Page 9 of Wings of Darkness (Daughter of the Seven Circles #2)

Digging my nails into my palms, I broke our little game and shook my head. If I lost this battle of wills, so be it. I didn’t want to admire his irises—or worse, drown in them. My gaze landed on the red roses decorating my walls, and flustered, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, General Ronen needs to get the—” I shut my mouth when I saw the blue hues of dawn reflecting off the snow weighing down the evergreen trees.

Blue was a color I only associated with one person.

Blue was a flame so hot it could melt cuffs to rescue you.

Blue was a flame so fierce it could destroy the chains holding you prisoner.

Blue was Aspen—the one who saved me. Or at least, tried to.

Subdued, I turned to the general. “What do you need?”

If possible, his expression grew colder. Heavenly Hell . What was his damned problem?

“Stand up, go to your closet, and change before I make you run until you puke tomorrow.”

I bit my tongue. Disrespecting ass.

Rune whined at me, shoving her nose into my shoulder like she wanted me to move too.

“Traitor,” I muttered, flinging the covers off and standing. A wispy shadow grazed my leg, pulling my attention to my tight boy shorts and camisole .

“What are you doing?” I didn’t want his shadows anywhere near me.

“That’s what you wear to bed with the Nephilim?”

I couldn’t tell if he was surprised, angry, or curious. His eyes were pitch-black as he cracked his thumbs, the tension in the air practically suffocating.

“I didn’t know what I wore—or who I wore it around—was any of your business,” I replied, trying to sound casual. It took a lot of effort to keep the bite out of my voice, but I had to be careful. Polite. Nice. It was the only way if I wanted him to help me.

“Be ready in ten,” he barked, then turned on his heel and left.

“How do you put up with him?” I asked Rune.

Her cute little tail curled in response. I rolled my eyes and entered my closet.

Never in my life had I owned this many clothes. And while I loved all the different textures and endless color options, I didn’t care about any of it—not when I resented the state of my body.

I refused to look in the mirror, keeping my gaze away from my scars as I pulled on an oversized sweatshirt and pair of sweatpants. With a little more energy than yesterday, I put my hair into a high ponytail.

As I gathered my wild waves, my fingers brushed my ears, and my stomach sank.

Memories of Brock resurfaced as I grazed a finger along the healed cartilage.

My thick hair usually covered it, so I managed to forget, but the scar permanently marked me—a reminder of that despicable fallen angel and another male’s abuse.

I sighed, pushing the memory aside, and instead made a conscious effort to place my hair in a low ponytail, carefully covering the wound I wasn’t ready to face. I pulled a happier memory to the surface.

A time when I wore my hair like this—a memory that returned to me.

My first kiss.

It didn’t happen in the Drune Forest when my powers consumed us. No, my first kiss occurred long before that.

Did I go too far? He could break an ankle with the trap I set for him. But Aspen had gotten too arrogant with his ability to make me fall on my ass every time he blipped into existence, so I wanted to repay the sentiment.

Knowing he always zoomed in as close as possible to shock me, I used that to my advantage. With my hair pulled up, I waited for his blur of movement to flash in front of my face.

But it never came.

“Boo,” he whispered in my ear, almost startling me into my own hole—but he caught me around the waist.

Dammit. He was supposed to come in front, not behind.

Dedicated to my plan and all the effort I’d put into it, I did something bold and crazy. I twisted around and bounced onto my tiptoes to press my lips against his.

For the first time.

Tingles erupted between our pressed skin, dancing down my spine, making me crave more. For a moment, he stiffened—then melted into the kiss, grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me flush against the hard length of him.

Shit.

My nipples pebbled beneath my shirt as I dragged my tongue across his mouth, intensifying the tingles. He moaned, almost distracting me.

But I had a score to settle.

With a soft whimper, I pulled away, a devious smile curling across my face. I took a large step back, teetering dangerously at the edge of my hole—but righted myself.

His vibrant eyes flashed with light, and he followed, his gaze locked on mine, distracted, mesmerized by the way I slid my tongue across my lips—so distracted, in fact, that he stepped right into my trap and tripped.

“Look who’s on the ground now.” I laughed, not hiding a single ounce of my smug smile.

His mouth twitched in response, and a cunning expression replaced the outrage.

Oh no.

“And to think I finally caught you before you fell,” he said, latching onto my arm and yanking me down. My chest collided with his while the rest of me lay outside the small hole. He angled my face and dove back onto my lips.

“You’re benefiting from it, though.”

“You’re right. Maybe I’ll let you make me fall more often.”

He deepened our kiss.

“Hellion! You have one minute before I drag you out.”

I gritted my teeth. I truly hoped I didn’t kill the general before he could save the male I ached for.