he’d plunged from Aerie, assuming they’d both die. And he’d done it so Mikhail wouldn’t die alone.
The shock and weight of that realization left him breathless. He suddenly ached to embrace him, to pull him close and tell him he was sorry for everything. If he were the Severn he’d fallen in love with, he would have, but nothing was as simple as it had been. This could still be a trick, some ploy to reel Mikhail in again. Angels didn’t have demon wings. Severn was no angel, but he wasn’t demon either. They were still strangers, and Mikhail could not allow his feelings for Severn to leave him vulnerable again.
“How did you get the wings back?” he asked, voice thick with emotion. He swallowed hard to clear the clog.
“I didn’t.” Severn looked up. “These aren’t Konstantin’s wings, they’re all-new. Demons can’t heal missing wings. Maybe angels can, but I’m not exactly that either.” Severn filled his lungs, making his wings lift. “I’m both and neither.”
He sounded regretful, perhaps even a little lost, and again Mikhail found himself desperate to believe it all. Stiffly, he stepped back. “I think it’s best you keep them hidden. We’ll walk to Haven.” He turned away and headed in the general direction of Haven. The sanctuary should come into sight soon. Haven would take them in, and maybe Haven would have a solution for all the things he still felt for Severn.
They walked in silence across farmland, and by dusk, Haven’s huge glass domes glinted in the distance, painted pink by dying daylight. Another barn provided shelter from a sudden rain shower. Severn sat alone against the barn wall, and Mikhail gave him room. He should probably say something but had no idea what. Everything he wanted to say sounded foolish in his head. He’d always found Severn’s company to be the easiest of all his angels. Now the silence was suffocating.
He leaned against the open door and watched the skies, thinking of how they’d kissed on a rooftop and the hours after, exploring each other, discovering and learning what Severn liked, making him grin or laugh, and writhe and clutch at the sheets. Making him bite his lip, making him desperate.
“Can you fly?” Mikhail finally asked the next morning as they walked the final few miles toward Haven.
Severn walked the footpath ahead. “I don’t think so. I mostly fell from Aerie and didn’t stick the landing. It was a good thing you were out cold.”
“Thank you… for saving me.” It sounded wooden. He hadn’t meant it to but didn’t know how to express the terrible weight of emotion trying to choke him.
“You’re welcome, Your Grace.” Severn brushed his hand over the tall grasses alongside the path.
Haven loomed ahead, its glass domes so large their peaks touched the clouds. Unusually for an angel structure, there were no angels in the skies around it.
“How do you want to play this?” Severn asked, slowing up so Mikhail could fall into step alongside.
“I’ll demand entry.”
“That’s it?”
“What else is there?”
Severn smiled again. “We need a story. They may have heard about the commotion at Aerie. We’ll tell them the rumors of our death are clearly false, and we’re submitting ourselves into their care.” Severn stared ahead at the structure. “Hopefully, they’ll keep us together, seeing as we’re infamously mated.”
“Separating mated pairs would be pointless.”
“Unless that pair consists of two males. Has that ever happened before… an allyanse between angels of the same sex?”
“If it has, I’ve not heard of it, but I have never paid much attention to mated pairs. Once they became emotional, they were of no use to me.” He shook his head in dismay. “To separate a bonded pair would be cruel.”
Severn’s lips ticked. “Have you met angels?”
“I know some,” Mikhail replied easily. “One in particular is especially taxing. He was always the rebel.”
“Oh?” Severn’s tone lightened. “Is he handsome?”
Very, especially with his borrowed shirt untucked and his hair an unruly mess about his brilliantly animated face. “He thinks he is.”
“Funny, too, am I right?”
“And delusional most of the time.”
Severn’s sudden laugh startled a bird from a nearby tree. “You do know you’re describing yourself?”
“I was speaking of you, actually.”
His laughter faded but stayed as warmth in his eyes. “If we weren’t enemies, we’d be perfect for each other.”
“We were perfect—” He cut himself off. What they’d had, Severn and him, it had been a wonderful thing, a thing of feeling. Impossible to reason with but utterly wholesome.
“Until I fucked it up.” Severn frowned and