After having been through so much, I felt like a different person. Things I’d never noticed before had more meaning for me now. Even my home seemed different. I needed a shower, so I went to my room to grab my bathrobe, and once I was surrounded by all my things, a wave of gratitude flowed through me, bringing tears to my eyes. Being with Damiel was horrific, but the memory slid to the back of my mind like a bad dream. I was still alive.
I took a long, hot shower to wash away the blood and shock of everything that had happened. When I finished it was almost midnight, and my cell phone rang. I scrambled to find it in my room, plugged in beside the bed. Who would call this late? At least it could no longer be Damiel. He was better now—surely not in Hell again.
It was Bill.
“Where’ve you been?” he demanded, sounding worried. “I’ve been calling for hours. I even tried calling the house. Is everything okay?”
I didn’t know what to say. The memories of what had happened were too new to tell anyone—if I ever could. My throat tightened. “Yeah.”
Bill let out his breath. “I had this weird feeling as if something was wrong.”
Bill had a feeling? Some kind of premonition feeling?
He cleared his throat. “Then I called and there was no answer.”
Perhaps I wasn’t the only person in my family who sensed unusual things. Maybe I did see angels, flashing lights, and demons and stuff, but maybe Bill sensed things, too.
“Stupid, isn’t it?” he scoffed.
“No, not at all,” I said, thinking about how much Bill had changed over the summer. How alike we were. How even though Dad was all awkward and distant with me, Bill never was. “It means a lot—that you called.”
“We’re family,” he said simply.
I’d just had the craziest night of my life. I’d been captured by a fallen-angel-turned-demon. I’d thought I’d lost Michael for good, only to watch him get up and battle a roomful of hellhounds and minions—not to mention Damiel himself. Connected to God or whatever force the angels connected to in their network, I’d been able to forgive a demon for all the horrible things he’d done. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope one day for me and my dad.
“Yeah.” I grinned. “We are.”
After I hung up with Bill, I checked my messages. It was a busy night. Aside from four voice messages from Bill, I had half a dozen texts from Heather trying to convince me to come to that party they were all talking about last week. Apparently it was really good. Everyone was there. Even Fiona made a brief appearance. Nothing, not even demons, could keep that girl down.
Heather also left me a voicemail. I could hear music playing and people talking in the background.
“Hey, Mia. I’ve been checking around and the coast is clear. There’s nobody named Chloe here. She’s off at school, and apparently she’s not all that. So you can come, right? Call me.”
I couldn’t help but smile when I heard it. Heather was matchmaking again, in spite of herself, trying to fix something she saw me struggle with a few days before. She had no idea what I’d been going through, but at least she cared.
As I got into my pajamas and dried my hair, I wondered what would’ve happened if I’d told Heather how I felt about Michael right from the start. Would I have ever accepted that date with Damiel? Or discovered how Michael and I were connected? Maybe I couldn’t bring her along with me into this part of my strange new life, but she was my friend. With all the angels—and demons—around me lately, I needed someone to bring me back to earth.
A few minutes later, Michael arrived. Standing in my doorway, with his hair still damp from the shower and his skin smelling of soap, he made me the happiest girl alive. Tears welled in my eyes and I almost couldn’t speak.
His clear blue eyes softened as they searched my face. “You okay?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded and stared at him. There were tiny red lines on his skin, but they were all that was left of the huge gashes from his battle with Damiel. As he stepped inside and circled me in his arms, his energy felt warm and intoxicating. He was alive. He’d come for me, saved my life, and now he was here—despite everything I’d said earlier, despite the way I’d pushed him away.
“About breaking up with you…” I said.
He stepped back, his hands grazing the sides of my waist. “Yeah?”
“I was trying to keep you away. I thought—”
“I didn’t trust you?”
“That you’d get killed.” I touched the side of his face.
He covered my hand with one of his and its warmth raced through me. “You thought you’d just tell me to leave and I’d go away? When I knew how much danger you were in?”
When he put it that way, my plan sounded foolish, considering he’d been there watching over me so many times. “Something like that.”
“So you do want to…try to be with me?” Leaning closer, he gave me a hopeful look. “Given all that it means?”
“Yeah.” I draped an arm around his shoulder, bringing his face even closer to mine. “Think you can handle it?”
His lips curled into the sexiest grin. “I’ll do my best.”
Epilogue
That night, Michael joined me in my bed. I lay fully clothed, with my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. As he held me, stroking my hair from the top of my head all the way down my back, a rich, electric tension built between us, pulsing through my skin. I could almost taste it in the air, as sweet as a warm summer night. The horrors from earlier that evening seemed unreal in comparison, flat and colorless. Michael’s touch was real, the only thing that mattered.
His chest rose and fell under the duvet as his breathing became more quick and shallow than usual. When I glanced up at him, the heat in his eyes pierced me, drew me to him. Drew my lips to his. We kissed gently at first, but the thought of how close I’d come to losing him fueled my desire. It was so easy to roll on top of him and press my body into his, to plant kisses on his throat and listen to his soft exhales as his arms held me firmly in place. His halo tingled my skin as he let me in, and I savored the warmth of his body beneath me as his fingers brushed the back of my neck.
It took him longer than usual to stop himself. He whispered my name, almost inaudibly at first—I thought he was just enjoying himself—then firmly. The third time he said my name, he flipped us both with one arm and was suddenly on top. The heat of his desire shone in the blackness of his eyes, searing through my clothes, my skin. His desire might have scared him, but it didn’t scare me. In that moment, I didn’t want him to stop. I’d saved a demon—surely I’d done my good deed for the day!
I watched him struggle to control himself, to resist the pull between us. Willing myself to stay off him, I pressed my spine into the mattress. He sat up partially and closed his eyes.
When they opened again, they were an incredible glacial blue. I was expecting a scolding, more repression. Instead he leaned back on his knees, further out of arm’s reach, and unbuttoned his shirt.
“All right, that’s it! You’ve asked for it.”
Oh God, was this really it? Was I ready? Were we finally going to… No, we can’t! What would it do to him? Before I could finish my thought, his shirt was off and the golden light around him brightened. Mesmerized, I waited for him to kiss me.
The lights flickered and I heard an incredible silence envelop us as he pulled forth his wings. Though I had just seen them on the flight home, they were still a dazzling sight. Each time I saw them, especially now, they brought up a different set of emotions in me, emotions I didn’t fully understand, but I was beginning to.