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Even my voice sounds exhausted, drained of all my usual happiness and leaving me drowning in a pool of confusion and guilt. Gabriel’s whole demeanour seems to change as he takes in my morose mood. Stepping around me so he’s on the opposite side of the archway, he kneels before me, his wings shifting to allow the movement. I turn my head to look at him.
“Little one,” he coos softly, his features set in a concerned furrow of his brows. “I have no qualms with you, just the male you are mated to.”
I can tell he means the last part of his comment as a joke, his lips twitching up, yet I don’t have it in me to find it amusing. Leaning my head back against the stone behind me, I let it loll to the side, watching the moon once more. “There is nothing I can do about that.”
He says nothing for a moment, his gaze intense as he scans me, attempting to find a physical cause for my obvious change of character.
“Why are you like this?” His confusion is evident, his question intense. He’s not going to let me get away without answering him. “You are… limp. Your fire has gone.” He reaches out to brush one of my golden curls behind my ear, and as he does, he seems to come to a realisation.
I see the exact moment it happens. His eyes narrow, and his pupils shrink into slits, just like that of a bird. Stillness, like that of a predator about to pounce on its prey, settles over him, and the only things moving are his wings as he tries to control them.
“Has someone harmed you? Tell me who it is, and I shall wipe them from this earth.”
He towers over me despite still kneeling, his presence growing with his anger. The ground starts to shake, and shadows appear around us. Deeper in the building, I hear screams from others as the building quivers and trembles. The shadows are what concern me the most though. While I’ve not seen them in action, I remember the scorch marks in the stairwell after their last appearance. An alarm bell rings in my mind, an intrinsic warning system telling me that whatever they are, they are dangerous. I don’t think he’s going to hurt me, but he could hurt others.
Sitting upright, I raise my hands as a shock of panic flares through me. “No, geez, calm down. No one has hurt me.” The shadows disappear as quickly as they came, and the ground stops rumbling.
Disbelief makes me shake my head as I raise a brow at him. “You males are such drama queens.”
If my comment offends him, he says nothing of it, instead watching me again. Finally, he seems to come to a conclusion. “You are sad.”
“Yes.” For some reason, his putting a name to it unravels what little control I had over myself, causing my eyes to sting as they water.
Gabriel looks horrified, and if I were in a different mindset, I would probably find this hilarious. A huge, winged warrior male in a flap over a small, upset female.
“No. No, no, no, do not cry little one.” He kneels forward, his hands hovering around me like he’s expecting me to shatter into little pieces. The next thing I know, he pulls me into his arms, and I’m flush against his chest. I begin to say something, to explain that I can’t actually cry, just well-up, but I’m suddenly surrounded by darkness and warmth.
His wings, I realise, as I look up at him. He’s cocooned us inside his glorious wings. There’s something instantly comforting about it. He’s protecting me from the overwhelming presence of the current situation. In here, it’s just him and me. No one can hurt us. Jack and Zane keep telling me to avoid him, but he’s done nothing but try to help me, and right now, he’s looking down at me with a worry that makes my chest ache.
We stay this way for a moment, and my eyes quickly dry up. I blame it all on the trauma of the day.
While it’s dark in here, I’m able to see a little of the moonlight glowing from the other side of the feathered barrier. It lights up the beautiful range of colours in his wings. To say that they are brown is a huge understatement. There are creams, shades of mahogany and pine, and my favourite of all—golden feathers. Stretching out an arm, I touch one of those feathers, examining it under my fingers. They aren’t solid gold, but a warm brown with a golden shimmer.
He shudders under my touch, and I quickly snatch my hand back, fearful that I’ve hurt him or committed a faux pas. “I’m sorry,” I blurt, my cheeks heating, but he cuts me off before I can continue with my apology.
“Don’t apologise. It has been a long time since someone touched my wings.” There’s a flash of grief in his eyes as he speaks. I can tell there is a story there, but I’m not going to push for it. He seems to realise what he said and clears his throat. “It feels… nice.”
He’s let himself be vulnerable in front of me, a practical stranger. I get the impression this is something he would never usually do, and the fact that he would do this with me, even if only for a moment, warms my heart.
Shifting his weight, he scans me once more, and something about my appearance must assure him that I’m not about to burst into tears, because he gives me a half smile. “Better?” he asks softly.
Would he stay like this all night if I said no? If I told him that I needed to stay in the cocoon of his wings longer? The answer is immediate. Despite the fact that I know next to nothing about him, I’m sure he would continue to hold me if I asked. I push those tempting thoughts aside, though, and nod in agreement.
His wings open with a gentle brush of his feathers against my body, and he lets me out of his embrace. I step out of his hold, but I don’t move far, my arm brushing his wing as I stand beside him, feeling awkward after my little outburst. An ache forms in my chest, and I realise it’s because my body wants to be back in his arms, hiding under the blanket of his wings.
“Sorry about that.” I laugh with embarrassment, my cheeks flushing pink.
He’s watching me intently, his eyes calculating, and it puts me on edge. I don’t know what he’s thinking, and that makes me nervous. Of the three males that I’m drawn to, he’s the one I understand the least. He’s a wild card.
“Do not worry, Emily. I know something that will cheer you up.” He holds his hand out for me, wearing an expectant expression.
Raising a brow sceptically, I wait for him to tell me what it is. He doesn’t though, simply looking at his hand pointedly and waiting for me to take it. A wild card indeed. I have no idea what he wants to show me, and honestly, just his presence so far has helped massively.
“Trust me,” he urges, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
For some unknown reason, I do. I take his hand, and he pulls me to my feet as he tugs me down the corridor. Laughing as my legs tangle together, I put all of my effort into staying upright and not falling on my face. Thanks to this, I only realise where he’s taking me when a wave of fresh air brushes against my cheeks and rustles through my hair.
We’re outside.
