Eternal Sin (Primal Sin #2) - Ariana Nash Page 0,17

in his head and body.

“Retract your wings.”

He heard that but fought to organize his thoughts enough to pull himself and his wings together.

Soft hands cupped his face. “Mikhail… Listen to me.” Her eyes were soft, like the eyes of a mother he’d never known.

His vision swam, but he saw her face, wracked with concern—for him.

“Listen… You must retract your wings. I can’t treat you on the rooftop.”

His wings. Yes, his wings. He tried to pull them in and tuck them away, but their weight dragged, and the wings flapped chaotically, raining black feathers. “What is… wrong with me?”

Her thumb stroked his cheek. So soft, like she used to when he’d been just a fledgling. Just an angel. Not a guardian. Just Mikhail. He wanted to be that young angel again. No more pain, no more blood, or war, or anything, just the wind beneath his wings.

“It’s all right… I’ll help you.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Focus on your wings. Can you do that?”

He buried his head against her chest and wanted to crawl into her lap. It was insanity, for sure, but he could not stop the madness from clawing at him. He focused on his wings, on their suddenly terrible weight, and tried to fend off the onslaught of emotions. Finally, breathlessly, he pulled his wings in and illusioned them away, feeling small and lost without them. Nothing felt right.

“Little Mikhail,” Saphia whispered, “I have you, dearling. It’s going to be all right.”

He wasn’t sure he believed her, or that he cared, but the pain was fading, and so was the guilt. Wordlessly, she helped lift him to his feet and guided him inside into a room set aside from the rest, so he wasn’t seen. The nephilim was given strict instructions not to speak a word of what he’d seen and sent out of the room. Mikhail collapsed onto the bed and succumbed to fluttering his eyes closed, to the sounds of chinking bottles and Saphia’s comforting whispers.

Chapter 7

Mikhail

He woke tucked into a small human bed, wearing only his undergarments. A brief few moments of panic clutched at his breath, but then Saphia was at his bedside, her hand on his arm.

“By Haven, what happened?” he croaked, shifting upright to lean against the headboard. His body felt heavy and abused, muscles aching as though he’d just returned from battle.

She smiled sympathetically and drew up a chair, but instead of taking it, she slipped her hand into Mikhail’s and squeezed. “How do you feel?” Her aging face with its soft smiles was a ray of sunshine in what had otherwise become his dark existence. He should have come sooner.

“Battered.”

“Yes, well… That’s not a surprise. Did anyone see you descend from Aerie?”

“No, I don’t think so…”

“Be sure.”

He’d spiraled from Aerie, lost to pain, but nobody had seen. “Just the nephilim on the roof.”

She nodded. “That’s good. I’ve spoken with him. He won’t talk.” She took a breath and asked, “Mikhail, are you aware you had six wings?”

He rubbed at his aching shoulder. That would explain the weight. “No.”

“How many times has it happened?”

“Once before, at Tower Bridge.”

“Ah. I heard the rumors. Didn’t believe them. Clearly, I should have.” She released his hand and settled in the chair beside the bed.

Whenever he thought of Tower Bridge, shame sickened him. Guardians did not lose control. Tower Bridge had been a travesty. “Have you seen anything like it before?” he asked quietly.

“Not in my lifetime. I’ve never known of an angel with more than one pair of wings. Well, apart from…” She waited, letting him fill in the obvious.

“Seraphim.” The resemblance had crossed his mind, but it didn’t mean anything. Tower Bridge had been an isolated incident… until last night.

“The substance the demon coated your wings in, I suspect it did more than heal them.”

His thoughts tripped. “That crone healed my wings?”

“Yes, I believe so. After analyzing the concoction, I found no traces of poison. The salve was remarkable, actually.” He frowned, and Saphia tutted. “Don’t give me that look. You said yourself your wings were broken. You’d have healed them eventually, but the salve clearly made a difference.”

“It’s just, I thought…” Kisses on a rooftop in the rain… Severn in his arms. He’d thought Severn had healed his wings.

Saphia’s brows lifted in inquiry.

But, of course, Severn healing him was ridiculous, considering he wasn’t even an angel and demons don’t heal. By Haven, he’d wept on the rooftop with Severn in his arms and thanked him. “Nothing.” He rubbed at his chest,