“You don’t like babies?” I tug my hand out of her grasp.
“Oh, I love them, but they’ve been crying all day.”
I follow her through the garden to a stone bench seat where she sits and crosses her ankles. “So where are you from?” I ask.
“Across the horizon. Have you been?”
I sit beside her, wondering if she’s immortal. “Nah. So are you an angel... or something else?”
“Something else.” She runs her finger down my arm and my cock hardens instantly.
I leap to my feet and step back. I don’t know this girl, and I’m certainly not interested in her. “How old are you?” I question.
She bites her lip and glances at me through long, dark lashes. “How old do you think I am?”
Fuck Flynn and his damn cock enhancing blood. When I try to discreetly adjust myself, a smile pulls across her full pink lips.
I take a wild guess. “Sixteen?”
She laughs. “I’m eighteen. Good genes... I guess. But I’m definitely an adult.” She winks.
Speechless, I take another step back. Autumn’s voice appears from behind me, I spin around to take in her beautiful steel blue eyes that are covered in a sheen of glassy tears.
“Kailey, Bella needs some help with the babies,” Autumn says.
Kailey huffs, and as she walks past me, she kisses my cheek. “Lovely to finally meet you, Roman.”
“What the hell is she?” I ask Autumn.
“Something else. I can’t really say.” One hand rests on her swollen belly.
“I’m sorry about earlier.”
She leaps forward and pulls me in for a hug, her pregnant belly is pressed against me. When I stiffen, she steps back and wipes the tears from her eyes. “I know you’re still coming to terms with everything that’s happened. But you can always come here, we’re still friends, Roman. I still love you.”
“As a friend.”
She opens her mouth to reply, but Flynn appears in the doorway and wraps his arms around her waist, rubbing his hands over her belly.
“Come inside,” he says.
In the living room Bella and Steel sit on the plush white sofa holding the swaddled-up babies in their arms.
Flynn clears his throat, and Bella looks up first.
When our eyes meet, there’s a fleeting moment of something. Is that recognition? I still don’t remember ever seeing her. All I know is that my brother almost killed her, and it makes me sick to my stomach.
“Hi Roman,” she says.
Memories of her torture flicker in my mind. In a way, I wish she knew I was the one who saved her. That it was me who stayed in that house to patch her up. That it was me who refused to let her die. And refused to kill her when she begged for death. The words have been stuck in my head since that day.
“I killed my son.”
I stop, holding my hand as still as possible while she continues, “He was just a baby. I was drunk, high, I don’t know. I thought I was hallucinating, but when I woke up, there was something underneath me. I moved across and that’s when I saw him. His tiny lips were blue, he was cold... he was—I killed my own son, my own child.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Roman,” she seems calm now. “Please kill me. I want it to end. I can’t live like this anymore.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and Autumn tugs on my hand. “Roman?”
“Huh?”
“Can you come with us for a minute?”
Flynn extends his hand. “This way,” he says, leading me through the living room and down to a carved door at the end of a narrow corridor.
“What’s going on?”
“The ah...” He hesitates. “My angel wants to meet you.”
“Your what?”
“Angel. With wings...” He circles a finger above his head. “And a halo.”
I step back and raise my hands. “Ah, no.”
Autumn takes my hand. “Please. She’s really nice, Roman.”
I sigh and give in, and when I follow them into the room, I expect something resembling another living room, or maybe a study. Instead, I step into a room that leads into a whole different world.
On one side, through a floor to ceiling glass window, is a waterfall surrounded by a rainforest of green ferns and giant coloured flowers. Large butterflies in every colour imaginable flit between the flowers, followed by a sparkling dust that hovers in the air and rests on the surface of the small pond at the bottom of the waterfall.
The floor, instead of polished mahogany like the living room, is white marble, and in the centre is an altar. Against the back wall, is a throne flanked by two small silver stands holding antique urns. I scan the room; everything in here appears wildly out of place. The domed ceiling above, where carved marble angels appear to be flying into the room, glows with its own light that shines onto the altar and highlights the filigree patterns engraved into its carved stand.
Before I avert my eyes, a bright white light shines down from above. I blink, once, then again. “What the fuck?” My voice is barely a whisper, but Autumn extends her hand and puts it over my mouth. “Shh.”
When she drops her hand, I stare in awe at the angel. It’s a real, female angel with a round silver halo suspended magically above her head. Her blonde hair is covered in sparkling dust and almost reaches her ankles. On her back, bright red wings flutter back and forth spilling more of the sparkling dust around us.
She tilts her head, then steps forward to put her hand on Autumn’s belly. She whispers something I don’t understand, then extends her hand to me.
“I am Hope, the Angel of Chastity.”
Chastity? I clench my fists. “I ah... You probably shouldn’t touch me.” Can angels be tainted by humans? Humans whose brothers are—were—murderers.
“You cannot taint me, Michael.” Michael? How the hell does she know my real name... and my thoughts?
With her hand still extended, she waits for mine.
This time, I reach out tentatively and take it. As soon as my fingertips touch hers, I’m torn from reality and thrust into a vivid, but long forgotten memory of my past.
I was six years old when my father stormed through the house slamming doors and cursing. He was looking for my mother, but she was gone. I watched her leave only minutes before from where I was hiding under the sofa, bruised and bleeding from my latest beating.
“Michael,” his voice reverberated off the walls, but I didn’t budge. I knew if he found my secret place, he’d destroy it—and me.
A knock at the door sent him pacing furiously toward it. He pulled it open and came face to face with another man. “Brother,” the man said.
My father stepped back, glanced around the room, then extended his hand to the man—my uncle—who walked in with two children following close behind.
When they all went into the kitchen, I crept out from under the sofa to hear the man ask about me. “Where’s Michael?”
I rushed into the kitchen and stood in the doorway. “Hello.”
My father glared at me. The other man smiled, and the two children stared at me. They looked as confused as I felt.