Page 69 of Wings of Destiny

No tension. None from him anyway.

Reel it in, Snow. No jumping the guy's bones.

Libby threw an empty jell-o shot cup at me, dragging me out of my runaway thoughts. I yelped.

Libby snickered. “Now the real fun’s started, why don’t you take another spin, Erin?” She rolled the vodka bottle over to me. I spun again, this time landing on no-man’s land. We all took a round of shots. The night continued on until we passed out. Libby and Derik were the first; Seth not long after.

As I sat there, pondering and regretting the night before, it hit me.

Even with all the liquor that had coursed through my system, I didn’t remember falling asleep.

Chapter twenty-two

Erin

I shook the thought from my mind as I stood, being careful to not disturb Seth. I stretched, working out the kinks in my joints; my back ached from the hardwood floor. I quietly padded across the living room and down the hallway to the guest room, softly pushing the door open. I stepped inside, holding my breath as I clicked the door shut.

I scanned the room. Clothes, presumably Derik and Libby’s, were strewn around the floor and on top of the birch wood dresser Seth kept in the room. I tossed my hair into a poor excuse of a messy bun and began picking up different shirts, skirts, pants; folding and separating them into their own piles. The clothes that looked like Libby’s I sat on the bed, and Derik’s I placed on top of the dresser, organizing them by type of clothing. Once their clothes were neatly folded and arranged, I picked through my own pile, grabbing out some joggers and a baggy T-shirt before going to town organizing mine as well.

Once it all was put away, I clapped my hands together. Satisfied with my temporary room and deemed it livable. I threwon a pair of running shoes and a hoodie then quietly made my way back out to the main area. Libby and Derik were still in the same spot asleep. Seth had rolled onto his back, mouth hanging open, snoring loudly, surprisingly not waking the others

What a dork.

I snickered as I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and headed out the front door, locking it behind me. I twisted the cap off and gulped down half of the bottle, then stuck my keys and cellphone in the zipper pocket of my joggers, galloped down the steps, and started on a run. The upside of not getting hungover, I could go for a run first thing in the morning.

Point: me.

I ran the opposite direction of town, keeping a steady pace. Sweat beaded on my forehead and neck, loose hair stuck to my skin. Birds chirped, leaves rustled, and a light mist cloaked the sidewalk. I inhaled the morning air, a calmness settled over me.

Perfect.

A truly perfect way to shake off another nightmare.

Trees grew closer together and the sidewalk widened as I neared one of the larger parks that bordered the woods on the outskirts of town. I slowed to a walk, taking it all in. Maple trees lined the walkway, various shades of reds, yellows, and oranges painted on their leaves. Fresh dew rested atop the recently trimmed grass. Little sprouts of wildflowers slowly danced in the morning breeze. It was peaceful, quiet.

I stopped at a bench half a mile into the park. I sat down, pulled my knees to my chest, and stretched the fabric of my hoodie over them; folding my arms over the top of my hoodie. I rested my chin on them, closed my eyes, and breathed in the world around me.

I needed this.

It could’ve been mere minutes but felt like an eternity—in the best way possible. Being out in nature always had that effect on me. It centered me.

My mind drifted to the past few weeks. I allowed myself to feel all the emotions: the draining stress, lack of sleep, Seth dropping the ‘I’m this supernatural being called a Nephilim’ thing on me; Demons, Angels, and that my life—at least part of it—had been a lie.

Nothing will ever be the same.

Everything I had worked so hard for…taken from me.

And now…all I can do…is control the controllable.

This isn’t how things were supposed to go.

I had a rough childhood. That was supposed to stop.

I’m an adult now. Things are supposed to be easier. Better.

Less life-threatening.

Less surviving and more thriving. Or at least managing.

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