet paper. Without comment, he slides an arm behind my back and helps me up, supporting most of my weight with little effort. The cat—Shadow apparently—huffs about being dislodged but settles again at my hip.
The water is cool and sweet, and I drain the glass in desperate gulps. When I finish, I notice his hand is hovering near my back, careful not to touch my wings but ready to catch me if I fall. The heat radiating from him makes my skin tingle.
"Thank you," I say, because regardless of who he is, he saved me. "I'm Elysia."
"Malcolm," he replies, and something warm flutters in my chest as his name leaves his lips. He helps me lie back down, his movements surprisingly gentle for a demon. "You should rest more. I'll bring you something to eat later."
But as he turns to leave, panic claws at my throat. "Wait!" The word escapes before I can stop it.
Fuck.
He pauses, glancing back, and I struggle to explain the sudden fear. "I just... could you stay? A little longer?"
I expect him to refuse. It’s a stupid request. He probably has a thousand other things he could be doing right now.
Tending to a fallen angel who has no friends and a cheating ex boyfriend is likely last on his to-do list. Instead, he settles back into the chair, and some of the tension leaves my body.
"Tell me about your wings," he says quietly, his gold and orange eyes watching me. "That break pattern wasn't from the fall, was it?"
Tears burn behind my eyes as I shake my head. "My best friend," I whisper. "And my boyfriend. They..." My voice breaks, and Shadow pushes her head against my hand as if sensing my distress. I raise my hand to her, petting gently around her pointed ears.
"You don't have to tell me," Malcolm says, but I need to. I need to let this poisonous feeling out before it eats me alive.
"Serena was my best friend since creation," I say, staring at the ceiling so I don't have to see his expression.
"Michael and I have been together for decades.
I thought... I thought we were happy. But they wanted each other.
And I was in the way." A bitter laugh escapes me, taking me by surprise.
"Serena broke my wings while Michael held me down.
She said... she said it was better this way.
That I was too naive for someone like him, and that my existence only complicated their future. "
The room grows noticeably warmer, and I glance at Malcolm to find his tattoos glowing faintly, his hands clenched into fists. "They broke your wings," he says, his voice dangerously soft, "to make sure you couldn't save yourself from the fall?"
I nod, and the temperature spikes higher. Shadow makes a disgruntled noise like she’s used to this and jumps off the bed, apparently deciding it's too hot for her comfort.
"That's not..." Malcolm stops, and I watch his face as he battles something internal.
When he speaks again, his voice is carefully controlled.
"Even among demons, that would be considered an executable offense.
To deliberately cripple someone before casting them out.
.." He shakes his head. "Angels are supposed to be better than that. "
"Apparently not." I close my eyes, exhausted by the thought. "What happens now?"
"Now, you rest and heal." The chair creaks as he shifts position. "The nearest demon settlement is fifty miles away. No one comes out here except me. You're safe, at least for now."
Safe. It's such a strange word to hear as it falls from a demon's lips, especially one who's tasked with killing fallen angels. I open my eyes to study him, trying to reconcile everything I was taught about demons with the man before me.
He's watching me too, his ember-bright eyes thoughtful. The morning sun streaming through the window catches copper highlights in his nearly black hair. There's a small scar above his left eyebrow, and I find myself wondering how he got it.
"Your cat likes me," I say, because I need to say something to break this strange tension.
A hint of a smile tugs at his mouth. "Shadow doesn't like anyone. She barely tolerates me, and I feed her."
As if summoned by her name, Shadow reappears on the bed, having apparently decided the temperature is acceptable again. She curls up against my side, purring loudly.
"Traitor," Malcolm mutters, but there's fondness in his voice.
I want to ask more questions—about him, about this place, about what will happen when my wings heal. But exhaustion is pulling at me again, making my thoughts fuzzy. Malcolm notices, because of course he does.
"Sleep," he commands, standing. "I'll wake you when there's food."
This time when he moves to leave, I’m able to let him go, but I watch through heavy eyelids as he pauses in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame. He glances back, and for a moment our eyes meet. Something passes between us, something I'm too tired to analyze.
Then he's gone, and I'm left with Shadow's purring and thoughts I shouldn't be having about his intense eyes and gentle hands. Terror should be what I’m feeling right now. Looking for a way out of here should be the only thought in my mind. Instead, I find myself drifting off to sleep, feeling far too safe for where I am. For who I’m with.
I fade into a world of dreams. A world where there’s compassion and kindness, not betrayal and backstab. What disturbs me the most, is that this new world looks nothing like Heaven.