A Touch Mortal

Chapter 4





Az opened the door to the hotel room. One glance at Eden as she entered and his expression shifted to sympathy.

“No license?”

“My mom forgot the f*cking appointment.” She caught his hand as she passed, both of them plopping down on the bed. “Then we finally got there and I didn’t even get to take the test!” Eden’s shoulders slumped. “My Social Security number wasn’t in the system. They couldn’t pull up my file.”

She’s already disappearing, he thought, trying to keep his emotions under control. So far it’d been easy to hide his eyes. He knew they’d be a paler blue today, but doubted she’d notice. He moved behind her on the bed just in case, rubbing her shoulders. “You can go back when they figure it out, right? That’s not so bad.”

She’d never get her license. It was such a small thing, yet meant so much to her. He leaned over her shoulder, kissing her neck. So many things she’d be missing out on. But she’ll have me, he reminded himself. “And I’m within walking distance.”

“True.” She closed her eyes, leaning into him. “It’s just, I know you and Gabe are only here for the summer. I wanna be able to come see you in New York.”

He sensed her hesitation, draped his arms over her shoulders, and hugged her. They hadn’t talked about what would happen when summer ended. He murmured her name, ran a hand down her cheek. “We’ll get you to New York safe. I promise.”

He pressed his lips together before he gave away too much, but she only nodded, breaking into a smile. How many more did she have before the depression took over, stripped them away from her? Would she be the same when she became a Sider?

Would she still love him?

“You’re staring at me,” she said. He didn’t answer, pulling her with him as he leaned back on the bed. Everything about her felt numbered. He kissed her hard, his lips greedy. He wanted her, the need hitting him in a rush. Wanted her now, while she was mortal.

His lips wandered down her neck, across her collarbone, her breath coming faster as he followed the curve of her tank top down. Her fingers grabbed suddenly at the bottom of his shirt, lifting. He rolled onto his back, stifling a groan, knowing he’d killed the moment. Again.

“Tease.” She smacked his chest. The playfulness dropped from her tone. “Why do you always pull away?” Eden asked.

He moved carefully, adjusting until he leaned against the headboard.

“You’re right,” he said. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt. He could tell her. Explain. “I do pull away.”

“Are we going too fast?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It’s not that at all, trust me.” The bed creaked as she crawled closer, laying her head on his chest. His arm curled around her.

“Then what is it?” she whispered.

He tipped her head up, stole another kiss. “It’s not you.”

“Jesus, I hate it when you pull this shit.” She made for the edge of the bed, but he grabbed her shoulder. She turned on him, her eyes blazing. “One minute you’re feeding me lines about seeing you in New York, and the next you act like you don’t even want me to touch you.”

Part of him wondered if it was just the depression, if this would be the moment it shifted, took over. You’re going to lose her. The thought dug in, even as he tried to push it away.

She yanked her hand away. “I need to know what’s going to happen when summer ends. I need to know if this is just a temporary thing for you.”

“Oh, God, Eden, no!” He reached for her hand again. This time she let him take it. “This isn’t ‘temporary’ for me. It never has been.”

Her eyes flicked away. “Because I love you,” she said. She swallowed hard. It was the first time she’d been so blatant. The same quicksilver happiness coated his insides, whisking away the dark thought, but his smile was because of her alone.

“I love you, too, Eden.” He wanted to say it again, loving the sound of her name paired with those words, knowing how true they were.

“Then what’s wrong? Tell me.” She squeezed his hand, leaning forward, tucking her head against his neck. He closed his eyes, knowing his fear would stain them yellow.

“Just…don’t freak out, okay?” He raised her from his shoulder, caught her gaze for a split second before he lifted his shirt over his head.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” she asked quietly. He didn’t answer, couldn’t look at her as he began slowly unwinding the ace bandage around his chest. “Az?”

“So, usually I get one of two reactions,” he said, his voice quaking. He pulled off all but the last loop of material and glanced up. “I blame the corsets for the fainters. They wore them so tight…couldn’t breathe right. But they’ve been out of style for centuries, so I think we’re good on that one.”

“Centuries?” Her voice had gone up an octave. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” she demanded.

“They turn yellow when I’m scared,” he said, keeping his voice as calm as he could manage.

“Scared?” She was still talking. So far, so good. But he knew what he showed her next would be enough to send any mortal over the edge. She’s different, he promised himself.

He dropped the last of the bandages. His cramped muscles begged to stretch but he did his best to hold them tight.

“Yeah, scared.” He climbed off the bed, backing away to the middle of the room. “The screaming I can handle. Being called a devil, a witch, a freak. No big deal. But what will happen to me if you decide you don’t love me anymore?”

“Az, you better tell me what you’re talking about because you are freaking me out.” She’d risen onto her knees, her hands held in front of her, eyes darting to the door and back. He didn’t dare move. “Az?”

He heard the fear in her voice, knew every moment he drew this out would make it worse. His head dropped as he forced himself to roll his shoulders, the wings uncurling from their cavity behind his rib cage. When he flexed them out, all fourteen feet of the atrocious things spanned the room. Joints at odd angles, so they folded in like a pterodactyl, feathers layered across the skin. Nothing about them was beautiful. They were a punishment.

“I’m a f*cking angel, Eden.” A feathered tip brushed the TV stand, knocking an open can of soda to the carpet. Her silence was worse than any screaming.

He closed his eyes, trying to keep calm, keep under control. His cell phone was in his pocket. If things went bad, if he felt tempted to Fall, one phone call and Gabriel could get there in seconds.

An unsure giggle broke from the bed, building into a laugh. His eyes shot up, found her doubled over on the covers. His wings lifted, the feathers rustling quietly in his confusion.

“So lame!” She took a deep breath, wiping her eyes, trying to get her giggling under control. “And you owe me a Coke, too!” she said, pointing to the can, the liquid soaking into the carpet.

He opened his mouth, but when nothing came out she hopped off the bed, crossing the room to him. Az stared at her, not sure what to say.

“Did Gabe put you up to this?” she asked. She rolled her eyes as her fingers traced one of the feathers. “He’s that pissed that I kicked his ass in skeeball? I never figured you two for pranking types. Though this is beyond awesome.” She gave a joint of his left wing a hard squeeze. Az grimaced, knowing she felt the bones grinding. “Jesus. These things are, like, movie prop worthy.”

She rounded his shoulder for a better look at his back and he knew it was over.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “You have holes in your back!”

He nodded slowly. “The wings tuck in. Most times a sweatshirt is enough to hide them.”

His anatomy had been rearranged, concave scoops on either side of a spine lined in muscles, where the wings attached inside. A thin layer of skin hid blood and bone along his rib cage.

“Wings?” She took a step away, her voice shaking. “You were hiding wings?”

“It’s not exactly something that goes in a personal ad, Eden. Enjoys long walks on the beach and sarcastic girls. Bird fetish a plus. Can I put them away now?” he whispered, his head hung low. When she didn’t answer, he contracted his shoulders, then folded the wings back in and grabbed for his shirt in a single motion. He put it on as he dropped onto the bed, and glanced up at her.

“This is seriously happening, isn’t it?” Her eyes were wide, her head cocked as it finally hit her. Her face paled when he moved toward her. “Don’t come any closer!” He froze, but she stepped back anyway.

“Eden, I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

“Is that, like, an angel rule or something?” she asked, her breaths coming faster.

Az winced. “No, it’s a boyfriend rule. Not all angels are good.”

“Neither are all boyfriends.”

“I used to be the good kind. Of angel,” he clarified. “Bound, like Gabriel. I got in trouble. The wings, they’re like probation.” He forced himself to stop the ramble and met her eyes.

“Gabe too?” She took a shuddering breath, shaking her head. “No. No, I’ve seen Gabe with his shirt off. I’ve gone swimming with him.”

Az nodded. “The Bound don’t have wings. Neither do the Fallen.” So Fall. Lose the wings and you’ll look normal enough for her to love you. Az squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away, make them stop. The Fallen aren’t punished for love.

He swallowed hard, lowering his hand to his pocket. “I understand. If you don’t love me anymore.” Look how worthless you are. He didn’t want to call Gabriel, not while he was at Kristen’s, but if it got any worse there would be no other choice.

“I didn’t say that,” she said. She hadn’t left, hadn’t lost it. He forced his eyes open, concentrated on Eden, trying to gauge her reaction. Her expression still hovered somewhere between panic and disbelief, but she was holding her own. It didn’t guarantee she wouldn’t leave, but it was enough to push the darkest thoughts away.

She stared at him for a long moment. “What’s green mean?”

“Green?”

“They’ve always been blue.” She lifted a finger to the corner of her eye. “If they go yellow when you’re scared, what’s green?”

“Blue and yellow?” He tried out a smile. “Happy fear? Hope?”

He watched as she struggled with herself before she slowly crossed the room. She sat on the bed with him, against the headboard, closer but still keeping her distance.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Does this change things?”

She looked up at him, exasperated, drawing her knees to her chest. “Az, you’re telling me you’re an angel. This is either the most f*cked-up day ever or I need to be locked in a psych ward. I’d say it changes things.”

He scooted closer to her. “I meant…does it change us.”

Her brow wrinkled. “You’ve had them the whole time, right?” He nodded, his heart in his throat as she seemed to consider. “Anything else you wanna get off your chest?”

Az dropped his hands to hers. So much, he thought. “How are you okay with this?” he asked. It didn’t feel real. Her still being there.

She pulled her hands away slowly. “I don’t know.” Her voice grew even quieter. “If I freak out and leave, I lose you. I don’t want that.” Her fingers found his again, entwining with them as their eyes met. “I want you. And if this is you, well…”

He pulled her into his arms, the tension in his shoulders releasing as her arms wrapped around him. “I love you so much.”