That earns a chuckle all around.
A warm hand falls lightly on my lower back, and I get a whiff of spicy cologne with hints of fresh cracked pepper. “We should probably let them start their sparring sessions and work on getting you warmed up, so D can turn you into a tiny lethal weapon,” Nolan cajoles with humor.
“She’ll be like the noisy cricket from Men in Black,” Felix chimes in.
“Is there a movie you haven’t seen?” Donovan huffs.
“What? Suicide Squad was awful, but I liked Will Smith in it, so I checked out some of his other movies,” he replies. “His early stuff is pretty good. Did you know he was a rapper before he was an actor?”
With a quiet sigh, I pull away from Kaleb and stand up. When I notice all of the guys are looking at Felix with humoring, silent gazes, I answer, “I didn’t know that.”
Felix flashes a smug ‘See, she’s interested in what I have to say’face, which makes me smile.
The rest of the guys shake their heads, before Kaleb and Donovan turn toward a wall with a variety of different swords. For the first time, I notice Donovan has a full back tattoo of black angel wings, the tips dipping below the waistband of his pants, and along his spine is the phrase,Omnem diem contere velut ultima.It’s shocking how I’ve missed it considering his indifference toward shirts.
Without thinking, I run my fingers along the inked skin on his lower back, and all the boys freeze mid-motion. Realizing what I did, my face burns even hotter.
“I’m sorry,” I stutter out. “I shouldn’t have just-- I mean, I didn’t realize you had-- it was surprising, and--”
Donovan looks over his shoulder at me with an entertained quirk of his brow. “It’s fine, Callie. You can touch them if you want.”
Somehow, I’m even more embarrassed by his permission, but with trembling hands, I trace my fingers along the lifelike feathers and the bold letters.
“They’re beautiful,” I murmur, amazed that the wings look as if they’re pressed tight against his back, rather than ink on his skin. “How’d you get a tattoo artist willing to do work on someone our age?”
“It wasn’t hard,” he chuckles. “Connor did them.”
My gaze shifts to Connor, and with clear awe, I say, “I didn’t know you’re an artist. Your work is amazing.”
He shrugs and subtly bobs his head, obviously uncomfortable over the praise. This new revelation only further highlights how little I know him despite how connected I feel. Holding my own secrets close, I was reluctant to try to pull them from him, but maybe I should. Would he tell me? Would he feel relief sharing his secrets with someone that has them too?
I turn back to Donovan, so as to not further embarrass Connor, and ask, “What does the phrase mean?”
There’s an instant heaviness in the air I don’t understand.
Donovan clears his throat before answering, “It’s Latin and roughly translates to ‘Live each day as if it’s the last.’”
“Oh,” I utter, filing away to ask later what the feeling in the room is all about-- possibly Nolan, since I notice he also has a tattoo on his upper right shoulder, though I can’t make out what it is.
Taking in Donovan’s tattoo, I decide I’m already various shades of embarrassed red, might as well go all out. “Since I’m new to the whole supernatural thing, I’m sorry if it’s rude to ask but-- well, I only saw them a split second and was, you know, reeling from the whole ‘hey, supernaturals are real!’ thing, so I didn’t really get...”
Donovan sighs. “Spit it out, Callie.”
I swallow heavily, glance over at Kaleb who has a quizzical look bunching his features, and say like it’s one long word, “Can-I-see-your-wings?” Then add in case it wasn’t obvious, “Both of you.”
Kaleb looks stunned for a moment, his brows high. He simply blinks at me, while Donovan shrugs with indifference. Their reactions don’t help with the, ‘Is it polite to ask supes to show their supe-ness?’I wonder if there’s a book on supernatural etiquette somewhere.
“Sure,” Donovan replies, rolling his shoulders. “You might want to back up.”
“Yes, of course,” Kaleb adds a split second later, his features once again smooth and pleasant.
I take a few steps back, and wonder if I asked Nolan, would he tell me if I performed a supernatural faux pas. Donovan doesn’t seem to care what people think. Kaleb might try to spare my feelings. Connor would probably just stare at me. As for Felix, I don’t know if he would know one way or the other.
Between one breath and the next, both of their wings appear as if they’ve always been there, but only now I’m allowed to see them.
The natural light dances across Donovan’s heavy, black wings, creating an iridescent array of metallic purples, greens, and blues. He spreads his wings wide, like he’s stretching out limbs that haven’t been used in a ` while-- the muscles of his back bunching and flexing with the movement, before settling back in place, his tattoos looking like shadowed markers for the real things.
Whereas Donovan’s wings look as if they were dipped in oil, Kaleb’s shine with a pearlescent light mixed with gold. Contrasted against his dark sepia skin, they practically glimmer with brilliant radiance under the morning light. Despite their four-inch height difference, Kaleb’s wings look similar in size to Donovan’s, arching high above his head with the tips dipping to the middle of his calves.
