Chapter 26
At first, I don’t recognize where I wake up.
Then I see the decadent four-poster bed, the black decor, the distinctive wings…
I blink a few times before jolting forward, catching the attention of the angel. He looks over his bare back, seemingly in the middle of stretching out his wings like an overgrown bat, and gives me the faintest trace of a smile.
“Good morning,” Abaddon crows, his voice still heavy with sleep. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took you here so that I could have the servants closer at hand if you needed help.”
My eyes stray to the unmade bed on my left side, and my lips curve downward. It looks like he… slept here, beside me. Apprehension rises in me—
“You were in very bad shape yesterday, Kae. Do you remember what happened?”
A nauseating wave of memory suddenly crashes into me. Literally, I feel like I might vomit, but I swallow the urge. Every muscle is sore, lingering with acidic pain of supernatural causes. I can’t even comprehend what happened to me.
“Michael,” I whisper. He cracked the unknowable bridge between my soul and… the semi-sentient foreign body that co-inhabits my body with me, whatever it may be.
“He will get his due,” Abaddon finishes for me, his voice nearly a growl.
“I almost died. I should have died.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Michael, he caught the star, somehow. I was in so much misery, but I couldn’t miss my chance.” My eyes burn with emotion. “I… I tried to kill it.”
“Were you not ready to?”
“No,” I admit, shaking my head. “Even before I tried, it felt extremely wrong. Like I was supposed to protect the parasite, not harm it.”
I can hear the frown in Abaddon’s speculative hum of a response. “It’s possible the entity was manipulating your emotions to preserve itself. However, I can’t fathom why that would be, let alone how.”
Chills run up my arms. If the entity is somehow adapting to make itself indistinguishable from my own thoughts and feelings, could other things about it evolve? Does it want more control of me than it currently has? “Maybe I really am being possessed by a demon.”
“There is no such thing as demons.”
My head swings back in Abaddon’s direction. “What?”
“The concept implies dualism, where an evil creator exists in parallel to a good creator, with angels and demons as their equally black-and-white higher beings. That is objectively false; there is only the one true Creator. He is every color that exists, and every color that does not. His creations, made in His image, all have the capacity for good and evil. Every man, angel, and living being—”
“Thank you, Abaddon, I don’t think I’m in any shape to be discussing theology right now.
I’m fighting the urge to puke all over your bed as it is.
My ‘what’ was just to make sure I heard you correctly.
If you say demons aren’t real, then I believe you.
” But even as I try to dismiss it, a thought occurs to me that has goosebumps rising on my arms. I have to know.
“Though… what does that make the Adversary?”
His wings snap closer to his body, and he turns fully towards me, shortening the gap between us on the bed. “You say you do not wish to discuss theology, but you ask me to explain the story of The Fall and how it fundamentally altered the relationship between humans, angels, and the Creator.”
“Right. Forget I asked.”
He does no such thing. “My kind used to be called the Watchers, for our duty was only to watch over mankind, not to intervene. But there was once a group of angels who coveted the freedom of man. They strayed from the path of righteousness, descending from Heaven to experience the toils of Earth. They brought with them the now-forbidden knowledge, using it to elevate themselves amongst early human societies… And even though those angels still suffer the most severe punishment for their sins, their influence remains. As long as the scourge they left on Earth persists, then so does the Adversary. Only once the prophecy of Revelations is completed will mankind be cleansed of their sins.”
I stare at him in silence for a moment.
That’s me. I’m part of that prophecy. Thousands of years later, here I am, paying for the sins of a bunch of self-righteous, greedy angels… I’m paying for the influence of demons, essentially, but the Adversary is as intangible as it comes.
How are we supposed to defeat that? How are we so sure we’ll win? I’ve drowned in blood and suffocated on ash in my prophetic dreams. There will never in human history be a more miserable time to be alive. Not until our sun burns out, if we’re still around that long.
“I-I can’t do this.” Desolation creeps into my very breath, my throat tightening enough to restrict air to my lungs.
“You can and you will.” Abaddon watches me with a strange expression on his face. He’s most likely unfamiliar with the concept of crying, I’m sure. Locusts and angels don’t cry. Such immense vulnerability is only for us weakling humans—
He suddenly shifts closer to me, reaches out, and strokes a hand down my hair.
It surprises me so much that I flinch.
I don’t know where he found the nerve, but Abaddon isn’t deterred. He inches closer, dragging another tender caress against my head and down my neck, then repeats it.
His eyes are mesmerized by the motions, the gentle little motions meant only to comfort me. I find myself falling victim to it, too. I close my eyes, abandoning all thought, my heart slowing to a steady hum.
“Kae…” he whispers in such an intimate way that my eyes spring back open, finding the face of a desperate man. His hand stops, moving to cup my cheek, his gaze heating. “Don’t you see just how much you belong here?”
My heart pounds in my chest. Something in his eyes tells me he means so much more than just the Abyss, and I have to force myself to address it. “Where is… here… Abaddon?”
He doesn’t answer, but I see his gaze stray to the hand that still holds my face, and to the bed that cradles me, before his eyes return to mine.
I can tell he wants to confess something to me, but he’s afraid to be vulnerable. His silver irises, looking at me with the utmost reverence, are streaked with a pale blue. It reminds me of a rainstorm, threatening to wash me away.
“Say it,” I whisper, desperately seeking an anchor in him.
His hand falls abruptly from my face as he takes a steadying breath, looking away as if to break his trance. “I think I’m starting to understand why they did it. Semyaza, the fallen Watchers, the Nephilim... These feelings, I just…”
When he trails off again, his eyes slide back to me, lingering on my lips.
“Why was I created this way? If angels are meant to be detached from humanity, then why do we have the ability to care for them like this?” His hand is suddenly back on my cheek, his thumb slowly sweeping across my skin in one gentle, slow stroke that lights me on fire.
“I’m not afraid of Michael, the Council, or the entirety of the Elohim.
But you? The amount of power you have over me should cripple me with fear.
You are my absolution. My queen. I would give up Heaven if I couldn’t take you with me. ”
“Abaddon,” I breathe, my posture straightening. “I…”
I what? I don’t know if I want to kiss him or slap him. I’m shocked, overwhelmed, and unable to think clearly when he’s touching me, looking at me like that, professing his heavy feelings. My heart is roaring at a thousand beats per minute, threatening to abandon my body.
“Don’t respond yet,” his words tumble out uncharacteristically fast. “Please. Take your time to think about it. I can wait; you don’t have to make any decisions now. You only need to tell me if you need space, time, anything—I’ll give it to you. I’d give you the world if you asked me for it, Kae.”
Somehow, I believe that he would, and very much could, do just that if he tried hard enough. It makes me feel like I’m floating.
“I only have the one mortal life,” I saw slowly. “I can’t promise you forever. All I can give you is one day at a time. Are you sure you want to risk yourself for that? For… me?”
He edges even closer, cupping both of my cheeks in his hands. My breath catches, still in my throat, frozen under his eyes. He’s so achingly close, every one of my senses calls me to him. Even the faint herbal smell of him draws me in. “I’ve never been more decided in my life.”
His eyes, tender and longing, trail down my face. They rest on my lips, and I watch his chest rise and fall just a little heavier, a little faster. His hand is warm against my cheek, and a darker emotion crosses over him as his fingers slowly slip down to the back of my neck.
Before I have time to rethink myself, I lean closer to him, touching his face as well.
Anchoring myself.
Abaddon tenses, his eyes jolting back to mine. I can feel his pulse pounding, too, just below his smooth-shaved skin.
He’s right. I do have power over him, and it is delightfully entrancing. I let my hand roam backward until it catches in the hair that falls just past his jawline. It’s as soft as fresh-fallen snow, and I can’t help but twirl a small strand around my index finger.
The King stays as still as a statue, just like the marble his skin was cut from, but he can’t hide how he’s affected by me. I watch as his eyes close, his beautiful, dark lashes fluttering. His breathing, shallow and ragged, harmonizes in a duet with my own.
There are only inches separating us—inches—and I’ve lost all strength to uphold it. I grip the angel’s neck, close the miserable distance between us, and brush my lips against his.
A pained moan reverberates through his throat, like a broken levee to all of his unfulfilled longing. His lips shatter against my own, taking me in with the fervor of a dying man clinging to life.
There’s so much need in his kiss, I can taste the emotion he’s tried so hard to bury. I can feel all the pure, primal desire behind his lips. It consumes him as he consumes me.