Page 37 of Her Fallen Angel

"I'll need to clean this." She retrieves supplies from a nearby cabinet, one I specifically stocked for these moments. Her hands work with practiced efficiency, yet there's a tenderness that sets my teeth on edge. No one has ever touched me this way - like I'm something precious rather than feared.

I'm not sure what to make of it.

Blood and dirt give way to clean skin under her ministrations. My wings twitch with each brush of her fingers, and I force them still. But I can't stop watching her face - the way she bites her lower lip in concentration, how her eyes narrow when she finds a particularly deep section of the wound.

"You don't have to do this, little flame." The words come out rougher than intended.

She meets my gaze, unwavering. "I know."

That simple response undoes something in my chest. I find myself leaning into her touch, allowing myself this moment of weakness. Just this once.

"Where did you get this?" Her fingers trace the edges of the wound and over a scar, and memories I've kept buried surge forward. The gentle pressure of her touch draws out words I've never spoken aloud.

"I was twelve when I made my first kill." My voice comes out low, rough. "Not in battle. Not even in training."

Aren's hands still for a moment, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she reaches for a clean cloth, dabbing at the dried blood with careful precision.

"My father was a wealthy merchant in the eastern district. Expected me to follow in his footsteps, counting coins and negotiating trades." I flex my wings, the memory making my muscles tense. "But I had other talents. Magic that burned too hot, too violent for a life behind a desk."

She works in silence, but I feel her attention on me like a physical weight. The warmth of her fingers grounds me as I continue.

"There was an attempted robbery at our estate. Three broke in, thinking to steal from the merchant's coffers." A bitter laugh escapes me. "I caught them in the vault, and one was good at throwing knives. Caught me before I could react. And then the magic just... exploded out of me. Burned them alive where they stood. The screams..." I clench my jaw. "I can still hear them sometimes."

Aren applies a healing salve, her touch impossibly gentle. "What happened then?"

"My father didn't like I was more powerful than him. Said I was too dangerous, too unstable." My wings curl forward instinctively, creating shadows around us. "He…cast me out." I shrug. "I think I'm better suited for it anyway."

"There's nothing wrong with being true to yourself," she murmurs, securing a bandage across my ribs.

"I choose power." I don't want her to mistake me as someone with noble intentions or who is just misunderstood. "Enrolled in military training the next day. Learned to channel the violence, to make it useful. Became what they needed me to be - someone who could break spirits without hesitation."

Her fingers linger on the bandage, and I realize I'm leaning into her touch like some desperate creature seeking comfort. I'venever told anyone this story. Never wanted to. But here in the shadows of my home, with her hands on my skin, the words spilled out like blood from a wound.

"We all do what we have to to survive."

Her acceptance - her damned understanding - claws at something raw inside me. I shove her away, sending her stumbling back against the wall. Her hair fans out like spilled ink, those deep brown eyes watching me without fear.

"You think you understand?" My wings snap out, casting us both in shadow. "You're nothing but a slave. My property. Stop pretending this is anything else."

But she doesn't cower. Doesn't break. Just stands there with that infuriating serenity, like she sees straight through my rage to something I can't face.

"I'm whatever you need me to be, Kai." Her voice carries no bitterness, no hate. Just that same gentle acceptance that makes my magic surge hot beneath my skin.

"Need you?" I close the distance between us, bracing one hand against the wall beside her head. My other hand grips her chin, forcing her to look up at me. "I took you. Stripped away everything you were. And still you act like-"

Her pulse flutters beneath my fingers, rapid but steady. Like a trapped bird that's chosen to stay in its cage. The thought makes me bare my teeth.

"Like what?" she whispers.

Like she knows me. Like she sees past the monster I am to something worth saving. Like everything she does is more than just submission - but a gift freely given. To show me what it's like for someone to do something for me just because they want to.

I want to crush that light in her eyes. Want to prove how wrong she is about me. But more than that, I want... her. Want to possess not just her body but that unshakeable spirit that refuses to break no matter how hard I push.

The realization hits like a blade to the gut. I release her roughly, stepping back as my wings curl tight against my spine.

"Get out." The words come out in a growl.

She doesn't move. Just stands there, her skin flushed where I gripped her, watching me with those knowing eyes.

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