Touched by Death: (Sins of The Fallen book 3)

Shutting the door carefully, I wince when the quiet click somehow manages to crack like a whip.

“Aurelia, is it?” the headmistress asks, looking up from the paperwork on her desk. Her dark eyes, framed by long wispy lashes, take in my wings behind me as she rises to her feet. She gestures to the chair across from the desk. “Take a seat.”

Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, I slowly make my way over and plop down as requested. She remains standing, watching me closely like a specimen she wants to harvest and investigate further. Her white and, by the looks of it, very sharp incisors glint in the candlelight when she smiles at me. There’s nothing friendly about it. The headmistress is a cruel and sinister angel, from what I’ve heard.

“How are you settling in?”

I clear my throat. “I’ve settled in well, thank you.”

She places her hand on the desk and drags her blood-red nails along the wooden surface, skating the paperwork on her way up to me. She seems to float on air. My throat turns dry, and I fight the urge to flee. There’s something about her, something as dark as Lucifer. “Rumors spread fast here at the academy.”

I wrack my brain, trying to figure out what rumors involve me. I keep to myself most of the time.

“As you may know, this is an academy for privileged students.” She stares at me intently and when I blink, at a loss, she swipes her hand from the desk in such a swift move that I jerk. “You’re from Eden originally? Is that correct?”

“That’s hardly a rumor,” I blurt, then shrink back when she narrows her eyes at me.

“We pride ourselves on teaching the children of some of Hell’s most important residents.”

Figuring it’s best to stay silent, I wait for her to continue, trying my best to keep any more misbehaving retorts from escaping my mouth.

“I will not see anything threaten the excellence that we have achieved at this academy.”

“Look,” I start. “I’m excelling in my classes. You can ask the tea—”

“This isn’t about your studies,” she interrupts, and I snap my mouth shut.

“Then what?”

Her blood-red nails trace the silver pendant between her ample breasts. “Lucifer’s son and his nephew cannot afford distractions.”

Laughter outside the door drifts in through the thin wood as I stare up at the headmistress. My mouth opens and closes, but how am I supposed to respond? “Daemon and Dmitriy?”

“I’m sure you’re aware of the rivalry between their fathers. Hell’s future is in their hands, and I will not allow a female to come between the cousins and endanger the fragile peace that exists.”

“Look…” I rise from my seat but sit back down when she silently glares at me. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I can assure you that I’m not doing anything to entice a rift between Daemon and Dmitriy.”

Moving around my chair, like a siren floating on water, she makes her way back and slides in behind her desk. “That is all. You’re dismissed.”

When I don’t immediately move, she pins her eyes on me. “Or is there something else you’d like to discuss?”

I jump up and shake my head. “No, that’s all.”

“Good,” she responds, flicking through the paperwork. As I open the door, she says, without looking up at me, “I want you to stay away from the heir, understood? I don’t want to have to punish you. Not when you show such promise in classes.”

The sinister undertones of her threat don’t go unnoticed. I slip through the door and walk as fast as I can, weaving through thick crowds of students. I need to put as much distance between the headteacher and me as possible.

As I turn the corner, I collide with a hard chest and stumble back, but firm hands clamp down on my shoulders to stop me from falling on my ass. I don’t need to trail my gaze up that defined chest hidden beneath the black T-shirt to know who it is. His masculine scent wraps me up like a warm hug, and I release a sharp gasp, but it’s too late. His brown eyes capture mine like a thief in the night, and just like that, my heart leaps from my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt, and he drops me like the feel of my bare shoulders burns him. Stumbling back, I frown.

Daemon barely spares me a glance as he walks past, his wings stretching behind him before settling back.

With my heart lodged in my throat, I watch the crowds part for him before he turns the corner and disappears from view. What was that? Why did he walk past me?

Unbidden tears prick my eyes. I can’t fucking help it. It’s not like I want him anymore now that I know he lied to me, but to watch him walk away from me without even trying to win me back? Did I mean so little to him?

Sniffling pathetically, I swipe at my wet cheeks, then turn to continue to class. I pause, and my breath gets caught in my throat at the sight of the hooded figure at the end of the hallway. Black wings stretch tall behind him as he slinks away. Without thinking it through, I take chase, determined to confront him once and for all.

I bump shoulders in my pursuit, cursing the thick crowds. Turning the corner, I slow to a halt. A single torch lights up the dark hallway that seems to stretch on for miles without a single soul in sight. Shadows crawl closer on the stone floor, stretching and elongating, reaching for me. I swallow thickly, backtracking. Peering into the darkness, I see nothing. My eyes seek out the other torches, but they’re missing from the brackets on the walls.

A shiver splashes down my spine. I look behind me quickly, but it’s quiet down at this end. Swallowing down my fear, I press forward, blending with the shadows that wrap me up, slithering over my skin like serpents. “Hello?”

Just as I’m about to abandon the mission and turn back, the lone torch behind me flickers out, snuffing out the last sliver of light. My breath trembles as I slowly turn in a circle, trying and failing to wrangle my rising panic. “Who’s there?”

My wings erupt from my back, and I take a single step back, only to gasp when my spine meets the cold, damp stone wall. I press a palm over my mouth, my breaths gusting between my fingers. As my knees threaten to buckle from beneath me, I place my other hand over my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut. Icy, cold panic trails like sharp claws down my neck and spine.

“Aurelia…”

I yelp, eyes flying open. Sharp, erratic breaths escape my lips and dampen my palms. I lower my hands and walk sideways, skimming the gritty, cold stone wall beneath my fingers. If I can trace the grooves, I’ll find my way out eventually.

“Aurelia…”

I let out a scream and whirl around. My hair sticks to the salty tears on my cheeks, so I swipe the strands away and reach my hand out in front of me, meeting empty air. “Show yourself.”

A brush of fabric on my bare arm rustles past, and I jump back. Breath caught in my throat, I listen for footsteps as the seconds tick by, extending into minutes. Each individual heartbeat thuds against my ribcage like the beat of a drumstick, a twisted symphony that entices the predator to breathe in my fear like a starved wolf. Footsteps drag over the stone flooring—deliberately slow, calculated, heavy steps designed to ratchet up my fear. The stalker is toying with me.

My wings flare threateningly as my lips peel back to reveal my elongating fangs. I hiss, conjuring a flame at my fingertips. It licks a slow path up my arms, dancing in the blackness like the light inside me once did, before Daemon and his friends snuffed it out with their sinful touches. The darkness inside me creeps to the surface as a sinister laugh bubbles up from my throat. “Come out to play. I’m waiting.”

What the hell? What was that? No sooner has the thought entered my mind than I’m thrown back against the wall. A sharp blade digs into my throat, and a set of moist lips descend on my neck. Whoever it is breathes me deep into their lungs. I try to make sense of the situation, but my thrashing heartbeat makes me lightheaded. Or maybe it’s the graze of sharp teeth against the curve of my neck.

A lick of pain has me drawing in a sharp breath. He applies more pressure to the knife and sinks his teeth into me. Instinct kicks in, and flames erupt at my fingertips. I grab hold of his throat. With a grunt, he disappears back into the shadows. The stench of burned flesh lingers in the air as I straighten up and stumble to the mouth of the hallway, using the stone wall to guide me. Squinting against the light, I collapse to the floor in a heap of tears and disorientation.

“Shit!” Dmitriy is there to scoop me up into his arms. Cradling me to his chest, he strides down the hallway, past clusters of students who stop to gawk at the bleeding girl in his arms.

We exit the building, and his wings erupt from his back in a blur of motion as we shoot up into the starry night sky. The cool wind seeps through my thin dress and whips my hair around my face. I replay the events in my mind, how the stalker breathed me in before sinking his teeth into my neck, and more tears fall. I hate to admit how scared I’ve been.

We land outside Amenadiel’s house, and Dmitriy carries me inside. But instead of taking me to my room, he carries on down the hallway until we enter his bedroom. Shouldering through the door, his smell surrounds me as he places me down on his bed and sweeps my hair away from my tear-stained cheeks. Fingers brushing over the bite marks on my neck, he grits his teeth and growls deep in his chest.

“Why does it hurt so much?”

Tracing the cut, he shakes his head as if to clear it, then says, “It’s healing, but slowly.”

I try to sit up, but he guides me back down with his hand on my shoulder. “What do you mean by that? Why is it healing slowly?”

Instead of replying, he sits down beside me and inspects the wound in more depth. “I don’t think your stalker tried to kill you.”

Confused, I wince when his thumb drags over the cut again. “What makes you say that?”

Placing two of his fingers over the bite mark, his eyes find mine. “These.” He straightens up, puts his elbows on his thighs, and studies me from over his shoulder. “Killing you would be quick and easy. Looking at those bite marks, he enjoys you.”

“Enjoys me?”

“Your smell. Your taste.” He drops his head, his hair falling over his brow as he stares down at the floor beneath his feet. “If he wanted to kill you, he would have.”

“So what does he want?” I sit up, despite the disapproving look that he throws me over his shoulder.

“To mark you,” he breathes out after a while, looking past me to the window.

“Mark me?”

A soft nod accompanies the slow slide of his eyes in my direction. “The question is, why?”

Bringing my hand up to my stinging throat, I locate the bite marks that feel very much like branding. “You have a theory?”

“Other than the obvious? That he’s one of Daemon’s enemies or a psychopath with an obsession?” He shakes his head, staring at the bite mark on my throat. “But I would hazard a guess that this relates to the pub you burned down.”

I frown. “The pub? Why?”

“Not the pub, but the reason behind why you burned it down. That kind of darkness…” His eyes skate away as he jiggles his left knee. “It doesn’t belong to Hell.”

A sudden laugh escapes my lips, and I lower my hand. “So it’s okay for Amenadiel to annihilate families, but burning down a pub is different?”

“That’s part of the hunt. But you…” he drifts off, avoiding my gaze. With a sharp inhale, he pins me in place with his eyes. “You don’t feed on blood. You feed on fear and destruction. And that will attract all kinds of unwelcome attention.”

I grow still. What is he talking about? “Of course I feed on blood.”

“Do you?” Brow winged up, he watches me. “When did you last drink blood?”

I think back, but before I can open my mouth to retort, he shifts closer, placing his hands on either side of my waist and bringing his nose unnervingly close to mine. “Too long ago to sustain you, but you fed on fear at the pub. I bet you could expel enough power to fling me across the room.”

“What are you talking about?” My voice shakes as I flick my eyes between his.

The torches on the walls flicker wildly, as if they reflect my inner turmoil, and Dmitriy notices, scanning them all as his lips curl back into a knowing smile. When he brings the full weight of his eyes to me, I hold my breath. “Try it.”

“Try what?” I ask.

“Shove me back.”

“This is crazy,” I breathe out softly, squeezing the blanket. “It proves nothing.”

“Wrong.” He reaches out to stroke my face, his fingers burning a path across my cheekbone. “It proves everything.”

He moves in, and that’s when it dawns on me that he’s about to kiss me. I don’t know what the hell to do.

When his warm breath hits my lips, panic flares up with such intensity that I shove him back with all my strength. In a blur of motion, he collides with the wall across the room and tumbles to the floor in a heap of masculine laughter. A framed picture crashes to the ground and knocks over a pile of stacked books.

Rising to his feet, careful not to step on the paperbacks, he brushes off his knees and quickly shakes out his impressive wings.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, worrying my bottom lip. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t sweat it. My bruised ego will heal.” The humor in his voice has me looking up at him. “But as I said”—he winks in my direction—“you feed on fear and destruction. Blood, while essential to a certain degree, is not the most vital sustenance for your survival.”

Sliding out from the bed and standing up on shaky legs, I attempt to steady myself with a hand on the bedside table. “How can blood be essential and yet, at the same time, not?”

Dmitriy crosses the room in a flash and slides his arm around my waist. I can’t think when his scent of cologne and a hint of the night waft from his button-up shirt.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I reassure him, trying to conceal the shake in my voice.

“You need to rest.”

I let him guide me back down, finally admitting that he’s right. I don’t feel too good.

“No fallen angel can survive without blood completely, but you could probably survive months without feeding from a human as long as you have access to fear. Why else do you think you torture your human victims, when other fallen angels seduce theirs?”

“Why is everything such a mess?” I ask around a yawn.

Dmitriy’s soft smile plays at the corners of his lips while he studies my face. “Get some rest. We’ll figure it out.”

I want to say more, but exhaustion sweeps in and drags me into a fretful sleep before I can utter another word.