Micah by Alisa Woods

Author:Alisa Woods
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sworn Secrets Publishing

Chapter Nine

“Why did you bring me here?” Ren asked, her voice filled with horror.

“Why?” Micah gasped. Her words hurt more than the charred flesh on his back and the burned feathers still healing. Most of his body armor in back had been burnt away or burned into his flesh. Yet she was wondering why he brought her here? How could she even ask?

But when Micah had set Ren down in his cell, she’d scuttled away, curling up at the far corner of his bed, looking at him with fear and disgust.

He blinked through his pain-blurred thoughts. Of course. She’d seen him with his father. She’d seen the mask he donned, easily and naturally—the one that was as evil as Elyon; the one that kept him alive—and she was disgusted. And terrified, judging by the way she quivered.

“Because I love you, Ren.” His back was screaming pain. He slowly, gingerly climbed on the bed.

She flinched like she thought he was coming after her.

That sapped his last reserves of energy, the drive to get her to safety that made him dive in front of the blast of a half-dozen angels to save her. He needed a life kiss, but no way he could go to Terah. Or summon her here. Not only would Ren be rightly suspicious, but Terah would also probably stick her blade in him for asking. And he couldn’t risk his father thinking he was doing anything other than instructed.

Go fuck your prize. No wonder Ren hated him.

He collapsed face-down on the bed, groaning as he went—the burns were deep. Fuck. The pull on his eyelids was impossible to resist.

“Oh, my God—Micah!” Ren gasped. Then he felt the bed move as she crawled over to him.“Oh, God,” she sobbed. “What can I do?”

The burns must be worse than he thought.

He just shook his head, his eyes still closed. “Love you,” he mumbled. The words were slurred. Did she even hear them? He couldn’t worry about that. Couldn’t worry about anything. No energy. Too much pain…

He passed into unconsciousness to the sound of her crying.

Flames. Everywhere flames. He was standing in a circle painted in blood on the floor, surrounded by eternal flames, and one small move would send searing burns through whichever part of his body had done the unforgivable Sin of slipping one tiny step out of line. He had to stay frozen, an angeling icicle in the middle of a burning Hell, just to avoid writhing in agony and causing even more pain. His wings were tightly folded against his back, each feather keenly aware of how far it could move without pain. He’d already spent an eternity standing still, locked in place. The need to move was excruciating. And something was building inside him. Something inescapable. A compulsion he couldn’t ignore. Was powerless to resist. It built and built, the pressure ready to make him explode. And then suddenly he couldn’t contain it any longer. He threw his head back, and the primal scream erupted from him in angelsong, wings unfurled with a snap, arms flung wide.

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