Page 12 of Light

He hadn’t felt her leave; unlike the first time, when she had left to get tea, the bond seemed to accept they weren’t parting from one another as he worked his way through the house.

Or perhaps she had already rejected him. Just the thought of her rejection sent a jolt of fear through him. It would be harder than he anticipated to leave when they’d finally rid the Earth of Sanura. Perhaps if she were finally gone, he wouldn’t need to…

He cut the thought short, burying it deep. Thoughts like those were the sort that fed hope. Hope was a thing he had no use for. A stabbing pain shot through him, reminiscent of the day his soul had been wrenched in two. He dropped to his knees, gasping.

Adalaide looked up and shot to her feet, coming to his side. “Are you well?”

Her nearness soothed some of the ache tearing through him. “Tea,” he wheezed.

She left quickly, and every step she took sent another stabbing pain through him. The bond recognized what he was doing. What was he doing? It was hard to think around the ache.

Then, she was back, holding a cup out to him. The pain receded, and when his fingers brushed hers, cool relief swept through him. He took a shaky breath, got slowly to his feet, and set the cup on a hall table.

“I have questions, Mr…,” Adalaide said, pressing a hand to her hip.

He winced at the tone in her voice and at the slew of questions darting through her mind. She had a lot of them. "Seraphim do not have last names."

"Very well, I shall call you Gabriel if it's acceptable."

She watched him expectantly, tapping her foot. He was half a foot taller, but she managed to peer down her nose at him and damn if he didn’t like it. Sitting, he shrugged his shoulders, attempting to shake off the tightness where his wingblades bent at odd angles.

“Gabriel, I wish you wouldn’t sit on your wings. It’s as unbearable for me as it is for you.”

He started at that, releasing his hold on his illusion and freeing his wings to rest over the back of the couch. He let out the smallest sigh, stretching wing muscles behind his back.

Adalaide’s mouth tightened, but it wasn’t fear pinching those pink lips. “Now, I’ve made some notes on how you use your magic, and it’s quite different from the way I use mine, but I believe we are working with the same tools. If that’s incorrect, please stop me.” She arched a brow at him, but when he said nothing, she went on. “You said we’re tethered to one another.” She stumbled over the word tethered as if she weren’t sure if the word fit.

In her mind, the words connected, soulmates, soul bonded ran across her consciousness, but she said none of them. She raised her brow further, but he hadn’t heard a question, so he said nothing, rubbing absently at his chest and the phantom pain lingering there.

“There’s a woman who seems to fear you. You recognized her. It seems I’ve unwittingly stumbled into some feud between your two kinds.”

How the hell had she put that together so quickly?

Her lips quirked up at the corners. “Right. So you’re here to protect me from her because of this tether?” She said tether again as if she still wasn’t sure it was the word she wanted to use. “I can only conclude that whatever you are, I am as well.”

“No.”

She waited, but when he said no more, she said, “Am I not warranted an explanation?”

The space in his chest that longed to be made whole pulsed again, and she looked down, letting him know she felt it, too.

“We aren’t the same, but we share one soul.”

Adalaide scrunched her nose up, making a face. “You’ve said as much. How can we share one soul if we’re not the same sort of creature?”

“You have seraph blood, but you’re human too.”

“Seraph? Angel blood? You’re an angel?”

He nodded.

“I’m part angel?” Her tone was incredulous.

Why did he preen over the fact that her incredulity was at her own lineage and not his? He’d never questioned who or what he was; why should she? And why should he care if she did? Why did anything this woman thought matter to him? A dull ache started in his chest again. A reminder that his soul did care.

Her racing thoughts were stumbling over so many possibilities he was having trouble keeping up. It was his first glimpse into the mind of a human. Were they all this erratic and scattered?

“And the creature who wants me dead, is she a demon?”

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