Willow tossed back his shot like a champ. “Start at the beginning.”
It was easy to open up to him. As the shots kept going down, the words kept coming. Before I knew it, I was telling him everything. Raoul’s secret past as my mother’s lover, my bond to Arys, issues with Shaz and Juliet, Lilah’s hit on me and the woman I’d killed that very night. It all came spilling out.
I sat there in a small, seedy bar, confessing my every sin to an angel, but talking to someone who wasn’t a part of my inner circle was liberating. Willow was a keen listener, commenting and questioning in all the right places. His eyes held no judgment, not once.
After a good hour of pouring out my deepest feelings and darkest secrets, I was both drunk and carefree. Sure, it may be temporary, but I’d take it. The tequila hangover I’d have later was going to be brutal, so I might as well make the bender worth it.
“So, what do you think?” I asked finally. “Am I broken or what?”
Willow leaned forward on the table, his hands clasped. “No more than the rest of us. I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You can handle what happened tonight, and you can handle what’s yet to come.”
I ran a finger over the dragon etched into my wrist. “I wish I could be so sure.”
“It’s not supposed to be easy to do what’s right. That’s what makes it worthwhile. You could have given in long ago. Instead you fight the darkness of your vampire.” He spoke with such certainty. “You were never meant to be together. Twin flames rarely live the same lifetime. They aren’t meant to. Too often, they destroy one another. The intensity of their bond is too great, and it consumes them.”
“How is that supposed to be making me feel better?” I laughed drunkenly, unable to let the weight of his words sink in just then.
“Because the two of you have a purpose. Withstand the hardships of your bond, and you’ll be defined by the good you do. Not the bad.”
Maybe he was right. The mistakes I’d made, they didn’t define me; I wouldn’t let them. There was a reason for everything. I had to believe that.
“I wish I could do something about that.” Willow’s gaze fell to my wrist. “There was a time when I could have abolished it.”
“What’s your story, Willow?” Curiosity got the best of me even though I had planned not to ask. “How can you be fallen and be so amazing?”
“My story is hardly worth telling.” He shrugged and reached for another shot of tequila. “I’d much rather talk about you.”
“I’m sick of talking about me. Sick of being me. Sometimes.” Tequila burned its way into my stomach, and I made a face. The lime did little to take the edge off.
Willow frowned. “You don’t mean that. Everything you’ve faced has led you to this moment. Right where you’re supposed to be. Trust it.”
Before I could respond, we were rudely interrupted by a grey-haired, overweight drunk. He stumbled into our table, slurring an apology. His bloodshot gaze landed on me, taking in my battered appearance.
His lips peeled back into a slimy grin, revealing several missing teeth. He gave Willow a smack on the back and chuckled. “Looks like the little lady stepped out of line. You do what you gotta do, ain’t that right, pal?”
Willow was on his feet throwing a punch before I could blink. The drunk took a fist in the jaw and went down, out cold. I gaped in surprise at the angel as he shook his fist and cursed.
The bartender shouted for us to take it outside. Slapping a few bills down in front of him, Willow grabbed a bottle from behind the bar.
“Let’s get out of here. A walk by the river with a bottle of cheap wine sounds about perfect right now.” For an angel Willow was a pretty wild guy.
It had been ages since I walked in the river valley. The river divided the south side of the city from the rest. We descended the stairway leading us down, away from downtown to the quiet beauty of the river.
Willow popped the cork on the cheap sparkling wine, taking a long swallow before passing it. Producing a pack of cigarettes, he lit one up and took a long drag. I held up a hand in refusal when he offered it to me. I couldn’t help but laugh. Willow was a heck of a guy.
“Alright, now spill it,” I said when we were seated on top of a picnic table, staring out at the dark river. “Tell me how an angel falls.”
He was silent for so long that I thought it was his refusal. Lighting another cigarette, he let out a plume of smoke and fixed his gaze on the water. “There are so many ways. Many reasons why. My sin? I fell in love with a whore.”