Chapter 12 #2
"You channeled his wrath." There's something new in Seraph's voice. Something almost like excitement. "You pulled power through the binding without even trying."
Kael's attention snaps to focus inside me. Sharp and predatory. He felt that. Felt me use him.
Well, well. Idris's voice slides through my mind, cool and amused. You're full of surprises, little sin eater.
I shudder, and the movement makes me suddenly, viscerally aware of my position. My thighs bracketing Seraph's hips. My hand still fisted in his shirt. The way his chest rises and falls beneath me, faster than before.
I should get up.
I should definitely get up.
Instead, I lean closer.
"You want to know what I need?" I ask, and my voice is my own again, but lower. Rougher. "You want me to stop lying?"
His hands come up to grip my hips. Instinct or intention, I can't tell. His fingers dig in hard enough to bruise.
"Yes," he says. "That's exactly what I want."
"Fine."
I kiss him.
It's not like the purge. That was desperation, necessity, two people drowning in borrowed lust. This is a choice. My choice. I press my mouth to his and feel him go rigid beneath me, every muscle locking with shock.
For one crystalline moment, the angel of pride doesn't know what to do.
Then his hand is in my hair, yanking my head back, and he's kissing me like he's trying to devour me. All teeth and tongue and hunger. So much hunger. His hips buck up against mine and I gasp into his mouth.
The bonds go haywire. Kael's wrath and something hot and desperate that might be Lysander's influence. Croesus's wall cracks, just for a second, and I feel his devastation flood through before he slams it shut again.
And underneath it all, Seraph. Finally not controlled. Finally not perfect. Finally as wrecked as I am.
Something between us. Around us... slips.
I feel it more than see it. A ripple in reality, like the heat shimmer off summer pavement. And suddenly there's more of him, expanding into space that shouldn't exist.
Wings.
I pull back from the kiss, gasping, and I see them.
Not the pristine white gold wings he always has. Not the powerful pinions I might have expected from someone who demands perfection in everything.
These wings are broken.
Scarred. Twisted. Feathers blackened and bent at wrong angles, like they were torn apart and healed badly. Some primaries are missing entirely, leaving gaps like missing teeth. The left wing droops, the joint clearly damaged. Burn scars trace silver lines across the remaining feathers.
They're horrible.
They're beautiful.
They're the most honest thing I've ever seen from him.
Seraph realizes what's happened in the same moment I do. His eyes go wide, genuine panic flashing across his features. The glamour slams back into place so fast it makes my ears pop.
The wings vanish. Reform. Perfect again.
He's just Seraph again. Platinum hair, silver eyes, perfect and composed and absolutely not falling apart.
Except his hands are shaking where they grip my hips.
"Seraph—"
"Get off." His voice is ice. Cold in a way it wasn't even when he was angry with me.
"I didn't mean to—"
"Get off me. Now."
I scramble backward, almost falling in my haste. He's on his feet in an instant, putting distance between us. His back is to me, and I scan down the rigid line of his spine, at how his shoulders are drawn up tight.
"That wasn't—" I start.
"Don't."
"I just want to—"
"Don't." He turns his head, just enough for me to see his profile. His jaw is clenched so tight I'm surprised his teeth don't crack. "We're done for today."
"Seraph, your wings—"
"I said we're done."
He walks toward the door. Each step precise. Controlled. But I can see the cracks now. The way his hands clench and unclench at his sides. The barely perceptible tremor in his movements.
I broke something.
I don't know if I regret it.
"Two weeks," I call after him. My voice echoes off the marble. "You held onto that for two weeks because you were hoping I'd figure it out myself. But here's the thing about waiting, Seraph."
He stops at the door. Doesn't turn around.
"Sometimes people surprise you with what they figure out. Sometimes they use it against you."
His shoulders tighten. For a long moment, he doesn't move, doesn't breathe.
"What happened to them?" I whisper.
Silence.
Long, terrible silence.
"Pride," he says finally, "has a price. Everything perfect does. Every sin does."
He leaves.
I sit alone on the cold marble floor, heart pounding, lips still tingling from his kiss. Inside, the I the other angels stir. Kael, watching me with new interest. Idris, circling like a shark scenting blood. Croesus, silent behind his walls, but I felt that crack. Felt his pain.
Seraph, somewhere in the house, burning with shame and fury and maybe… fear.
I kissed him to throw him off balance. To prove I wasn't the only one losing control.
I didn't expect to see something true underneath all that perfection.
I didn't expect it to make me want him more.
The gold chains warm against my skin. Croesus's claim, still present even when he won't speak to me. Seraph's kiss, burning on my lips. Kael's power, still echoing in my blood.
I'm starting to think the bonds are the least complicated part of this mess.
My reflection stares back at me from a dozen mirrors. Something other looking out from my own face.
"What are you becoming?" I whisper to the girl in the glass.
She doesn't answer.
Neither do the angels.
But somewhere in the House of Ruin, I feel Seraph's shame pulsing through our bond like a wound.
And I realize I'm going to have to make a choice soon.
Not between them. That's too simple.
Between the woman I was and whatever I'm turning into.
I'm not sure which one scares me more.