Luca helps her step under the spray and begins to carefully clean blood from the punctures, oblivious to the water soaking his clothes. “You didn’t ask if she won,” he says to me. “With injuries like these, she might have gotten her ass kicked. Aren’t you curious whether she earned the spot or not?”
I frown at him. Foolish statements such as this make me question whether he’s worthy of her. “She wouldn’t accept a loss,” I say slowly. Perhaps that will make it easier for him to understand. “Not due to three simple wounds.”
Luca shrugs. “You’re right; she won. Her first official fight is next week.”
I nod, satisfied and unsurprised to be proven correct. “I’ll put together a rotation of drills to ensure she’s ready.”
“She’s going to be spread too thin.” Luca groans, and a strandof sodden hair falls in front of his eyes. “Working at the club is already physically demanding, with late hours. If she adds training, when will she rest?”
His concern is valid, but it’s new for me to hear it spoken aloud.
In the celestial realm, rest is rarely prioritized. Productivity, yes. Efficiency, doubly so. Order must be maintained, and it’s the responsibility of each echelon to divide its responsibilities accordingly. But rest? In my entire life, I’ve never heard anyone champion its importance.
I wonder how Celine feels hearing Luca guard her energy so fiercely. Is it nice? Threatening? With her eyelids heavy and her breathing slow, I’m not sure she even hears us.
Luca whips his head up at the sound of muffled pounding. “If you’ve got her, I’ll go let Alistair in.” The thumps get louder, and he curses. “Hopefully, before he breaks down the door.”
I nod. Holding Celine with one hand, I use the other to pick up the scrap of fabric Luca set aside. Slowly, I wash the blood from her ribs, careful not to disrupt the wounds themselves.
This is the first time we’ve been alone in years. The lost time scores me to the bone. The day Celine fled, she took my heart, my word, and every fragment of my loyalty with her. I’ve been half an angel ever since.
The bathroom door flies open and crashes against the wall. Alistair surges into the room, nostrils flared, his black hair hanging wildly around his neck. Uncivilized. He grips a glass vial in his hand so tightly I worry he’ll break it before it can be used to help her.
Celine jolts, her eyelashes fluttering as she tries to assess the obvious threat.
“Fuck, dude. Take it down a few dozen notches,” Luca snaps.
Alistair snarls and focuses his blood-red eyes on me. “Give her to me.”
Before I can remove his head from his body, Luca shoves him. “Knock it off, Ali. I’m not playing. If you want to get banned from her place for the next century, keep being an idiot. But if you’re trying to make things right, give her the damn medicine.”
The red in his eyes melts to faded blue. He nods and pours the potion into Celine’s mouth with shaking fingers. I tilt her head back until the pale skin of her throat bobs as she swallows.
“How quickly before it—damn.” Luca whistles and points at her side, where the deepest of the gouges is already knitting itself back together.
“I got the strongest one I had,” Alistair says.
“Was that necessary?” Luca raises his eyebrows. “You know what? Don’t mention that to her at all, Ali—it’ll piss her off.”
“You washed the blood away,” Alistair says, his lips curling into a pout as he rakes his eyes down Celine’s skin.
Luca chuckles and shakes his head. “You’ll get plenty of opportunities to convince her to let you lick it off after her other fights. Get lost before she comes to.”
Alistair growls low in his throat and yanks Luca into him, fisting his hands in his waterlogged T-shirt. He kisses him angrily, then darts from the room too quick for my eyes to track the movement.
The front door slams a heartbeat later.
Luca rolls his eyes and strips his wet shirt off. “Don’t drip on her bedroom carpet,” he tells me. “She hates that.”
“Luca,” Celine whispers, her lips moving against my chest. I can’t resist tightening my hold. He’ll take her from me. I know it, but I’m not ready to give her up. I’ll never be ready.
“Yeah, baby?” Luca hurries to the edge of the shower but doesn’t attempt to remove her from my arms.
“I’m dancing tonight,” she whispers. “If you don’t wake me up in time, I’ll be pissed.”
He shakes his head, then glances at me. “Can you take her to bed? I’m going to clean up this mess.”
I nod, noticing the streaks of blood the water didn’t wash away, as well as the puddles from wet clothes.
