“Tell that to your blood.” He licked his lips and pushed Jeffrey through the crowds. The scent of cinder stayed with me for a few minutes. I’d almost forgotten I was still in my rescuer’s arms—until he gave them a squeeze.
“Oh.” I stumbled forward then turned around, embarrassed that I’d been hanging all over him like a lovesick human. “I’m so sorry, thanks for the save though you really—”
My voice left me.
“I
really… what?” He asked folding his arms across his broad chest. I followed the motion with greedy eyes. He was huge, built, tall, and gorgeous. Slowly I raised my eyes to meet his and nearly passed out.
“Cassius?”
“Sort of.”
“But you’re—”
“Human.”
Cassius
TEN HOURS. IT HAD taken me ten hours since my damning meeting with Sariel to get used to my body.
A human.
My Archangel father had made me a human.
I briefly wondered if I’d get struck by lightning if I called him a bastard and had my answer when the sound of feathers ruffling together in protest floated through the air.
Ten hours after he’d condemned me, I’d gained several bruises, a cut across my hand, and sore joints—reminding me yet again that I was old and I was breakable.
I hated it.
Every damn second.
Until it rained.
And then I felt—everything.
I lifted my eyes to the sky and gasped as the rain drops splattered across my face rolling down my lips. It tasted pure. It tasted real, like life was getting poured on my body over and over again.
When you spend your existence focusing on the immortal parts of yourself—you lose that shred of humanity. It’s a slow drain until you forget all the different components that made you human and simply embrace the supernatural.
And when you embrace the supernatural, or rather embrace your immortality, you forget the simple things.
Like rain.
And the way it feels.
I never had time to stop and let rain pour over my head. If the rain irritated me I simply waved it away. If the sun was too hot, I closed my white eyes and allowed the ice to spread through my veins—compliments of being part Angel, part human.
For the last thousand years I’d simply ignored one part of myself—one part that made me whole—and existed without it.
I roamed the streets for a day. Watching people, not because I was lost or bored, but because everything was so new to me, so exciting. So raw.
I felt everything all at once.
It was overwhelming, and for the first time in my existence—life was exciting again.
And then I saw her.