Chapter 3 #2
Micah opened the drawer on my nightstand and grabbed the medications, then carried me out of the house and put me in the passenger seat of his Audi—which I’d never been in before.
It smelled good and expensive, like conditioned leather and something intrinsic to Micah.
His forest scent. Dark and rich, shadowy.
He buckled my seatbelt for me then shut the door and went around to his side. I bent my knees up to my chest, my teeth chattering a bit. It was warm in the car—the seats were heated and Micah had warm air coming out of the vents—but my nervous system was still a wreck.
“What’s happening?” I asked, daring to peer over at Micah. He was on his phone, looking displeased.
After a few seconds, he shut it off and dropped the device in the cup holder, shifting the car into gear and pulling away from my trailer. His jaw was tense and his hand gripping the steering wheel tight enough to whiten his knuckles.
I turned away from him and stared out the window at the pine trees swaying, at the dark sky and smattering of stars scattered across it. Attempting to relax into the warm leather of the seat, I folded my legs to the side and leaned my elbow on the door, propping my chin on my palm.
We pulled out onto the main road and Micah began rapidly accelerating. My eyes nervously flicked over to watch his profile, then back to the road as our speed pushed me back against my seat.
Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention and I stared wide-eyed out the windshield at the figure when it came into full view.
Mason. He was moving significantly faster than I’d ever thought he was capable of, pushing off the ground, powerful wings sweeping out from his shoulders, extending at least ten feet on either side of him.
I gripped the center console as his huge wings flapped and pushed him forward, off the ground and away from us. The muscles in his back worked and flexed, the wind rippling through his black feathers.
He was beautiful. An angel.
I swallowed hard. I’m always going to be out of my depth with them.
They’re older than me, stronger than me, faster than me, and have angelic powers I barely understand the depth of. It’ll never be a fair fight.
“You’re not going to be staying at your place for a bit,” Micah said suddenly, making me jump. I stared over at him.
“What?”
“Until this is taken care of, I don’t want you out of my sight.”
“Until what is taken care of?”
Micah sighed. “Something Mason should’ve dealt with a long time ago. A demon.”
Hearing the word from Micah’s mouth made a chill drip down my spine and I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself despite the warmth in the car. Demon.
Maybe if Mason had ever let himself be vulnerable or honest with me, I would know more about his demon-hunting.
But that wasn’t him, so I remained in the dark about everything.
The most he’d ever done was let me see his wings, and that was only because I’d almost killed myself in front of him by jumping off a cliff.
He wouldn’t let me die—not unless he was the one killing me.
It wasn’t a good memory. Most of my memories weren’t.
The hurt and disbelief lingered in my chest, slowly spreading rot through my aching heart. Why won’t you let me know you?
Even my first memory—the doe in my backyard—was darkened by fear.
“I saw the glowing eyes,” I said quietly.
“I saw them in the forest earlier, and then right outside my window.” Looking in.
Even the thought of how terrified I’d felt laying under my bed watching those golden orbs peering into my bedroom was enough to make me feel like crying again. The lack of pupils was unsettling.
“That’s why I need you to stay with me. He knows about you now, and that’s incredibly dangerous. I don’t like it. At all.” His fingers flexed on the wheel, and he took a steadying breath.
“Who?”
“Aamon.”
“You know that demon?”
“For decades, yes. Mason slaughtered his entire crew at once a long time ago, and then acted like a dick about it afterwards. Aamon never forgave him, and I’m sure he was very excited to learn about your existence—payback.”
Goosebumps prickled along my bare arms as my fear magnified in the back of my mind. I was a target for a demon. Me. And I knew I wouldn’t make it out of that fight alive.
“Why didn’t Mason kill him too?”
“Aamon’s half angel. He’s a lot harder to kill.” Micah shifted how he was sitting in his seat, looked over at me. “That’s why his eyes are gold—the ichor. Regular demons have red eyes.”
“Oh.” I stared down at my lap.
I wanted to ask Micah if he was mad at me, if he hated me, if everything was going to go to shit between us once we got inside, but I held my tongue. A handful of minutes later, we pulled into his driveway.
He parked in the garage, then carried me inside so I didn’t have to step on the cold concrete in my socks. Surprisingly, he’d gotten my boots somehow, and he dropped them on the rubber mat by the garage door as we entered.
“Go upstairs. I’ll be there in a minute,” Micah instructed, heading into the kitchen.
My eyes stung as I watched him go, my lower lip wobbling in a frown. I wanted him to kiss me or hold me or do something to reassure me that he wasn’t still pissed. But he didn’t glance back.
Mason entered the kitchen through the back door as I went towards the stairs, and I caught his eye for a fraction of a second before I disappeared upstairs. Instead of going into Micah’s bedroom, though, I sat at the top of the stairs in the darkness, listening to their low voices.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t fucking talk to me about how sorry you are, Mason. He could’ve killed her. Easily. All because you can’t pull yourself together and do the one thing you’re supposed to do.”
It was silent for a minute, and my heartbeat started getting faster. I gripped the carpeted edge of the step, digging my nails into the fibers—which was when I noticed a blood stain on it.
I turned back and looked into the hallway. It was dark, but I could see more blood stains all over the carpet. There were several holes and cracks in the walls. And the side table was missing.
“Keep your promise, then,” Mason bit out. My attention turned away from the mess in the hallway, back towards the shadowy first floor.
“Not now. Not when your bullshit has put her life in danger.”
“Get another Thrausian—”
“Mason, I swear to fucking God—”
“I’ll do it, but I can’t do it without you. You know that,” Mason said lowly, his voice pained and rough. It was so strange to hear them interacting like this. Surely they knew I could hear them—or at least Micah would suspect it.
“Nice to hear you admit that.”
“Now you’re cocky? Thought you cared about her life more than—”
I flinched at the sound of something cracking. A fist hitting a jaw, maybe. Or a cheekbone, a nose. There were more sounds of struggle that quickly turned into rapid, angry footsteps heading straight towards the stairs.
I jumped up and darted into Micah’s bedroom, throwing myself on the bed and burying myself under the covers.
He entered the room a second later and I turned over, watching him wipe the blood pouring from his nose as he went into the bathroom and flicked the lights on.
The bed still smelled like both of them.
Memories of both their hands on my body, their fingers inside me together, made my cheeks heat and my stomach twist.
I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face in the pillow, smelling both of their scents. Forest and ocean. Darkness and darkness. It was comforting, in a way.
Micah exited the bathroom and took all his clothes off, except his boxers, then climbed into bed with me, his arms instantly wrapping around my body and pulling me back against his warmth.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Masters,” he murmured. “Never. You understand?”
I nodded, shame clogging my throat. I hated thinking about the fact that I might’ve actually hurt him with what I’d done with Mason behind his back. Worrying about him being angry at me was easier than acknowledging that he might be more sad than anything else. I didn’t deserve Micah’s care now.
Maybe I never did.
Nobody knows how to take care of you, do they?
And you’ll never let anyone try.
I closed my eyes, letting sleep pull me swiftly under its rolling waves.