by Jane, C. R.
I wake up in a sweat. I’m so hard that I forget where I am for a moment. I blink, trying to get my bearings. Eva’s looking at me with concern. The sexy white dress shirt from my dream is unfortunately nowhere in sight, although the tank top and cheerleading shorts she has on are nothing to cry about.
“Are you okay?” she asks. “You were shaking and talking in your sleep.”
I’m beyond embarrassed that I just had the beginning of a wet dream while I was seated next to her and definitely don’t plan on telling the girl of my dreams that I’m haunted at the thought of her naked body every time I close my eyes. “Fine, just a weird dream,” I tell her. Sliding a pillow in front of the lower half of my body, I stand up, trying to not look awkward as I do so. I hold out a hand. “Ready to go to bed sleeping beauty?” I’m so glad that I don’t avoid bedrooms like my dream self apparently does because sleeping with Eva is the highlight of my life. No matter how many times I have to take care of myself later on, nothing compares to the feel of her soft body nestled next to mine.
We walk into my massive bedroom. I like that it’s become a habit that she always sleeps on the right side of my bed, that we’ve done this enough that there’s a his and her side. I send up an internal prayer that I get the chance to do this forever. It’s getting harder and harder not to be able to spend every night with her. I’ve promised her I’m not going to stop fighting for her, but it’s still my deepest fear that Mason or Beckham will ultimately take her heart. She’s facing me as I get into bed after her, flashing me that gorgeous smile that never fails to send butterflies coursing through me like I’m a teenager with my first crush rather than an ancient immortal being. I like that she reverts me to that. I’ve been so numb for so long that I didn’t think I could ever feel any emotions again, let alone this crazy, all-consuming passion that I feel for Eva. She snuggles up against my chest, her head nestled right under my neck, and I just know that this is the pinnacle of a good life. I want this forever.
Chapter 7
Before
“What part of my godlike form are you painting today?” I ask Camilla as she purses her lips in concentration, ignoring my comments. She’s been trying to paint me, but I’m having trouble sitting still today and I doubt today’s session is going to go well. I never can stay away from the compound for very long before it would be noticed, so it’s been taking her forever to finish my picture since she’s only getting me to model for a little bit of time every visit. She’s told me that she’s only about halfway done. I pretend it’s a nuisance, but secretly I’m excited to see what her talent does with my awe-inspiring looks.
Despite my restrictions to the rest of the council, I have snuck out a few times to bring Camilla food and supplies, and make sure she is doing alright. I bring her little tidbits from the supernatural world on these trips as well: a blanket that a warlock enchanted that always keeps the user at the perfect temperature; a water basin that I picked up in Turkey that never gets empty; and her favorite thing of all, paint I procured from a flower nymph. Camilla burst into tears when she saw the mesmerizing beauty of the paint. Flower nymphs have perfected the process of capturing the colors only seen in the wild. I had never been a painter, but I had gone through a period of time when I collected random things because of boredom and since flower nymph paint was a rare and highly prized commodity, I had gone out of my way to get some. Seeing Camilla’s face when she used the first color on some of the canvases I had brought her was priceless.
She asks me question after question about the supernatural world. She’s fascinated by the fact that all this time she thought humans were alone in the world when in fact angels, vampires, and demons are all around her all walking around unnoticed. It’s amusing to see her different reactions to different creatures, or when I tell her why certain things are how they are.
“You’re trying to tell me that earthquakes are caused by giants?” she looks at me incredulously.
I nod seriously. “They’re temperamental buggers,” I tell her. “Every so often the different tribes decide they hate each other and wage war. You can imagine what hundreds of 30 foot creatures crashing and stomping around would do to the land. The mountain giants cause avalanches as well.” Her eyes widen and she looks impressed.
We have conversations about humans as well. After discovering they aren’t all completely useless I pepper her with questions about why humans do certain things. “Explain to me why humans get married?” I ask her one day. “Life is so temporary, and humans don’t have fated mates. Most human marriages I’ve seen are extremely unhappy. There a huge reason why the Fallen are so successful with taking human souls. It’s easy to persuade a miserable person to do something terrible if you promise them it will make them happy.”
She ponders my question for a moment and turns and gazes at me with a longing that I try to ignore. “I think that the promise of love, that there’s one perfect person out there for us is the ultimate goal for everyone fated mate or not. Art started from the human’s attempt to put love into a form. It makes sense that we would continue to try and find our match in another person. To love and be loved in return is the perfect ending for an imperfect soul.”
She’s still gazing at me, a little love-sick gleam in her eyes. “You said that humans don’t have fated mates, does that mean that angels do?” she asks hesitantly.
“Yes we do,” I tell her.
“Can she be a human?”
I hesitate, thinking of Torin’s claim. I’m almost positive a human and an angel could never be fated mates, but even if it were possible, it’s better to make sure she knows it’s not her. “No, it’s not possible,” I tell her. She looks devastated for a second before she smooths out her face.
“But you haven’t met your fated mate yet, right?” she asks.
I examine her face. Her jealousy and hate of my imaginary mate flashes like a spark across her face. Jealousy about other lovers is rarely found in angels. It’s a hallmark of an angel once he has met his mate, but it rarely occurs outside of that situation. Jealousy in general amuses me. I can’t even fathom what it would feel like to actually be jealous of someone. Not that I have to contend with situations that would breed it often. Most of the time I’m trying to pry my lovers off, not keep them to myself.
I sigh at the emotions that Camilla is broadcasting loud and clear. With every visit, my dilemma grows. I can sense that she’s becoming more and more attached to me, but our visits are such a bright spot in my life that it makes me lonely just thinking about giving it up. Her eyes devour me no matter what I am doing, and she lights up whenever I arrive. I should stop visiting before it gets worse, but selfishness has always been a vice for me. It’s my hope that if I continue to make sure she knows we are just friends that eventually some other human will catch her eye. I know that this a long shot though, no human would compare to an archangel in all of his glory. I need to just stay away…
“Alright, it’s about time for me to head out,” I tell her, shaking out my wings which are stiff from being still for so long. I’m tired of feeling like I’m disappointing my friend because I have no desire to take her to bed.
“You really have to leave already?” she asks, her eyes glossing over with a moisture that makes me uncomfortable.
“Yes,” I reply firmly. “I’m not even supposed to be here, per my own rules.”
“Why do you even come then?” she asks, her seldom used fiery attitude emerging.
“I want to make sure you’re alright! You live alone in this pit of despair and I can almost see through you. You clearly don’t know how to take care of yourself, much like the rest of your species.”
Evidently that was the wrong thing to say. “Get out!” she cries, as she begins to throw various items at me. A cup narrowly misses my perfect nose when she throws that and a fork at me at the same time.
“I’ll just see myself out,” I bark at her, always having to get the last word in. I burst out the door and take flight, an icy wi
nd nipping at my feathers and reminding me that winter is coming. Hopefully she will be reasonable at least in time for winter, so I can make sure she’s set up comfortably. I fly away irritably, thinking about how this is just another example of how unreasonable humans are.
Chapter 8
After
I’m going to stalk her I decide. I’m pretty sure that she’s decided that she will just ignore me, and I’m not willing to let her do that. Wearing workout clothes should give me the perfect excuse to hover around her dorm room. I could just pretend that I was passing by on my run if she asks any questions. I get there early, around 5:00am, not knowing if she’s an early riser or not. The campus is empty, the sun just blinking through the sky. An hour passes, and I feel somewhat stupid for getting here so early, there hasn’t been anyone around. Most people don’t get up at 5:00am who aren’t being forced to. Eva’s probably one of those girls who likes to get her beauty rest. I hear the door open for the first time this morning, and I immediately pretend to be stretching, keeping my head down so that if it’s not Eva, I won’t have a crazy fan on my hands.
I glance up tentatively, sure I wouldn’t get so lucky, and almost fall over when I see that it’s Eva. It’s first thing in the morning and I know she doesn’t have a stitch of makeup on, yet she looks ten times better than any supermodel I’ve ever seen who’s all dolled up. I lose my breath for a second seeing that she’s dressed up in a tiny pair of running shorts and a tank top. Her legs look like they go on forever and when she bends over, the slip of cleavage she flashes makes me salivate. She hasn’t noticed me, and she continues stretching as I watch her in interest. After a few minutes, I start to feel like a creeper that I haven’t announced myself yet.
“Good morning Eva,” I call out to her. She turns around in surprise and stares at me suspiciously.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I was just on my morning run when I saw you,” I tell her, trying to give her my most winning grin. She seems to be relatively unaffected with most of the charm that makes others crazy, but it’s all I have so I’ll keep using it. “Want to join me?” I ask her, fingers crossed that she will give me even a second of her time. My smile widens when I see how obvious it is that she doesn’t want to run with me. She’s waging a war with herself and I’m fascinated to watch the play of emotions on her face. Finally, my wishes are granted.
“I’ll run with you, but you’re going to be disappointed,” she tells me, the reluctance heavy through her voice. “I haven’t been on a run in a long time.” I glance over her stunning features, she has to be doing something because her body is perfect.
“I don’t need to go super hard anyway because I have practice this afternoon,” I tell her. I obviously don’t mention that almost no amount of exercise could ever be enough for my immortal body to tire. She walks over to me and we start our run. I start off with a slower pace, but she still stays slightly behind me as we run, much to my chagrin. I was looking forward to being able to stare at her ass again. I try to act as a tour guide as we pass various sites, pointing out cool buildings, or telling her random facts about New York City. Eventually she begins to run next to me, matching my pace even as I speed up. We chat about random things but we’re both mostly content to enjoy the sounds and sights of the city.
I glance over at her and notice that she hasn’t even broken a sweat. She’s either in really good shape, or my guess that she has some supernatural in her is correct. I speed up to test my theory. To my surprise and delight, she speeds up as well. We’re both sprinting, and we keep up this pace mile after mile until finally I lead us to Central Park where we slow to a walk. I can’t help but gape at her after I look at my mileage tracker. Nine miles practically sprinting, and she looks like it was nothing more than a walk in the park, metaphorically speaking.
“Do you realize how far we just ran?” I ask her. She shakes her head no, but there’s a slight flash of panic in her eyes. “We ran nine miles. And you aren’t even breathing hard.” Her mind seems to be racing. She looks over at me, I’m sure noticing that I’m not sweating and don’t seem to be struggling either. Something unsaid passes between us, like we both know that there’s more to the situation, but we are agreeing not to talk about it. I’m honestly fine with that. Bringing in the fact that you’re sort of a fallen angel comes with its own set of complications.
She smiles at me and I’m momentarily blinded. “I’ve always dreamed of going to Central Park,” she tells me as she admires the trees that are just starting to turn a myriad of autumn colors. This has always been my favorite season and seeing her showcased with the lovely colors just makes me like it more. There’s a coffee stand nearby, and I walk over to buy us some. As an angel I don’t need the caffeine, but over the years I’ve become addicted to the taste and find myself having at least a few cups throughout the day.
“How do you take your coffee?” I ask her as she looks over the menu in the front of the cart. The guy manning the stand is staring at Eva with his mouth slightly open. He looks like he is about to start drooling. She seems to be oblivious, or maybe she’s just used to the looks and can ignore it. I’m pretty sure that I’m going to continue to stare at her like that every time I see her, there’s just no getting used to her beauty and the inner light that she radiates.
“As sweet as I can get it,” she laughingly replies. “Just surprise me because the only actual coffee I’ve tried was a mocha latte.”
That catches me off guard. “You’ve only tried coffee once?” I ask. She blushes and nods, a slight rosy tint hovering over her cheeks. I suddenly have the urge to take her to Leslie’s. It’s my secret spot where I escape from the throngs of people that want my attention all the time and where I can just be normal…or as normal as a supernatural being living among humans can be. “Alright, well this coffee stand will not do then,” I tell her, throwing the disappointed coffee cart guy a twenty and grabbing her hand, racing to get a cab.
“Where are we going?” she asks, cutely giggling.
She has a naivety and wonder about her that makes me want to show her the world while simultaneously shielding her from it as well. “Introducing you to good coffee,” I tell her with a wink, keeping her hand grasped in mine.
A little while later, and we arrive at Leslie’s. She’s quiet as we walk in, taking it all in. I’m surprisingly nervous to hear what she thinks. I’ve never taken a girl here and the namesake of the place, Leslie, is a little like a grandma to me. I want them to like each other.
“I’ve been coming to this place since I arrived in New York,” I tell her. “It doesn’t look like much, but there isn’t a better coffee in the whole city.” We’re at the counter and I see Leslie’s eyes widen when she sees Eva.
“Damon! Who is this angel you’ve brought with you today?” she asks.
I find the fact that she has referred to Eva as an angel hilarious seeing as how she’s been serving an actual angel coffee for years, not that she’s known that.
“This is Eva,” I tell Leslie proudly. “She is a coffee novice, so I thought I would take her to get the best coffee in town. Eva, this is Leslie. She’s run this coffee shop for thirty years. I’ve asked her to marry me several times, but she always tells me she’s too old for me.” It’s a corny joke between us but Leslie has always been sweet on me despite her advanced age for a human.
We banter back and forth for a moment before Leslie asks Eva what she wants. Eva says she likes sweet things again, and I involuntarily think about how sweet she probably tastes…everywhere.
Leslie thankfully distracts me from where my thoughts and my pants were wandering as she begins to put together one of her famous concoctions. Eva and I both watch as she fiddles with various antique silver machines, Leslie believes in doing everything old school and always tells me that the old ways are the best ways. I agree with her since I’m older than most things. She finally finishes with a flourish and hands Eva a cup of coffee that’s a lot more golden in col
or than anything I ever get. Leslie and I both watch as Eva tentatively tries a sip, closing her eyes for a second and moaning in delight as she absorbs the flavors.
“It’s wonderful,” she tells Leslie meaningfully after Leslie explains what it is. Leslie looks delighted. As she hands me my black coffee and a few honeybuns to take with us she whispers, “Don’t let that girl go.” I flash her a grin, so happy that my girls got along, and attempt to pay her in our usual back and forth. Leslie hasn’t let me pay since someone “mysteriously” paid off the loan on the place, leaving her with the title free and clear. She somehow knows it was me and has refused my money ever since. Per usual, I still manage to leave a large tip that more than covers the cost of our food as we leave.
“It was nice meeting you Eva,“ Leslie calls after us.
We both smile at her in return, enjoying the delicious gifts she gave us. I can’t help but reach for her hand as we walk, and I give an inward fist pump when she doesn’t pull away. I decide to test my luck again by asking if she will let me run with her again the next day. She’s quiet for a moment as if she’s going over how our date went (I’m calling it a date at least).
“I would like that,” she finally responds softly. I can’t help but show my excitement and I’m practically giddy as we walk back to campus. I’m wondering if I can push for more time with her today when I notice that asshole Eric is waiting for us, looking furious. I listen to his frustration with amusement. The dude is digging himself a hole by acting so crazy. Eva makes me crazy too but I’m at least keeping it hidden from her. I decide to stir the pot even more and make it clear that I’m after Eva.
“Thank you for this morning,” says Eva, very conscious of Eric’s eyes on us.
“Can’t wait until tomorrow,” I tell her, not able to keep myself from brushing my lips across her smooth hand that I’m holding. She trembles slightly, hopefully from the palpable energy passing between us. At least that’s how it’s making me feel. There’s something huge between us and in this case I’m not talking about my dick. I give her a wink, and then flash a salute at Eric. “See you at practice,” I tell him as I saunter away, the glow of the morning settling on me like a cloak. For the first time in my long life, I wish that time would hurry up.
