I duck my head toward Penryn, flashing a smile as though she just said something funny. In another place, another time, she probably would have, and I would have tried to hold my smile back so she wouldn't know how funny she really is.

But as I see my fellow warriors, my peers and friends, I can't stop the pain. It's the kind of pain that rips you apart from the inside, physically and emotionally. I can actually feel my back burning, where my beautiful white wings should have been spread out.

I have alienated myself from everyone for so long. Being alone is not in the nature of angels. We belong with others, like sheep in a flock, like humans who seek the comfort in the hug of a loved one. Oh, how I understand Josiah's disbelief in my story. It shouldn't be possible. I have been hunting the Nephilim for decades, with only my wings and sword as my companions. I realized a long time ago how I survived in solitude: my anger.

Anger toward my watchers, who sinned in an unforgivable way. Anger toward the punishment that was given to my beloved friends.

Anger toward myself, for understanding the temptation in this sin. As Penryn's warmth seeps into me, I cannot help but tug her a bit closer. She probably doesn't even notice this movement, but it means everything to me. As she puts her delicate palm on my cheek, I stop breathing. I can feel her eyes on me, waiting for me to respond. But I cannot let her see the pain that's inside me, the longing, the comfort her closeness gives me.

Then, her lips touch mine. It's no more than a whisper, a ghost of a kiss, yet it feels like everything inside me is burning in the most pleasurable pain. I kiss her greedily, ferociously even. I am helpless to the voices that demand me to take her, every fiber of her.

Then, I feel a gust of wind, and I slow my kiss.

When flying, there is a moment, just before you balance yourself, when you think you might fall even though you know you won't. Then you find the perfect angle, you feel the wind beneath your wings and you know that this is the place where you belong. This is your home.

Kissing Penryn is like that, but somehow it's so much more. Because this time, I don't know if I will fall, if I'll be able to hold on to that feeling of home. It makes everything so much more intense. I taste her slowly, thoroughly.

Dear god she tastes like heaven. I can almost feel the sun on my face and hear the wind. In this moment, with her wrapped around me, her body molded to mine as if it was made to be there, I feel as if I'm flying.

And that's when I know I must stop. I pull back abruptly, gulping for air. I look at Penryn, her eyes glazed and hazed that I almost return kissing her.

This is wrong in so many ways I cannot even count. Feeling like this by kissing her is wrong. I'm suddenly filled with anger. This sensation is saved for flying, for the most divine act an angel can do, not for a kiss with a daughter of man.

I know this isn't Penryn's fault, but I'm still angry at her. I mostly despise myself. What a horrible creature I must be to behave in such a hypocrite way. I cannot allow there to be room for what I felt in that kiss, only for my anger and solitude. That is how I have lived for centuries.

I see the realization on her face when she understands I have shut her out. But what I'll really remember is the look on her face when I whisper to her in a condescending mocking tone "you should know I don't even like you".

The vulnerability in her eyes almost makes me lose my resolve. My Penryn is always so strong, and stubborn, and mature. If she's letting me see what is truly in heart, then I must have caused her unimaginable pain.

Good. Maybe she'll finally get some sense and run away, take care of herself, live a normal life as possible. I turn around and walk through the double doors hoping

that's what will happen.