My bedroom door creaks open.
I’m half-expecting to see a vengeful locust standing in the doorway. But—no—there’s a shadow of distinctive bat-wings.
What?How?Does Abaddon have locusts spying on me in my sleep? Or was I somehow loud enough to have alerted the hotel staff?
The door creaks shut, but the sound of footsteps echoes across my room.
I blink my blurry eyes and sit straight up, remembering too late how paper-thin my shirt is, and the fact that I’m not wearing pants under my blanket. Thank God that half of me is covered, at least. I should really start sleeping in pants.
“It’s okay,” he croons, slightly more gravelly than usual. “You’re okay.”
An uncanny breeze parts my window curtains, spilling artificial moonlight into the room. Instinctively, I go to pull the sheets up to my chest, but I freeze at the sight of him.
He’s barely fucking dressed.
As if he just rolled out of bed, he’s wearing only a pair of loose-fitting trousers, leaving his marble chest to catch the ethereal white glow of the night. His silver hair is untied, disheveled, and falling loosely around his head.
We both look at each other like we’ve just seen a ghost.
Every stiff, slow step he takes toward me is painfully deliberate. His eyebrows hang low, his lips taut, and his focus is so narrowly affixed on me that the rest of the world doesn’t even seem to exist anymore.
No matter how obviously I’m staring at his exposed skin, I can’t bring myself to look away. Every contour of his muscled body sings to me of power, power,power. Such strength, wrapped in such a beautiful body,makes my body ache in a way I never expected. Not with him, at least.
Is this what Dusk meant by the ‘innate attraction humans have to angels’? Or is Abaddon, shirtless and unguarded in the middle of the night, really justthat goddamn attractive?
He stops at the foot of my bed. His pale eyes, usually so piercing and disturbing, look at me with a faint tenderness in them.
Fuck.
I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to find my voice, but I don’t have the slightest idea of what to say. I should probably ask why he’s in my room. Maybe even interrogate him about his locusts. Either of those would be smart, wise things to do.
He clasps his hands behind him, standing preternaturally still. “I felt your distress. It was... alarming.”
My eyes widen. Maybe he was closer to me than I thought he was. “You did?”
He gives a brief, curt nod.
“—Were you spying on me?”
“Spying?” The way he tilts his head slightly to the side, looking at me inquisitively, makes my cheeks heat. “No. I was not even trying to reach you. Perhaps you interfered with our pathways in your sleep.”
“Right,” I agree, diverting my eyes.
Of course he wasn’t spying on me! After how he darted off the cliff today and avoided me for the rest of the evening, he probably doesn’t even want to think about me, let alone come to a distress call—one that I’m unintentionally giving him in my sleep. Foolish, stupid…
I clear my throat, finding a wall to stare at. “Sorry about that. It was just a nightmare, that’s all. False alarm.”
He doesn’t say anything. But he also doesn’t dismiss himself. He just stands there, still as a statue. God, does he even breathe? Or blink? What is wrong with him? What is wrong withmefor being attracted to him?
“What was the nightmare about?”
I blink a few times, trying to make sure I heard him correctly. “The nightmare?”
“Yes, Kae. The nightmare. The Messenger mentioned your nightmares have been prophetic before. What did you see?”
“I…” I’ll have to remember to give Dusk an earful for telling my secrets. For now, though, maybe I can play this to my advantage. “I saw the locusts fly out of a chasm. They… poisoned… people.Humans. And I had to watch.”
I don’t know why I expect to get anything out of him from that confession, but surprisingly enough, I do. He sits on the foot of my bed, slowly and hesitantly, as if he’s afraid he’ll break the thing. With his face pulled tight, he appears vaguely sympathetic. “You were afraid?”
