13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SERA

Morning light filters into Ender's room, indicating the time.

I peel my eyes open to find that I'm all alone, but there are some clothes laid out on the leather chair.

Debating what to do, I finally throw off the covers to find I've been unchained.

With a scowl, I pad into the bathroom to get ready.

When I'm done, I head to the dining room, trying to find the annoying Teraphim.

He's not there, either, but breakfast is set on the table, and I eat a little before searching for Ender.

We need to talk, whether he likes it or not.

As I pass back through the front of the house, something catches my eye out the massive front windows.

It's Ender. He's waving his arms in complicated patterns as iridescent magic swirls around him.

What is he doing?

The second I step outside, he drops his arms and turns to me.

"Ready to continue your flying lessons?"

"Are they going to go like yesterday's?"

He clears his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck while his wings flutter.

"No. I apologize for…everything that transpired. It won't happen again."

How has no one ever stabbed this idiot?

"And if I want it to happen?"

His eyes narrow, his feathers stretching apart in his agitation.

"You don't."

"Do you even hear yourself? You don't dictate my feelings—and I don't dictate yours—but I know you want me. Maybe I would back off if you just told me what's going on?"

Ender purses his lips, creating a stern line that slashes across his beak.

"We're wasting time."

I snort but follow him out to where we practiced before.

"Why couldn't we have just done this on Earth—or can you not tell me that, either?"

"You won't come into your powers on Earth. As they're based here in The Veil, it's imperative that you develop them here. Flying is just something to pass the time as you grow stronger, and you need to learn regardless."

With this, he stomps off, leaving me to follow him.

His wings cast long shadows that seem to dance between the beams of sunlight cresting the horizon.

The Veil is beautiful, ethereal almost, and I loathe to admit how much I love it here.

It's a peaceful place—a stark contrast to the tension between us.

As we reach the open field, Ender turns to face me, his expression decidedly blank.

"Today, we'll focus on your control. It's not just about flying but mastering your movements in the air."

"Are we going to talk?"

"As little as possible. You need focus."

I grit my teeth but don't say anything more. No wonder everyone thinks Teraphim are Hell's spawn—Ender is nothing short of demonic.

He ignores my thoughts that I yell at him, and I go to stretch my wings.

I'm surprised, and a little pissed, that it only took one day to gain control of the mass when I struggled for weeks.

The epic beaked douchebag demonstrates a few maneuvers, his movements fluid and precise.

Again, all without talking.

After I watch intently, I attempt to mimic what he did.

The wind rushes past me, and that thrill of flight comes rushing back.

For as much as I despise my wings and what they symbolize, I adore flying.

Never have I felt so free.

Over and over, I repeat the motions, gaining a semblance of the grace Ender displayed when he did them.

"Hover in place and then move laterally," he calls out from the ground.

How the man even knows what I'm doing amazes me.

He's so attuned to his surroundings in a way that I can't imagine.

Even the smallest shift of my wings has him barking out a new command to correct the position.

After several minutes of practice, I land back down, out of breath.

"How was that?"

"It was fine, but you need to work with your wings."

"What do you mean?"

"Right now you're telling them what to do still in your head. Do you tell your arms what to do—no, at least, not consciously."

I scowl. "Well, forgive the fuck out of me, but I literally just learned to use them yesterday!"

"And yesterday could've been weeks ago if you hadn't been acting so stubborn."

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you! At least I can admit when I messed up—which I did, thank you very much! You accused me of acting childish when you're the one being a big baby."

"This isn't about me. It's about you."

"Thank you, Dr. Phil!

"Who?"

"Human therapist who had a TV show that was all drama."

"Are you saying that you're being dramatic?"

A growl rips past my throat, and I lunge for the bastard.

In the blink of an eye, he's hundreds of feet above me, his obsidian wings barely even moving with the effort.

Well, two can play this game—I can fly now.

Sort of.

Mostly.

I vault into the sky and chase after the jerk, but he's right.

I'm not quick enough and still too focused on making my wings work.

Ender never gets too high, protecting me from myself, as usual.

After an hour of trying to catch him, I give up.

"Truce?" I call, even though it rankles me to do so.

The Teraphim dips his head regally, acknowledging my words silently like I'm some kind of peasant.

Then again, I'm a revolting mess of sweat and loose feathers while he's still as fresh as a freaking daisy.

"Let's try something else."

Already exhausted, I watch Ender twirl around in the sky like a dancer.

It looks fun, but when I go to do it, my wings flip in different directions and I fall to the ground.

"Ouch!"

"Are you alright, angel?"

"No! I have a big ass but that extra padding did squat for softening my landing."

Ender chuckles. "Want me to add some pillows to the ground?"

I mentally stick my tongue out at him before getting back up.

"Show me again."

He arches a brow but does as I demand, and I stare intently at his wings when he spins.

When he comes back down, I try again, barely rising off the ground in case I fall again.

It takes four hours and a very bruised backside, but I finally manage to do it.

And it's just the trick to get me to understand how to work with my wings on another level.

Ender calls it a day, and we head back in so I can change after I drown my aches and pains away in his healing bath.

Another dress awaits for me, this time, a lovely shade of spring green.

I put it on and pad to the dining room, where the Teraphim is waiting with another platter of food.

We repeat the same ritual as last night—except, this time, in total silence—and I sigh.

"What are these orange berries called?"

Ender holds out a hand, and I place the strange but sweet fruit in his palm.

He feels it for a moment before nodding. "It's an almaberry."

"I like it. They're my favorite."

"They come from The Valley of Souls."

"Speaking of, when are we going?"

"Soon."

His short, clipped responses set me on edge, and I take a deep breath.

"Ender—"

"Time for bed."

This abrupt announcement tips all rational thought from my head as red fills my vision.

"Not time for bed!"

"Please, Sera—"

He cuts off, his voice cracking, and I know something is wrong. I'm frustrated that he won't just tell me.

How bad could it be?

This earns a snort from Ender. "Bad enough. I think you have a few more days of training and then we can go to The Valley of Souls."

"I'm not really tired."

It's a lie—I'm absolutely wrecked, but I need answers right now more than I need sleep.

Not that Ender agrees or even plans to cooperate.

As if to demonstrate this, he picks me up, his wings wrapping around me until they form a cocoon.

I'm so surprised that I don't try to wiggle away and then I'm lost in a sea of longing when his feathers brush against mine.

Clearly the dickhead is doing this on purpose, and I struggle a bit in his hold but we're already in his room.

Ender dumps me on the bed, fastening the chain around my wrist before whirling around and walking away.

The door slams shut, and I scream so loud I might actually be frothing at the mouth.

Probably not my best look.

Finally, I calm down enough to formulate a plan.

Pushing against Ender isn't producing results. It's like the wind howling at the mountain.

But maybe if I tried a different approach—a softer one, a more feminine one.

An evil grin curls my lips.

I'm going to seduce him.