Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
What would happen if I knocked a bunch of them over?
It would catch fire, and he might burn to death.
But so would I.
He sat in his high-backed dark throne, arms gripping the armrests that supported his hands. He didn’t look at me, his eyes focused on the chair where my destiny waited.
I moved down the aisle, my dress dragging across the floor, the tips of my wings doing the same.
He turned to watch me, his eyes narrowing as he took me in. His eyes showed their intensity, the way my appearance provoked him emotionally, made his mind race. Slowly, that smile spread on his face, that exaggerated grin that could make anyone run for the hills.
I thought I would be used to it by now.
Nope.
I lowered myself into the chair, a slow breath filling my lungs, exhaling the dread on the way out. I’d punched a couple jerks in bars, I’d dismissed some men who didn’t deserve the time of day, but I’d never met anyone who was legitimately crazy, someone who lived in an alternate reality.
If he weren’t built like a brick house, I’d try some hand-to-hand combat, but I had no chance of success. The way he filled out his clothes suggested just how strong he was, that he had a gym somewhere on the grounds…unless he picked up tree trunks in the forest.
The thoughts made me wonder if he ever left.
He must, right?
His stare was infinite, and despite the stretch of his face, the smile was too. He had unlimited energy to be able to do that, to put himself through that discomfort, to make every muscle of his face scream in pain.
I wanted to be fearless and hold his gaze, but it was too hard. Too disturbing. I was a tough bitch who didn’t quit, but this demon…this place…made me realize my skin wasn’t as thick as I thought.
And I didn’t judge myself for it.
Physical scars healed. But mental ones didn’t.
Even if I got out of here, I would be fucked up for the rest of my life.
He stared for minutes, that smile plastered on his face.
I wanted to launch question after question, but you couldn’t have a reasonable conversation with an unreasonable person. You had to play their games—and win. “Confess.”
In slow motion, his smile faded, like the sun fading from the sky.
“I’m your angel—and you should confess.” If I played the part well, it would keep me alive and perhaps allow me to manipulate him. “I want to forgive you, Forneus. I want you to ascend.”
He seemed to take the bait, because he shifted his body, leaned forward, his hands moving to his knees, his eyes on the stone below us. “I confess that you’re the most beautiful angel I’ve ever seen. That the other ang-el-s don’t glow the way you do.”
A warning filled my heart.
He lifted his chin and looked at me, studying me. “Your divinity is undeniable. You’ve brought a glow to this ordinarily dark place, cast a light in the shadows, have given me the sight to see…”
“That’s not me. That’s Him. Where He walks, I walk. And you need to confess if you want to walk with Him too.” I was making this shit up as I went along, but he seemed to go along with it every step of the way.
He rubbed his hands together and gave a nod. “I killed a man. An innocent man.”
“Why?”
“Because he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see.” He lifted his chin and looked me in the eye. “But the dead don’t tell s-s-se-cret-s.”
I hated it when he spoke that way. Never got used to it. It was like he had a stutter, but a purposeful one, and it was freaky.
“I repent for what I’ve done—and ask for your forgiveness.”
He deserved none, but I gave it anyway.
He suddenly rose to his feet.
Were we already done?
He extended his hand to me.
I never wanted to touch that hand, the hand that claimed the lives of innocents, that plucked me from my life like feathers on a goose. But I forced myself to extend my fingers forward and rest them on his palm.
His fingers wrapped around mine tightly, like bars to a cage, and he stared at our hands.
So fucking creepy.
Then he gave me a gentle tug. “Come with me.”
In the back of my mind, I always had the fear, the fear that he would take me into a dark bedroom, rip off my dress, and force himself on me against my will. The other angels hadn’t mentioned such horrors, but this man—or demon—was unpredictable.
With my hand in his, we walked together away from his house of worship.
Like a bride and groom walking down the aisle.
My dress dragged along the ground, and my feet were numb from the frozen crystals in the earth. When it snowed, would I still be denied shoes, forced to have frostbite in my extremities?