by Liza James
I catch a quick movement behind Luna’s head and realize that Nathanial has a stray lock of her thick hair twisted around his finger. He wraps it up tightly and slowly uncoils it, sifting the silky strands between his fingertips as a dark wave of rage builds in my stomach. My eyes dart to him, narrowing as I see a cocky smirk tug at his lips.
“Leave,” I hiss.
“But why, brother?” he asks innocently. He’s an intentional person, always making calculated decisions.
“Because you’re doing this shit on purpose to piss me off and it’s fucking working. We don’t need you here anymore. Get out.” I uncross my feet and stand, moving towards the door and opening it wide for him. I don’t look at Luna, I don’t want to see her face and the emotions I’m reading from her bond are more than fucking enough. Appreciation, frustration, confusion.
Nathanial’s smirk grows into a full blown, shit eating grin as he releases her hair and stands up. He casually waves goodbye and saunters out the door. I let the door shut a little harder than I should and take a deep breath before turning around to finish our conversation.
Luna is quiet, which is rare I’ve come to realize over the short couple of days that I’ve known her. She’s loud and argumentative. She tends to ramble when she’s frustrated and confused. And even if I didn’t have the bond with her, I’d be able to read her emotions all over her face. The chick is a wide-open book.
“I have one more condition. If you ever get so sick that you’re going to pass out like this morning, or if you ever see Amelia again, you let me know immediately. Call, text, I don’t fucking care, but you tell me. And don’t pass out in a damn alley way, that was reckless and dangerous. You have no idea the kind of shit that could have happened had it been at night.” I speak the words angrily, I’m on edge about Nathanial putting his hands on what’s mine and I’m annoyed with even feeling this way. But I watch the color drain from Luna’s face at my comment and I feel the way her heart begins thundering in her chest.
“First of all, don’t fucking tell me what to do. I am my own person, Elijah. Deal with it. Second, I do have a fucking idea what could happen, believe me and don’t think for one second that I haven’t thought about that fact myself.” She pauses for a moment, trying to reign in her anger as it spirals out of control. I let her words truly sink into my own mind. “You do realize, that prior to forty-eight hours ago, I had no idea what a blood bond was, right? Or believed that Angels were anything but winged figments of my imagination. I didn’t know I was going to feel that shitty or pass out. I’ve had no intentions for the last seven years of feeling this way towards anyone, let alone an asshole like you.” She stops talking, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she takes several deep breaths.
I’m silent for a moment, as I try to process everything she said, but only being able to focus on the first half of her words. “What do you mean, you already have an idea of what could happen?” The words come out of my mouth in rough, jagged syllables. I’m trying to keep calm but the fact that something may have happened to her, even years ago, rips my insides to shreds.
“It’s none of your business, and it happened a long time ago. All I’m trying to say is that I already understand I should have gotten a hold of you sooner. You are right, I am stubborn. But I get that now. I’ll call you or Nathanial next time.” She stands up, brushing her hands down her thighs and tilting her head up to look at me. I stalk towards her until she falls back down on the couch and I’m standing over her tense chest, crowding her in dominance and security. I feel her heart rate kick up again, this time because of how close we are.
“It is my business. You’re fucking mine, Luna. Don’t mistake that. It’ll always be my business, and you call me, not Nathanial.” My knuckles whiten as I grip the back of the couch on either side of her body. The tension between us builds, my face directly in her proximity. I can almost feel her breaths against my lips and I definitely feel my cock thickening against the zipper of my jeans.
She surprises me again by leaning forward, bringing her lips even closer to mine as she places her hands directly on my chest and pushes me backwards. I let her, allowing her to stand and step into my own space.
“If I belong to you, then that would mean you belong to me. And that makes no sense to your sweet Sam over there,” she nods back. “And I’ll tell you when I’m damn good and ready. Maybe when you’re ready to tell me why the hell you’re still so into Amelia.”
Goddamn, she has some serious fight in her. I would never tell her, but so far that’s my favorite thing I’ve come to learn about her. She is right though; I won’t tell her about Amelia, and she won’t tell me about whatever the hell happened to her all those years ago. At least not yet, but at some point, I’ll find out. However, I am done letting her believe I have any feelings more than hatred toward Amelia.
I step even closer to her, but she doesn’t back up. Our bodies come flush against each other and the refreshing chill of her figure works to calm down the heated rage in my own. I’m constantly running hot, never finding comfort in the cool breeze that I so desperately want. It was why I preferred being outdoors when I wasn’t feeling well, but the cold air just barely touches me the way Luna’s chill relaxes me.
“Keep your secrets, but you will tell me eventually. As for Amelia, you’re right, I’m not going to tell you about her. But if you think I feel anything for her more than complete and utter disgust, then you clearly haven’t even tried to make use of our blood ties.” My lips brush against hers as I speak the words harshly. Our thin tether being pulled so tightly it’s about to snap. Her heart is racing in her chest, I can practically feel it thumping against my own. Her breaths are shallow and laced with so much heated arousal that I know I’d find her soaking wet if I just let my hand slip between us, inside her leggings and across her slick pussy.
Silence. She’s caught off guard and truthfully, so am I. This angry dense air quickly turned into something so much more dangerous.
My cock is rock hard, straining against the denim and our bodies are so close that I know she can feel it. Subtly, I roll my hips against her stomach, just barely but enough to make her gasp at the connection.
“Tell me what you’re thinking about, mo dheamhan,” I demand roughly.
“You should already know,” she whispers. I trail my fingers up her arm, over her sweater until I reach the tattered hem at her soft neck. I watch as little bumps break out across her chest and God, I want to run my fingers across them. But I don’t dare touch her skin yet, I can only imagine how I’d lose control feeling her Fated flesh against mine.
“Is it what you were thinking about last night? When you were touching yourself after you left?” I shift my hand to take a bit of her hair in my fingers, rolling the strands and claiming them for myself after Nathanial foolishly touched her. The softest whimper escapes her lips and suddenly the need to demand her mouth overwhelms me. I have no choice, she draws me to her with an undeniable strength, chasing away any intentions I ever had of staying away from her.
I fist her wild hair roughly and she closes her eyes, fully succumbing to my touch and hold on her. I shouldn’t cross this line, it’s one I won’t be able to get back. I tug her head to the side anyway, so that I can lean in and inhale her sweet scent. Delicious arousal and honeyed peonies fill my lungs, dragging me that much deeper into my need to devour her.
“Am I interrupting something here?” Sam’s sharp voice grates across my nerves and rips me back to reality. Luna immediately jumps backwards, tearing my grasp from her hair with a yelp and in her attempt to distance herself from me, falls back on her ass.
I meet her gaze for a moment longer until I let my shield slip back into place, successfully securing her behind the barrier I want her firmly behind. “Luna has to stay here for a little while and I thought you might as well bring your things over too, sweetheart.” I plaster on a fake grin as I meet Sam’s eyes. Like hell I want her here, but it puts another layer between Luna and I, so
I’ll take it.
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
We were this close, this fucking close to kissing. Not that I necessarily want that. Well, it’s more like I don’t want to want that. I wanted it. Shit, I really did. The way his hand pulled at my hair and the way I naturally submitted to his command. It was empowering, truly. Knowing, if even for a moment, that I affected him the way he affects me was well worth the risk.
It was also the first time I genuinely felt his emotions through our bond. It was like a thick blazing furnace, integrating with my blood and flooding my system with both of our emotions. We innately worked together, our bodies and minds in complete sync with what we needed from each other. I gave and he took, and in that moment, I wanted to give him everything.
Part of me still wants to give him everything. But the fact that he invited fucking Sam to come live with him as well completely doused my fire like a bucket of ice water. That was a low blow and an intentional one at that. He was clearly giving me a warning, laying that barrier down thick between us as his emotions all but completely vanished from our bond.
Sam accepted, of course. So, she’s currently gone while she packs up enough clothes for a damn week and will be back. Elijah, not so graciously, showed me to my room, careful to stay a solid ten feet away at all times, and then left to take care of his own business.
I text Stella, letting her know that some things have come up with my apartment and I’ll need her help in packing and moving. I did tell Elijah that he had no choice but to let Stella help me move and come over here. He grumbled an annoyed acceptance on his way out the door.
Stella: WTF. Why are you moving? And where!
Me: It’s a long story. There’s black mold in my ceiling. I’m moving in with a friend, his name is Elijah. You can meet him.
Fucking mold? That was stupid.
Stella: Sounds like a short story, as in hell no. You’ll live with me.
Me: I already paid a deposit for his place. I’m renting a room from him, it’s nothing. I promise.
Stella: Wait, do you like this guy? Is that why?
Me: If by like, you mean hate, then yes.
Stella: I seriously don’t understand you. But I’ll help and I’ll def be meeting Mr. mysterious.
Me: He has a brother if that helps.
Stella: Hot?
Me: In a rich boy, perfectly styled hair, ripped AF kind of way.
Stella: Oooh, my favorite. ;)
Me: So, Friday?
Stella: I’ll meet you at your place. Well, your old place. Weird.
Me: Love you, thnx.
I fall back on the big, king sized bed in my new room. It’s covered in a thick black duvet comforter, which has the astronomical sky subtly stitched throughout it in gold thread. I turn over on my side so that I can trace each line and star with my fingers, studying and wondering what it must have been like for Elijah before he Fell. What did he see? What did he do while he was up there? How do Angels communicate with each other? How did he Fall?
As if I was calling him, my door opens without a knock and Elijah stands, filling the larger than average doorway. I halt my movements, my eyes meeting his in silence.
“I’m having a few people over Friday, after we get your things. If you want Stella to stay, she’s welcome.” He states the words flatly, as if it’s a nuisance to waste his energy speaking them.
“Wow, so kind of you. I’ll let her know.” I drop my eyes back to the blanket and continue my dissection of the night sky. I expect him to leave, but he doesn’t. He continues standing there, watching me as I trail my fingers across the bed. I glance back up at him, waiting for whatever it is he clearly wants to say. But he says nothing, still watching, still churning through whatever is going through his mind.
“We can’t do whatever happened earl—”
“What did you do in Heav—?”
We speak at the same time and my face flushes at his painful rejection. It’s not that I didn’t expect it, I did. But hearing the words out loud make it more real. He tenses at my obvious question, but I choose to speak first.
“Don’t worry, already forgotten. I got a pretty clear hint when you invited Sam to move in as well. We’re going to be the happiest little family.” I let a fake smile jump to my lips and my voice kicks up a sarcastic notch at the end. If I’m not mistaken, the corner of his mouth jerks humorously upwards. I think it’s the closest I’ve ever seen him show a true smile.
“Are you going to answer my question?” I ask, taking us back in the conversation.
“Heaven is the neo-Christian preferred translation.” He pauses, scrubbing a hand down his sharp face. “Arcadia. That’s how we refer to where Nathanial and I came from. What I did there is nothing worth telling. It was a long time ago.”
I blink a few times at his choice of words. A long time ago. Suddenly, a thought comes to mind about the age of Angels. Elijah looks to be around my age, maybe a few years older. But I can’t know that for sure. “Excuse me? How old are you?” I ask in caution.
“I don’t pay attention to age anymore, I simply exist.”
“So how old are you?” I pointedly ask again, and that subtle twitch of his lips happens for a second time. Hell, I’ll keep being pushy if it gives me those little moments.
“Probably around five hundred and forty-seven, give or take.”
Silence.
Deafening silence surrounds us as I try to process what he’s saying.
“Five hundred and forty-seven,” I speak the words slowly, my eyes wide in shock and disbelief. “You have been alive for five hundred and forty-seven years and you look like that. Do you know how old I am?” I press him, unable to fathom that length of time.
“No, but I have a feeling you’ll tell me.” I think he’s making a joke, but I’m unsure because quite frankly, everything is blowing my mind at this point.
“Twenty-seven. That’s a two and a seven. Meaning I’ve barely lived a thirtieth as long as you have.”
“All right, don’t say it like that. It’s weird,” he scoffs as he turns on his heel to head back downstairs. I leap from the bed and follow him to my door.
“That’s because it is weird. We, this—” I point back and forth between the two of us as he glances over his shoulder from the bottom of the grand staircase, “—are weird, did you not realize that before?”
“Believe me, I fully understand.” He steps away to avoid our conversation, but I call after him.
“Wait, you didn’t tell me what you did in Arcadia?” I ask again. I’m not leaving this one alone.
He sighs in frustration before meeting my eyes, “I’m a Seraphim Angel. Which means in the Arcadia, I guarded the Throne. Nathanial and I both did together.”
“Why did you Fall?” I’m getting more personal, I know. But I want to understand him better.
He flinches at my question, briefly closing his eyes before opening them again. “I chose to interfere in things I shouldn’t have been involved in.”
I pause, “Do you regret it?” My voice is quieter than I intend it, as if it might hurt to know the answer. His eyes bore into mine while strength and confidence quickly flash through me.
“Not for a second,” his voice is firm, absolutely assured in his choice. An odd vibration of relief fills my chest as a small smile tugs at my lips. “Enough with the twenty questions. I’m going to get dinner, I won’t go too far.” With that, he reaches for his keys which hang on a black iron hook by the door before walking out of the house and leaving me alone. I hear the Jeep start and the fading of the engine as it drives away, taking my oxygen and heat with it.
I take a seat at the bottom of the stairs as I wait his return. I instinctually begin rubbing my chest in his absence, feeling like he took a piece of what’s inside there as well.
“Don’t act so surprised I hid this from you. You’re moving in with a man I have literally never heard about and you only told me when you needed my help to move.” Stella bends over to
pick up a small box. Her black, ripped skinny jeans cling to her legs and her long, red flowy Free-People blouse swooshes around her thighs. Her chaotic fiery hair is pulled up in one of the messy buns that look completely styled, even though she tied it up quickly and without a mirror, just to keep it out of her face.
“It’s different. I’m not dating Elijah. We haven’t been hanging out or spending intimate time together. You’ve been going on actual dates and building a genuine relationship with a guy. Also, you totally faked the possibility of being into Elijah’s brother when I texted you.” I follow her out of the apartment with the last box in my arms. Elijah stands by the open hatch of his vehicle as he takes each box from us and arranges it in the back.
“I couldn’t tell you over text, that’s ridiculous. You know I’m a planner, and I didn’t want to say anything until I knew he was going to stick around for a while,” she states dryly.
I brush off my hands and go back to lock my door for the last time. I pause and look up at what was once my home, a place I had made my own and earned by myself. It’s bittersweet leaving, but something I’ve accepted rather easily now that I’ve felt how uncomfortable it is being away from Elijah.
