Page 28 of Wings of Darkness (Daughter of the Seven Circles #2)

I pulled my hand back, realizing Oliver was jealous—and knew what I had to do. I copied him, tipping the rest of my martini back. The burn hit me as hard as the first time, and I coughed, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

Alexei studied me for a moment. “How often do you drink?”

I hesitated, unsure of how much I wanted to admit about my sheltered life. “Eggnog. Once a year. My mom was… a little overbearing.”

Oliver snorted quietly into his empty glass, shaking his head.

Alexei’s lips twitched. “Once a year, huh? Was she strict with all aspects of your life?”

My answer hung in the air, unspoken. He had no idea. Nor would he ever.

He grinned, the glint in his eyes turning mischievous. “I’m going to take that as a yes, beautiful. Need any help curing that… innocence?”

Rune growled and bared her teeth at Alexei, her shadow fur stilling.

“No, thank you.” I could only imagine what the golden warrior had in mind.

Standing, the world tilted a little too much, forcing me to steady myself with the table. But the dizziness didn’t fade like I’d hoped.

Oliver sighed. “You’re so out of your element. ”

I shot him a wry smile. “Well, then I guess it’s time I change that,” I said, turning on my heel and heading toward the frosted bar. “The general isn’t going to butter himself up.”

I weaved through tables and lively patrons, my gaze glued to the general’s back.

With each step I took, I swore the tension in his shoulders increased as if he could feel me coming.

He probably could. A foot from his back, I side-stepped him and plopped myself down on a glass barstool, bringing our arms within inches of each other.

“Is there something you need, Hellion?” he asked, his voice low and irritated. He stood, twirling a tumbler of amber liquid, staring resolutely at the glass shelving of liquor behind the bar.

“No,” I lied. “I just wanted a drink.” I locked my gaze on a bartender and waited until they came over. “The Abyssal, please,” I said with confidence, acting like I knew what I liked, and ignoring the large description beneath the drink.

The general side-eyed me. I flicked my gaze to him and back to the bartender, who nodded and walked away.

We sat in tense silence—or I sat; the general stood—his shadows slithering around his palm and the unusual letters tattooed into his wrist.

The warm fog from the martini Alexei ordered me didn’t give me the courage I’d hoped for. I had no idea what to ask or how to approach buttering up General Storm-Cloud. Still, this was the perfect opportunity. He wasn’t walking away, nor was he grating on my nerves with his usual disdain.

I needed to ease into it. Ask something easy.

“What does this mean?” I traced my finger over his wrist, the motion so casual that I barely registered the shock of contact until we both flinched. He stepped back, and my face flushed, my mind scrambling.

Why the hell did I do that?

I didn’t need a second martini after all, but it was too late to cancel my order.

A moment later, the bartender appeared with my pitch-black drink.

I said a quick thanks. The general handed her a few coins, and my flush deepened, burning all the way through me.

I’d forgotten about the whole payment thing.

“Sorry, I—I didn’t realize. Thanks,” I muttered, keeping my gaze locked onto my unusually dark drink as I pushed my hair to cover my face.

I waited for him to leave, knowing he only stuck around to pay for my drink.

When I heard him move, I shook my head, a soft laugh escaping.

“I knew it’d never be that easy,” I whispered to myself.

“Aletheia.”

I froze.

Turning slowly, tension knotted in my stomach. He stood there, fully facing me, his golden eyes unreadable as they burned into my face. My pulse quickened, but I forced myself to bear the weight of his attention.

“What?” I asked.

He unbuttoned his cuff, revealing dark, bold lettering circling his right wrist. “It’s ancient Greek. It means truth.” His eyes narrowed, holding mine with a depth that made the word feel heavy—like it was meant for me, like it carried a warning or a challenge.

“And your other tattoo?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as I pointed to his other wrist.

General Ronen stared, as though weighing whether I was worthy of more information. His fingers lingered on the button of his other cuff, and for a ridiculous moment, I had the sudden urge to help him. To uncover whatever secrets lay hidden in the black ink swallowing his tanned skin.

I shot a glance to meet his gaze. But it wasn’t quick, not when I got lost in the gold. It didn’t matter if they were unreadable. It didn’t matter if a frown creased his brows. They pulled me in.

Everything I’d been carrying—the weight of my decisions, the urgency to help Aspen and my mom, the gnawing frustration over how far behind I was—lifted. My chest expanded, my breath coming deep and steady, and for the first time in ages, I felt something close to peace. And, hell, I wanted more.

Before I could stop myself, I was on my feet.

He stiffened and pulled back. Shit .

I quickly grabbed my martini and took a sip, pretending the movement was casual, as if standing had been my plan all along.

But my sip turned into a big gulp. I was so sick and tired of finding him attractive, of getting lost in his stupid eyes.

Peace? I thought I’d felt peace? No. The only peace I had ever found was in Aspen’s arms, and I needed that back.

“Aphesis. It means liberation,” he stated, unfazed by my sudden lack of interest.

I polished off my martini, focusing on the spiced blackberry taste and the burn that pushed the invasive feelings away.

“And what exactly would the big, bad Dark Seraphim want to be liberated from?” I asked, my voice tinged with irritation.

He stepped closer and brought his face inches from mine. “You.”

His sharp retort made me laugh .

The alcohol had a serious role in my laughter, especially as he lorded over me. He was at least a foot taller, and the fierce intensity of his proximity should’ve made me nervous, but I couldn’t have cared less. The glare furrowing his brows only made me laugh harder.

“That’s right, General Storm-Cloud.” I faced him.

“What were your words exactly? I’m a problem, an annoyance, an irritating menace ,” I said, booping him on the nose and sniggering at his glare.

“Which is so funny, because last I checked, you knew little about me. You’ve made assumptions on heaven only knows what to fit whatever terrible image you’ve crafted in that stormy mind of yours.

” I patted him on the chest, as if to say I forgave him for his misgivings, the warmth of the martini I downed severely taking over my actions.

He dropped his gaze to the hand I’d yet to remove from his soft button-up, the tips of my fingers pressed against his exposed skin by his collarbone.

Enthralled, I traced my fingers over the inked design, then toyed with his top button, curious what lay beneath his shirt.

The thought stopped me short, and I had enough clarity left in my muddled mind to take back my hand before the shadows swirling in his irises devoured it.

Walking around him, I copied his move and tiptoed up to his ear. “But do you know what I think, General?” I whispered, raising goosebumps along his neck. “I think you’re intrigued by me.”

“Is that so?”

I shifted closer as I moved to his other ear and stumbled. My hands latched onto his hard sides to steady myself, and he tensed.

Damn, was he just pure muscle beneath his clothes?

It took me a couple seconds to regain my train of thought and release him. “Why else would you stay to talk to me?” I asked, my voice dripping with smugness. I blinked away the darkness encroaching on my vision. But it didn’t help. “Would you please put your shadows away?”

He grunted, grabbing my arms and forcing me back onto my stool.

Why wasn’t he doing it? Was he trying to make the whole bar go black?

But the longer I focused on the darkness, the more I realized it wasn’t his shadows—it was my vision. Suddenly, the general, the bar, everything slipped away.

My stomach dropped, and I grabbed his arms. Surprisingly, the contact helped to calm my rising panic, but not enough to stop the piercing tingles along my arms. “Ronen, why can’t I see?”

“The Abyssal martini. You didn’t read the warning.” His voice was matter-of-fact, like he knew I hadn’t.

That was what that long, hard look was for. He knew. He knew, and he stayed not just to pay for my drink, but because of its effects.

I squeezed his forearms harder, my frustration boiling. “What was the warning?”

“The martini steals your senses.”

“For how long?” I demanded.

“Until it passes from your system. A few hours.”

Unbelievable. I dug my nails into the soft fabric of his shirt, my pulse thundering in my ears. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His warm breath brushed my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. “Because I wanted to see how far you’d go with your little game. Now, how about you tell me the truth about why you came over here? Then maybe I’ll help you out,” he whispered, his voice carrying a thread of danger.

“Help me out how?”

“I’ll bring your senses back,” he taunted.

He didn’t find me intriguing—he saw an opportunity to get the answer he hadn’t gotten earlier. I shouldn’t be surprised. He was the general, after all. By definition, he was a strategist—calculated, methodical—the kind of male who never acted on impulse, who weighed every action like a chess move.

For a second, I almost didn’t want to tell him. I could just suffer through the darkness—senses stripped away, unfeeling, unseeing, unhearing. My skin prickled with a sharp sense of dread.

Damn him!

“What sense is going to go next, Hellion? Time’s ticking.”

I dug my nails into his arms, refraining from doing something crazy like slapping the smugness from his tone. I shoved the panic crawling up my throat back down, forcing myself to think clearly.

I knew he wouldn’t help me unless I were honest.

“I came over here because… I want you… to train me,” I blurted out, realizing that pausing to think after saying I want you, after rubbing my hand all over his chest, gave the wrong impression.

I was never drinking again.

My words hung in the air. The silence and tension in his forearms made my palms sweaty.

He pried my hands off his arms and stepped out of reach. I was left clutching the edge of the bar, needing something solid, regretting the anxiousness that came from the sudden absence of his touch .

Something tickled my nose, and within seconds, my vision returned.

The tension in my body eased, but the weight of his power swiftly replaced that relief.

He restored my senses as easily as flipping a switch.

And the thought of how much control he had over the mind made my stomach twist. If he could return my vision in an instant, I could only imagine the horrors his shadows could do in the same heartbeat.

My heart picked up speed, and I stared at the disbelief on his face. He stood there acting like I’d just asked him to wrestle a Hellhound.

“The time I’m required to spend with you is enough as it is,” he said, his voice flat, dismissive.

“What’s your problem with me?”

“Nothing.”

I scoffed, unable to hide my frustration. “Liar.” I took a step forward, meeting his gaze with defiance. “Why won’t you train me?”

“I don’t play favorites. Find someone else.”

“I want you,” I said, snatching his wrist before he took off. My fingers brushed a raised part of his skin. Something was familiar about the shape of it. But without seeing it, I couldn’t be sure what it was.

He jerked his wrist away and waved his hand to the bartender. “Nalini, give her some water. She’ll need it while I go fetch her escort,” he said, before turning and walking away.

I wanted to call after him, to stop him, but his use of that name stunned me.

Nalini, not Lini.

I turned around and laid eyes on Aspen’s first love, handing me a glass of water .

I wasn’t sure how I’d forgotten about her. Maybe because the last time I saw her wasn’t in person—it was in Aspen’s memory while I dream-walked to him. And the reason her amber eyes looked different was because I remembered them dull and unseeing—dead.

Now they were filled with life and light, or I suppose as much light and life as a dead soul could have living in Hell.

My muddled brain had no idea how to react to that eye-opening information.

Before I could so much as lift my jaw off the floor, Alexei appeared, and Nalini went to help another patron.

“Causing problems, beautiful?”

I glanced at Alexei’s smile, then at the general, who’d found his way back to Moira and her wandering hands, then to Nalini.

“Hey.” Oliver came up on Alexei’s other side. “You okay, Lucy?”

Was I okay?

My head throbbed inside my skull like it was threatening to break free.

“Alexei said he’d take us around Hoar Hollow to check out more sights if we wanted,” Oliver said. He sounded eager, and I caught the hopeful glance he shot toward Alexei. I almost hated to spoil his fun.

“I think I’d rather go back to the castle.”

Especially when the general wanted absolutely nothing to do with me unless the king required him. Aspen’s first love was dead, in Hell, and working with a gentle smile in the bar. And we were no closer to our goals.

What the hell did I do with any of that?