Sazahn sets her glass and the platter of fruit aside, then leans forward on her hands and knees. She crawls a little closer to me, where I sit on the edge of the bed.
In my human form, my own heart beats faster as she nears. My reaction to her is dangerous, strong; the pull toward her is hard to resist.
There will come a time when I won’t need to.
“You’re an angel?” she breathes, her face inches from mine. Her eyes fly across my face, my body. Her hand moves to touch me, then stops.
“You may touch me,” I murmur. “If you wish.”
She hesitates only a moment, then lightly presses her fingertips to my arm, visible beneath the short sleeves of the white T-shirt I wear over loose white linen pants.
“You’re warm,” she says, running her fingertips over my skin.
Her touch makes everything in me leap. Everything that was once good. Everything that Hell burned away, little by little, slowly but surely. The demon snarls deep inside me; he wants nothing more than to fling himself upon her. Take her hard and rough until she screams—with pleasure.
“I didn’t know angels looked like men,” she continues, lifting her eyes to mine.
I swallow back the demon and focus on her beautiful face, and the charred remnants of what was once good flicker. “We don’t, not in our true forms. We took the form of human men long ago so that we wouldn’t frighten humans when we made ourselves known to them.”
“Why did you make yourselves known to them? To us?”
She wants to believe that this is true; she’s come about faster than most. I can’t help myself and reach up to push a lock of her hair behind her ear, indulging for one extra second in the silkiness of the strands.
“We were sent here to watch over them,” I tell her.
“Sent by…God?” She swallows. “He’s real?”
“He’s real,” I reply, keeping the bitterness out of my voice. “He was once my father.”
“What do you mean by once?” she asks. “Isn’t he still your father?”
“He banished me,” I tell her. “It’s a long story, but one I will tell you one day. I do not wish to overwhelm you now.”
“It’s a dream, so what difference does it make?” Sazahn smiles at me. “The weirdest dream I’ve ever had, but a dream.”
I reach up to touch her cheek. “This is no dream, my sweet. I assure you.”
She draws her head back. “Of course it is,” she scoffs. “For one thing, Draco City doesn’t have beaches like this, doesn’t have an ocean like this. It certainly doesn’t have air as fresh as this, or sunsets that we can even see anymore. It’s not warm like it is, or slightly humid. And I’m a broke dancer. I don’t have the means to transport myself to a place that does look like this, much less without my own knowledge. And then there’s you.”
I arch a brow, unable to help feeling amused. “Me?”
“You’re…beautiful,” she murmurs, leaning close to examine my face. The admiration in her eyes is unmistakable. She traces my jawline with her fingertips. “The most beautiful man—excuse me, angel—I’ve ever seen. Perfect. You said you…restored me? The shooting was just a nightmare. How could this not all just be a dream?”
“Sazahn,” I say quietly, reaching up with both hands now to cup her face. “Please listen to me. I know it is very difficult to accept, but you must. The truth is, you were murdered tonight. In a shooting at Shakers. You were shot at close range in the chest with an automatic rifle. When I found you, your heart was pulp. There was a hole in your chest the size of my fist. No mortal being could have survived that. No doctor could have revived you. I returned to you—I meant to reach you sooner once I saw what was about to happen. Spare you from what you endured. The second best thing I could do was bring you back and heal you. Take you away from there, safe from either side.” I smooth her hair away from her face and brush my thumbs over her cheeks. It’s hard to believe I’m actually touching her now, after waiting for so long.
She shakes her head slowly. “No. No, it’s not possible…”
“Let me show you.” I lower my hands and turn them over, palm up, in front of her. “Place your hands in mine, if you’d like to see.”
Sazahn frowns, looking confused and frightened, but raises her hands. They hover mine.
Swiftly I close mine into fists. “I need to warn you. What I’m about to show you will be upsetting. I’m sorry for that, but it’s part of the truth.”
She studies my face, then presses her lips together and nods once.
I open my hands again, and she settles hers on top of my palms.
Suddenly her pupils dilate as her gaze fixes, unseeing, on a point over my shoulder. I know she’s seeing what I want to show her. She gasps, long and hard and loud. Then her face crumples, and she lets out a broken scream of anguish.