Chapter 26 #2
He tastes every inch of my mouth, devouring me, pouring his essence into me. It’s like our very souls, the fabric of our existences, are weaving in and out in a combined ecstasy.
I can’t tell if he pulls me or if I move on my own accord, but suddenly, I’m on his lap. He presses his hips towards mine, proving to me how affected he is by this. How ravenous he is for me, just as I am for him.
Desire slips out of me in a low, needy moan, and I feel him shudder all over in response. His lips travel to my neck, as if searching for the source of the sound. One of his hands fists my hair, pulling it to allow him a better angle, while the other tightly grasps my hip.
He tastes every inch of my skin, injecting divine pleasure into each touch.
“Abaddon,” I whisper. “I need you.”
He stops to graze his teeth over the skin of my neck, just over my jugular. “No. It is I who needs you.”
To emphasize his point, he thrusts his hips upwards, rubbing himself against me.
Even with our clothes separating us, his hardened need finds friction against the throbbing, sensitive flesh between my thighs.
A small sound, something caught between a whimper and a moan, escapes me.
He soon echoes it with one of his own, gripping me harder, grinding against me again, again, and again.
If he doesn’t stop this torturous foreplay in the next few seconds, I’m going to start ripping my clothes off. “Please, Abaddon. I can’t bear it. I need you.”
“You are not mine to take yet.” His voice sounds pained, as if he just swallowed hot coals. “But you will be.”
Suddenly, he bites down on my neck with enough strength to make me yelp in pain.
Were I any less aroused, I would be appalled. But since I’m mad with lust, I shudder through the deep kiss he tops it with.
“When you are ready—body, mind, soul—I will be here to claim you,” he growls, sending a rush of heat between my thighs in erotic anticipation. “There will be no escaping me after that. You will be completely, entirely mine.”
In the blink of an eye, he’s suddenly put several feet between us. One second, I have the warmth of his entire body pressed against me. Next, I’m on unsteady feet against the wall, fighting back whiplash.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says in a throaty, breathy voice, as if he can barely breathe without me against him. He stands next to the bed with disheveled hair, a sizeable bulge clearly visible in his thin trousers, his breath ragged.
And he looks at me like I just tamed the sun.
“You shouldn’t have stopped,” I growl back, unable to think straight.
I try to take a step forward, but he shakes his head, holding up a hand to stop me. It lights a different kind of fire inside me, one that is nowhere near enjoyable.
“You’re seriously pulling away right now? Do I need to spell it out for you so it’s finally clear? Fine. The world is ending, and I don’t have time for games. You’re either going down this path with me, or you’re not. No more back and forth.”
His eyes flash with insult. “This isn’t a game to me. I just told you I’m willing to commit to you for all of eternity, Kae, but you are not ready for that. I’m trying to be patient for your own good.”
“I don’t need you to protect me. I am more than capable of deciding when—” I cut myself off as Abaddon jerks his head towards the window with a sudden, intense focus, seeming to hear something I can’t. “What? What is it?”
A second later, a flash of light falls over his body. His bedclothes morph into matte black armor, fully covering everything but his head.
I stumble backward, eyes wide with shock—and then I hear it. A hum, reverberating off the walls, growing louder and more prominent by the second. I can’t quite tell what it is, but it’s horribly foreboding.
Abaddon doesn’t say a word. He looks at me for a moment, his face looking more fierce than I’ve ever seen him, as if he’s preparing for war.
And he is.
For the first time since I’ve met him, Abaddon spawns his weapon. His weapon, the one that was forged in Heaven and conveyed with his origin form. I’ve only ever pondered what his may be in idle curiosity, but now… I gasp in horror as he draws it.
Unlike Dusk, Abaddon doesn’t have a golden sword that channels light and warmth.
No, he has a goddamn scythe.
Black smoke and shadows billow off of it, with a few tendrils solidifying and coiling up the wielding arm.
The base metal of the weapon is pitch black, dark as the fabled pit of the Abyss itself.
But it also has small red rivers, much like arteries, pulsing through the handle before narrowing and splintering throughout the curved blade.
Sheer power radiates from the pair, folding over and exponentially amplifying by the second. My instincts scream at me to run, run, run.
Gone is the soft, vulnerable angel that was here only moments ago. In his place stands Abaddon the Destroyer, ready to spill blood in his namesake.
He looks back at me, eyes glowing bright silver, and pauses.
Some of the stoic wrath on his face fades.
Though his voice still sounds darker than normal, when he speaks to me, it’s quiet and calm.
“You’re afraid... It’s okay. The alarm has been triggered, but nobody’s going to hurt you.
I’ll make sure of it. I just need you to stay in the castle, where you’ll be safest. Can you do that for me? ”
I nod, though my eyes stay firmly fixed on his scythe. A scythe. Isn’t that what the Grim Reaper carries? Or is that a sickle? I’m not too certain I know the difference between the two, actually... Abaddon’s weapon could be either.
“There’s a hidden door in the corner of the back room. If you press on the wall, it’ll open for you. Go all the way down the turret and into the basement. I’ll come get you when the alarm is dismissed.”
He doesn’t wait for me to agree before striding across the room, forcing his balcony doors open with a gust of wind.
When he bursts into flight, I swear the stone castle quakes from the intensity.
I wait approximately thirty seconds before I decide to say fuck it to Abaddon’s order.
There’s an invasion. I know it. One glance out the window reveals a sky muddied with a swarm of locusts, all but confirming my suspicions. I can’t imagine there’s anything other than the Adversary that would trigger the entire army to mobilize.
But why?
Maybe they’re here for me. They could, somehow, know that I got close to deworming my biblical parasite yesterday.
I struggle to imagine them having effective spies in the Abyss, but anything seems to be possible these days.
It’s an even more ballsy move for them to attack this place, but they could be getting desperate.
.. or they could know for certain they’d win.
Shit.
I’ll be damned if I just sit here and wait for them to pluck me from the castle.
I throw my shoes on and bolt to Abaddon’s secret door, but not for the reason he said. It’s a staircase; I’m on the second floor. This is the same wing as the dining hall. With any luck, there will be another door to the first floor, and I’ll be able to secretly find my way outside from there.
The stone wall moves out of the way, revealing a somewhat creepy, torchlit spiral staircase. But there’s no time for hesitation.
Barely avoiding tripping over my feet, I race down the stairs.
My luck holds out. I push open the first door I come across, and it spits me out in a pantry. The thought of Abaddon designing his castle to give him easy access to food just about makes me laugh; I can’t imagine him sneaking down here in his pajamas with the late-night munchies.
I race through an eerie, empty kitchen, into the dining hall, and out to the hallway.
Adrenaline roars through my veins, clouding my mind but sharpening my instincts.
If it wasn’t for the endless war drills I’ve been doing—attempting to reprogram all of my flight, fawn, and freeze responses into something that will actually fight—I probably would be knee-deep into a panic attack by now.
The uncanny hum becomes louder with each breath, reaching a roar before I’ve even made it to the iron-studded side door. My brain feels like it’s rattling around in my skull, but I persevere, pushing against the door without slowing down.
It doesn’t budge.
I hiss, glaring at the sharp explosion of pain in my shoulder like I’m not responsible for it.
Because I’m really not. How am I supposed to know the door that’s never locked would suddenly be locked in an emergency!
That’s a goddamn fire hazard. Do they seriously not have building codes in angel society?
Turn back towards the corridor, I let out a frustrated groan. The next closest door outside that I know of is the main entrance. And if we’re really under attack, I don’t have time for this.
I take a quick breath before bolting down the long halls as fast as I can sustain. It feels like an eternity before I finally reach the foyer. My lungs are burning, and I have to pause under the chandelier to catch my breath.
“I. Fucking. Hate. Running.”
Glancing up, I find two heavily armored locusts standing guard at the regal front doors, which I assume are also magically barred. They’re staring at me, likely due to the fact that I was just talking to myself. I doubt that’s something they see often around here.
I straighten, not bothering to act any less exhausted, and wave an unenthusiastic hand towards the doors. “I need you to let me out.”
“Miss Kae,” one says, “I apologize, but we’re currently under a lockdown.”
As if I can’t fucking tell.
For a brief moment, I pause to look up at the ceiling, muttering complaints and expletives under my breath.
Then, I proceed to walk towards the bulky, male locusts. My face becomes flat in determination. The wheels inside my head start turning, working a lie into existence.
“I have to go to the training yard. Right now. It’s a direct order.”
They quickly look at each other, exchange a nod, and immediately move to open the door. I have to school the shock out of my expression; I genuinely didn’t think that would work. I might actually be getting better at bullshitting my way through life—
As soon as the heavy metal doors part, a roar slips in that is absolutely deafening. I clasp my hands over my ears, but I’m a second too late. The vibrations in the air rattle my brain around in my skull, and I have to fight a wave of nausea just to look up.
The artificial sky of the Abyss has become a golden-grey shifting blur. Locusts keep pouring into the air like a kicked hornet’s nest. I’m not even sure how it can hold any more.
My hands slide off my ears to grasp the back of my neck, my face descending into horror.
Not only am I woefully uninformed about what exactly triggered such a show of force, but I’m also completely vulnerable to an attack.
I’m not armored, and I don’t have a single weapon to fight with.
Not even the really nice sword that Dusk has just given me.
I must have misplaced it after I passed out on the cliffside.
Essentially, I’m fucked.
It seems my spur-of-the-moment lie was based on something reasonable.
If I go to the training yard, I can get armed.
Even if I’ve been restricted from fully exploring the lower levels, I know they stockpile weapons down there.
Locusts are always entering empty-handed and returning with pointy objects.
Hopefully, I can just walk in and take my pick, but I’m not above lying to some guards again.
The logical decision, I know, is to go back into the fortified castle and hide. It would most likely save my ass if the fight made it to the city. Because, realistically, there’s not much damage I could do to any celestial being, let alone a trained agent of the Adversary.
But if it came down to it… Well, cowering in fear would be a shitty way to die. The least I can do is go out with some shred of dignity. That’s always been the goal, hasn’t it? Better to face the end of the world with courage than cowardice.
I pivot, pushing my feet into the stone path that leads towards the training arena. My lungs hate me, and my head feels like it’s splitting open, but I still run as fast as I can.
In comparison to the sky, the courtyard grounds are desolate. All of the castle guards have gone into aerial defense positions, crowding the turrets and towers. None of them seems to mind the sweaty human below them, running like her life depends on it.
Just before I enter the winding, shadowed path that leads up to the training yard, I stop to catch my breath again. Almost two months of near-daily training, and I still can’t sprint the length of the castle without breaks. Not even close.
“I’m more… out of shape… than I thought,” I mutter, leaning over with my hands on my knees again. My lungs are screaming at me. If I keep going at this pace, I’m going to puke or pass out. I don’t know which one would be more embarrassing.
Reluctantly, I finally straighten up. I begin a more manageable brisk walk—
Out of nowhere, something grasps my soul so tightly that I’m suddenly unable to breathe at all. The pressure is overwhelming, suffocating. It seems to crush every fiber of my existence, as if it wants to snuff the life out of me.
I gasp for air, stumbling into the arch that marks the path’s beginning. The instant my back hits the stone, I lose the ability to move. A horrendous, unparalleled force takes control of my body, physically pinning me to that spot.
It’s as if an immaterial beast has me cornered, and now it’s seconds from eating my soul. I swear I can even feel the star, deep within me, shudder in an inexplicable warning.
But just as suddenly as it came, the force lets go.
Right as Michael appears out of thin air in front of me.