Celestial (Angels of Elysium, #2)

by Olivia Wildenstein

What doesn’t destroy you will reshape you.

Although I hated how Jarod’s caregiver had come into my life, I couldn’t imagine her not being part of it.

“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.”

If only I could’ve kept her soul and mine together, too.

I remembered being jealous that they were born with all their feathers, that they didn’t have to earn them. I’d never admitted this to anyone. Not even to Leigh. I mean, who admitted they were jealous of rats with wings, which was the way most New Yorkers viewed their city mascots?

The vein in my neck throbbed and throbbed. 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. He had the audacity to smirk. The unicorn noodle had the audacity to smirk!

He breathed, just breathed, each pulse of air harsher and hotter than the last. “I saved her soul.”

His smile grew a little wider, sloughing off dozens of worry lines.

“You two were soulmates.” “What? I thought—Jarod . . .” “He wasn’t her soulmate.” “But—” “Mate means friend, Celeste. Jarod . . . I believe he was more. I believe he was her neshahadza—her soulhalf.”

I almost forgot I was propped against a man I’d loathed for so long. A man I no longer loathed. How could I, when he’d defied celestial law and saved a worthy soul? Two worthy souls.

soul.” Although I kept one hand welded to his neck, I let the other drift to his cheek. “I don’t hate you. Not anymore. And I promise to take everything you just told me to my earthly grave.”

“Because we aren’t the sum of our mistakes but the sum of how we deal with them.”

“You’re not planning on snatching me again?” “Do I look like a predator?” Six-foot-and-a-ton-of-inches moved a little closer. “Right now, yes. You do.” My pulse ratcheted up but not from fright. From something else that perhaps should’ve frightened me. Then again, he was an incredibly handsome man, and I was a woman with 20/20 vision.

“Because I’m . . .” What was I? Proud? Hopeful? In the end, I went with a word that summed up both. “Because I’m happy.” “Thank Elysium I’m immortal or your unpredictability would’ve stopped my heart a few times already.”

I was still trying to make sense of her parting words—about me being astute—when I walked through my dimly-lit living room and came to a dead-stop at the sight of someone standing at the railing of my terrace. A very tall, very winged someone. Whitewashed in moonlight, Asher looked like one of those angels on the covers of paranormal romances. Although most depicted us inaccurately, a few were surprisingly close to the truth, to the point where I suspected the author’s awareness of our existence.

“Then, one day, their souls will find a way back to each other.” “Careful, Seraph, I might label you a romantic.” I smiled at him over the lip of my mug, and he smiled back.

For all the pain love brought, the absence of it really screwed people up.

“Then I guess we’ll be spending lots of quality time together, levsheh.” Levsheh? I was guessing it was Angelic, since it wasn’t in any language I knew, and I knew them all. Probably meant demon.

“Fire escape was a nice touch, levsheh.” “Stop calling me that.” “Stop trying to escape me.” “Never.” “Then get used to your new nickname.” So much for pretending he wasn’t there. I side-eyed him. “What does it mean? Bane of my existence? Demon child? Foul soul?” He smiled, flashing some of those pearlescent white teeth.

“Hope you enjoyed your last moment of freedom, Celeste, because from now on, you and I . . . we’re going to be glued at the fucking wing bone.”

A peculiar heat crawled up my skin, made it tingle. Aw, mother feather. Not again. And not up here. Groaning, I shut my eyes, but my lids did little to block out my luminescence. To think I was plastered to the chest of the man my body had decided to smolder without my brain’s consent. “I changed my mind, Seraph. Please drop me.” A vibration settled over the rhythmic thuds of his pulse. It took my burning ears a millisecond to decipher the sound—laughter. He was laughing at my predicament.

How do I make it feel better?” “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.”

“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.”

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.” And then he was stepping forward, filling my space. Filling all the space. “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.”

My blood tightened and then detonated, and my skin tossed glitter across the arched expanse of his feathers. “Here I thought levsheh meant demon-spawn.”

“Be patient with me, levsheh.” Levsheh . . . sweetheart. Now that I knew what it meant, I decided it was a gorgeous sounding word.

Keeping my eyes locked on his, I said, “To think you’re a little mine now.” His neck bowed. “I am more than a little yours, levsheh.” “You’re also Naya’s and Elysium’s.” “Not in the same way.”

“My soul feels like it might burst.” His whispered words warmed my flushed skin. I tapped his abdomen with two fingers. “Your soul’s higher up, Seraph.” He blinked, and then, once he caught on to what I’d implied, all the edges of his beautiful face smoothed, and he laughed. “Well, it has been over two decades . .

“It could’ve been worse.” “How?” “You could’ve not thought of me at all.”

“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.”

“Drink your coffee, levsheh. We have a world to change.”

A half-smile knocked onto my lips, because, even though I wouldn’t have used such lovely adjectives to describe the former Parisian mobster, beautifully temperamental sounded pretty accurate.

You can rewrite this story a million different ways, Celeste, but it will always end the same. It will end with you and me.”

“Are you ready for the rest of our lives, neshahadzaleh?” “I’m ready,” I murmured, pressing up onto my toes to seal my lips to his, the same way my feathers had finally fastened to my bones.