"They're your wings," Edvardiel said.
Your wings.
Wings.
The words echoed bizarrely in her addled mind, taking a while to sink in. And when they finally did, her terror only grew. "Why do they look like that? Why are they—"
"Shh. Relax. You're cramping them—"
The things on her back brushed against the sand, a sensation so alien that she flinched in shock. She tried to stand but they were so big and heavy that they threw her off balance. She stumbled—
Edvardiel caught her.
A searing pain exploded through her back, the raw nerves blazing up her spine, into her skull. Her vision blurred as the agony paralyzed her.
Those things weren't wings. They were an abomination. A result of Hell's poison.
"Get them off me," she gasped, panic tightening around her chest. "Get them off!"
"Issa, breathe. Please."
He held her steady as sobs wracked her body.
She'd always yearned for wings, but these… these were wrong. Twisted. Fragile, fleshy horrors—
Edvardiel took her face between his hands, turning her away from the sight.
"Issa, look at me." His voice was steady, his face a hazy silhouette through her half-healed eyes. In her delirium, she thought she saw a flicker of blue in his eyes—an unnatural, piercing shade that vanished when she blinked. "We're going to fix them. I promise we will."
She nodded numbly.
When he untangled their limbs and knelt behind her in the soft sand, she forced herself to sit still. She clutched fistfuls of sand, using them to ground herself in the present.
"There are feathers here," Edvardiel said slowly. "They're stuck on something."
Feathers.
She had feathers underneath that hideous mass of flesh.
Maybe they were wings after all.
She took deep gulps of the ocean air, blood still pounding in her ears. Something that felt frighteningly like hope leapt in her chest.
"Can you…" She hesitated, afraid of the answer. "Can you fix them?"
"You're tensing them up, Issa. Relax, please, so I can see what's wrong."
She tried. She willed herself to relax, but the more she tried, the worse it seemed to get.
"Can't you just pull them open?"
He hesitated. "Maybe. But I can't see. If I pull them wrong…" He trailed off, his uncertainty palpable. "There's got to be a better way."
Her shoulders sagged. The ocean breeze scraped over her new appendages, making her shiver. They felt raw and exposed, as though something that belonged inside her had been dragged out into the open, left bare to the elements. At that thought, they clenched in response, sending a blistering pain through her spine.
Her eyes watered.
She could sit here all day, waiting for a miracle, or she could take her chances with the pain.
Issa drew a shaky breath.
"Just do it," she said. "Set them right."
For a long moment, Edvardiel didn't move, as though he too were steeling himself. Then he shifted closer, the sand rustling beneath him.
She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together to keep from crying out. But the hand that ran down between her vulnerable wings was warm and reassuring.
His touch said, I love you.
It said, I will take care of you.
His fingers kneaded the tense muscles around her wing joints, easing the tightness bit by bit. Despite the pain, Issa felt herself relaxing into his touch, the agony ebbing as her rigid wings unfurled ever so slightly.
"There's Edenium in your wings." Edvardiel said quietly. "That's why they won't open. They're stuck inside out because half of them are still within you."
Issa craned her head, squinting through her murky vision. Beneath the deformed, webbed flesh, she saw the large veins choked by frozen rivulets of gold. Her stomach turned. The poison had ruined her wings—they looked like they'd been twisted through a meat grinder.
A cold, hollow fear settled inside her.
"Does that mean…" Her voice cracked. "Do we have to cut them off?"
Saying it out loud made it too real. The malformed wings twisted, crumpling back into their original, painful form.
"No!" Edvardiel's reply was sharp, his grip on her shoulders tightening. "No," he said again, more softly. "That's not going to happen."
His thumb resumed its rhythmic motion, kneading away the pain. "It'll take time," he said. "But we'll fix them. I promise."
Despite herself, she believed him.
"Okay," she breathed, and her contorted wings relaxed. He leaned forward to press a soothing kiss to her face. The sunlight caught his neck, and for a brief moment, they gleamed silver. Issa turned, blinking, but he was already settling behind her once more.
"I'm going to pry them free," he warned.
A light tug sent a sizzling pain through the raw, oversensitive nerves. She gasped, trembling, but he withdrew immediately. When he returned, his fingers were bone-meltingly hot, his touch feather-light.
Issa matched her breathing to his, willing her body to soften under his hands. She closed her eyes, remembering the beach where they'd first met, long before Hell had torn her apart. She imagined the sun rising over golden waters, painting the sky in hues of hope.
Hell's gates were closed. The Acolytes were free. The Apocalypse was over.
The waves sighed gently against the shore, a rhythm older than time itself. Salt clung to the air, mingling with the warmth of the sand. Her hair fluttered in the sea breeze, as though Earth itself were breathing a sigh of relief.
Edvardiel's hands were steady, meticulous, freeing her wings feather by feather with infinite care. The pain faded, replaced by a peculiar warmth that flowed through her limbs, soothing and making her drowsy.
Glory, she realised. The wonderful warmth was his glory.
"Edvardiel," she said, her voice heavy with languor. "You must be exhausted. Maybe we shouldn't do this now. Maybe—"
"I'm fine," he said. "Besides, we can't leave your wings bent like this. They aren't getting any blood flow."
"All right, wing expert," she tried to joke. "Anyway, you keep saying 'we' but look at me just sitting here."
He chuckled.
"Sitting still sounds good to me."
Hours passed as they sat in the sand, the world shifting from golden morning to crimson dusk. The faraway waves inched towards the shore and splashed at her thighs. Issa's body felt stiff from sitting still for so long but she didn't dare move—didn't dare make Edvardiel's work any more tedious than it already was.
Only her angel could've been this patient with her, this careful.
"All done," Edvardiel murmured at last, his voice low with awe. "Look, Issa. Look at them."
She turned, breath catching in her throat.
Gone were the twisted lumps of flesh. Even through her blurred sight, her feathers gleamed a dusky gold, glowing faintly in the setting sun.
"They're mine?" she whispered, trembling.
They felt stiff and heavy from the Edenium, but they no longer hurt. She could feel them. She could even move them a little.
"They're yours," Edvardiel said softly, brushing his fingers over the golden feathers and sending an unexpectedly pleasurable jolt through her body. "All yours."
Her vision wavered as tears filled her eyes. She tried to speak but no words came out, just a choked sob.
"Thank you," she said. The words felt woefully inadequate compared to everything he'd done.
When he wrapped his arms around her, the weight of everything she'd just endured came crashing down—breaking Hell's puppet strings, closing the gates, and now this strange, inexplicable transformation.
She rested her cheek against her angel's chest, leaning into the sturdiness of his body. "I love you, Edvardiel," she whispered. "So much."
He stroked her hair. "I love you too," he breathed. "More than anything in this world."
He stood while cradling her in his arms, wrapping his jacket around her as her shredded angel dress fluttered onto the sand. She was exposed in so many ways, and yet she'd never felt safer than she did in his arms. He waded into the water, the waves lapping beneath them.
"Have you been to the ocean before?" he asked.
She smiled into his shoulder. "We met at the ocean, Edvardiel."
"You mean in the void?"
"No." She kissed his cheek. "A hundred years ago, you saved a girl from the tides."
Surprise coloured his voice. "That was you?"
"Mm-hm."
She'd been drawn to him. The feathers within her had felt his presence and led her to him in the dead of the night.
"Small world," Edvardiel breathed. "Issa, we're on that same beach, do you realise?"
She couldn't stop smiling.
Although she couldn't see it, deep down, she'd felt it.
Her body had yearned for the comfort of this place and the portal she'd made led them here.
"I saw you descend from the Heavens," she whispered. "You were magnificent. You're… you're so beautiful. Every time… every time I look at you, I just can't believe… that you're my angel."
A glow brighter than the setting sun shone from Edvardiel's skin.
He waded further into the ocean so that they were waist deep, and then he turned her around.
"I don't know what you saw but back then I could barely fly." He scooped up some water and let it trickle down her wings, cleansing the blood and gunk from her feathers. "The angel was always meant to be you," he said softly. "You were always meant to save the world, and I was always meant to help you."
She frowned. "Edvardiel, we did it together."
Gently, he spread one wing open and pressed a kiss to its sensitive centre. She jerked, the sensation shooting down to her core.
Edvardiel froze, pulling back.
"Did that hurt?"
She shook her head, her heart racing.
She felt his gaze on her, his long hair glowing red like liquid fire in the setting sun, and wished she could make out his face. "We should get out of the water," he said finally, concern in his voice. "Come on. I'll take you back to Eden."
He made as though to reach for her, but she caught his hands, heat creeping up her face. "Do it again."
His body went still.
Then slowly, he obeyed.
"Like this?" His voice was soft, tentative. Carefully, he pried her wing open and brushed his lips against that same spot.
She shivered.
"Yes," she breathed. "Exactly like that."
His breathing quickened, tickling against her wings, and his grip tightened around her waist. One hand splayed across her stomach, bracing her against him. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though giving her time to change her mind. When she only leaned into his touch, his hand ran down her breasts, playing with them while his lips caressed her wings until she was begging him for more.
He carried her to shore, gently laying her down onto the angel dress, which had mended itself together.
She was damp with desire, and when his fingers circled her wetness, sending unbearable pleasure sizzling through her, she shifted so that she was kneeling, palms pressed to the ground.
"Edvardiel," she whispered. "Please."
He hesitated for a heartbeat, and then she heard the rustle of clothing. His hand rested on her waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into her hip as he bent down, his tongue and his lips teasing the space between her thighs.
He was going to make her lose her mind.
"Please," she said again, pushing needily back against him, breathless with want.
He understood.
This time when he entered her, it was with a hard, fast stroke that made her keen in pleasure.
He'd always been a master at reading her emotions, and her body was no different. He took her with a harsh rhythm that made her ache for more—one that made the pleasure within her build and build.
When he wound his hand around her hair and held her head firm, she shattered. She shuddered around him, her climax growing more violent when his lips brushed against her delicate wings and gently bit down.
She surrendered all control, feeling utterly possessed by him. He was still hard within her, and when he rolled his hips to take her more thoroughly, she whimpered his name.
"Issa," he panted, his voice gravelly with desire. "Look. Your wings."
She turned.
They had unfurled completely, stretched taut with pleasure.
With the blood gone, her feathers shone a blinding, vivid gold and in the sunlight, they seemed to flame like a seraph's wings.
She blinked several times, dazed.
"Beautiful," he whispered, although this time his gaze seemed directed at her face.
She could still feel him within her, his body pulsing against hers.
"Don't stop," she begged.
He made love to her slowly now, attentive to her every reaction, pressing tender kisses to her face and her wings. When he swelled within her, she peaked once more, slumping down as a bone-deep weariness spread through her body.
Edvardiel turned her around so that they both lay on her soft, golden wings. She didn't know how long they remained in each other's arms, but when she opened her eyes, they were cocooned in the warmth of her wings, the afternoon sun shining down on them.
Edvardiel kissed her. "Are you ready to go home?"
Her lids felt heavy as she wound her arms around his neck. Her body ached and her eyes still hadn't recovered. She fervently hoped there was some way to get the Edenium out.
"Ready whenever you are," she mumbled.
He bent down, his shirt gaping open, and she caught an unmistakable flash of blue.
"Edvardiel," she said sleepily. "You still have demon blood all over your clothes."
He righted himself, lifting her into his arms and draping the angel dress around her. "And you still have Edenium in your blood," he said. "We've stopped the Apocalypse. Let's worry about everything else once we get back to the Garden."
She rubbed her eyes. "What other things do you want to worry about?"
He only kissed her forehead. "Rest, now."
I rewrote this chapter 8 times haha. I hope it's as good as I tried to make it. Would make my day if you leave a comment! Take care and till next time :)