Page 89 of Touched By Sin
I pull my hand away from hers and grip the edge of the table as I lean in. “We don’t tell Daemon anything. Amenadiel won’t kill me.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do! If he kills me, he has no leverage over Lucifer and no way around the contract. He needs Daemon to break, and that way is through me. Let’s not tell Daemon anything until I figure a way out of this.”
Dariana’s eyes flash with uncertainty, but she backs down. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“We have two options right now.”
She stiffens, piercing me with her gaze. “I don’t like the look in your eyes.”
I ignore her comment. “I go willingly with Dmitriy, or I disappear.”
Leaning forward, her hand shoots out and circles my wrist. “No. Fuck, no!”
I’m so tired. Ever since I got here, I feel like I haven’t slept. “It’s not up to you, Dariana. I’m Daemon’s weakness, and you know it.”
“If you disappear, he’ll burn down the entire kingdom to find you!”
“And if I go willingly with Dmitriy?”
She lets go of my wrist before leaning back in her seat and folding her arms over her chest. Her unyielding eyes hold mine. “He might just lock you in a cell in his basement and never let you out.”
Her words make me shiver because I know she’s right. Daemon wouldn’t hesitate to take away my freedom. “Promise you won’t tell him?”
Her gaze burns into me, and for a long moment, I worry she won’t answer me. “I can’t promise you anything.”
My throat swells with emotion and I avert my gaze. Of course her loyalty lies with Daemon—I expect nothing less—but I’m trying to protect him. Why can’t she see that? “Dariana… I care about Daemon. I wouldn’t do this otherwise. I’m just a girl; there’s nothing unique or interesting about me.” I shrug, my eyes brimming with tears. “He’ll find someone else. I’m not special enough to be the catalyst for war in Hell. I don’t want to be the reason for Lucifer’s fall.”
Rising to her feet, she leans over with her hands on the desk. Shadows dance across her face from the flame inside the lanterns. “You’re not home anymore, Angel. We don’t do what’s good orrighthere. We take what we want. Stop trying to be the fucking hero. You’re dangling the light inside you—that spark of goodness—like a worm on a hook. Sooner or later, the fish will bite.”
I rise to my feet too, when she turns to leave, throwing my arms out. “What the fuck do you want me to do then? Nothing?”
She comes to a halt and looks over her shoulder. “I don’t know, Angel. Maybe you should fight for us, too? You accused Daemon of running away. Who’s doing the running now? Who’s letting the enemy win?” She turns fully. “Daemon isn’t the only one who cares about you.” The stoic quiver in her voice squeezes my heart like a vice. “You must clearly care so little about us if you can just walk away.”
She leaves, and the tears in my eyes finally spill over, trailing a hot path down my cheeks. I wipe them off, but more fall. How fucking difficult is it to make her see that I’m not running away? I want to stay. I want it more than anything. At first, I wished so desperately to return home and be let back into paradise. But now…
I leave the way I came, keeping my head low so the other students don’t see me cry. The hallways are empty except for a handful of boys standing by the lockers. Everyone else is either in the cafeteria or outside. By the time I reach Mr. Kozlov’s classroom, my tears have dried. I raise my hand and knock on his door three times.
“Come in.”
No one pays attention to me as I enter the classroom. The teacher sits behind his desk, grading papers. At the sound of my heels clicking on the floor, he looks up and straightens in his chair. “Aurelia, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
I’m unsure how to broach the subject with him, and my nails dig into my palms to give me something to focus on. “Remember when we did the guided meditation class?”
He regards me before gesturing to the chair across from him. “Have a seat.”
Lowering myself down, I place my hands in my lap. He’s halfway through the stack of papers on his desk and one of the sheets has fallen to the ground. Leaning down, I pick it up and hand it to him.
“Thank you. What about the meditation class?”
“I have dreams.”
He pauses in his mission to straighten the stack of papers on his desk. “Dreams?”
Chewing on my bottom lip, I nod. I’m unsure how much to share, but if I want answers, I have to open up sooner or later. “There’s a door in my dream.”
“A door?”
