Cinder Page 14

  I slip my fingers underneath the fabric of his shirt, just a bit, letting my fingers graze the smoothness of his skin. I feel him shudder from my touch and it makes me smile.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he whispers against my mouth. “I’m supposed to follow all these rules, stay away from you, ask for permission before I do anything, but now… everything’s different.” He kisses me deeply again before pulling away and looking down at me. “Everything’s changed.” His hands wander over my body as he presses his lips to mine again. We kiss a little bit longer, my fingers running through his hair, but then he pulls away again. “I don’t know what to do with all this freedom, but I want to do whatever I want.”

  “Then do whatever you want,” I whisper, confused, but just wanting him to keep kissing me again. He seems completely different from last time. So much more vulnerable and emotional. What’s different? I struggle to place it and words form inside my head like a puzzle as I try to figure it out.

  A stone statue

  Perfect and Flawless

  Though beneath the structure

  Cracks are hidden

  Weakness shows

  Vulnerability stems

  So easily breakable

  Like fine glass

  Dropped onto the floor

  Shattered

  Into pieces

  They broke him.

  “Ember,” he says softly as I run my fingers up and down his back and across the nape of his neck. He tangles his fingers through my hair as he kiss a path from my lips to my jawline, trembling. I can’t shake the feeling that something’s up with him. He’s so much more out of control.

  Finally, I force myself to move away and slide out from under him. “Asher?”

  He tenses, momentarily unmoving, catching his breath before he looks at me. “Is something wrong?”

  I search his eyes for an indication that something’s changed inside him. “I don’t know… Is there something wrong with you?”

  His eyes widen and then he slides away, appearing lost as he lifts his hand up to rub his eyes. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything anymore.” His hand falls to his lap and his voice comes out as soft as a feather. “Do you remember when I said there were punishments for breaking the rules and that I was going to have to pay for getting involved with your life?” he asks and I nod, sitting up beside him. He reaches out and brushes the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, shaking his head. “They—Michael—well, at first he just forced me to stay away from humans, but then I went into the shadows and he was more upset.” His voice is unsteady. “Everyone thinks I’m a traitor and Michael made… he made me…” He sucks in a sharp breath and the words spill out of him. “He made me human again, or at least, stripped me of my wings.”

  My jaw drops. “Like your mother?”

  “Yes,” he whispers, shutting his eyes. “I’ve been banished.”

  Chapter 10

  I’m pretty sure Hell has frozen over or maybe it’s Heaven, since he’s an Angel. I’m not even sure how that works, though, if there’s a Heaven or Hell. From what Asher’s just shared with me about Angels of Death and his leader, I’m not sure Angels are quite as good as I thought.

  Heaven and Hell

  Reapers

  Angels

  Heavenly or Evil

  Are they?

  Aren’t they?

  It takes me a second or two to find my voice again. “What does that mean exactly?” I gape at him, stunned. Shocked to the point that I feel sedated.

  He swiftly shakes his head and sits up, grabbing onto me and sitting me with him. “It means that I’ve been banished like my mother and can no longer be with the Angels of Death. I’m still immortal, but I don’t have all of my Angel abilities such as my strength or the ability to fly.” He frowns as if he’s just realizing this.

  I inspect him meticulously, running my fingers through the soft locks of his hair, taking in his eyes; they are the same slate grey, yet they look different somehow. “So you don’t have your wings?” I ask, placing my hands on his shoulders.

  He reluctantly shakes head. “No, I have them, but they’ve stripped the power from them.”

  “Can I—Can I see them?” I have no idea why I’m asking, other than I’m curious. I’ve seen them once in the graveyard and they were so beautiful that I couldn’t find words to describe them.

  “You want to see my wings?” he asks, shocked and a little appalled.

  With caution, I nod. “Unless it’s too weird.”

  He’s silent, considering my request, and then he scoots to the edge of the bed and rises to his feet. He takes a few steps then turns in the middle of the room, glancing from side to side at the narrow space between the walls.

  “I’m not sure if there’s enough room in here,” he utters quietly. “But I’ll try.”

  I move to the edge of the bed and plant my feet on the floor as he starts to unbutton the plaid shirt he’s wearing; undoing each button unhurriedly. He’s definitely nervous, and so am I. I’m not even sure why, other than it makes everything feel that much more real. We can kiss and touch all we want, but as soon as he brings out his wings, all I’ll be able to think about are Angels and Reapers and how I’m a mix of both.

  When he gets the last button undone, he sucks in a large breath, straightens his arms at his side, and the shirt falls off him and onto the floor. Lean muscles carve his stomach where his skin is as smooth as porcelain. On his one side, there is a tattoo of an angel with tears falling from her eyes, her black hair flowing to her back where feathers molt. On his opposing rib there’s an inscription that tells a story.

  Unable to control myself, I get to my feet and walk towards him. Quivering slightly, I reach out and touch him, running my fingers along the cursive tattoo, feeling him shudder under my hand, but he doesn’t budge.

  “Nigredo caped terra et possederunt corpora mortale,” I read the tattoo aloud, baffled on how I even know the language. “Ignis acquiritur super agros et fames possederunt maria. Mors vincit iram et Angelos morte. Erat, sed omne sacrificium unum contrarium. Morte puellae umero uno utrisque coniunctum esset electio salvificem mundum. Sed non facile ad pugnam.”

  “You’re making me nervous, Ember,” he says and my eyes rise from his stomach to his face, which is equally as beautiful.

  “Sorry,” I apologize with little sincerity. “I couldn’t resist.”

  He sucks in a sharp breath and then releases it, wisps of his hair fluttering away from his face. “It feels so good to hear you speak our language.”

  “But how can I?” I whisper. “I don’t even understand what I just said.”

  He gives me a lopsided smile. “It’s the Angel blood inside you.” He pauses, his eyes locked on me as his muscles start to tighten like a rope winding and knotting. There’s a loud snap and then his back hunches over. Moments later, a tip of a wing peeks out from each side of his shoulders; pointed angles that are concealed by the softest black feathers. They continue to stretch and grow until a pair of wings span from his back across my bedroom, similar to the painting on my wall. They nearly take up the whole length, wall to wall, and are incredibly powerful as well as strikingly beautiful.

  I don’t speak as he straightens his back, standing to his full height while watching me, waiting for me to say something. I chew nervously on my lip, words connecting in my head, forming a description I’ve wanted to write for weeks; ever since the last time I saw him in the cemetery.

  Translucent beauty

  Feathers and perfection

  Standing before me

  So bold and bright

  Blinding

  Like the sun

  So striking

  Almost unreal

  “Ember.” The sound of Asher’s voice brings me back to reality.

  I blink away my thoughts that are still forming poetry and outstretch my hand to him. I trace my fingers up the front of his stomach, which flexes and sends heat soaring through my body. My hand pauses o
n his chest before traveling to his shoulders then around to his back. His focus is entirely on me, his gaze relentless, yet beneath it, there’s vulnerability. Asher looks human. And the look only amplifies as my fingers connect with the lower part of his wings where they rise out of his skin.

  “God, they’re so soft,” I whisper in awe, stroking the feathers with my fingers.

  He shudders as he lets out this soft moan, then his head lowers towards my neck. He buries his face into the crook of it and breathes in my skin. “God, that feels so good...”

  I press my lips together, fighting back the urge to moan with him as I continue to let my fingers explore the base of his wings, the feathers getting softer the higher I go. He gasps for air as his shoulders start to tremble and then suddenly his wings are folding up into his back as his head snaps up.

  “I can’t take it anymore,” he says as he grabs me and kiss me. Before I can react, we’re stumbling back onto the mattress, landing with a hard bounce.

  When he covers my body with his and conceals his mouth over mine, my nerves vanish and turn to eagerness. We kiss and feel each other for minutes, hours, I’m not even sure. Time seems to be nonexistent at the moment.

  Finally, we come up for air and he hugs me against his chest as I work to catch my breath.

  “I think I’m glad I got banished.” He sounds like he might mean it.

  I place a soft kiss on his chest. “I think I’m glad, too.”

  At the moment, I mean it. Because right now, I could live in the wonderful solitude we’ve just created. Just Asher and me and no one else. However I know when I wake up the next morning it just might be gone.

  We lie there for a while, in the silence, only it’s not as maddening as before. In fact, it’s sort of comfortable having him there with me. He makes everything else a little less terrifying. Eventually Asher starts to kiss me again, unable to keep his hands off me. I welcome his kiss. When he reaches the center of my back, however, and his skin brushes the spot of flesh between my shoulder blades, I jerk back from the tender pain.

  “What’s wrong?” Asher asks in concern.

  I bend my arm and reach over my back, wincing the moment my fingers touch the area and the pain doubles. “My back hurts,” I say, bringing my arm forward. “It’s probably from falling on the ground like a dumbass when Raven was here.”

  Asher’s brows furrow. “Can I see it?”

  I shrug and then roll over onto my stomach. “It’s not that big of a deal,” I try to tell him as he hesitantly lifts my shirt up so that my back is exposed. Seconds later, his fingers touch me, so soft against my back. My eyelids start to drift shut from his touch, but then shoot back open when touches the tender area.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yeah, it doesn’t hurt that bad.”

  He’s silent for a while as he continues to examine me. “You said you fell?”

  I nod again, my eyes shutting as his hands move away from the tender area and down my back, massaging my muscles. “Yeah, when I was being attacked.”

  “You have a couple of bruises,” he says softly. “But usually a human doesn’t bruise that quickly.”

  “It could be from something else…” I drift off as his fingers work to unwind the knots on my back.

  “Yeah, maybe,” he says, yet he seems unconvinced. “But still, they’re in the strangest place.”

  “Where…” I drift off as his hands reach the bottom of my back.

  It takes him a second to answer. “They’re about in the same area where Angel wings usually sprout.”

  My eyes snap open and I start to sit up, but he gently pushes me back down against the bed. “Relax, Ember. I didn’t say you were growing wings, only that the bruises are in the same area.” I start to relax again as he continues to massage me. “They might simply be bruises.”

  “What if they’re not, though?” I ask. “What if I am growing wings?”

  His fingers stop moving. “Then it might mean that you’re the last Grim Angel standing,” he whispers. I feel the tension in the air and start to panic, so he quickly adds, “It hasn’t happened yet, though.” He returns to massaging my back again. I think it’s his way of trying to keep me calm. “Just relax,” he says, his hands moving up and around the sore spots to my shoulders. “I promise we’ll figure stuff out.” I feel him lean in and his lips brush just above the sore spot, right between my shoulder blades. “I promise I’ll take care of you.”

  I nod, the tension leaving my body with every movement of his hands. There’s so much tension in my body, but he seems to be drawing it out, alleviating the pain as he moves up and down my back.

  “You have amazing hands,” I mutter with my eyes remaining shut as my mind drifts off towards sleep.

  “I’m glad you think so,” he replies with a hint of amusement in his tone. He keeps rubbing my back until I’m half asleep and completely relaxed. Something I haven’t felt in a very, very long time.

  Chapter 11

  Later that night, somewhere between midnight and sun rise, Asher and I lie together in my bed. I want to go to sleep, yet at the same time, I don’t because I’m afraid that the moment I close my eyes all of this will be gone. Knowing that when I wake up, I could very easily be in bed alone, with nothing except death around me.

  “What’s it like?” I ask as Asher situates his head on the pillow beside me, lying on his side with his hair hanging in his eyes and his legs pressed against mine.

  He brushes my hair out of my eyes and then places his hand on the curve of my waist. “What’s what like?”

  “Heaven? Or wherever it is Angel’s live.”

  He frowns. “Right now, most of the Angels live on earth, at least ever since the battle. And the one’s that aren’t, live in a pretty peaceful place between worlds.” His fingers spread along my skin and he guides me closer to him. “But honestly when I’m not here I live in a place that the human mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend… a lot of angels choose to.”

  I slip my knee between his legs. “I don’t get what you mean.”

  “I know you don’t,” he says. “The best way I can describe it to you is that it’s not really a place; it’s more a state of mind where we can create a place just how we want and put whoever we want there.”

  “It doesn’t sound that bad.” I delicately put a hand on his chest right above his thudding heart.

  “It isn’t that bad. And when this is all over—when the battle ends and I’m forgiven for what I’ve done—I’ll go back to it.”

  I try to hide my discontent the best that I can. “And what will happen to me? If I survive?”

  “You will survive,” he insists, intensity burning in his eyes as his hand slides up my spine to the nape of my neck. “And when the battle’s all over, you’ll go back to being Ember and living your life just the way that you’re supposed to.”

  “But the rest of the Grim Angels that gave in won’t?”

  “Unfortunately no, but they will go to the good side, because I know that’s the side you’re going to choose.”

  He has so confident in me, but I wonder if he still would be if he lived inside my head and saw my thoughts.

  “But what if I become the last one?” I ask. “What happens when there’s only one Grim Angel standing? Do they just make a choice and then poof, the battles over?”

  “No, it’s not that simple at all. In fact, I don’t even know everything that will happen, only a few details,” he replies with a pucker at his brow. “But regardless, after you make your choice, your blood will be free of angel and reaper blood.” He pivots on his hip and rolls over me, covering my body with his and propping up on his elbows. “And so will you.”

  “But then I won’t ever see you again, right? I mean, if you go back to wherever it is that Angels go, you’ll be there and I’ll be here. Alone.”

  “You’ll never be alone. Even when I’m not here, you’ll still have your family.”

  It’s hard to accep
t the fact that he’s not going to tell me what I want to hear. That he won’t be here after the battle ends. I wonder if it’s because he won’t be able to be here; if he’ll have to go back along with all the other Angels of Death and the Grim Reapers.

  “My family’s not that great,” I say miserably.