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Something about the impartial note in her voice did something to him. He recoiled as if she’d slapped him instead of her being vaguely friendly.
“Don’t you recognize me?”
Her brow furrowed. “Am I supposed to?”
“Don’t you know who I am?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, but I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
And with a face like that, she would’ve remembered.
“It’s me.” He tapped himself in the chest. “Micah.”
A stabbing pain behind her right eye had Cinder wincing. She recovered quickly, refusing to let him see her reaction, but it didn’t matter. His gaze was locked on her.
He saw everything.
Reaching out with his hand, as if unable to keep from touching her, he said, “Phoenix, please—”
She took a step away from him, avoiding his questing fingers. “That’s not my name.”
His expression turned pleading, though he pulled his hand back. “Will you tell me then? Will you finally tell me what it is?”
“Cinder,” she said. That was all he was getting out of her. “And I told you. I don’t know you, so you should really go.”
“Let me in,” the male said instead. He didn’t make any move toward her, but the look in his eyes said that he was about to. He was asking for permission, but if she didn’t give it, there was a good chance he might take it anyway.
“No.”
“Phoenix—”
“I told you, it’s Cinder.”
At her retort, her hands started to smoke. A few pale grey wisps blossomed in the center of her palms.
She glanced down, jerking in surprise when she saw the smoke fluttering there. She’d been a fire witch long enough to know that, where there’s smoke, there’s fire… but Cinder hadn’t conjured it. It was as if the fire was getting ready to burst out of her all on its own.
She aimed her palms. That way, at least, if she did lose control, it would only be at the strange winged male—angel, she thought, could he be an angel?—who was acting as if he knew her.
“I said I don’t know you. You keep calling me the wrong name, so you obviously don’t know me. Now go before I make you. I’m too busy to deal with crazy faction males.”
Finally. Something she said got through to him. Either that, or she offended him enough that he finally decided to leave.
With an expression she couldn’t quite read, he bent his knees slightly before launching straight up into the sky. The wind caught his wings, carrying him aloft. After a few moments, he was nothing but a black spot up there.
And Cinder had the strangest urge to follow him.
But she couldn’t. There was no time to explore how strange he made her feel, or to wonder if maybe… just maybe… he did know her. When there was a whole life she’d forgotten, it was possible—especially since faction beings were long-lived. Forty years she’d been dead—if Lucifer could be believed, and she couldn’t see why he’d lie when he enjoyed telling her how long it had been—but there might still be those who remembered her, even if her past was a big blank in her mind.
Cinder gave her aching head a clearing shake. It didn’t do anything to help. In fact, she felt a pressure building inside of her to do something.
Crow clicked his beak.
He was right.
She lifted her hand, gesturing out through the open door. “Follow him, Crow. See if you can find out who he is.” What he is. “Meet me back at the cabin.”
With a soft caw, Crow took off after the winged male.
