“Are you worried about fighting him again?”
“I’m used to dealing with monsters. I’ve been one.” He retracted his sword and sheathed it, and his face held all the weariness of someone who had lived a long life of pain and war. Although his body had healed, these were different scars and they haunted him still. “But I can’t be everywhere all the time, and if he’s after you—”
“You’ve protected me before.”
“If it weren’t for me, Damiel would never have come after you. We wouldn’t be in this mess if I’d stayed away. I should have left when I saw you again.”
His words sliced through me. Was that how he felt? That his life would be better without me in it? “Fine,” I said bitterly. I was used to being alone. “Why don’t you leave, then?” Everyone else does!
He crouched before me, his expression filled with regret. “I can’t.”
“Why, because Damiel’s coming? Because you have to protect me?”
“It’s what I do, Mia.” He took both of my hands in his and bowed his head as though in prayer. “Let me do that, at least. Let me do it right this time and protect you because you deserve it. Because it’s the right thing to do.”
I pulled my hands away and got up. “I don’t want you to stay with me because it’s your job as an angel or because you feel obligated to get it right this time.”
His face flooded with what looked like thousands of years of self-loathing and punishment. “Is that what you think?”
“Isn’t that what you’re saying?” I said, realizing that I didn’t know what I thought. I didn’t even know where I stood with him from one day to the next. “You stay because you have to.”
“No, I stay with you because…” He took a deep breath, but when he spoke it was barely a whisper. “I can’t stand being away from you.”
“You can’t?”
Hardly able to believe what I was hearing, I fought the urge to cry. I’d never known anyone who wanted to be around me before. Since my parents’ divorce, I’d been alone. The family I’d come to rely on had all but fallen apart. Mom worked all the time to look after us. Dad had no time for me. I’d moved, made new friends, but it wasn’t the same. I may have been used to being alone, but being used to something wasn’t the same thing as being okay with it.
Michael had focused only on the danger, made it explicitly clear that it was real, not only from Damiel and an army of demons, but even from himself if he enthralled me or lost his way. I thought he had to protect me from all of it, that I was just something from his past he had to resolve. I accepted it, because being near him made the pain and loneliness of my life go away. But it was more than that. I couldn’t bear being away from him either, and I’d never stop loving or wanting him.
Standing before me, he inched closer, and the pull to be near him tugged at my skin and tightened my lungs until I was short of breath. Then, as though he could read my mind, Michael drew me to him, wrapping his arms around me as though I were on fire and he was extinguishing the flames.
“I thought you knew,” he whispered.
His arms tightened around me, and with the warmth and strength of his body pressed against mine, his heartbeat pulsing against my cheek, I felt completely safe. I crushed myself into him, matching my breathing with his.
He stroked my hair, and I raised my hands from around his waist and slid them up his back, between his shoulder blades. Sinewy muscles vibrated under his shirt, scalding my hands. They tingled and burned from touching him.
He let out his breath softly. “Your hands are cold.”
“Is this…?”
“Where my wings join? Yes.”
“Does it hurt when they come out?”
“No.” I could hear his smile. “But I’ve never carried another person before.”
“Really? Not even way back when?”
“Especially not then.” As he said it, an image flashed in my mind of his wings, white and beautiful, outstretched behind him. Same as the wings in the dream I’d had years ago. They were his wings that someone was trying to take—not mine. Why did I dream it, then? Had I actually been there when it happened?
The next thing I saw were bloody wounds on what must have been his back, the skin dark red and puckered as it healed. “You had scars,” I said, wincing, unable to think about what had caused them.
Hearing my pained expression, he backed away from me, his hands gripping my elbows. “You remember that?”
“How could anyone do that to you?”
“I chose to fall,” he said harshly. “I deserved it.”
“Nobody deserves that!”
“You don’t know the whole story…” Crossing his arms, he leaned against the mantel, his eyes downcast, as though he couldn’t face what he was about to say. “The Grigori were terrible when they—when we fell. Without remorse. We took whatever we wanted.”
I wasn’t sure what he was saying. Had he attacked me? Is that what had happened? “And you wanted me?”
“Beyond all reason. The creature you gave birth to was my fault.” His gaze shot through me like he was waiting for me to hate him; clearly, he hated himself. “Something that horrible could only be conceived through coercion…or worse.”
Or worse?What had he done?
I felt the room spin for a moment like I was on that ride at the amusement park, the one that twirls so fast it holds you to the sides with centrifugal force—right before the floor drops out from under you. I’d trusted him. How could he?
Focusing, I tried to recall the past, wracking my brain for any sign of what he might be talking about. I couldn’t remember violence or being forced in any way. All I could remember was the joy we felt when we were together and then his pain as he stood at my bedside, watching my life slip away. “You said we didn’t know what it would be. Did you know?”
This was the past, ancient history in fact, and yet Michael’s expression showed a grief so raw it might as well have happened yesterday.
“No. I didn’t think it would happen to us,” he muttered. “Enthrallment is a type of coercion. For all I know, I—”
I cut him off. “What do you mean, for all you know? Don’t you even remember what you did?”
“I’ve done terrible things.” Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. “I don't remember everything.” His eyes shone in hollowed sockets pulled so tight, it made him look ancient. “Part of me doesn’t want to… If you knew how far I fell, you’d hate me.”
As he struggled to control his emotions, I wondered if this was all he thought of himself. I may not know what he did back then, but I knew what he was like now: carrying me out of the woods, saving me from hellhounds, fighting Damiel and Azazel. He’d done everything in his power to keep me safe. “I could never hate you.”
“Never’s a long time,” he said, his voice wavering. Before I could reach for him, he backed away and motioned toward the door. “It’s getting late. I’ll take you home.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
From the front walk, my house seemed gloomy in the darkness, as old houses do when nobody’s home. I’d been so preoccupied before we went flying that I forgot to turn on the porch light. The solar-powered lanterns lining the front walk hadn’t seen enough sunlight to charge them today, so they gave off only a dim glow. Although Michael was silent on the drive home, he walked me to my front door. But when I invited him in he declined, saying he was going to check the area and keep watch.
Still shaky from everything I’d been through, I decided to take a shower—nothing like almost being demon food to make me feel I needed one. I hadn’t realized how much fear Michael’s presence kept at bay until I was alone. It didn’t help that every time I closed my eyes I recalled Azazel’s red ones watching me—and that horrible laugh. Once I got in the shower, a chill ran to the core of me, made my knees shake. Washing my hair and conditioning the tangles gave me something else to focus on, but as far as distractions went they were short-lived. I showered longer than I’d planned to and turned up the hot water more and more until it almost burned my skin, but the cold feeling didn’t leave.