“I-I can’t do this.” Desolation creeps into my very breath, my throat tightening enough to restrict air to my lungs.
“You can and you will.” Abaddon watches me with a strange expression on his face. He’s most likely unfamiliar with the concept of crying, I’m sure. Locusts and angels don’t cry. Such immense vulnerability is only for us weakling humans?—
He suddenly shifts closer to me, reaches out, and strokes a hand down my hair.
It surprises me so much that I flinch.
I don’t know where he found the nerve, but Abaddon isn’t deterred. He inches closer, dragging another tender caress against my head and down my neck, then repeats it.
His eyes are mesmerized by the motions, the gentle little motions meant only to comfort me. I find myself falling victim to it, too. I close my eyes, abandoning all thought, my heart slowing to a steady hum.
“Kae…” he whispers in such an intimate way that my eyes spring back open, finding the face of a desperate man. His hand stops, moving to cup my cheek, his gaze heating. “Don’t you see just how much you belong here?”
My heart pounds in my chest. Something in his eyes tells me he means so much more than just the Abyss, and I have to force myself to address it. “Where is…here…Abaddon?”
He doesn’t answer, but I see his gaze stray to the hand that still holds my face, and to the bed that cradles me, before his eyes return to mine.
I can tell he wants to confess something to me, but he’s afraid to be vulnerable. His silver irises, looking at me with the utmost reverence, are streaked with a pale blue. It reminds me of a rainstorm, threatening to wash me away.
“Say it,” I whisper, desperately seeking an anchor in him.
His hand falls abruptly from my face as he takes a steadying breath, looking away as if to break his trance. “I think I’m starting to understand why they did it. Semyaza, the fallen Watchers, the Nephilim... Thesefeelings,I just…”
When he trails off again, his eyes slide back to me, lingering on my lips.
“Why was I created this way? If angels are meant to be detached from humanity, then why do we have the ability to care for them like this?” His hand is suddenly back on my cheek, his thumb slowly sweeping across my skin in one gentle, slow stroke that lights me on fire. “I’m not afraid of Michael, the Council, or the entirety of the Elohim. But you? The amount of power you have over me should cripple me with fear. You are my absolution. Myqueen. I would give up Heaven if I couldn’t take you with me.”
“Abaddon,” I breathe, my posture straightening. “I…”
Iwhat?I don’t know if I want to kiss him or slap him.I’m shocked, overwhelmed, and unable to think clearly when he’s touching me, looking at me like that, professing his heavy feelings. My heart is roaring at a thousand beats per minute, threatening to abandon my body.
“Don’t respond yet,” his words tumble out uncharacteristically fast. “Please. Take your time to think about it. I can wait; you don’t have tomake any decisions now. You only need to tell me if you need space, time, anything—I’ll give it to you. I’d give you the world if you asked me for it, Kae.”
Somehow, I believe that he would, and very much could,do just that if he tried hard enough. It makes me feel like I’m floating.
“I only have the one mortal life,” I saw slowly. “I can’t promise you forever. All I can give you is one day at a time. Are you sure you want to risk yourself for that? For… me?”
He edges even closer, cupping both of my cheeks in his hands. My breath catches, still in my throat, frozen under his eyes. He’s soachinglyclose, every one of my senses calls me to him. Even the faint herbal smell of him draws me in. “I’ve never been more decided in my life.”
His eyes, tender and longing, trail down my face. They rest on my lips, and I watch his chest rise and fall just a little heavier, a little faster. His hand is warm against my cheek, and a darker emotion crosses over him as his fingers slowly slip down to the back of my neck.
Before I have time to rethink myself, I lean closer to him, touching his face as well.
Anchoring myself.
Abaddon tenses, his eyes jolting back to mine. I can feel his pulse pounding, too, just below his smooth-shaved skin.
He’s right. Idohave power over him, and it is delightfully entrancing. I let my hand roam backward until it catches in the hair that falls just past his jawline. It’s as soft as fresh-fallen snow, and I can’t help but twirl a small strand around my index finger.
The King stays as still as a statue, just like the marble his skin was cut from, but he can’t hide how he’s affected by me. I watch as his eyes close, his beautiful, dark lashes fluttering. His breathing, shallow and ragged, harmonizes in a duet with my own.
There are only inches separating us—inches—and I’ve lost all strength to uphold it. I grip the angel’s neck, close the miserable distance between us, and brush my lips against his.
A pained moan reverberates through his throat, like a broken levee to all of his unfulfilled longing. His lips shatter against my own, takingme in with the fervor of a dying man clinging to life.
There’s so much need in his kiss, I can taste the emotion he’s tried so hard to bury. I can feel all the pure, primal desire behind his lips. It consumes him as he consumes me.
He tastes every inch of my mouth, devouring me, pouring his essence into me. It’s like our very souls, the fabric of our existences, are weaving in and out in a combined ecstasy.
