I've never been able to save anything in my life? Not even a bug. If they are dying around me, I can't help them. Not even if it's as simple as handing someone an EpiPen for an allergic reaction. I can't do anything." She pressed her hand to her forehead, trying not to let the memories overwhelm her. She didn't know how she was telling him, why this time, for the first time in her life, she could talk about these things, but it felt desperately good to be able to share it. To admit her failures to a man who she knew wouldn't judge her.
And he didn't. He simply kissed her nose and rested his forehead against hers, in an intimate, private gesture between two people who have no secrets from each other.
For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Ian gently rubbed her shoulders, his heavy weight comforting on top of her. "How does this relate to the fact you can't connect with me?"
Her arm began to itch, and she absently rubbed it. "As an angel of life, I'm bound by rules that don't apply to other angels. Our gift of being able to restore life is too powerful and too dangerous. If we get emotionally invested in someone, it can obscure our judgment and make us choose to interfere when we shouldn't. We can't save lives just because it suits us. We have to be driven by the greater good, by forces bigger than us."
He lifted his head. "The greater good?"
She smiled faintly. "I guess that sounds like your mission, doesn't it?" The itch on her arm became more intense, and she scratched it restlessly. "If you love someone, you will do anything to save them, so we can't love. We can't connect. We can't share secrets. No bonding. It's against the rules, but in addition, we literally can't do it."
Ian studied her. "But you just did it. You shared with me."
She nodded and took a deep breath. "I know. I've never been able to do that before." She managed a shy smile. "It felt good."
He grinned. "Aye, it did. Must be because my allure is so compelling that you can't hold yourself back from me anymore."
She smiled at his silliness. "Yes, that must be it. Your animal magnetism."
He shrugged. "I'm a raging inferno of manliness. Things like this happen from time to time."
"Well, it feels good. Really good. But why am I even constrained by these stupid rules?" Her arm was burning now, and she dug her fingernails into it, trying to get relief. "I can't save anyone anyway, so what would it matter if I fell in love with the world? I couldn't save them even if I wanted to— Argh!" She shook out her arm. "I think I got a bug bite or something—"
Ian's eyes narrowed. "Your arm hurts?"
"Yes—"
He grabbed her wrist and placed his hand on her skin. A look of raw possession filled his face. "It's hot. Feel it?" He splayed her palm over her forearm, and she felt the intense heat emanating from her skin.
"What is it?" She propped herself up on her elbows, looking at it. "There's no mark—"
"Not on the surface, no." But there was an edge of excitement to Ian's voice. "But it's beneath the surface, trying to form." He raised her arm to his mouth and pressed his lips against the burning flesh. It didn't cool it. It just made it hotter and more uncomfortable. "One of the stages of the bond is trust," he said. "It has two parts—you trusting me, and me trusting you. When you told me the story of your past and your inability to save your mother, you shared your darkest secret with me. It satisfied your half of the trust stage. We've done two and a half stages so far. Halfway there."
She caught her breath. "Telling a secret satisfies the trust stage?"
"Yes. It can be that, or giving the other one the power to kill you and trusting them not to actually do it." He grinned. "We're bonding, Alice. The mark is there, beneath your skin, and it's trying to get out."
Alice rubbed the mark. "That would be a bad thing, Ian."
"Why?" He was suddenly looming over her, frustration etched on his face. "Tell me why it's so damn wrong for us to bond."
"You mean, other than the deadly sheva destiny?" Because even assuming that all the angel stuff could be worked out, that was still a major problem.