Unnatural Instinct: Fallen

7.

He gazes at you without answer.

You've figured as much, of course, but to hear the truth of it makes it horrifyingly real. You grip yourself more tightly as you tremble harder. You bite your lip, struggling against the tremor in your voice. 'B-but wh-what does he want with me?'

His eyes suddenly roll in his head and he slumps into the mattress. You rush over. You go to shake him awake but don't know where to touch him. After a moment, his eyelids flutter open. He turns on his side and you suck in a breath. He's naked, his chest and torso and thighs covered in deep gashes and purple-black bruising.

He's been tortured.

'What have they done to you?' You drop to your knees beside him and reach out to touch his hand, only to pull back. Should someone like you touch the likes of him? His eyes glisten as he reaches out his hand. You take it. His fingers are long and strong but gentle as they intertwine with yours. You're touching an angel! You can't believe it. Is this really happening? Your mouth goes dry.

His hand trembles and he starts to shake. 'Cold,' he says.

'There're some blankets in my room, I'll go get them.' 

You're about to get up when he tightens his grip on your hand. 'No. Stay. Don't leave me alone.'

Your throat tightens. He sounds so stricken. He lifts his wing. You suddenly go numb from the waist down. He's inviting you to climb in with him. You try not to look at his body but it's a very hard thing. He is much like the darker angels: perfectly sculpted muscles, tall and broad, hairless except for his head and eyebrows. Then there's that between his legs. You steal a glance before dropping your eyes, ashamed. Did he see? Does he hate you now? There's even a perfection about that too, though you don't look closely enough to understand why.

'Stay,' he repeats.

You look back into his face. He either doesn't care or didn't notice. You don't think twice. How can you? He's shuddering so violently now that more feathers float to the floor.

You ease yourself in beside him. It's a tight squeeze on the little cot. As he pulls you close, he lowers his wing over you. No longer numb, your body is on fire. Trembling almost as badly as he is, you slide your arm around his hard, muscular waist and press your face into his throat. Lifting a leg over your hip, he pulls you closer still. Slowly, his shaking eases.

'Thank you,' he says.

'What's happened to you?'

'They've tortured me.'

'Who?'

'Lucifer and the rest of the Fallen. They hate us—those still loyal to God. They envy us as much as they hate you.'

You swallow. 'Are they going to torture me too?'

'No. I won't let them.' You look up at him, wondering how he could do anything in his state, much less defend you, even despite his powerful arms. He meets your eyes and you quickly look away.

You try to relax against him, though your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it in your throat. He's so bright that when you close your eyes all you can see is white behind your eyelids. Who is he? How did he come to be here? What will happen if they find you with him?

'Who are you?' you say.

'My name is Michael. They shot me from the sky and imprisoned me here.'

'How long have you been here?'

He smooths his hand down your back. 'A long time.'

Gently, reluctantly, you pull away. 'We should try your door. If the door between our cells can open so easily, then yours might.' You try to slip from the bed but he tightens his arm around your waist.

'Don't go,' he says again in that stricken voice.

'But—'

'You don't think I've tried the door before?' he says sharply enough that it takes you aback. Clearing his throat, he smooths his hand around your hip. 'It is sealed.' He looks into your eyes. 'What is your name?'

You tell him.

'So beautiful.' He runs his fingers through your fringe, making you shiver. 'Stay with me. It's lonely and cold in here.'

As you stare into his eyes, you forget what you were about to say. There was something important you were supposed to do, but you've forgotten that too. Smiling, he brushes his fingers across your lips. You shiver again. He leans in close, then his mouth is against yours. Closing your eyes, you kiss back. He's so gentle, like nothing you've ever experienced with an ordinary man before. His lips are soft. His breath is warm.

At first his kissing is light and dry before he opens his mouth and takes in your bottom lip. Gently, he slides his hand behind your neck and pulls you in closer. Your body feels like it's on fire. It arches into him, no longer in your control.

He doesn't stick his tongue down your throat like so many men, nor does he flick it around like he doesn't know what he's doing. He seems to move it in a little dance against yours, predicting your movements, somehow knowing exactly what you want. You give an involuntary groan. Tightening his grip around you, he moves to your neck, kissing down your throat.

You open your eyes and all you can see is the white light of his wings and his bright golden head. He slides the left sleeve of your slip from your shoulder in an attempt to expose your breast, but you grab his hand before he does. It surprises you.

He looks up, and for the briefest of moments, something very ugly passes over his face. It's gone in the blink of an eye, and you wonder if you only imagined it. You must have; his face is beautiful, his expression gentle.

'Forgive me,' he says, releasing you. Slowly he folds his wing back, revealing the filthy cell once more. You blink in surprise. Its ugliness is a bit of a shock against the angel's beauty. Before you can get up, he beats you to it, staggering to his feet.

'Careful!' you say.

He slumps against the wall, his forehead pressed up against the stone, his back to you. His beautiful wings hang from his shoulders, the ends trailing along the floor. 'Forgive me,' he repeats. 'Being in here, in this place, I've forgotten myself.'

'It's all right,' you say quickly, feeling strangely guilty. 'You didn't do anything wrong. I just ... I just need to find a way home. I have people who love me who are worried about me. That's the most important thing. And you need to get out of here. I can help you. We can help each other.'

Hell might be waiting outside but he has wings. If he heals, couldn't you both leave this terrible place just as you entered it?

He turns to face you and you take a step back, not out of fear but out of awe. It's one thing to see him lying crumpled up on the mattress; it's something else entirely to have him standing under his own power, even as injured as he is. He's only one man and yet he seems to fill the room. He seems to tower above you, as tall as a building, as big as God. You squint. His angelic glow seems brighter now than it did before.

His face is expressionless, almost hard, and his eyes—they seem to bore right into your soul.

'I'll-I'll come back.' Quickly, you turn, your knees buckling as you wobble over to the door. You give a little shiver at the feel of him staring at you. It makes your back ache; it weighs down your shoulders. It's almost like you're doing something wrong.

You don't look back, you won't look back, as you pull the door shut behind you. Once back in your room, you slump to your knees with a gasp.