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“What doesn’t destroy you will reshape you. Remember this, Celeste. Remember that the same fire that transforms sand into glass can turn logs into ash.”
BDE was a thing; BAE was Asher’s thing.
I mean, who admitted they were jealous of rats with wings, which was the way most New Yorkers viewed their city mascots?
“I was sand, then. The angel-fire you used on Leigh’s wings, it touched me, too, Seraph, and it transformed me.” Mimi’s last words finally made sense. I’d been sand and now I was glass. Sharp and breakable but no longer amorphous and malleable.
I was going to kill this bird-man! My wing bones tightened and pushed a feather out. Asher trailed its descent. “Thinking of me?” “Oh, you have no idea,” I whispered darkly.
“Here I thought archangels were above blackmail.” “Coercion is our specialty, along with fire and impressive wingspans.” “And a hefty dose of humility.”
“I forget nothing, Eliza.” “Ish Eliza.” “Pardon me, Ish. Back in my day, we didn’t precede given names by titles. We were angels first, arrogant second.” Whoa. Whoa. And whoa.
Get it Ophan lol
I pulled off my bomber jacket and hooked it to one of the pegs by the door, the silver wings stitched into the back collapsing into shimmery creases.
She has Leigh's wings on her jacket
“Fire escape was a nice touch, levsheh.” “Stop calling me that.” “Stop trying to escape me.” “Never.” “Then get used to your new nickname.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say me.” “You spotted the resemblance too, huh?” I hated how spiteful he made me. To think I’d hugged and then smoldered him a few days ago . . . ugh. “I’m flattered.” “Flattered?” That torpedoed the smile from my face. “Why in the world would you be flattered?” “Because I’ve been on your mind for over four years.”
“I should probably keep my threats for after we land.” A full minute of silence later, he said, “That was a threat?” My gaze snapped back to his inky one, disconcerted by his reaction. He couldn’t actually want me to touch his feathers, could he?
“It’s not nice to make fun of people when they’re at their weakest.” I really needed to locate the dead-man switch on my smoldering because if I continued to light up in his presence, I wanted it to be on my terms. His laughter slowed to an elegant chuckle. “You mean, at their shiniest?” “I’m going to let go now.” I forced myself to slacken my death grip. He pressed his mouth into the crown of my head. “Go ahead, levsheh.” The king of Elysium and of mixed signals tucked me in closer. “I’ve got you.”
“By letting me go.” Silence resounded between us, followed by a slow swallow. “I tried that. I tried it for an entire week, and then you had to go and sign on to your ex, and I went so blind with rage that here I am making a fool of myself, attempting to hold on to someone who despises all that I am and all that I do.”
“His hands were all over you.” I cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you care?” “I care because his soul’s tainted, and yours . . . yours isn’t.”
“I have met mine.” My heart dipped and stilled, and so did my trembling. “I thought—When?” “Years ago.” His jaw ticked. Once. Twice. Years ago . . .? Had he lost her? Was this why he was so bitter about relationships? “Why didn’t you marry her?” “Because she wasn’t eligible.”
Its you silly
“King of self-control meet the queen of awkward-sparkling.”
“—when you smoldered me, did your shine turn off instantly?” “I don’t see how my smolder’s duration has anything to do with you not being able to get your wings out of my face.” “Celeste,” he growled. “What, Seraph?” “I’m winging you.”
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh
“Why? Why would you wing me?” He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because I’ve lost my angels-damn mind.”
“Because I’m a selfish man, who has so little to offer, yet wants everything in return.”
“I don’t deserve to be an archangel, and if I weren’t so worried about Naya and her fate, I would’ve forfeited my seat. But I am terrified, Celeste. Terrified that she will be taken from me. But now I’m also terrified that you’ll be taken from me. I can’t lose her, but I also can’t lose you.”
“I cannot afford a distraction, but I also cannot stomach losing you to Phillip. Or to someone like him. Like Jase.”
“With whom do I belong?” He ran a trembling hand down his face, as though to scrub away his frustration. “Why couldn’t we have met in twenty years?” My heart bounced. Squeezed. Bounced. Squeezed. “Where do I belong, Seraph?” The feathered shafts whispered through the air of the small gallery as they finally began to retract. “With me, Celeste. You belong with me. To me.”
“The same way I belong to you.”
“You can feel mine, Celeste, because my reckless soul has decided it belongs with yours.” The air darkened as his wings curled around our bodies. “Ta yot neshahadzaleh, levsheh.” His fingertips danced up the length of my spine, then back down, before wrapping delicately around my waist. “You are my soulhalf, sweetheart.”
SCREAMING. CRYING. THANK FUCK
“Here I thought levsheh meant demon-spawn.” A taut smile flickered over his mouth. “I’m declaring my soul’s inability to exist without yours, and this is what you pick up on?”
“Why did you lie about having met your soulhalf years ago?” “I didn’t lie. I did meet her years ago.” He beheld my scintillating skin with such reverence that my shine intensified. “At a guild banquet in my honor. I even got to see her beautiful wings that night and glimpse her virtuous soul.” My mouth slipped open, and for a moment, I lost the ability to produce sound, but then it returned with such force that my words came out shrilly. “You were talking about me?”
Mine. It was mine. He was mine. This sparkly-winged pillar of a man was mine.
“You have undone me, levsheh.” The archangel’s deep voice vibrated against my forehead, which was still pressed against his clenching throat. “And you, me.”
“Tonight, I vow to forever protect your body, your heart, and your soul.” In slow motion, his hips pulled back, then pressed forward, and a tremor zinged through both our bodies. “Ni aheeva ta, Celeste.” “What does that mean?” “It means: I love you.”
Technically, I’m smoldering your arms. You have really nice arms.”
“I hear most human love stories end with the phrase happily ever after.” His wings began to curl around us. “Aren’t we lucky to be angels, then?” His fingers wound through my hair, tipped my head back. “And why is that, neshahadzaleh?” “Because our love story”—I touched my lips to his—“gets to begin this way.”
