“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.”
