Cinder (15 page)

He shakes his head, giving me back the phone. “He’s not in Hollows Grove.

“How can that be possible?” I ask, tossing the phone on my nightstand. “When I just saw him earlier today?”

Again, Asher shakes his head. “He said he had to run up to Jackson to get something for his class.”

“His possessed class?” I’m completely baffled. “And he left me a message to call him when I didn’t call him. It makes no sense.”

“Yeah, something’s definitely up, but there’s not anything I can do about it until he gets back in town unfortunately, which won’t be until tomorrow,” he says, glancing back at his back for some reason. “I’ll figure it out though, what’s going on. I’ll figure all this stuff out. I promise.” His gaze collides with mine and emotions storm through me. “What I want right now though is a little bit of time with you while we wait.” His gaze drops to my lips and desire radiates in his eyes. “All that matters right now is that I’m here with you.”

He’s wrong. There’s so much more that matters than just being with me. “I’m worried, Asher. About you. Me. My family. This whole entire town. I mean, so many people are possessed and there’s so many Anamotti around… and they’re leader is killing people... and that book could stop it all, if the pages hadn’t been erased by your uncle.”

“You need to stop worrying about stuff so much.” He tucks his finger underneath my chin and tips my head back to look me in the eyes. “I know it’s hard, but it’ll only make it easier for the Anamotti to get to you. Let me worry for you. Let me take care of this for you.”

He makes it sound so easy, but it’s not. It’s hard, walking around, being the target of insanity, being so connected to death, knowing what lies ahead for everyone, knowing that a murderer is walking around and there’s nothing I can do about it, at least not without that book. “Maybe going crazy is the better solution than constantly fighting it.” I could blame what I say on Cameron taking control of my mind again, but I know that’s not the case. I know that part of me means it. That maybe, if I just gave in, my family could be free from the burden I’ve put on them. Hell, maybe this whole town could be free from the possession. “Maybe I should just give in like my brother, and then, perhaps someone else could become the last Grim Angel—could free the entire town. I think I could live with banging my head against the wall.”

Asher appears hurt. “Ember, you don’t mean that.”

“But I think I do. I mean, look at my father,” I say. “He’s gone; either dead, or lost, or locked up somewhere because of this. I honestly have no idea what happened to him, but I’m sure it was something terrible. And I remember the final days I had with him.” I slip out from under his touch and get to my feet. I start pacing the floor, needing to move because sitting still seems so maddening. “How insane he acted. Talking to birds. Flipping out over the smallest things.” I shake my head at the dark memories. “And then there’s my brother, who might have had something to do with his girlfriend’s death a few years ago, who never showed any signs of being a Grim Angel, yet he gave in so easily to the Reaper side.” I want to cry, but my eyes have run dry. “I don’t want to become like them, yet I feel like I am.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Asher promises, standing up and moving in front of me, obstructing my path. “I promise, I won’t let you go crazy or vanish.”

I stop in front of him, but don’t respond. I can’t let myself believe that’s how things will be. My father always told me to trust no one, and at the moment, I have to look at things like that. Always. Everything could be a trick of the eye. There are still so many unanswered questions, and until I figure out what’s going on, trusting someone else to protect me is not an option.

I’m about to ask Asher another question that’s tickling the tip of my tongue, however the look on his face silences me. He looks intense, like he wants to kiss me. I’m very aware of how much I crave the kiss of his lips. God, the desolation I’ve been living in has been torture. And I don’t want to be tortured, if only for a moment.

“You can trust me, Ember.” He steps for me and I step for him, like two magnets unable to fight against the invisible pull between them. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

I nod, my eyes bound to his as I take another step towards him, magnetized, or maybe under some sort of possession. If that’s the case, I’m not going to fight it. He follows my move and gradually we reduce the space between us, slowly at first, and then somewhere in the midst of our silence, we decide to move rapidly. A second later our lips collide.

I gasp, my lips willingly parting as his tongue slips into my mouth and his fingers ravel in my hair. He tastes like warmth and comfort. I melt at the touch and the heat of his skin intensely consumes me. I clutch onto his shoulders and our bodies align. He steals the air from my lungs as his hand winds around my back.

God how I’ve missed the contact
.

I remember all those years I lived without it before. It was only because I’d never had it before that I was able to live my life normally. After being with Asher, after he’d felt every inch of me, things changed. I changed.

 “God… I’ve missed the touch of your lips…” he whispers against my mouth as he starts to back us towards the bed. Seconds later, we crash down onto the mattress. Then he briefly pulls away, his eyes glazed over as he stares up at me. “I’m not sure if I should be doing this… kissing you so freely…” He trails off, rawer than I’ve ever seen him.

“Why not?” I’m breathless as I hold onto him.

“I don’t know…” He assesses me with contemplation before he leans up and kisses me again. The kiss is quick, testing, and then he pulls away, nibbling on my lip before he lowers his head back to the mattress and stares up at me again, looking torn and lost; baffled.

Something clicks inside my head. Asher has always asked for permission to kiss me, but this time he didn’t. I’m not sure what that means, or if it means anything, but something feels off.

“Are you okay?” I ask, pushing up on my elbows to look down at him.

He nods, a little bit dazed and then he abruptly crashes his lips into mine so hard that I’m sure we’ll both have bruises. His fingers delve into me as grabs ahold of me and then flips us over so I’m on my back and he’s on top of me. We kiss until we become breathless. Until both of us our panting and gasping for air.

I slip my fingers underneath the fabric of his shirt, just a bit, letting my fingers graze the smoothness of his skin. I feel him shudder from my touch and it makes me smile.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispers against my mouth. “I’m supposed to follow all these rules, stay away from you, ask for permission before I do anything, but now… everything’s different.” He kisses me deeply again before pulling away and looking down at me. “Everything’s changed.” His hands wander over my body as he presses his lips to mine again. We kiss a little bit longer, my fingers running through his hair, but then he pulls away again. “I don’t know what to do with all this freedom, but I want to do whatever I want.”

“Then do whatever you want,” I whisper, confused, but just wanting him to keep kissing me again. He seems completely different from last time. So much more vulnerable and emotional. What’s different? I struggle to place it and words form inside my head like a puzzle as I try to figure it out.

A stone statue

Perfect and Flawless

Though beneath the structure

Cracks are hidden

Weakness shows

Vulnerability stems

So easily breakable

Like fine glass

Dropped onto the floor

Shattered

Into pieces

They broke him.

“Ember,” he says softly as I run my fingers up and down his back and across the nape of his neck. He tangles his fingers through my hair as he kiss a path from my lips to my jawline, trembling. I can’t shake the feeling that something’s up with him. He’s so much more out of control.

Finally, I force myself to move away and slide out from under him. “Asher?”

He tenses, momentarily unmoving, catching his breath before he looks at me. “Is something wrong?”

I search his eyes for an indication that something’s changed inside him. “I don’t know… Is there something wrong with you?”

His eyes widen and then he slides away, appearing lost as he lifts his hand up to rub his eyes. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything anymore.” His hand falls to his lap and his voice comes out as soft as a feather. “Do you remember when I said there were punishments for breaking the rules and that I was going to have to pay for getting involved with your life?” he asks and I nod, sitting up beside him. He reaches out and brushes the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip, shaking his head. “They—Michael—well, at first he just forced me to stay away from humans, but then I went into the shadows and he was more upset.” His voice is unsteady. “Everyone thinks I’m a traitor and Michael made… he made me…” He sucks in a sharp breath and the words spill out of him. “He made me human again, or at least, stripped me of my wings.”

My jaw drops. “Like your mother?”

I’m pretty sure Hell has frozen over or maybe it’s Heaven, since he’s an Angel. I’m not even sure how that works, though, if there’s a Heaven or Hell. From what Asher’s just shared with me about Angels of Death and his leader, I’m not sure Angels are quite as good as I thought.

Heaven and Hell

Reapers

Angels

Heavenly or Evil

Are they?

Aren’t they?

It takes me a second or two to find my voice again. “What does that mean exactly?” I gape at him, stunned. Shocked to the point that I feel sedated.

He swiftly shakes his head and sits up, grabbing onto me and sitting me with him. “It means that I’ve been banished like my mother and can no longer be with the Angels of Death. I’m still immortal, but I don’t have all of my Angel abilities such as my strength or the ability to fly.” He frowns as if he’s just realizing this.

I inspect him meticulously, running my fingers through the soft locks of his hair, taking in his eyes; they are the same slate grey, yet they look different somehow. “So you don’t have your wings?” I ask, placing my hands on his shoulders.

He reluctantly shakes head. “No, I have them, but they’ve stripped the power from them.”

“Can I—Can I see them?” I have no idea why I’m asking, other than I’m curious. I’ve seen them once in the graveyard and they were so beautiful that I couldn’t find words to describe them.

“You want to see my wings?” he asks, shocked and a little appalled.

With caution, I nod. “Unless it’s too weird.”

He’s silent, considering my request, and then he scoots to the edge of the bed and rises to his feet. He takes a few steps then turns in the middle of the room, glancing from side to side at the narrow space between the walls.

“I’m not sure if there’s enough room in here,” he utters quietly. “But I’ll try.”

I move to the edge of the bed and plant my feet on the floor as he starts to unbutton the plaid shirt he’s wearing; undoing each button unhurriedly. He’s definitely nervous, and so am I. I’m not even sure why, other than it makes everything feel that much more real. We can kiss and touch all we want, but as soon as he brings out his wings, all I’ll be able to think about are Angels and Reapers and how I’m a mix of both.

When he gets the last button undone, he sucks in a large breath, straightens his arms at his side, and the shirt falls off him and onto the floor. Lean muscles carve his stomach where his skin is as smooth as porcelain. On his one side, there is a tattoo of an angel with tears falling from her eyes, her black hair flowing to her back where feathers molt. On his opposing rib there’s an inscription that tells a story.

Unable to control myself, I get to my feet and walk towards him. Quivering slightly, I reach out and touch him, running my fingers along the cursive tattoo, feeling him shudder under my hand, but he doesn’t budge.

“Nigredo caped terra et possederunt corpora mortale,”
I read the tattoo aloud, baffled on how I even know the language.
“
Ignis acquiritur super agros et fames possederunt maria.
Mors vincit iram et Angelos morte. Erat, sed omne sacrificium unum contrarium.
Morte puellae umero uno utrisque coniunctum esset electio salvificem mundum.
Sed non facile ad pugnam
.”

“You’re making me nervous, Ember,” he says and my eyes rise from his stomach to his face, which is equally as beautiful.

“Sorry,” I apologize with little sincerity. “I couldn’t resist.”

He sucks in a sharp breath and then releases it, wisps of his hair fluttering away from his face. “It feels so good to hear you speak our language.”

“But how can I?” I whisper. “I don’t even understand what I just said.”

He gives me a lopsided smile. “It’s the Angel blood inside you.” He pauses, his eyes locked on me as his muscles start to tighten like a rope winding and knotting. There’s a loud snap and then his back hunches over. Moments later, a tip of a wing peeks out from each side of his shoulders; pointed angles that are concealed by the softest black feathers. They continue to stretch and grow until a pair of wings span from his back across my bedroom, similar to the painting on my wall. They nearly take up the whole length, wall to wall, and are incredibly powerful as well as strikingly beautiful.

I don’t speak as he straightens his back, standing to his full height while watching me, waiting for me to say something. I chew nervously on my lip, words connecting in my head, forming a description I’ve wanted to write for weeks; ever since the last time I saw him in the cemetery.

Translucent beauty

Feathers and perfection

Standing before me

So bold and bright

Blinding

Like the sun

So striking

Almost unreal

“Ember.” The sound of Asher’s voice brings me back to reality.

I blink away my thoughts that are still forming poetry and outstretch my hand to him. I trace my fingers up the front of his stomach, which flexes and sends heat soaring through my body. My hand pauses on his chest before traveling to his shoulders then around to his back. His focus is entirely on me, his gaze relentless, yet beneath it, there’s vulnerability. Asher looks human. And the look only amplifies as my fingers connect with the lower part of his wings where they rise out of his skin.

“God, they’re so soft,” I whisper in awe, stroking the feathers with my fingers.

He shudders as he lets out this soft moan, then his head lowers towards my neck. He buries his face into the crook of it and breathes in my skin. “God, that feels so good...”

I press my lips together, fighting back the urge to moan with him as I continue to let my fingers explore the base of his wings, the feathers getting softer the higher I go. He gasps for air as his shoulders start to tremble and then suddenly his wings are folding up into his back as his head snaps up.

“I can’t take it anymore,” he says as he grabs me and kiss me. Before I can react, we’re stumbling back onto the mattress, landing with a hard bounce.

When he covers my body with his and conceals his mouth over mine, my nerves vanish and turn to eagerness.  We kiss and feel each other for minutes, hours, I’m not even sure. Time seems to be nonexistent at the moment.

Finally, we come up for air and he hugs me against his chest as I work to catch my breath.

“I think I’m glad I got banished.” He sounds like he might mean it.

I place a soft kiss on his chest. “I think I’m glad, too.”

At the moment, I mean it. Because right now, I could live in the wonderful solitude we’ve just created. Just Asher and me and no one else. However I know when I wake up the next morning it just might be gone.

We lie there for a while, in the silence, only it’s not as maddening as before. In fact, it’s sort of comfortable having him there with me. He makes everything else a little less terrifying. Eventually Asher starts to kiss me again, unable to keep his hands off me. I welcome his kiss. When he reaches the center of my back, however, and his skin brushes the spot of flesh between my shoulder blades, I jerk back from the tender pain.

“What’s wrong?” Asher asks in concern.

I bend my arm and reach over my back, wincing the moment my fingers touch the area and the pain doubles. “My back hurts,” I say, bringing my arm forward. “It’s probably from falling on the ground like a dumbass when Raven was here.”

Asher’s brows furrow. “Can I see it?”

I shrug and then roll over onto my stomach. “It’s not that big of a deal,” I try to tell him as he hesitantly lifts my shirt up so that my back is exposed. Seconds later, his fingers touch me, so soft against my back. My eyelids start to drift shut from his touch, but then shoot back open when touches the tender area.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah, it doesn’t hurt that bad.”

He’s silent for a while as he continues to examine me. “You said you fell?”

I nod again, my eyes shutting as his hands move away from the tender area and down my back, massaging my muscles. “Yeah, when I was being attacked.”

“You have a couple of bruises,” he says softly. “But usually a human doesn’t bruise that quickly.”

“It could be from something else…” I drift off as his fingers work to unwind the knots on my back.

“Yeah, maybe,” he says, yet he seems unconvinced. “But still, they’re in the strangest place.”

“Where…” I drift off as his hands reach the bottom of my back.

It takes him a second to answer. “They’re about in the same area where Angel wings usually sprout.”

My eyes snap open and I start to sit up, but he gently pushes me back down against the bed. “Relax, Ember. I didn’t say you were growing wings, only that the bruises are in the same area.” I start to relax again as he continues to massage me. “They might simply be bruises.”

“What if they’re not, though?” I ask. “What if I am growing wings?”

His fingers stop moving. “Then it might mean that you’re the last Grim Angel standing,” he whispers. I feel the tension in the air and start to panic, so he quickly adds, “It hasn’t happened yet, though.” He returns to massaging my back again. I think it’s his way of trying to keep me calm. “Just relax,” he says, his hands moving up and around the sore spots to my shoulders. “I promise we’ll figure stuff out.” I feel him lean in and his lips brush just above the sore spot, right between my shoulder blades. “I promise I’ll take care of you.”

I nod, the tension leaving my body with every movement of his hands. There’s so much tension in my body, but he seems to be drawing it out, alleviating the pain as he moves up and down my back.

“You have amazing hands,” I mutter with my eyes remaining shut as my mind drifts off towards sleep.