3. CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

SERA

Everything hurts.

Is this what getting older is like?

An endless parade of aches and complaints that roll together into one inevitable ending?

Well, I promise that I didn't sign up for that, at all .

A snort greets my thoughts, and I rip my eyes open to see Ender bathed in bright, morning light.

I suck in a breath at the sight, his presence throwing me off-kilter.

He's only wearing a pair of pants, his wings draped on either side of his thighs.

His head is tipped back, eyes closed, but there's the familiar smirk running along his beak.

The man is entirely too smug for his own good—what does he even have to be superior about?

So what if he can fly and walk without smacking into walls because he knows how to use his wings?

I'm just growing the gumption to rip mine off, feather by feather, and make the most luxurious pillow ever.

Ender twitches, barely a movement at all, but something.

It draws my gaze back to his body, and I suddenly feel flush.

He shouldn't be so damn appealing to me, but everything about him seems to tug at my attention.

How his long fingers steeple together at the black claws that tip them.

How his ribs encase his torso on the outside, stark white against the purpley-gray hue of his skin.

How expressive his mouth is, despite his beak, clearly displaying a smile or a sneer.

Without his cloak, Ender's head is bare, showcasing the dark streak of hair that runs down the middle of his skull.

Everything about the man is painted in shadows.

I'm the opposite with my white hair and white wings.

My aunts' voice rise in my head, chanting that opposites attract, and I scowl.

Ender is the last man in any realm that I should be attracted to—end of story.

Except, my brain keeps throwing up plot twists.

Through sheer determination, I shut down my thoughts and mentally prepare myself for my next skirmish.

"Unchain me. Now. "

Ender raises a brow. "Are you going to behave?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?"

"And there's my answer. Listen, angel, as I said yesterday, we can do this the hard way or the easy way. The choice is yours. Why make it more difficult?"

"And what, exactly, would I be making easier?"

"Your transition. You are a Seraphim—even you can't ignore the wings at your back. Instead of denying them, use them. I can teach you."

"To clarify, you want me to let you teach me to fly and that's it?"

Ender shrugs. "There's more to you than just your wings. I know you feel the power inside of you, craving to be unleashed."

"And why can't I do this on my own?"

Instead of scoffing, Ender leans forward. "Aren't you tired of doing everything on your own?"

The question smacks me in the chest, squeezing my lungs until there's no air for me to breathe.

"N-no," I stutter out.

"Liar. It's exhausting always looking out for yourself, struggling to keep a brave face on. But I'm in your head, Sera, whether you like it or not. I've heard your fears, bathed in your emotions, and I know your essence. Giving up doesn't mean losing. It isn't a sign of weakness. It gives you space to grow ."

"What if I don't want to grow?" There's a quiver in my voice that I despise.

Ender pushes off the chair to stand, ambling over to me with the softest expression I've ever seen on his face.

"Everything wants to grow, Sera, from the smallest seed to the wings on your back. And no matter how many times you chop back the branches, the tree will sprout another. Battling against the inevitable just depletes you , but it never stops what was going to happen anyway."

Tears fill my eyes because I know he's right, and I hate it.

I hate that try as I might, I can't undo who I am, so I just fight it instead.

And I'm so tired—weary to my very bones—but if I stop running long enough to exhale, I might splinter apart instead.

The Teraphim reaches out a tentative hand, touching my shoulder lightly.

"Sometimes we crumble. Even monsters aren't shatter-proof, but it's okay to go to pieces because they can be put back together. It's just easier if you have someone to help—a friend."

"We're not friends."

"No, but not because I don't want us to be. You've just labeled me as the enemy."

I snort. "No, no, no. I'm not the one who kidnapped me and stole me from my home in the dead of the night. I didn't label you anything you already weren't."

Ender smirks. "Perhaps we could be what humans call ‘frenemies'?"

A chuckle threatens to escape my lips, but I won't give either of us the satisfaction of… what?

Me having a moment of happiness, laughing at something silly?"

Deep down, I acknowledge that I'm just sabotaging myself, but I can't seem to stop this trainwreck.

Sighing, I finally decide to concede— a little .

"Ok, if I let you teach me to fly and use magic, then can I go back home?"

"I'm not keeping you here."

Instantly, I'm back to being pissed as I shake the chain keeping me bound to his fucking bed .

"Really?! Because this suggests otherwise!"

I rattle my wrist for emphasis.

"That's for your safety—you did throw yourself off of a second-story balcony last night."

Sheesh, when he says it like that, I sound deranged, but he's taken the incident and twisted it completely out of context.

"All you need to get home is to open a portal and leave—oh, and to use your power to undo the chain. You technically don't even need to know how to fly. But it won't matter. Anywhere you run, I'll keep dragging you back, so you might as well settle in."

My blood boils, but I scowl. "Fine. The first thing I want to learn is how to open a portal."

"Ooo, no can do, angel. That's advanced. You're months away from learning that."

"I'm sorry, did you just say months ? You expect me to live with you here for months?!"

"You didn't really have anything going on Earthside."

Ouch.

"I did," I insist. "Fern needs me to help her!"

"Fern has her mate and his family. Besides, they're leaving to stay in Egypt for a while."

"My elderly aunt needs me!"

"She's already here."

This stops me. "Franny's here?"

I knew Denine had crossed over, but the thought of my other aunt passing sends dread rushing down my limbs.

"She died ?"

Ender cocks his head. "Technically, but she asked to come."

His announcement sends my brain into a frenzy of overthinking.

"You killed my aunt?!"

"What? No! She's in The Valley of Souls. You can talk to her and ask all your questions."

"Fine, let's go."

"The only way to the valley is to fly." Of course it is. "I could carry you there, though."

"Not happening—teach me how to use these overgrown things," I order, pointing at my white, obnoxiously large wings.

"Nothing would bring me more pleasure."

Something about how Ender purrs these words sets me on edge…a very pleasurable edge.

He steps up to unchain me, and I rub my wrist, surprised to find it's not sore at all.

"I have clothes for you in the bathroom."

It's on the tip of my tongue to thank him, but why would I?

If the man kidnapped me, he can provide me with clothing.

My stomach rumbles, and I place a hand over it.

Clothing and food.

Of course, given my "pajamas", I shouldn't have trusted Ender's wardrobe choices for daywear.

Leather pants and a halter top that barely kept the girls from spilling out the front.

To my astonishment, the leather slips up my long legs with ease. Next comes the shirt.

My midriff is on full display, and I roll my eyes at the rounded plane of my stomach.

While I try to be as stylish as possible, crop tops are not something I normally rock.

There's also a pair of heavy-duty looking boots that I pull on before stomping over to the sink.

Judging from my reflection, I slept like a baby, which irritates the hell out of me.

How dare I look and be so well-rested when I was chained to a damn bed all night.

Seriously, what does this say about me?

A quick search through a drawer reveals a hair brush, toothpaste, and a toothbrush, but no hair ties.

I chew on my lip, wondering if flying with long hair not pulled back is a hazard.

"Coming?" Ender calls from the other room.

"In a second."

"Don't rush—getting there is half the enjoyment."

It takes me a moment to realize what the giant pervert is insinuating.

With a snarl, I march into Ender's bedroom, glaring at his annoyingly handsome face.

He looks like a freaking plague doctor come to life— what is wrong with me?

"Nothing is wrong with you, angel, everyone thinks I'm charming and attractive."

His stupid, crooked smile makes my heart twist.

"If that's what your previous kidnappees said, then I hate to burst your bubble, but that's called Stockholm Syndrome. They didn't mean it."

"Do you consider yourself to have this Stockholm Syndrome?"

I snort at the sheer absurdity of his question. "Absolutely not ."

"Well, you're the only person I've ever kidnapped, and since you don't have this syndrome, you clearly do mean it when you think I'm handsome."

"Are you trying to goad me into killing you?"

"Hate to break it to you, Sera, but you're too soft to be a murderer."

I suck in a breath, insulted at the inference—

"Are you really furious over the fact that I said you're not a murderer?"

Ender looks positively exasperated, tossing his hands in the air, his wings fluttering in agitation.

"There's nothing wrong with being soft . Again, it's not a weakness. It's ok to be vulnerable."

His words whisper through me, and I rub my arms up and down.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that opening yourself up like that is the gateway to an eternity of hurt?"

The Teraphim heaves a sigh and shakes his head.

Carefully, he inches closer to me, likely because he knows that while I might not kill him, I have no compunctions against seriously maiming the douchebag.

Ender reaches out to cup my chin, caressing it far more gently than a monster his size should be able to.

"I'm sorry you've been hurt."

I sniff, trying to pull back. "It's nothing."

"It's everything —this pain has shaped you into who you are. I can't undo it, even though I wish I could, so that leaves you with only one option."

"Which is?"

"To spread your wings."

The words send a jolt through me, my feathers fluttering at the thought.

I've always kept so much of myself back, shying away from the pain.

Maybe it's time for me to fly instead.