School of Broken Wings

by C. R. Jane

  Lowering his hands, he tugs at the bottom of my shirt, and I help him to take it off of me.

  "So beautiful," he murmurs, sliding his hands slowly up my sides. His fingers grasp softly at my skin, a touch that I've been yearning for almost since I first saw him. The moment his fingertips meet my bare skin, I sink into him, and all my emotions bubble to the surface in tears from the perfect beauty of how it feels. Goosebumps spread like wildfire over my skin. My flesh only feels alive where his fingertips touch. His kisses are everything.

  Then suddenly, his lips are gone, and he's moving down my body. His hands slide like silk over my breasts, across my hips, and around to the small of my back, drawing my body closer. I grab at his hair as he nips and licks his way across the expanse of my breasts. I choke back a gasp when his mouth closes over a nipple and sucks hard. A surge of warmth flushes down the center of my body and throbs hard against the apex of my thighs. His hands press at my back, and finally, drop to my hips, hooking his thumbs into the sides of my panties and sliding them down. I moan and tug at his hair as his hot mouth and tongue make their way over my stomach. The anticipation of feeling him inside me is unbearable.

  My body aches for him. Coarse, hot fingers slide across my hipbones. My eyes are locked on his movements. I can't stop watching it—the way he worships my skin, teases my body. His green eyes shoot up to mine as he slowly drags his fingers across my wet flesh. Immediately, my knees bend, buckle, and I'm melting, slowly spreading my thighs to him. Begging to be touched. Begging to be filled with him.

  "Adi," he whispers, nudging his lips against my heat. The touch of his mouth makes my clit throb wildly, and I gasp, arching forward. He gently bites the top of my inner thigh, scraping softly against my skin, and the need to press myself against his mouth is maddening.

  His fingers continue to softly brush over and over my flesh. He latches onto my clit, tightening his lips until I'm sure I'm going to go mad. The sensation is exquisite, the slow, hot pulls of his lips and gentle long strokes of his fingers.

  My hands clutch the sheets underneath me, my breath heavy in the silence of the room. He pulls his mouth away, and I moan from the loss of pleasure. Raking his teeth over his bottom lip, he smiles up at me. "You're my favorite taste, angel," he whispers in a gravelly voice that drives me even wilder.

  Spikes of heat tingle all over my body as I stare at the man kneeling in front of my naked body. My breathing falters. My lungs can't get in enough air. His eyes fill with emotion as he drags them slowly up and down my body, taking me all in. "You're perfect, Adeline. You're like a dream."

  His hands dig into my thighs and tighten their grip on me. Finn softly kisses the tops of my thighs, and then presses his mouth between my legs.

  "Finn," I cry out, loud enough that I'm sure anyone in the main living room area can hear me. His hands grip me tighter as his tongue explores, licking wildly against me. I swear he trails it along every inch of me, leaving nothing out of bounds. Tension twists and builds, pressure pounds against my insides and tears down my legs.

  He crawls over my body, chuckling in an almost evil tone. I love the sweet side of him, but this darker side of him is beyond sexy.

  "I love watching you come apart for me."

  His lips attack mine again as my fingers rake through his hair, pulling and yanking. I can taste myself on his mouth, and it drives me insane. I wrap my legs around him while his hands paw and press at my flesh. Fingertips press down and dig their way over my arms, my waist, my legs, until both of his hands are cupping my bottom, grasping at my skin. His mouth continues to slide over mine, his chest panting hard against mine, his heavy weight pushing me into the mattress. His fingers slide along the crease of my bottom, moving it upward in slow lazy circles.

  "So wet," he mumbles between kisses. "Need you."

  His forehead drops against mine, and his eyes look into mine.

  "Please make me yours," I beg. He backs away slowly, reluctantly pulling himself from my body, and leans back, sinking his knees into the mattress. Gathering the material at the hem of his shirt, he lifts it above his head and tosses it off to the side, showcasing hard, twisted, tight muscles. His body is ripped. Tight. Flexed. Ready to pounce. I'll never get tired of how beautiful my men are. It's amazing that I ever missed that they were supernatural. Kneeling there with the moon streaming in from the window and reflecting off his almost white hair and pale skin, he's like a fairy prince from the stories I used to read as a girl.

  I'm a lucky girl that all the stories ended up true.

  He looks at me as if I am something precious, and I realize at that moment that Finn has always looked at me like that. Standing up, his fingers tug slowly at the buttons of his pants. Then in one smooth movement, he slides them down. Finn is gloriously naked in front of me, and I'm practically breathless, panting desperately with need and want. His gaze locks on mine, and it burns through me. I'm lost, deeply and completely.

  Crawling onto the edge of the bed, his hand skims over my ankles, slowly up to my knees. My skin awakens and screams for more. He lowers and gently runs his tongue up my calf. A low moan escapes my lips, making me clench my fists in the blankets beneath me. He continues the slow assault up my flesh, and I get lost in the sensations of his tongue and lips, his fingers and skin.

  He crawls up my body until his mouth latches onto my nipple, sucking and pulling at it so hard, I can feel the tightening pull deep in my belly. I need him then. I can't wait any longer. I want him to stop. The sensations are too much. I need him inside me, filling me. I push up to sit, and his mouth lifts, meeting mine. Our tongues twirl and slide against each other. One hand cups my face as both of mine run over the hard muscles of his chest.

  I inch closer, wanting to feel my chest against his. Then, everything stills. We both stop, eyes locking. I can feel him, the heavy heat of him right at my opening. The way his eyes are fixed on me, the way his lips part and his breathing comes out gasping...he can feel this connection too.

  He's right there, almost inside me, skin to skin. My body trembles with want. His expression is heady, desperate—he has no control. Finally, I feel the smallest rock of his hips against me. I match his gasp.

  "Please..." I beg for what seems like the hundredth time. My voice shakes and cracks.

  The hand cupping my face slides around my neck and twists a fist into my hair. My eyes meet back with his.

  Tingles and tiny sparks of something dance deep inside me when he finally slides in.

  His gasps and moans are the most beautiful sounds I'd ever heard. He tightens his grip on me, digging his fingers into my skin. And then he's pushing and plunging into me. Long, slow, hard strokes. My head drops back, and his mouth latches onto my neck.

  "Feels so good, baby." His voice rumbles as he pushes my body back into the mattress and buries himself deep inside me. Our lips meet again, and a deep pleasure begins building slowly, intensely. A rush of pure, unadulterated pleasure bubbles low as the sensations tighten and climb. The orgasm hits me so fast and hard that I cry out his name as my body shakes and clenches around him. He rides wave after wave, thrusting through it, spilling his own release with a sudden shudder. We lay there, him still inside me, until our breathing slows, both staring into each other's eyes.

  "I love you," I whisper, and he closes his eyes as if he's savoring the words.

  He opens them again, and I'm caught once more in his green gaze.

  "I love you too," he responds, pulling me even closer.

  We fall asleep like that, and I don't think once about the fact that I killed someone today.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, I wake up to find Nyx on my right side, his head lying nestled against my stomach, while Finn is wrapped around my back. I'm a little surprised to see that Nyx is the one who found his way into my bed. Our relationship is a little behind the others, and I get a little giddy to have him here.

  I tell myself it's not creepy at all that I'm staring at him while he sleeps. He ha
s a playboy edge when he's awake, but lying here with me, it's almost like he's a different boy. There's a vulnerable side to him that isn't usually there.

  A knock sounds at the door, and I jump, waking up both Finn and Nyx and effectively dismantling the peace I'd been feeling.

  "Sorry," Dante says as he leans against the doorframe, sipping coffee. He doesn't look sorry, and he's got that glint in his eye again—the same one he had yesterday. He's evidently decided to try and drive me crazy.

  Nyx groans and squeezes me closer while Finn sits up and throws a pillow at Dante.

  Dante's smile just grows wider. "We need to get a move on. Evidently, the good professor has office hours this morning, according to the school website, and Braxton set up a meeting with him."

  Nervous butterflies soar through my stomach. I brush a kiss to Nyx's forehead, who groans in return, and then I slide out from under him. Finn pulls me back down before I can get out of bed, and gives me a kiss that only makes the feelings in my stomach intensify. He shoots me a wink when I break away from the kiss, and once again, I'm struck at how sexy Finn's confidence is.

  I jump out of bed before I get lured into a round two, this time with Nyx and Dante watching-- or joining in.

  I shower quickly, and when I emerge from the bathroom, there's no one in the room. I hear voices out in the living room, so I walk out to join everyone. There are platters of food all over the coffee table, and the guys are all sitting around eating and talking, even Connor. I take a moment to watch them interact, a smile brimming on my face as they give each other a hard time. Alexander spots me first and raises an eyebrow, but I just shake my head and walk over to him, perching on his lap as I take a piece of bacon. I can feel Connor's gaze on me, but I studiously ignore him, not wanting to confront all my complicated feelings for him right now.

  After we eat, we grab our few belongings and head out. We're booked to spend the night in the hotel again, but none of us want to risk leaving our clothes, just in case something happens and we're forced to run once again.

  The campus is beautiful. There are students milling around, and a strange part of me wishes I was back at Raven Academy. There's something to the feeling of being on a school campus. I wonder if I'll ever get the experience of college. If I'll even be alive for college when it's time, I think bitterly.

  We head into an imposing red brick building. A few flights of stairs later, and we're standing in front of an office with a nameplate signaling that we're about to meet Professor Crosby.

  Braxton knocks on the door, and a deep, British accented voice directs us to enter.

  The first thing I notice when I enter the room is books. Thousands of them. It's like I've stepped into the library of Beauty and the Beast, except in this version of the story, the Beast is a hoarder. There are books on bookshelves. There are books stacked on the floor...on chairs...everywhere. Nyx hits a stack as he walks in and almost sends what must be fifty books to the floor.

  "Oh, dear. I'm afraid my office is a bit of a mess at the moment," the voice says as a non-descript middle-aged man emerges from behind a desk. I hadn't noticed him at first, because of the stacks of books on the desk that hid him from view.

  He really is a hoarder. A book hoarder.

  Professor Crosby looks like a professor. If that's a thing. He's wearing those round glasses that everyone who is super smart seems to own. He has a sweater vest and khakis on with slightly scuffed black oxfords. His hair is a sandy color, and he has a receding hairline. He's about as non-threatening as possible, and I'm instantly suspicious.

  "You must be Mr. London," he says to Braxton, reaching out his hand. "I looked up your bio at Raven Academy. You have quite the list of accolades for one so young," he says in a respectful tone, and I smile when I see Braxton's cheeks blush.

  "Thank you. We really appreciate you taking the time to meet with us on such short notice," Braxton responds.

  Professor Crosby pulls off his glasses to clean them as he studies all of us intently with his pale blue eyes. His gaze lands on me and stays there for so long that Alexander lets out a small growl. Now it's the professor's turn to blush as his gaze darts to Alexander in surprise.

  "I assure you that I meant no disrespect. There's just something familiar about her," he says as he studies me once more.

  Braxton clears his throat, and the professor flushes again. "So, you said in your email that you were interested in my research on angels?" he asked him, his eyes flicking to mine once more. "Your email seemed quite urgent."

  "Yes well, I'm building a course for the academy based on the vampire and angel mythology, so I found your articles quite interesting. I'm hoping you can flesh out my understanding to help with my class," Braxton smoothly lies.

  "Are these students of yours?" Professor Crosby asks. Again, his gaze flicked to me.

  Braxton shifts.

  "Yes, some of our best."

  Dante snorts, and Alexander elbows him in the gut, garnering the professor's suspicious gaze.

  "Excellent, excellent. Well then, what questions do you have? Where would you like me to start?"

  "Why don't we start from the beginning. What were angels doing on Earth to begin with?" asks Braxton.

  Professor Crosby walks over to a shelf and pulls out a book. I'm surprised he's able to find what he's looking for so quickly. "It all starts in Enoch, really."

  "The Bible?" asks Connor.

  The professor smirks. "Yes. The book of Enoch tells the story of the Watchers. They were sent to Earth to watch over the humans and then ended up falling in love with them. Their offspring were called the Nephilim, and God considered them monsters."

  "That was the reason for the flood, right? The one that Noah built an ark for? It was supposed to rid the Earth of the Nephilim," I chime in, and the professor nods his head with a pleased expression.

  He opens the book and flips through a few pages before beginning to read, "Now this is in Enoch. It says, ‘And the women became pregnant, and they bare great giants, whose height was three thousand ells: Who consumed all the acquisitions of men. And when men could no longer sustain them, the giants turned against them and devoured mankind. And they began to sin against birds, and beasts, and reptiles, and fish, and to devour one another's flesh, and drink the blood.’"

  "The children of the angels drank blood?" Dante asks, confused.

  "And there's where they get it all wrong!" the professor exclaims triumphantly, slamming the book closed. He sets the book back on the shelf and squats down, picking up another book that looks ancient. The professor very carefully opens it up and flips through some of the yellowed pages. "If you look at other contemporaneous writings, it actually says there are translation issues with Enoch. What it actually says is that the women ‘bared beautiful children who were hunted by the great giants.’ This text details how the giants were most likely vampires. It's just a difference of a few letters between the ancient word for ‘giant’ and the ancient word for ‘winged demon’ which was a way that the ancient peoples described vampires. Legends outside of Enoch say that the flood was actually to try and protect the Nephilim by gathering them on the ark."

  "So Noah and the others he brought with them—"

  "Were Nephilim! Exactly right," beams Professor Crosby at Dante.

  "So how did the vampires survive?" asks Finn.

  "The Nephilim blood was more than just tasty. It also gave the vampires eternal life, allowing them to survive the flood. An unexpected event to even God, apparently. Noah and the rest were soon captured as soon as the floods receded and forced to become slaves and food to the vampires, until their souls could no longer take it and they passed on," the Professor answers soberly.

  "What happened to the Watchers?" I ponder out loud as I think through his story.

  "What happened, indeed," he responds, giving me that same penetrating gaze. "Some sources say that they were all called back to the Heavens, because God could not risk them creating any more of the Nephilim. But
I find it more likely that all were called back but one. Uriel, who refused to return."

  "Why Uriel?" I press.

  "Enoch details that Uriel was the one who warned Noah about the flood. It follows then that the rumors of Nephilim present on Earth since that time would be because he had offspring.”

  “Can the Nephilim procreate? Would all of them have to be direct descendants of Uriel?” I ask in a shaky voice, not really wanting to know the answer. If I was a Nephilim and I couldn’t have children...I didn’t really want to think about that right now.

  “There’s nothing that I read that said they couldn’t procreate. I’m just not sure when they would have a chance to, based on the myths about the vampires hunting of them."

  I let out a relieved breath, and the professor gives me that look again like he knows something about me.

  "Have you seen anything that leads you to believe that angels are still on the earth today?" asks Braxton. He says it so casually, as if the existence of angels is no big deal.

  "Well, that's an interesting question because Nicolaus Copernicus wrote about angels in the early 1500s—"

  "Wait...the scientist? That Nicolaus Copernicus?" Nyx blurts out.

  Professor Crosby lets out a hearty laugh. "You will actually find that many of history's leading men...and ladies," he adds with an apologetic look my way, "discussed angels quite often or featured them in their works. Many of them you could say were obsessed."

  We’re all silent for a moment as we absorbed that news. Thinking about it, the Renaissance peeps, in particular, seemed to be awfully obsessed with angels in one form or another.

  "Anyway, as I was saying. In one of the writings found after his death, his personal journal as a matter of fact, Copernicus talked about the ‘last angel.’ Many scholars deemed his writings as evidence that he was going mad in his last days, but I disagree." The professor is almost giddy as he darts across the room, sending a flurry of dust in his wake as a pile of his books falls to the ground. He ignores the mess and continues to search through another pile strewn on a coffee table in the corner that sits between two comfy-looking armchairs. He hums faintly under his breath as he searches through the stacks, and I exchange an amused glance with Braxton.