them, or it just never worked out. I’d get emails or texts later on, but they just refused to believe that I hadn’t set them up.”
“They wanted to think you were—”
“Damaged? Yes. I think so. I don’t know why, but I just knew I’d never get better in there.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re here. I need you to get better. Just like you need me. We’re a team.”
“You say that like we’ve known each other for a lifetime. Andrea, I’ve known you a day.”
“Maybe, but a part of you hasn’t. You lived in Spain, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“So you know what an alma gemela is?”
“The belief that a soul has a twin and they’re separated at birth.” I sigh—I want to say that’s silly, but I go around killing monsters.
In human skin.
Who’s the crazy one here?
She pauses then shuffles in the covers some. I tense when her leg kicks over my hip, but I know it’s to get closer to me. Out of nowhere, she’s trembling.
“What is it?” I rasp, and concern has me dragging my hand along her arm, both to soothe and to reassure.
“The last woman I helped, it went wrong. I didn’t save her. If anything, I got her killed.”
My eyes flare wide at that. “What? How?”
“Her husband came for her. He got to her because she was running from me.”
“What did you—” Her tension transmits itself to me. “Oh.” And suddenly I get it.
I understand.
“The wings?”
“Yes. I told her about them,” she whispers miserably.
“You didn’t show them to her?”
She licks her lips and her tongue accidentally pokes my chest. I know it’s not on purpose because it slips back in as fast as it popped out, not caressing me like she might if she was trying to seduce me.
I wouldn’t put it past her, but still, at this moment, that isn’t her intent.
“I got the tattoo after she died. Before my surgery.”
“Why?”
“I just needed to.” She gulps. “When she... she looked at me like I was a freak. I’d been helping her, been building her up to escape her husband, and she looked at me like she was escaping one lunatic only to fall into the arms of another.” She shudders. “I knew something was wrong, so I went to the doctor.”
I squeeze her in my embrace. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You got me through.”
“I did?” My brain brakes to a halt. “How?”
“At every pivotal point in my life, you’ve been there. When I realized what my calling was. When I helped save my first person—Diana. Then, when I was diagnosed with the cyst. You were along for the ride, and you didn’t even know it.”
I could see how, when she was sick, that would make a difference.
But this talk of soul mates?
I sigh, my breath brushing her hair, making the slight scent of rose and vanilla waft around.
It’s stupid and makes me feel like I’m taking advantage because she’s ill, but I press a kiss to her head.
She nuzzles into me, and for a while, we’re silent. I know she isn’t asleep. It’s more like she’s resting her eyes.
After some time, she whispers, “Savio?”
“Yes?”
“I think I need to clean your back up again. It’s really wet on the sheets.”
I tense, then register just how bad the pain is.
It’s weird how I’d been numb, my body blocked from me as I processed her story. I’m not sure if I like that.
What’s the point of going through what I’d done only for me not to feel it?
“I’ll put a shirt on.”
She frowns—I could feel her brow against my chest. “How do you keep this from people?”
“I don’t. Not always. When I was in Switzerland, the blood seeped into my chasuble. It caused complaints.”
“I can imagine.” She snorts.
My lips curve, and even though I never, in a million years, imagined smiling about something like this, I do it now.
And it feels... strange.
I clear my throat, then whisper, “I’ll be two seconds.”
“Don’t you think it needs more than a shirt?” she asks, as she watches me move off the bed.
I wear a pair of boxer briefs, but suddenly, it feels like I’m naked when I can feel her eyes drifting all over me.
It’s been such a long time since anyone looked at me like that, as though I were a man, a potential mate, that I find myself hovering for a second.
Whether that’s to show off some more or because I’m dithering, I don’t have a clue.
The thought is a prompt, though, and it makes me shuffle over to the dresser.
When I do, she