“Jeffrey,” he barked. “Tell me, what do you smell?”
Not good. Definitely not good and as a council member it wasn’t like I had backup or some sort of immortal mojo that would keep me from getting myself into trouble. I was a peacekeeper, I didn’t fight. Not that I didn’t know how, but now that the glamour of being a Siren was all but worn off, all I could do was feed off of others emotions. And since Cassius had abandoned me I wasn’t sure what else I could do.
A syrupy sweet scent started filling the air.
Arousal.
I clenched my fists as I felt my body temperature drop. It wasn’t on purpose—or controllable. It was like my body was getting ready to defend its angel blood if that was the last thing I did.
“Angel,” Jeffrey whispered in a gleeful voice, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he licked his lips and adjusted himself.
Gross.
“A baby one…” Timber tilted his head taking a predatory stance in front of me, his body continuing to grow. “Maybe we should continue this in one of the back rooms.”
“Actually…” I stepped to the side. “If you just give me your numbers, I’ll get going. It’s late and you know how the council is…”
“Our numbers are growing… to epic proportions. That is all you need to know.” Timber reached out to grab me. I jerked away so fast I lost my footing.
And fell directly against a muscled chest.
Strong hands wrapped around my shoulders. “Is this… thing, bothering you?”
The voice sounded familiar yet vaguely different. As if someone had… added warmth to it. My body responded to the warmth with an uncontrollable shiver.
“Yes.” I leaned back into the warm body like it was my lifeline. Whoever the human was—he was ridiculously built. The warmth of his body gave new life to mine—making the cold not feel so cold, so… lonely.
“Pitiful human,” Timber hissed under his breath.
But he knew he was stuck. Immortal rule number one was never to reveal yourself to humans.
And Timber knew if he did, Cassius would rain hell on the entire Demon population, wiping out every last one.
“Jeffrey,” Timber snapped his fingers. “We should be going.”
“Sure thing…” Jeffrey sniffed again in my direction and grinned.
I flipped him off.
He tried to charge toward me but Timber held him back. “Till we meet again… Angel.”
“Not your Angel.”
“Tell that to your blood.” He licked his lips and pushed Jeffrey through the crowds. The scent of cinder stayed with me for a few minutes. I’d almost forgotten I was still in my rescuer’s arms—until he gave them a squeeze.
“Oh.” I stumbled forward then turned around, embarrassed that I’d been hanging all over him like a lovesick human. “I’m so sorry, thanks for the save though you really—”
My voice left me.
“I really… what?” He asked folding his arms across his broad chest. I followed the motion with greedy eyes. He was huge, built, tall, and gorgeous. Slowly I raised my eyes to meet his and nearly passed out.
“Cassius?”
“Sort of.”
“But you’re—”
“Human.”
Cassius
TEN HOURS. IT HAD taken me ten hours since my damning meeting with Sariel to get used to my body.
A human.
My Archangel father had made me a human.
I briefly wondered if I’d get struck by lightning if I called him a bastard and had my answer when the sound of feathers ruffling together in protest floated through the air.
Ten hours after he’d condemned me, I’d gained several bruises, a cut across my hand, and sore joints—reminding me yet again that I was old and I was breakable.
I hated it.
Every damn second.
Until it rained.
And then I felt—everything.
I lifted my eyes to the sky and gasped as the rain drops splattered across my face rolling down my lips. It tasted pure. It tasted real, like life was getting poured on my body over and over again.
When you spend your existence focusing on the immortal parts of yourself—you lose that shred of humanity. It’s a slow drain until you forget all the different components that made you human and simply embrace the supernatural.
And when you embrace the supernatural, or rather embrace your immortality, you forget the simple things.
Like rain.
And the way it feels.
I never had time to stop and let rain pour over my head. If the rain irritated me I simply waved it away. If the sun was too hot, I closed my white eyes and allowed the ice to spread through my veins—compliments of being part Angel, part human.
For the last thousand years I’d simply ignored one part of myself—one part that made me whole—and existed without it.
I roamed the streets for a day. Watching people, not because I was lost or bored, but because everything was so new to me, so exciting. So raw.
I felt everything all at once.
It was overwhelming, and for the first time in my existence—life was exciting again.
And then I saw her.
At Starbucks.
By herself.
And my world simply stopped, my breathing never returned to normal, and I was reminded yet again that I had thirty days.
And I was on day twenty-nine.
I’d lost one day.
Irritated that I’d let myself get so distracted, I followed her to the house, and followed her again when she left.