“You took him from me, youasshole!” Fury is written all over Delilah’s twisting snarl as Beau whips to face her. We both struggle to shield the other from the threat, our movements turning into a push and pull as we fight to get in front.
Beau stares at the crazed woman, baffled, as he shakes his head. “I was neveryours,” he argues, shoving me behind him once again. “I don’t even know you!”
“You would’ve!” she shrieks, face ripening to a deep red in her anger, bulging veins snaking along her neck. “You would have gotten to know me and you would havelovedme like I love you! We would have been so perfect together, buthe!” A jittery finger jabs in my direction as I struggle to get between the two of them. “Heruinedit!”
Beau leaps in front of me, doing an annoyingly affective job of blocking my body with his larger one. “You’re nuts,” he says, sliding his phone from his pocket while he pins me with his other hand. “You are legitimately insane, and I am fuckingdonewith these games. This is finished, okay? I’m calling the police.”
“Oh, no you aren’t,” she laughs, her hand quaking as she pulls a pistol from behind her back, levelling it at Beau. Wide, unblinking eyes shift to mine, mania dancing in her dilated pupils. “If I can’t have him, neither can you.”
My vision tunnels, time slowing to a crawl as the world tilts, the white flash of the trigger the final, desperate punctuation to her madness.
And it’s all my fault.
My fault, my fault, my fault.
A sonic boom of noise tears through my ears in a violent assault, and the sound barrier explodes in a furious crash.
“No!” I scream, wings snapping out in a panic. They curl around Beau, tucking us into a cocoon of pale pink feathers right as the bullet finds its mark, pain searing through my body like lightning.
Chapter 13
Beau
Seconds stretch into an eternity, and nothing makes sense.
The sun’s light softens, the trees and grass disappearing behind a veil. Otherworldly pink washes everything away as Az slams into me with a muffled grunt. It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist as the woman bellows her rage, but I can’t see her.
I can’t seeanything, and I wonder for a terrifying second if I’ve gone blind.
Reality returns with a sudden, jarring clarity as Azrael withdraws, his calm, uncertain demeanor replaced with pure, seething wrath and a sure-footed certainty. Enormous pink wings project from his back, each feather a masterpiece that shimmers like a pastel oil spill in the afternoon sun.
Alright, not blind, just crazy.
The soft lines of his face have hardened and his eyes blaze as he stands tall, bow in his hand and an arrow readied.
Pointed straight at Delilah.
There is no shake to his arms, only steady confidence as the bowstring twangs. His aim is perfect as the shot flies true, and I flinch, waiting for the inevitable stumble backwards. The scream… the blood.
Instead, there’s no arrow.
No pain.
Nothing.
Stone-still, she stands paralyzed, a dewy sweat breaking out on her skin as her eyes flick between us. Just as suddenly, she turns and sprints away, fleeing as though her life depends on it. Azrael watches her run with a twisted satisfaction, but as soon as he glances at me from the corner of his eye, that confidence vanishes.
“Az?” I whisper, and he closes his eyes, shoulders slumping as he faces me.
A soft whoosh of wind breezes over my face as his wings fan out, their span breathtaking as the sun filters through the iridescent feathers. Even with the uncertainty that clouds his face, he’s magnificent as he takes a careful step forward.
“This is what I was trying to tell you.” A tremor runs through his voice, each fragile word barely escaping his throat, and it’s obviously taking tremendous effort to hold himself together. “This is why I couldn’t give you the truth. I’m nothuman, Beau.”
“You’re… an angel?” It feels foreign as I ask, alien even, and I can’t believe the question is coming from my mouth.
“A Cherub,” he corrects, as though the distinction makes the whole situation any less fantastical.
“And that…” I swallow as I gesture at the weapon in his hands. Time has taken its toll on the bow. The brass and gold areheavily weathered, with a patina hinting that it has been used over lifetimes. “That’s why you needed help with your aim?”
