Page 11 of Light

Dina had convinced him to go in, saying Sanura would be easier to trap if one of them were already in the home. The other would guard from the outside. It was a bit of trickery, he knew, but he’d agreed, some part of him unable to say no.

When he’d touched her, his soul had leapt as if the universe had ground to a screeching halt. In his arms, encased in the most exquisite package, he’d held the missing half of his soul.

Now, he was overwhelmed with the urge to possess her. To protect her, even if she had stabbed him.

He sat, faintly aware of the way sitting on his wings always made him feel trapped. But it was a minor annoyance when her soul pulsed in time with his own, seeming to glow in her chest, and her pink lips slid apart, short panting breaths puffing between them as she watched him.

She sat in the chair across from him. Stood. “I’m sorry. Tea. How do you take it?”

Tea? She was asking about tea when thousands of years of suffering could be put right at long last?

“Tea?” he asked.

“Yes. Sugar?” She left the room; the pull at his chest was akin to stretching skin further than it wanted to go.

She stopped in the hall, rubbing her chest. “I… I’m quite unwell, actually,” she called.

He stood, an irrational edge of panic riding his steps as he moved to her. He stopped beside her, and his soul calmed.

She leaned into the wall, looking up to meet his eyes. They were unfocused and coupled with her racing heart, he could only surmise she was in shock. Could he blame her?

“It’s the strangest thing, but I am much recovered.”

He nodded and held out a hand, his soul begging to be reunited by their touch once more.

She took it and gasped. “What was that?” She flinched away from him, pulling her hand free from his.

“It's the bond,” he said, wondering again why he was talking to her as if she would understand any of what he was saying. But the words continued pouring from his mouth whenever she asked him about their connection.

Tentatively, she held a hand out again, pressing it to his cheek.

Every nerve in his body flared to life at her touch, his whole being straining to be closer. It was absurd. He didn’t even know her name.

“Adalaide,” she breathed.

So she could hear his thoughts as he could hers. Fascinating.

“Adalaide.” He tested the name, tasting its sweetness on his tongue. Adalaide and Gabriel.

She smiled, her hand warm against his cheek as she let it rest there. “Gabriel. I like it.”

He started back, breaking their touch. She was distracting him from his mission.

“There is a creature—a witch—who wants to kill you. I’ve come to keep you safe.”

Adalaide dropped her hand to her side. “The woman from last night.” She didn’t say it as a question, and this new bond had her thoughts overriding her words in his mind. What is he? What am I? Soulmates? Can that be true?

She was far more concerned with him than the witch who was undoubtedly on her way to kill her. That was dangerous.

“You’ve warded the outside, but we should do more inside to keep you safe.” Gabriel pushed off the wall, went back to the foyer, and spread his arms.

Such broad shoulders.

His mouth inched up at the corners, but he shook the thought away. She was destined to want him, to want to be near him. It was his soul longing to be reunited, nothing more.

He let out a long breath as he spread his fingers wide, casting a shield over the entry space. Finding minuscule bits of dust and debris, he wove them into the corners of the air shield, knitting them between splinters and frayed edges of wood along the floor to hold the shield in place, then did the same along the ceiling, stretching it tight.

He went to the back of her house, doing the same across the back door and windows, before moving to the second and third floors, securing each of the windows in a similar fashion. When every entry point was secure, he returned to the sitting room, finding Adalaide seated, scribbling furiously in her journal. The knife had found its way downstairs, he noticed.

---