The Watcher

Michael took both my hands in his and gave me a thin smile. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

Arielle extended her fiery halo toward Michael in an eruption of light, which erased the lines of fatigue from his face. Brightening, he gave her a nod.

She stretched—the gossamer blue of her cloaked wings shimmering as they extended behind her—and headed for the door. “I’ll put myself back on watch. You could use some rest.”

“I won’t be on duty tonight. Please don’t look for me,” Michael said as she passed.

“Your choice,” Arielle said, then nodded at me. “Goodbye for now, Mia.”

“Bye, and uh…thanks,” I said. Still a little shaken, I led Michael to the living room to sit down. I had to talk him out of fighting Damiel. Knowing Michael, it wouldn’t be easy. “What do you mean you won’t be on duty tonight?”

He squeezed my hands. “I’m watching you instead.”

“You’re exhausted. You need to rest.”

“I need to be here with you.”

“Michael,” I began, wishing I could tell him all that I’d seen, but I couldn’t find the words.

Too agitated to sit, he got up and paced the room. “You don’t know what it did to me, losing you…”

I didn’t want to know what it would be like to lose him. Now that Damiel had the time to regroup, it would be too dangerous to fight him again. Michael couldn’t win against an army. Having just relived him losing his wings was painful enough. His death was unthinkable.

“Falling was the only way I could be with you. I chose it,” he said, half-wincing at the memory. “Nothing could stop the burning except being near you.”

I held my breath. If he was going to tell me what happened, I didn’t want him to stop.

“Falling from Grace, I went from being co

He seemed much too far away, so I got up and wrapped my arms around his waist. He took another labored breath before he let me in, and I stayed there until his breathing smoothed out. I only had pieces of what he went through. He’d told me before that falling didn’t stop, that he had to constantly fight to not continue to fall. Was that how Damiel was able to convince him to choose Hell?

“I know,” I said. “Arielle told me.”

“You’re not the only person I hurt. You were the first, and the fact that I could hurt someone I loved so much…” Wiping his eyes roughly with the back of his hand, he choked out a sob. “How can that ever be okay?”

“Arielle said you’d been tortured.”

He pulled away. “That’s no excuse. I was selfish.”

Now he was torturing himself. It was hard to watch. I needed to let him know the truth.

“You didn’t hurt me. You may have done other things, but you never hurt me.”

“I did,” he insisted.

“No.” I grabbed his elbows, wanting to shake him. “Michael, listen. You think you hurt me, but you didn’t. It’s a lie. That’s why you don’t remember…” My voice trailed off as his eyes became glassy, far away. “Because it didn’t happen.”

“What didn’t?”

“When you first fell, you never hurt me. It wasn’t like that. It was…beautiful.”

He shook his head as though what I’d said had hurt him. “That’s because I enthralled you, Mia. I could have made you do anything.” Taking a step back, he raked both his hands through his hair and let out an exasperated sound. “Don’t you see? Your will wasn’t involved. It was coercion, the same as if I’d drugged you.”

“You didn’t,” I said. Our actions had been motivated by love, but there was no way to prove what I was saying. It was my memory against his.

He took a step closer and backed me against the wall. Pressing himself into me, he caged me there with his arms. I could smell his skin, feel the heat of his body through my clothes, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, push him away or wrap my arms around him. When his eyes softened and gazed into mine, everything else around me became quiet and still. A pulse of golden light brushed my skin, and it was like a flame ignited, searing me from the inside.

He slid one of his hands down the wall to touch the curve of my lower back, and my legs trembled. I forgot everything I was thinking. All I could see, all that I wanted, was him. I was dizzy from it. Snaking my arms around his neck, I curled my fingers in his hair. He leaned in, his breath sweet on my tongue, and I tilted my mouth up to his, closing my eyes, expecting his kiss.

The look on his face was a challenge. “You still think I didn’t enthrall you?” he whispered.

I pushed him away angrily, unable to speak. My pulse hammered in my throat and my body shivered from his sudden absence. I tried to think, but my mind reeled. Was it the truth? Had he been enthralling me all along?

He sighed, taking another step back. His eyes were soft, full of love—not the eyes of someone who wanted to hurt me. His breathing was quick, as though I’d affected him, too.

My knees weak, I leaned into the wall for support as I fought to recall my senses. All the times that we’d kissed. They were real. Not like this. He didn’t toy with me. He didn’t have to. “I saw what happened. All of it.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t expect denial.”

I knew what I saw. How could I get him to believe me if he wouldn’t see? “Can’t you just trust me?”

“It’s not like—”

But it was exactly like that. He could trust Damiel’s lies about him, believe the worst about himself, but he couldn’t trust me—that what I felt for him was real. It always was. “Why are you here?” I snapped.

He took a step toward me. “To be with you.”

“Why?” I inched myself along the wall, trying to put distance between us. I still wanted to kiss him. “Why would you want to be with me if you don’t trust me?”

“Look. I know I’ve been pushing you away…”

“I trust you.”

“Last night I lost control, and I know I can’t go there again, but I’ll do everything in my power to be with you. If you’ll have me.”

Of all the times I’d wanted to be near him, they were nothing compared to that moment. He loved me, wanted to be with me. A flush ran all the way up my spine, and it called me toward him. I’d backed up, but he stood less than a foot away; all I had to do was lean into him, show him I accepted him. Everything in me wanted to.

As though he sensed my hesitation, he inched forward, his hands at his sides. “Once Damiel is defeated, it’ll be a lot easier. You’ll see.”

Damiel. He would still have to fight Damiel. The one who killed him, took him to Hell. He’d never win. Not with a guilty conscience over something he didn’t do. If Damiel could use Fiona’s insecurity against her, he could certainly use Michael’s guilt. He’d done it before. I pushed Michael away. “No.”

“No?”

“I can’t be with you if you won’t listen to me.”

“I am listening. You believe—”

“No, I know you didn’t hurt me.” I took another step away. If he couldn’t hear that he hadn’t hurt me, there was no way he could defeat Damiel. It was too dangerous. If Damiel used me as a weapon, Michael didn’t have a chance. “Not unless you can tell me truthfully that you believe you’re i

I refused to back down. A war of restraint and emotion waged across Michael’s face. Before he spoke, he looked at the fireplace, the mantel, the window. Anywhere but at me. “I do trust you. I just…”

“Don’t trust yourself.”

A hard, brittle feeling settled in my chest. If he didn’t trust himself, he’d be duped by Damiel again, even killed, and I couldn’t let that happen. I loved him too much. I would rather break my own heart than risk his life—not to mention his soul. Nothing I could say would change his mind. So I took a deep breath and said what needed to be said. “Michael. It’s over between us.”