Unnatural Instinct: Fallen

8.

When next I enter your room, I find you sitting in your bed with your knees clasped to your chest. You look puffed, and when you look up at me I see your cheeks have a deep blush to them and that your lips are swollen. You and my master have been busy. But how busy?

You're wearing the slip my master left for you. It fits well. It suits you. I can see the curve of your breasts and hips. It reminds me too much of how you looked on the altar that I downturn my eyes.

Closing the door behind me, I walk over to a nearby table and put down your meal.

'You must be hungry,' I say, lifting up the cloche to your plate. As an angel, I have no need to eat but I have a basic understanding of what smells good and what doesn't. And I know this smells good. Though you pretend not to care, you won't resist. I see the hungry look in your glance.

'Let me go,' you say.

'No.'

'Why am I here?'

'You have a task to perform.'

'What?'

I don't answer. I can't answer.

You frown. A sudden hatred flares in your eyes. 'You're all monsters. Disgusting, disgraceful.' Angry tears drip down your cheeks. 'What you've done to me, what you've done to ... others.' You shake your head. 'I hate you. I hate you all.'

It startles me—your rage. Where has your fear gone? Strangely, I find myself disliking it. It tightens a knot in my stomach, the like of which I haven't felt in millennia, not since the time I abandoned God.

You suddenly rush at me, and all I can do is stand there as you pound my chest with your fists. 'Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!' you scream. It's a foolish thing to do; I am an angel, neither living nor dead. You cannot hurt me. You do it for some time before you finally grow tired and sink to your knees at my feet. 'I miss Mum,' you croak, wiping your nose.

I frown. My master won't like this. You're supposed to be comfortable. 

'You must eat,' I say.

You don't move, continuing to snuffle and weep. I drop into a crouch, and you gasp, wrapping your arms around my neck with a start as I pull you into my embrace. You'retoo surprised to fight as I carry you over to the table and sit you down.

'Eat,' I repeat, stepping back.

You look at me with those hate-filled eyes, but eventually pick up your fork and turn to your meal. Once you've taken a few bites, I glance at the tapestry, then turn and leave your room.

My master is waiting for me.

'Enter,' he says before I have a chance to knock at his door.

He looks up as I step inside, and I immediately see he's angry. No. Furious. He's furious enough that he's struggling to maintain his facade. Both at once, I see a flash of his real face pass over his false one; his hands transform into paws before turning back into hands again. Coupled with this, I see the sheets are dry and that his appendage stands hard between his thighs.

You've been busy but clearly not that busy.

Inexplicably, instead of making me feel desperate or unhappy at my master's disappointment, I feel pleased. It almost makes me take a step back. It shocks me.

Thankfully my master has turned his gaze away before he sees my confusion.

'She's too resistant,' he says, his feathers rustling agitatedly at his back. 'She's thinking too much of others and not of herself.' He looks at me. 'Seduction and sympathy won't be enough. I need to be a safe place. A protector. She needs to trust me.' He pauses as he stares at me hard. 'You need to hurt her. Make her fear you. Drive her into my arms.'

'Yes, my lord.'

'And quickly. Time is running out.'

Ileave his room, closing the door shut behind me. As I stand in front of yours,I pause. I can hear you. You're scratching at the lock. By the sound of it, you're trying to pick it with something. It's pointless. The door is sealed against any attempt at escape or forced entry. Only myself and my master have the power to open it.

An unpleasant feeling coils in the pit of my stomach at what I'm about to do. I try to ignore it, reminding myself of all that will be accomplished when this task is over. When my master is reborn through your mortal flesh, not even God can stop our dominion of the Earth. No matter what I feel, your fear and pain, even your life, are worth that. Lifting my chin, I grab the handle.

I feel a bang and you shriek as I throw the door open. Stumbling backwards, you crash to the floor, clutching your face. You look up at me in dread, your eyes like bright disks between your fingers. There's a smear of blood from a gash on your chin.

I slowly approach you. You're weeping as you push yourself along the floor away from me. By the look of it, you've injured your ankle. 'Please,' you beg. 'Please, I didn't-I didn't—'

'You didn't what?' I boom. 'Try to escape? After everything I've done for you?!' I gesture at the room, taking in the candles, your slip, your half-eaten food. You shriek as I throw a small table across the room. It shatters against the wall.

Pulling my face into a sneer, I slowly spread my black wings. You back up against the bed, jaw slack as you clutch onto the blanket behind you. I make myself breathe heavily. I clench my fists. I push out my chest as I bare my teeth in a snarl.

'I'm sorry,' you repeat in a stuttering whisper, shaking your head tearfully. 'I'm so-so sorry. I won't do it again. I-I promise.'

I glare at you. You look so small, so weak and fragile, like all of man is. It's strange to think that someone like you could be the vessel that carries my master. When the time comes for his birth, he'll tear you to pieces. You'll die screaming. There'll be nothing left of you but a pool of blood and mauled flesh as he eats his way out of you.

The thought makes me stop. As I glare at you from the middle of the room, I struggle to keep up the pretence of hatred. You're trembling. You're deathly pale. Tears stream down your cheeks. The red of your blood gleams against the flickering candlelight. I clench my fists more tightly until my nails bite into my palms. I want to hate you. I need to hate you.

Before I betray myself to you, I turn away with a scowl. Folding my wings at my back, I make my way to the door. As I grab the handle I turn to you once more. 'Don't be a fool. Know your enemy.'

And with that I step out of your room, slamming the door shut behind me. I slump against it, appalled at myself.

What the hell did I just say?