by White, L. C
“How long have you been doing this?” she asks.
“Too long.” I pull the blade to the side of my body so the handle is before her. “Take it.”
She blows out like she’s bored, and coils her fingers around the handle. I release my grip and move back so I can see her full body.
“Hold out the sword and feel the weight, the balance. You need to understand how each tendon in your fingers, wrist, and arm, react when holding it.”
She thrusts the blade out horizontal, biting her lips, while scowling down at it.
“Straighter,” I order. “I don’t want to see any shaking.”
She tuts, her fingers squeezing the handle tighter, squinting her eyes in concentration. All I can see, are the mistakes she’s making. Her posture is all wrong, her arms are weak, and nerves radiate from her body.
I walk behind her and lie my hands on her shoulders. I tweak her back so her spine is straighter. She grumbles under her breath, but I don’t care. She needs to do exactly what I ask her to do.
“Your back and shoulders should never hunch,” I say, my eyes moving down onto her waist and ass. “You’re holding something that is used to wound and kill. You should be aware, and your posture should be as strong and sharp as the blade.”
My touch travels down onto her hips, and I feel her gasp a breath. A breath that I really don’t need to hear right now. A needy breath that boils my blood. The same needy breath I heard in her bedroom.
“Don’t do that,” I say, releasing an exasperated sigh.
“Do what?” She comes over all innocent.
“Don’t expect this exercise to end, and become something more… more you know,” I utter.
She giggles and makes me smile, only for a second.
“Okay, I’m listening,” she says, trying to take me seriously.
I swallow, and study the position of her feet. With my fingers gripping the leather of her trousers tighter, I bring out my boot, and kick her legs a shoulder-length apart.
“Now, bend your knees a little,” I say, removing my touch from her body before I give in to temptation.
I stroll around to stand before her. Her stance is much better, but still it’s not perfect. She’s standing still like a mannequin, and I can see the weight of the sword making her face strain.
“Better.” I hum, frowning. “Not only do you have to treat the sword like it’s a part of your body, but you also have to have a solid contact with everything around you. The floor. The air. When you fight, everything around you becomes a part of that fight.”
Her shoulders begin to shake as a heavy breath leaves her mouth. Suddenly, her weak arms lower the blade and she mumbles, while nodding her head down.
“I suck at this, Tristen. It’s pointless teaching the unteachable.”
“All you have done is hold out a sword, Beth,” I snap at her. “You need to understand, a Sentinel does not give up at the first hurdle.”
“I’m not a Sentinel though.”
Her shoulders and back stoop forward again. She blows out in deflation, kicking the tip of her boot against the concrete. I don’t want her to feel this way. I don’t want to be a jackass with her. I’d like to just wrap her up in my wings and hide her away from all this, so she can remain herself. But you can’t hide away from a darkness that can claw into your mind. I love this girl too much, and only I can get her ready.
I walk behind her again and press my body into hers. My hands sweep down her soft arms, sensing her pores swell beneath my fingertips. Her hair tickles my chin, and the urge to sin with her right now, grows hard. I gulp down the choking desire, and bend my knees a little into the back of hers.
“Tristen.” Her lungs swell against my chest. “What are you doing?”
I blink slowly, wrapping my hands around hers on the handle. I know she wants me, and I want her. But not yet. Not here. Shit, if we get caught, I’ll be in chains.
“I’m teaching you through me, Beth.”
I bring her arms up with mine, so the blade of the sword is slanting vertically before her left shoulder.
“This is blocking position one.” I maneuver the blade to her right shoulder. “This is two.” I bring the sword down across her hip, twisting her body into mine. “Three.” I repeat the motion to her other side. “Four.”
I move and swish the sword quicker into each blocking move, making sure her body is angling correctly as we dance with the blade.
“One, two, three, four,” I say, very tempted to bend and kiss her sweet smelling neck.
I linger with her body against mine for a few seconds. We both breathe heavy. We both want to be anywhere but here. I need to feel her naked skin, and the emotions of the night I took her. Hell, I want her so much it hurts.
I quickly flick my hands away from hers, and move back several steps, watching her ribcage panting in and out. I remain where I am so she can’t see my eyes craving for her. She rolls back her shoulders, and to my surprise, begins to perform every move I have just taught her, perfectly.
“One, two, three, four,” she says, as I move to her front to watch her.
I grin with a sense of pride, as she continues to sweep the blade into every blocking position, with a strong precision. Her eyes are closed like she’s absorbed in the exercise. She really is looking more like a new recruit, and she’s surprised me.
“You’re getting it, Beth,” I encourage.
She goes on and on as I move around her, trying to pick out any mistakes she’s making. But I can’t fault her efforts. She’s flawless to watch, and I now know she has the potential to be a great warrior.
I notice her face flushing as a shimmer of sweat begins to coat her forehead. Her eyes are still closed, and every number she says, sounds deep and labored. I slowly walk and dodge the blade, grabbing it in my hands to make her stop. She gasps out, opening her eyes on me.
“Enough,” I say, allowing her to lower the sword.
“Well… how did I do?”
I smile down at her. “Okay.”
She pushes me playfully in the chest. “Okay?”
“You did good.”
Her eyes crinkle as she smiles that smile I love. I gaze down into her as the vibes between our bodies get overbearing. I lean over, running my fingers up beneath her hair. My mouth takes hers softly. The heat of her skin and the clamminess of her workout, makes my neck so damn tight. I don’t get time off. This is my time off, and I want to spend every second of it with her. I swallow as I angle back.
“Let’s go have some fun,” I say, taking the sword from her.
“Fun?”
I take her sword over to my locker, and place it inside. “Yes… there are some pretty cool things to see here.”
“Okay.” She bites her lip at me.
Chapter Sixteen: The Sin
Beth
Holy freaking crap, my subconscious screeches out. Have I just walked into an ancient Grecian spa? I have never seen, or been, in such an epic looking room. Directly before me is a huge swimming pool. But this isn’t your normal chlorine water filled pool. This pool is full of a white liquid. With my mouth hanging open I turn to Tristen as he closes the double doors, and locks them.
“You’re not supposed to use this,” he says, walking to my side. “It’s for the higher ranks only.”
“You?”
“Nah, I prefer the shower.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s a milk bath,” he replies. “It’s good for skin, muscles, and refreshes better than water, apparently. The guys who love themselves, use it all the time.”
“Milk… really?” I try not to giggle.
“Yeah, really,” he says in a sigh.
I stroll around the side of the pool, my view journeying up the dark green tiles, and up across the ceiling. My eyes stop to take in a huge striking painting of an orange, blue, and white sky, framed with golden ornate coving. The painting continues onto the far wall, where the outline of angel wings can just be seen throu
gh the wispy clouds. It’s stunning. A hidden treasure in this dark, bland, industrial place.
My boots move across the gray marble floor, and by three solid wooden modern loungers. On each lies a bale of thick white towels.
I turn on the spot to see Tristen holding out a plain black bikini, and a folded white towel.
“This is around your size I’d say.” He squints, holding up the halter-neck top. “The changing room is through there,” he says.
I look to the door his head is gesturing at, as he places the swimsuit and towel in my hands.
“You said I’m not supposed to use this pool.”
“No one will know,” he says. “They’ll all be too busy drinking that angel shit.”
“Are you getting in with me?” My eyebrows crease up.
“Of course.” He waves a pair of swimming shorts in my face, smiling.
“Okay.” I exhale, making my way to the changing room, holding the towel to my belly. “This better not make me smell like I’ve gone-off,” I call out over my shoulder, letting the door swing shut behind me.
It took me an age to remove those leather pants. The muggy warmth in here didn’t help. Now I’m making my way to the pool, feeling all stinky and sweaty.
My toes curl into the warm marble as I look for Tristen. He’s not on the loungers beside me, and he’s not in the pool. I make a nervous fist at my side, feeling idiotic.
“Tristen… Tristen,” I whisper in the fear that maybe he’s been caught allowing a lower being in here.
A bubble pops on the surface of the steaming milk. I watch as it ripples over the silk like fluid.
“I know you’re there, Tristen. Stop messing around,” I hiss down into the pool.
First I see his fingers pressed together, smashing through the surface, followed by his streamlined body. I gawp as his body bounces then comes to a stop so he floats. He sniffs, running his hand over his drenched hair. I’m eyeballing his wet skin and I can’t stop. He’s amazing to look at, but also daunting. I have slept with him, and had his hands all over my body. But as I stand here goggling, a naughty rouge flames my cheeks, because I feel like I’m doing something I shouldn’t be. He beams a cheeky smile at me.
“You do know you are the most stunning creature on heaven and earth,” he says with a wink.
I have to get away from him for a second to calm myself; to calm a rising lust that’s making me flush, and the only place to hide, is beneath the milk. I quickly, without thinking, dive into the pool.
I front crawl only a few feet with my eyes closed, then come up for oxygen. I remove the wet hair from my face, seeing Tristen swimming like an athlete. He does a full length in record time. His body is strong and appealing, and he moves as accurate as a tornado. The sight of him sends my heart into a flutter, and makes my thighs tense and tremble.
“I thought this pool was for relaxation?” My voice echoes.
“I don’t relax,” he says, swimming around me.
My hands float side to side before my body. “Because of me?”
“Always you, Beth.”
I feel so guilty. His whole life has been about me. He lost his parents, and his upbringing was the most unconventional one ever. He’s never had normality. I’ve seen him hurt himself over this. Punishing himself with a whip. In the real world, it’s called self-harming, but in religion, it’s something completely different. I think it’s cruel that someone would feel the need to do that to themselves for a higher purpose.
“I’m sorry for everything you’ve had to go through, Tristen.”
I swim to the edge of the pool and cross my arms over the marble. There are tears in my eyes and I don’t want him to see.
“Hey.” I feel the milk ripple behind me, and his breath on the back of my neck. “Beth, look at me.”
I slowly turn, shying my eyes away from him. He lifts his fingers to push my chin up. His hand rests in the curve of my neck. He gazes up from beneath his brow at me.
“I am what I am, and none of this is your fault. You didn’t ask to be born into this, and neither did I.” He smudges a tear from my cheek. “I already told you, you don’t apologize for no one. You’re mighty. You’re beautiful. You’re more angel now than you will be when you enlighten.”
“You hurt yourself because of me. What childhood you had was because of me. This place is because of me.”
“First off,” he says, sternly. “You saw me repent. I don’t do it all the time. And it’s common practice in this messed up world. Secondly, my childhood wasn’t all bad. I went to school, had friends, played ball. I just had a strange home. And thirdly, if it wasn’t you, it would be someone else. This place would have existed with or without you. It would just be some other poor soul in your place.”
I still can’t help but feel responsible in some crazy way, no matter how attentive his words are.
“Okay,” I say in a breath, just to please him.
He smiles, holding the edge of the pool beside me. “Right, you asked for this.”
He moves to my side and pulls himself out from the pool. He strolls to the narrow end and stands with his back to me, facing the angel wings in the painting. He shakes the milk droplets off his skin, as his shoulder blades circle and crack. I swim to the center of the pool with a flurry in my belly.
“Tristen, what are you doing?”
“I’m showing you,” he says, limbering up his arms.
“Your wings?” I gulp down. “I thought you couldn’t, unless falling.”
“You need to see.”
His bare back cracks forward, as his shoulders shudder and shunt abnormally. I see movement beneath his skin, like something is growing and trying to break through. His head is hung forward and his breathing is heavy. My heart has never beat so fast, and I have to hold my hand against my mouth to stop myself panting loudly.
Suddenly, his arms shoot out to each side of his body and he growls out, not in pain, but release.
“Tristen, stop,” I yell, worried.
I watch two vertical tears appear just below his shoulders. My eyes are wide open as long black feathers the size of my legs, begin to emerge from the tears. I’m now wheezing, unable to remove my view. Two vast beautiful wings have now fully formed on his back; the shimmering tips reaching just below his knees. He stands silently, bringing out his strong arms as his wings unfold with a loud rumbling flap.
“Oh. My. God,” I utter into my hand.
His wings span the width of the pool, and glisten a blueish black under the dim lights. I’m awestruck. I should be running away, but after everything I’ve learnt since being here, I needed to see this. He’s beautiful. Magnificent. Out of this goddamn world.
His wings fold to rest into his back as he turns to me. He has this sad look in his eyes, like he’s made a mistake showing me. He thinks I hate him for it.
“I’ve now stuck two fingers up to the sky. You’re the first to see.” His firm chest swells out with a breath.
“It’s… it’s amazing, Tristen.”
His arms sweep out as his wings expand. He leaps up from the marble and takes flight over the pool. My neck stretches back, watching him hover over me. The loud draft makes the milk wave as he swoops down, and plucks my body out from the pool.
“Tristen!” I screech, closing my eyes tight.
I’m in his arms as I was when he caught me in gym class. Though this is completely different than falling off a rope, I’m getting that same safe feeling. I listen to the slow mighty flap of his wings as I gaze up at him. I swallow down, focusing on his angelic copper eyes.
“These are for you. Really Beth, they are your wings,” he says softly. “So if you don’t want to enlighten. If you want to also stick two fingers up to the sky. Then you can use me. To survive, sometimes the wrong decisions have to be made. Maybe leaving is a good idea.”
I choke a little with emotion, realizing I’m in love with an angel. My hand reaches up to rest on his cheek, and I can feel his strong jaw pulsing.
“I… I love you,” I whisper.
“I know.”
His wings suddenly fold around my body, and we’re lying down in a cocoon of feathers. I’m warm, safe, and content in his angel hold. His hands press against my face, and his lips nibble and caress mine. My knees bend and my legs coil around his solid soft body, as I roll my back over slowly onto an indulgent mattress of feathers. His fingertips stroke my skin with a firmer touch, descending down my damp breast, belly, to come to hold and knead the back of my thigh. He wants me, and my fingernails respond by clawing his back.
I feel like there is nothing in this universe other than us right now. It’s so sensual and intense inside his warm wings. I have never felt such a powerful urge to have sex before. My body pulsates for his touch. When I’m with him, as strange as it is, nothing feels weird or wrong.
Chapter Seventeen: Counsel
Beth
I slide Michael’s sword back into the lid of the trunk and fasten the straps, listening to Sentinels returning to their quarters. I’m not sure what time it is. There is no time here. No windows or daylight to indicate whether it’s time to sleep or not. Not that I’m tired anyway. After lying in Tristen’s arms, and having his angel touch all over my body, I feel strangely refreshed and energetic. For the first time since I arrived here, I feel a sense of belonging. It was all so wonderful. He was perfect, and he held me in his arms for what felt like hours. We didn’t do much talking. Our eyes and hands were the only communication used in that feathery cocoon. I sigh in a daydream, going over the whole thing.
I close the lid of the trunk and stand up. He walked me back to my room only moments ago, and I miss him already. I’ve seen it before in the outside world in Kim. That mushy gooey loved-up behavior, which I found so irritating. I never for one moment thought that I’d be in the love-struck category, but I am. Cupid’s arrow has pinned my heart to Tristen’s, and my mind is all floaty and light.
