“Please, don’t let me keep you.” He leaned on his cane, then watched me step off the platform.
With my wings tight against my body, I followed the last of the humans out the door. They sent me looks over their shoulder—confused, awed, reverent, even envious—and I made sure to keep enough distance between us so no one would touch my wings.
After waiting for the hall to clear, I slipped through the corridors of the church, looking for Lilith. I’d hoped, perhaps expected, she would wait for me when everyone was gone so we could retrieve the book together. But that didn’t seem to be the case.
I rounded a corner and paused. My heart thumped, and I leaned backward in surprise. “Lily.” My eyes went straight to her kissable lips, her hair, the flush on her cheeks.
She started, surprised to see me, too. “Oh. It’s you.”
I swallowed a snort, then sauntered down the narrow hall. The effect was muted by the low ceiling and encroaching walls, unfortunately, but her eyes narrowed as she took in my approach, so it was good enough. I took in the sight, a smirk playing on my lips. “What are you doing?”
Lilith had been crouched at a door, a key in the lock, eyeing it as though she wasn’t sure the key would work and she wasn’t supposed to be here with it. Now she straightened and glanced around, dropping her voice. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Breaking in somewhere you’re not supposed to be?”
She glowered at me.
I grinned. How those eyes sparked blue fire when she was riled. And I hadn’t even started yet.
“I’m keeping my end of our bargain.” She sniffed, turning the key into the lock.
I stepped closer, shielding her from view with my body in case anyone came up behind me.
The door swung open, and Lilith hurried inside. The woman nearly shut the door in my face, too, but I stopped it with my shoe and the flat of my hand.
She stared up at me. “Let me get this done.”
I shook my head. “I need to see this.”
Lilith huffed. “You’ll not fit through the door.”
Not fit through the door? I snorted. I might be a seraph with wings as long as I was tall, but I could fit through a fucking door. “Lily, Lily, Lily.” I sighed, then ducked my head and forced my way in.
It was a tight fit.
Lilith stepped backward into the room, leaning on the wooden desk and crossing her arms to watch me twist and tug my way into the room. It left several of my secondary feathers ruffled and twisted, but I made it.
“See?” I straightened to my full height and smiled. “So little faith in me, cirra.”
She rolled her eyes. “Can you turn around and shut the door?”
I stretched my left wing and cocked it backward, making the door click shut, my eyes never leaving her face. The small room seemed suddenly…smaller. Her breath reached my sensitive ears, and her heart rate kicked up. Fear, anger, desire? I searched her face, hoping to find the answers. I wanted this woman more than I’d wanted any other human I’d seen—and not because of her pretty face, though that was a nice bonus. I wanted to know what was going on behind those eyes, why sometimes she fell silent and sometimes her tongue could draw blood. I wanted to know what exactly she was doing here in this backwater cult when she could be a queen elsewhere.
A faint flush spread across those cheekbones, and her breath hitched as her eyes drifted over what little she could see of my wings.
Oh, she likes them. I bit my cheek to hold back a smile. She would bristle at a smile, and I knew I could only push so far before she took true offense.
But she must’ve seen something on my face, because those eyes snapped back to mine, now sharp and disapproving. “You look like a quail.”
“What does that mean?” A little curl of amusement flicked through me. By her tone I could tell it wasn’t a majestic bird of prey.
“Your—your feathers.” She gestured with one open hand. “Your wings are all askew.”
Suddenly self conscious, I tightened my wings. “Your church isn’t exactly made with seraph needs in mind.” I gestured backward, toward the tight door.
She cocked her head. “How do you keep groomed?”
“Shower baths,” I said, feeling a sudden burst of homesickness. “And for special occasions, oil for our feathers. Every so often we use our fingers to comb through our wings and keep them presentable.”
