Page 31 of Her Fallen Angel

"But when he touches me, I burn. When he claims me, I crave more." Her voice breaks. "Is this a test? Or am I truly becoming what he wants? Help me understand why I yearn for his possession even as I fight to keep my spirit."

The raw honesty in her prayer claws at something inside me. My wings snap tight against my back as unfamiliar emotions surge through my chest. This isn't how it's supposed to be. I should want to crush that remaining spark of defiance, not protect it. Should want to break her completely, not...this.

"I feel his darkness calling to my light," she whispers. "And gods help me, I want to answer."

My breath catches. The moonlight paints silver streaks in her hair as she bows her head, shoulders trembling. For the first time in centuries, I feel something crack in my carefully constructed walls.

The worst part is I understand her confusion. Every time she kneels before me in prayer, every time she meets my eyes with that mix of submission and quiet strength, something shifts in my chest.

Something dangerous.

Something that makes me want to possess her - not break her - body and soul.

16

ARENWEN

Ikneel in the small courtyard, morning dew soaking through my dress. The stone beneath my knees holds the lingering chill of night. My hands press together, fingers interlaced as I try to focus on my daily prayers. The words that usually flow so naturally catch in my throat.

A breeze rustles the leaves overhead. My thoughts drift to Kai's hands - strong, calloused from wielding weapons, yet so deliberate in their touch. I shake my head, attempting to clear the distraction.

"God of light, grant me clarity..." But clarity eludes me.

Instead, I recall the intensity in those violet eyes when they lock onto mine, the way they glow with otherworldly power. The memory sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the morning air.

These prayers have always been my lifeline. They should center me, ground me in my faith.

Instead, my mind rebels, replaying moments I should not dwell on - the press of Kai's fingers against my throat, firm enough to remind me of my place but never cruel. The brushof his wings, ash-gray feathers soft despite their battle-scarred edges.

The bruises on my body from the way he uses me for pleasure and pain - something that I enjoy far more than I should. Even now, I feel the phantom touch of his lips on my skin, marking me as his in ways that go beyond mere possession.

The prayers slip away like water through cupped hands. I open my eyes, staring at the weathered stones of the courtyard. My breath comes quick and shallow. This is wrong. I should focus on my devotions, on maintaining my connection to the divine that has sustained me through my captivity.

But Kai has become an ever-present shadow in my mind, impossible to banish. His commanding presence follows me even here, in what should be my private communion with the gods. I touch my throat where his hand so often rests, feeling my pulse race beneath my fingertips.

The morning sun climbs higher, warming my skin, but I remain lost in thoughts of violet eyes and ash-gray wings.

Movement catches my eye as I finally rise from my prayers. In the training yard beyond the courtyard's stone wall, Kai flows through combat forms. His wings stretch wide, catching the morning light on battle-scarred feathers. Each precise strike of his practice blade cuts the air with deadly purpose.

My feet carry me closer without conscious thought. I press against the wall, transfixed by the lethal dance before me. Sweat gleams on his bare chest, highlighting old scars that map the history of countless battles. His long black hair, usually bound back, has come partially loose to whip around his face as he spins.

The air crackles with magic. Violet light trails from his blade, leaving ghostly afterimages that linger in my vision. His eyes glow with that same otherworldly power, focused on invisible opponents as he dispatches them one by one. Each movementflows into the next - a thrust becomes a parry becomes a killing strike.

My breath catches as he launches himself skyward. His wings snap out, sixteen feet of raw power, lifting him effortlessly. He dives, blade leading, to strike the training dummy below. The impact splinters wood, sending fragments scattering across the yard.

This is how he fights. How he commands and controls. This terrible beauty, this perfect marriage of grace and destruction. I should hate him for it. Instead, I find myself drawn forward another step, unable to look away as he lands in a crouch, magic still sparking around him.

His muscles bunch and flex as he straightens, rolling his shoulders in a way that makes his wings ripple. The predatory grace in every movement reminds me that for all his civilized veneer, he is a warrior first. A conqueror. Someone who took my world apart with these same deadly efficient movements.

Power radiates from him like heat from a forge. Even across the yard, I feel it prickling against my skin. This is what my ancestor's people faced - this devastating combination of strength and skill and magic. No wonder they fell.

He sees me, and to my surprise, he stops what he's doing. I expect him to prowl to me, to bark an order or intimidate me. Instead, he closes the distance but doesn't touch me.

"I am going into the city." He says it so measuredly that I almost think he's nervous. "Would you like to join me?"

I try to suppress my grin. But it is rare that Kai extends an invitation like this. I know he wants me. And I find myself craving him. But moments like these…

I feel a little giddy at the offering.

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