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He inhaled deeply, and an almost violent vibration rocked through his energy.
It felt like standing on a thin crust of earth covering a volatile pocket of magma. Any moment now, it would erupt in a firestorm, and raze me in the process.
After a few seconds that seemed like forever, he once again wrenched his power under control, stepped back from me, and softly said, “Don’t forget to breathe.”
I sucked in air and pivoted to face him. “Not like I need it.” I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “As an angel, I mean.”
He blinked, and I could have sworn he looked perplexed for a moment, though it went by so fast I might have imagined it. “That’s right,” he eventually said, his voice holding a note of wariness. “I heard you used to be human. Do you” —he twirled his sword absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on the blade—“remember anything from before you were made into an angel?”
I made a face. “Not really.”
Something flickered in his eyes, too fast for me to gauge.
“I mean,” I went on, “there are bits and pieces here and there. Fleeting images, snippets of feelings. Like when you get déjà vu, or when you hear a song and it stirs a flash of a memory, but it’s mostly a feeling? That kind of stuff. I don’t remember any names, or faces, or actual situations from my human life.” I paused and bit my lip. “Which is kind of sad, you know? I’m sure I had a family. People I loved, who cared about me. And it’s all just gone. It’s not fair.” I put my hands on my hips and glared at him as if he was personally responsible for having my memory wiped. “Like, from what I heard, humans get turned into angels after their death if they have sacrificed themselves for someone else or if they lived a life of selfless charity or something, right? And you’d think that being turned into an angel is a reward for their altruism, but what kind of a reward is it to lose all memories of yourself and everyone you ever loved? Huh? That’s not a reward. It’s a punishment!”
My power whirred in the air, and I ground my teeth against the simmering rage inside me. I hadn’t known I harbored so much resentment about this issue, but my rant just now had blown the lid off the boiling pot that was my hurt and anger.
Aziel had stopped twirling his sword, his hand gripping the hilt so hard his knuckles flashed white. “I agree,” he said quietly. “And for what it’s worth, I am sorry you lost your memories. I wish it weren’t so.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled with a heavy sigh, reining back my anger. “It’s all right. Sorry I snapped at you like that. It’s not like you had a hand in it or something.”
For a second, some deep emotion moved over his face, his energy darkening. Clearing his throat, he averted his gaze and said, “Let’s get back to training.”
I nodded, and we went through more moves, awareness sparking all along my nerves whenever he got close to me when we clashed. It was like he lit up some heretofore dormant fuse inside me simply with his physical nearness.
I’d never felt this before. Sure, I’d recognized male beauty all around me—it was kind of hard not to, what with angels being unearthly gorgeous—but I hadn’t truly been attracted to anyone, not in this way that seemed like a force of nature, disabling all sense and reason and overriding any thought of propriety.
I wanted him to touch me, and not just within the scope of the training. No, I wanted his hands on parts of my body that were most definitely not used for fighting.
This was all new for me. I’d never looked at a male and imagined what it would feel like to have his lips trail kisses down my throat or his fingers run up my thighs until they hit?—
His nostrils flared, and he faltered in the strike he was executing. Abruptly, he stopped the maneuver and turned away, his shoulders lifting with the gulps of air he took.
I watched him pace away from me, my sword dangling neglected from my hand. Was I supposed to attack him? Use his moment of inattention to show him that I could take advantage of a distracted opponent?
I chewed my lower lip and instead asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded like crunched-up gravel, and he cleared his throat. His free hand flexed a few times, his energy whip-sharp.
And for some weird-ass reason, his obvious state of agitation only made him that much hotter.
I shook my head. What was wrong with me? I’d somehow devolved into a lust-driven creature and couldn’t even look at this male for a few seconds without thinking about licking a path down his chest.
This was so inappropriate. He was here to train me—forced to do so because of the favor he owed Naamah—and not to give me a blueprint for what to think of when I lay in bed and had few hours to myself.
Plus, he probably wouldn’t even be interested in me if he knew I thought he was hot.
A thought struck me that made heat wash up into my face. Oh, no. Could he—could he have smelled…my arousal? I knew for a fact how sharp angelic senses were. And if I could feel slickness between my thighs, chances were he could scent it.
Oh, God, he’d probably smelled it, and he wasn’t interested, and now he felt uncomfortable, and that was why he’d turned away from me. He was only here to give this weird, low-ranking angel combat training, and now he’d found himself confronted with an unsolicited lady boner.
Gah.
I buried my face in my hands—or tried to, but I’d forgotten the fact that I still held the sword in my right hand, so I ended up smacking myself in the face with the hilt and pommel. Crying out, I stumbled back. Fuck, that hurt.
He was right in front of me the next second, steadying me with his hands on my shoulders, his face wrought with concern. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” I blinked against the pain in my lips and nose.
