Nocturnal (The Noctalis Chronicles 1)

“Maybe.”

I thump back on my pillows. He's impossible. Was it only last night I danced with him? So close. It makes me want to hide my head under the pillow when I think about it, but the memory also makes me tingle all over in a really nice way.

I have to go to school tomorrow, see Tex and Jamie and pretend I haven't just participated in some crazy blood swap with a sort-of vampire-angel. This is going to be a nightmare.

“Ava.” I open my eyes when he says my name.

“Come with me.” He turns his back to me and strips off his shirt. The need to touch him overwhelms me for a second that I can't see or feel anything else. There's a rushing in my ears and I feel faint. It consumes me, but only for a second.

“Does it hurt? When they come out?” Like a five-year-old, I'm distracted when they start to emerge, small buds at first which bloom into bones and feathers that shine like black silk. Their color reminds me of those Japanese beetles my mom is always trying to eradicate from the garden.

“No.”

“That's good. It would be awful if they hurt every time they came out. Like Wolverine.”

“Pardon?” He turns around.

“Oh, sorry. X-men reference. Never mind.” I look away from the shining feathers, distracted by them bending and warping the light into different colors. Red, indigo, purple, pearl. I reach out my hand to stroke one.

The wing I touch trembles slightly. A tremble echoes through my own body.

“Can you feel it? When I touch them?”

“Sometimes.” He looks over his shoulder at me, and I'm reminded of a statue or something. It makes me think back to the broken angels that guard the mausoleum I'd met him in front of.

“Here.” He picks me up with one scoop. I gasp as my skin meets his. HIs arm goes under my legs, the other around my back. My arms go around his neck to hold on. His hair tickles my hands. My fingers long to rake through it. Where his heart should beat, there is nothing. I lean my ear against his chest. He is so silent. It makes me self-conscious about my noisy body.

Where I touch him, his skin starts to warm. It's sort of waxy, like a leaf. I fight the urge to stroke his back where the wings meet flesh. Somehow he gets both of us through my window and onto the porch roof outside.

“Are you ready?”

“More or less,” I say breathlessly. He walks two steps forward, wings extending to reach their full span, brushing against the velvet of the sky. I take one look at how far up we are before turning my face into his chest. I hold on for dear life as he runs down the slope of the roof and off the edge.

The air grabs at me, stealing the air from my lungs. I gasp to bring it back. His arms tighten for a second, pressing me closer. I know the ground is below us and I'm not standing on it anymore and my life is in his hands and he could just drop me and that would be the end of this Claiming thing, but I feel safe. He's strong and steady as his wings beat the air, making it rush over both of us.

“I'm okay,” I say to reassure myself as much as him. We rise. Ten feet. Twenty. The world drops out from under us. It isn't a smooth a ride; every time his wings pulse, we shift a little until he gains altitude. I don't ask him where we're going. It doesn't really matter. The shingles of my roof grow smaller as we go higher. I try not to look down and instead stare at the sky as it seems to get closer. If we only flew high enough we could touch the top of it. I want to reach out my hands and try to snag a cloud or a star. It seems like something that's possible.

The road snakes below us. There are a few cars, their headlights like fireflies. Every now and then there is a glow of light from a house. Other than that it's so quiet, the only sound the wind as it rushes over us.

I close my eyes. My lips are getting chapped from the wind, but I don't care. I let everything else go. I'm flying. I'm human and I'm flying, with an angel. Sort of.

“Where would you like to go?” I hear his words echo through his chest more than from his mouth.

“Anywhere.” I don't bother saying it loud. He hears me. I look up at his face. It's shaded, hard to make out in the weak light. His hair streams back. I feel like some artist should be immortalizing him on a frescoed ceiling in Italy. In this moment, he looks every bit an angel.

Time ceases to have meaning. I relax more, let myself fall into him. We pass a few towns. It is so dark and everything is unfamiliar. We rise higher, the lights blotted out by the distance. It's just us.

“I wish I could do this every day,” I whisper into the air.

“It would not be special if you did it all the time.”

“I guess you're right. Still. This is...”

“I know.” His face isn't blank anymore. Well, he's not smiling or anything, but I feel the peace rolling through him. He's free up here. This is his sanctuary, and he's up here with me, which makes me feel like an intruder. My arms tighten around his neck. They're getting tired of holding on, but I'm not letting go.

“I'm sorry I asked you to bring me up here.” He swoops in an arc, turning us around. My skin is covered in goosebumps I'm sure he can feel.

“Why?”

“Because this is your place, and now I've ruined it. Everyone should have a place that is theirs.”

“I do not mind sharing this with you.”

“Are you sure?” I re-adjust my grip for the thousandth time.

“Yes.” He looks down at me and I meet his eyes. They sear like fire the dark. I settle back against his chest.

There is a small bump as we land back on my roof. My legs shake, so he holds me up until I get them back under me. I realize it is the longest skin to skin contact we've had. I hope it didn't make him uncomfortable. He holds me even after we get through the window.

“Are you hungry? Don't lie to me.” I say. As soon as I'd gotten over being sick, my stomach cramped, just a little bit. It's gotten worse and worse, and instinct tells me what it means. I'm Peter's hunger barometer.

“Yes.”

“Go ahead then.” I've only been Claimed for a few hours, and already I'm willing to open a vein for him. Not good.

“I can wait.” He puts me down, withdrawing as quickly as he can, like he can't get away from me fast enough.

“You gave me something. I'd like to return the favor.” It's foolish, I know, and it could also kill me. I still have the glow of the flight rushing through me, and I kinda want to. Just to see, and to stop my stomach from hurting.

I turn my head to the side. They usually go for the neck, right? I stuff my shaking hands under my comforter and take a deep breath. I really hope this doesn't hurt too much.