Page 98 of Touched By Death

The sun beaming on my face.

The feather-soft touch of her fingers on my cheek while we lay on the soft grass.

The feel of the rough bark beneath my fingers as I climbed the tree to peer over the gate.

My hair, flying behind me when we ran across grassy hills amidst colorful flowers and butterflies.

“You’re my best friend, Aurelia. I’ll always have your back.”

The shackles slide from my skin, and my thoughts shatter like shards of exploding glass.

Stumbling away from the wall, I stare wide-eyed at the chains where they hang from their hooks. I bring my hands up in front of my face. Bracelets of blood decorate each wrist, trails of red racing toward my elbows.

I curl my fingers around my throat, remembering how the chain dug into the skin. I’m free.

I’m fucking free.

Before I can give it any further thought, a door slams somewhere in the distance.

“Shit…” Exiting the cellar, I let the shadows hide my naked form. I need to find Amenadiel.

Daemon won’t let me go to see him, so I’ll have no choice but to sneak out.

I need answers. I need him to teach me how to control my powers before Genesis returns.

With those thoughts in mind, I set off toward the exit.

Chapter Thirty-Four

AURELIA

“Hey,” I breathe when the door creaks open, strings of hair shielding my face.

Amenadiel’s eyes fall down my naked, ruined body before skating past me toward the thick tree line behind me. Without a word, he steps aside and lets me enter the house. I’m ashamed to admit that relief floods me at the familiar scent of him that’s thick in the air. The door clicks shut, and the flames on the walls grow taller as he walks past. His shoulder brushes mine, causing my skin to break out in goosebumps. Dressed in a charcoal suit, his tie hanging loose around his neck, he looks tired, as though he’s spent endless nights awake. “It goes without saying that you shouldn’t be out by yourself when there’s a crazed stalker on the loose, yet here you are. Naked.” His teeth grind and then he says with a tired sigh, “I’ll be in the office. Grab yourself a shower.”

The tips of my ears heat at the reminder of what Daemon, Alaric, and Ronan did. I’m marked with their scent. It thickens the air, but Amenadiel never mentions it. Though I know he can smell it.

“Amenadiel,” I whisper, arms crossed over my chest. Unsure why I feel so nervous, I wet my lips and chance a look at him, where he stands near the door to his office. “Thank you…”

When he stays silent, watching me with those dark eyes that are so like Dmitriy’s and Daemon’s but also not, I rush out, “For not turning me away.”

A muscle works in his jaw. He wants to say more. Instead, with a small nod of his head, he enters his office.

I stare at the empty spot outside the door for a long moment, my heart thudding heavily inside my chest. He’s okay. The unease inside me that’s lingered since I woke up in Daemon’s cellar has beads of sweat forming on the back of my neck. I can’t shake the strange feeling.

After making my way upstairs to the bedroom, I move through a shower and let my hair dry in front of the lit fireplace in the bedroom. The flames flicker tall, warming my cheeks as I sit naked with my arms banded around my legs and my chin propped on my knees. Why is it that I feel so safe here? That a small part of me missed Amenadiel? Why do I feel so torn? And why do I feel like something bad is about to happen to the people I love?

My eyes blur the longer I stare at the flames. Has Daemon noticed that I’m gone yet? Does he know I’m here? Does he suspect it?

With a soft sigh, I rise to my feet and decide it’s time to talk to Amenadiel about my powers. He’ll know what to do.

I get dressed in a black dress with lace detailing at the chest and a pair of heels that are too tall for my liking.

I’m wobbling down the steps when my gaze lands on his open office door. My heart does a weird flip, and I grip the railing. Why am I nervous? Why do I feel this weird mixture of emotions inside me?

When I knock softly on the doorframe, Amenadiel looks up from the paperwork in front of him. He’s hung his suit jacket on the back of the chair and rolled up his sleeves to reveal his corded forearms. His eyes slide up my legs, stomach, and chest. When they finally reach my face, I’m holding my breath.

“What brought you here, angel?” he asks, relaxing back into his chair, a pen between his fingers.

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