Page 6 of Sire
“I won’t hurt you. I’m taking both of you to a woman who protects girls in your situation.”
“Come on.” The Iron Angel urges the youngest one to climb in. “It’ll be okay. We’re safe now.”
I don’t know where this angel gets her conviction, but she follows it. Holding the girl in the back seat like a sister, she protects her again, while glaring at me through the rear-view mirror. “Who are you?”
I smirk. It’s fitting. Fated. “A fallen angel.”
“Don’t bullshit me. Who are you, and where are you taking us?”
Fuck it. I don’t hide this part of me.
My mom has a safe place for these girls. She’ll get them all the resources they need, and I’ll go back to my cursed soul.
“I’m a pastor at a church that helps trafficking victims like you. I’m taking you to a woman who spends all her money helping girls and women get safe.”
Her glare in the mirror’s reflection confronts my soul.Huh.Only my brothers are brave enough to look at me that way. “You can trust her.”
Her eyes narrow. “Can I trust you?”
“No.” I don’t lie.
“Why not?”
“You have stigmata tattoos. You know what a fallen angel is.”
“An angel who rebelled against God, and was cast out of heaven, and now waits in darkness until judgment day.”
I wink. “Nice to meet ya.”
She gets the idea, and I take the next interstate exit, my heavy heart already lighter after that confession.
“What did you do?” Damn, she’s brave. “What’s your sin?”
I glance in the mirror again. The youngest girl looks asleep. Or passed out in shock.Fuck, I need to get her to my mom.
“Tell me,” the Iron Angel insists. “You gave a pound of flesh for me, and I want to know.”
Fine.
I’ll never see her again.
And I need to confess my sins.
“I lay with men. I lay with women. I have some very dark needs when I do, and while I help everyone else, I don’t help myself. I sold my brother to the Devil, and I’ll be paying for it for the rest of my life.” I pause. “Amen.”
She studies me, her topaz eyes never breaking their glare in the mirror, her breath stealing all the oxygen in the car. It’s like we’re in the presence of something powerful, but I don’t know its name as a heavy minute claims the space between us.
“My name is Wren.”
“It’snotnice to meet me, Wren.”
“What’s your name?”
“It’s best you don’t know.”
This is me, protecting her. That’s half of my DNA. The other half? It’s wired for destruction. I could rip her to shreds.
So why do I sense she’s doing the same for me? Like she was brought here to protect me, too? How can a creature so small make the molecules around me feel so …so right?
