Chapter 4

Ihad trouble breathing. His power pressed against my skin, the intensity of his gaze searing me down to my bones. “Okay,” I whispered.

He cleared his throat, wrenched his energy back under control like one would a rambunctious hound, and stepped back. “By that I mean I don’t care for protocol. Not for these meetings. You may address me as an equal.” Something flickered in his storm-cloud eyes. “Call me Aziel.”

It felt inherently wrong to address a seraph of his power level by his name only, but at the same time, something about it just seemed right. It made no sense.

I nodded. “All right. Nice to meet you, Aziel. I’m Chaya.”

Again, that flicker of something I couldn’t quite grasp in his eyes. “So I’ve heard.”

A beat of silence stretched between us, and I had the distinct feeling he was holding back from saying something more. His energy had such a familiar taste to it, plucking at parts of my memory like a faint déjà vu. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember meeting him before. I would never have forgotten that face.

I started fidgeting and cleared my throat. “So, um, the training? That we’re here for? We should probably, like, get on that. I’m sure your time is precious…”

“I have time enough for this,” was his silken reply.

“Right. So, I brought my sword.” I unsheathed the unwieldy thing from where it hung on my belt and presented it to him. “I know it’s not the best. I mean, I got it from this angel who was about to throw it out because it didn’t quite work anymore, but?—”

Aziel regarded the blade with an expression that could only be described as somewhere between horrified and disgusted, then took it from my hand and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Hey!” I called out indignantly.

“That sword is a disgrace to smithery. You’re more likely to hurt yourself with it than an opponent. And besides, it’s not fit for your size and strength. Try this one.”

And with a flourish, he summoned another sword. He paused with the blade half-raised in the air, giving me a critical look. “If I throw this to you, will you be able to catch it, or will I accidentally skewer you?”

“Let’s not tempt fate,” I muttered and stepped closer so I could take it from him.

“Some things never change,” he said so quietly I barely heard it, the hint of a soft smile on his face.

“What was that?” I squinted at him as I accepted the new sword he held out to me hilt first.

“Nothing.” He nodded at the blade in my hands. “You’ll notice this one here is shorter than the other one. It weighs less, too. You’ll be able to wield it one-handed, which leaves your other hand free to grab or punch your opponent or even use a second sword if you want to go for that. Your reach will be lessened, and you won’t have as much leverage for your strikes, but given your size and strength, exertion of brute force should not be your focus anyway. You want to be quick and agile, and a lighter sword will help you with that.”

I regarded the blade. “Makes sense.”

“Well, let’s see you with it. Show me a few moves.”

“All right.” I cleared my throat. “But I have to warn you—I’m a bit clumsy.”

“Oh, I know,” he muttered, and I gave him a good side-eye.

How in the world would he know how clumsy I was? I scrunched up my face and replayed the entire meeting from the beginning, trying to see if I’d tripped at some point. I hadn’t run into a stalagmite, had I? Or…had Naamah warned him? And on that note, what exactly had she told him about me?

“Focus!” he barked.

I jolted out of my musing and had just barely enough time to raise my sword to block his swing. The metallic clang of the blades clashing echoed in the cave, my breath whooshing out of my lungs with the force it had taken to parry his strike. My arm trembled, my muscles quivering from the impact of his blow.

“Good,” he said and lowered his sword. “You’ve got good reflexes. But you should tailor your reaction to your opponent. Right now, you blocked me straight on. I’m bigger and stronger than you, so you know—even before I come at you—that my strike will be powerful. If you use your lesser strength to parry me straight on, it will take a lot out of you. More than blocking someone of your own size and power. What you want to do is deflect while blocking. Don’t absorb the blow like a wall. Instead, steer it away from you and use the momentum to open up an opportunity for a counterstrike.”

I nodded and blew a strand of hair out of my face.

Again he attacked me, and again I parried, this time guiding his strike away while blocking. It really was easier on my sword arm. He didn’t give me time to bask in that, however, and instead came at me again right away, varying his angle of attack. He was testing me, evaluating how I moved, how much I knew, my level of skill.

And he was holding back.

How I could tell, I had no idea, but I had no doubt that he only used a fraction of his real strength and speed here with me.

Back and forth we went, and in between, he’d pause and explain something to me, pointing out my mistakes and correcting my form.

“No, not like this.” Aziel stopped and grasped my wrist.

A trail of pleasurable heat prickled out from his touch, and I bit my lip to keep my inappropriate gasp well inside my mouth.

“See, when you hold your wrist like this,” he continued, his voice rough silk over my senses, sounding far too intimate in the softly lit cave, “you put undue pressure on the joint when you block. Try it like this.” He minutely adjusted my lower arm and hand and then stepped behind me.

The heat of his power rolled up against my back, a thousand tiny pricks of energy against my own, a veritable wave of virility that made me want to lean backward, into the promise of that strength and hardness. Holding back yet another gasp at that feeling almost made me choke on my own breath.

As if to make matters worse, he reached around me, his hand enveloping mine holding the sword, and murmured into my ear, “Your movements should be fluid, like this.”

And he demonstrated how I should wield the sword.

The only thing fluid about me right now was between my legs.

His front was flush against my back, heat blooming where our bodies touched. A whisper of warmth on my skin where his breath intangibly kissed the curve of my neck. He was so close. All of my muscles locked, lest I gave in to the impulse to simply melt into him.

He inhaled deeply, and an almost violent vibration rocked through his energy.

It felt like standing on a thin crust of earth covering a volatile pocket of magma. Any moment now, it would erupt in a firestorm, and raze me in the process.

After a few seconds that seemed like forever, he once again wrenched his power under control, stepped back from me, and softly said, “Don’t forget to breathe.”

I sucked in air and pivoted to face him. “Not like I need it.” I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “As an angel, I mean.”

He blinked, and I could have sworn he looked perplexed for a moment, though it went by so fast I might have imagined it. “That’s right,” he eventually said, his voice holding a note of wariness. “I heard you used to be human. Do you” —he twirled his sword absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on the blade—“remember anything from before you were made into an angel?”

I made a face. “Not really.”

Something flickered in his eyes, too fast for me to gauge.

“I mean,” I went on, “there are bits and pieces here and there. Fleeting images, snippets of feelings. Like when you get déjà vu, or when you hear a song and it stirs a flash of a memory, but it’s mostly a feeling? That kind of stuff. I don’t remember any names, or faces, or actual situations from my human life.” I paused and bit my lip. “Which is kind of sad, you know? I’m sure I had a family. People I loved, who cared about me. And it’s all just gone. It’s not fair.” I put my hands on my hips and glared at him as if he was personally responsible for having my memory wiped. “Like, from what I heard, humans get turned into angels after their death if they have sacrificed themselves for someone else or if they lived a life of selfless charity or something, right? And you’d think that being turned into an angel is a reward for their altruism, but what kind of a reward is it to lose all memories of yourself and everyone you ever loved? Huh? That’s not a reward. It’s a punishment!”

My power whirred in the air, and I ground my teeth against the simmering rage inside me. I hadn’t known I harbored so much resentment about this issue, but my rant just now had blown the lid off the boiling pot that was my hurt and anger.

Aziel had stopped twirling his sword, his hand gripping the hilt so hard his knuckles flashed white. “I agree,” he said quietly. “And for what it’s worth, I am sorry you lost your memories. I wish it weren’t so.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled with a heavy sigh, reining back my anger. “It’s all right. Sorry I snapped at you like that. It’s not like you had a hand in it or something.”

For a second, some deep emotion moved over his face, his energy darkening. Clearing his throat, he averted his gaze and said, “Let’s get back to training.”

I nodded, and we went through more moves, awareness sparking all along my nerves whenever he got close to me when we clashed. It was like he lit up some heretofore dormant fuse inside me simply with his physical nearness.

I’d never felt this before. Sure, I’d recognized male beauty all around me—it was kind of hard not to, what with angels being unearthly gorgeous—but I hadn’t truly been attracted to anyone, not in this way that seemed like a force of nature, disabling all sense and reason and overriding any thought of propriety.

I wanted him to touch me, and not just within the scope of the training. No, I wanted his hands on parts of my body that were most definitely not used for fighting.

This was all new for me. I’d never looked at a male and imagined what it would feel like to have his lips trail kisses down my throat or his fingers run up my thighs until they hit?—

His nostrils flared, and he faltered in the strike he was executing. Abruptly, he stopped the maneuver and turned away, his shoulders lifting with the gulps of air he took.

I watched him pace away from me, my sword dangling neglected from my hand. Was I supposed to attack him? Use his moment of inattention to show him that I could take advantage of a distracted opponent?

I chewed my lower lip and instead asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded like crunched-up gravel, and he cleared his throat. His free hand flexed a few times, his energy whip-sharp.

And for some weird-ass reason, his obvious state of agitation only made him that much hotter.

I shook my head. What was wrong with me? I’d somehow devolved into a lust-driven creature and couldn’t even look at this male for a few seconds without thinking about licking a path down his chest.

This was so inappropriate. He was here to train me—forced to do so because of the favor he owed Naamah—and not to give me a blueprint for what to think of when I lay in bed and had few hours to myself.

Plus, he probably wouldn’t even be interested in me if he knew I thought he was hot.

A thought struck me that made heat wash up into my face. Oh, no. Could he—could he have smelled…my arousal? I knew for a fact how sharp angelic senses were. And if I could feel slickness between my thighs, chances were he could scent it.

Oh, God, he’d probably smelled it, and he wasn’t interested, and now he felt uncomfortable, and that was why he’d turned away from me. He was only here to give this weird, low-ranking angel combat training, and now he’d found himself confronted with an unsolicited lady boner.

Gah.

I buried my face in my hands—or tried to, but I’d forgotten the fact that I still held the sword in my right hand, so I ended up smacking myself in the face with the hilt and pommel. Crying out, I stumbled back. Fuck, that hurt.

He was right in front of me the next second, steadying me with his hands on my shoulders, his face wrought with concern. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” I blinked against the pain in my lips and nose.

His eyes narrowed. “Did you just hit yourself with your own sword?”

“Not intentionally,” I grumbled.

Of all the reactions to my statement that I could have imagined, I’d never thought he’d laugh. And not in a mocking way, not with an edge of schadenfreude…but with true delight warming his eyes, as if I’d just given him a precious gift.

And, God, that laugh of his did incredible things to my insides. I stared at him with unfettered hunger, wanting to kiss the corners of his mouth, chase that brilliant smile.

His gaze fell to my lips, his pupils dilating. There was a bite to his energy, and his fingers tightened on my shoulders.

I tensed, hoping against hope that he’d lean down just a little, close that distance between us, and claim my mouth.

Slowly, he took one hand off my shoulder and brought it up to my face. I only noticed he’d summoned a cloth when he gently dabbed it against my lower lip, sparking a zing of pain.

“Sorry,” he murmured when I jerked away. “You had a little blood there.”

I touched my mouth, my fingers coming away with a bit of red on them.

“The wound’s already closed.” He handed me the cloth.

“Thank you.” I wiped my mouth with it, disappointment and embarrassment mingling inside me.

“Maybe we should switch to a weapon of closer range,” he said and unsheathed one of the daggers strapped to his thighs. Flipping it so his fingers grasped the black blade, he held it out to me. “I have a feeling you’ll do great with a short sword or a dagger. Your smaller size gives you an edge in terms of speed and agility. You should capitalize on it.”

I put the sword away and took the dagger from him instead, the iridescence of the dark metal catching my eye. I frowned, a throb of pain forming behind my forehead. Had I seen this somewhere before? The color of the blade was uncommon, most of the weapons here in Heaven made from the silver-gleaming titanium that featured in our armor as well.

Aziel watched me with a curious glint in his eyes, then he sheathed his sword, raised his hand, and beckoned me to him. “Come at me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You haven’t drawn a weapon.”

“Do you think I need one?”

Exhaling through my nose, I muttered, “Probably not.” Given what I’d seen from him so far, he could likely crush me in a single move with his bare hands.

And no, that thought should not make my nipples stand at attention. I had a serious problem here.

“All right, here goes.” Grasping the hilt of the dagger tighter, I charged him.

He evaded my attack with a fluidity that should be illegal, and I stumbled past him, not adjusting my movement quickly enough.

“Again,” he said and crooked his finger at me. “But watch me closely while you charge. Notice any change in my stance, any small tells that might indicate which way I’ll move. And then adapt to whatever I’m doing.”

“Easier said than done,” I grumbled, but I did attack him once more.

This time, I got closer to him, almost nicking the side of his armor.

“Keep coming,” he said. “Keep charging me until I tell you to stop.”

And so I did. We fell into an almost dance-like give-and-take of movements as I tried to strike him with the dagger, a graceful sway and flow of our bodies—yes, graceful, even on my part, much to my surprise. He was very much in control of the entire thing, not once even the slightest bit cornered by me. Even though he was on the defense, it didn’t feel like it, but rather as if he was orchestrating our moves, always ten steps ahead of me.

I guessed I should have stuck with that chess club in high school; then I might have had a bit more strategic thinking?—

Wait.

Chess club? High school?

My steps faltered as confusion swept over me, my muscles slackening, my mind overwhelmed by the vaguest inkling about something I shouldn’t know. Slivers of memory sliced through my head, the beginnings of a pounding ache behind my temples making me stumble.

My back met the smooth wall of the cave as Aziel took full advantage of my lapse of attention, having wrenched the dagger from me. I gasped at the juxtaposition of the cool stone at my back and the whirring heat of his body at my front.

My brows drew together at the strange feeling of familiarity whispering at the back of my mind, like we’d been here before, in this exact pose, and the taste of it was branded onto my soul. I raised my eyes to meet his as he towered over me, a wall of contained power and leashed aggression.

The intensity in his gaze nearly did me in. There was an ache in the depths of his eyes, a profound, painful yearning. His lips parted soundlessly, his hot breath just a touch faster than before, then he seemed to rein in whatever had wanted to wrestle for control.

He grasped my right hand, and with his other, he pressed the hilt of the dagger into my palm, then closed my fingers around it, all while holding my gaze with unnerving force. The air pulsed between us.

Slowly, he raised my hand holding the dagger and brought the blade up to lie against his throat.

My heart skipped a beat. Or a dozen.

When it resumed pumping blood, it was with a deafening drumroll that pounded in my skull and reverberated in my bones.

I knew this.

I’d felt this before.

I knew this.

The certainty of it tasted woolly in my mouth. My temples ached. Dizzy, I gaped at Aziel as he leaned just a little bit forward, enough to make the sharp edge of the dagger bite into his skin, threatening to draw blood.

His eyes were storms of silver holding me spellbound, his energy wrapping around me, familiar, so fucking familiar. “Now,” he murmured into the broiling heat between us, “can we talk?”

I sucked in a breath, the memory assaulting me on the heels of his question. Me, pressed up against the wall by Mysterious Stranger. That dagger, shoved against his throat, with his hand covering mine that was wrapped around the hilt.

And those words. Those exact same words.

As if this angel before me had plucked them straight from my head.

Horror surged through me, and in a move more instinct than intent, I shoved Aziel away from me with both physical and magical force. A split second of surprise registered on his face before he staggered back, hurled a few paces toward the opposite wall.

“What is this?” I whispered harshly, my heart clenched in panic, my hands shaking. “What kind of game is this?”

Aziel slowly straightened, his expression equal parts wary and…triumphant?

That rat bastard.

The horror twisting coldly inside me morphed into indignation and anger. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

He raised one hand in a placating gesture. “Chaya?—”

“You have no right,” I snapped, righteous rage boiling over at the violation he’d just dared. “You’re supposed to train me, not go rifling through my head! You might be a seraph, but that doesn’t mean you can sneak through someone’s shields and role-play with the memories you find.”

I whirled around and stormed toward the cave’s exit, my heart drumming so loud I almost didn’t hear his steps when he came after me.

I pivoted with a snarl and pointed a finger at him, which made him stop in his tracks.

“Stay the fuck away from me,” I gritted out, the air whirring under the heat of my power. Inside me, a toxic mix of fear and wrath and breathless bewilderment coiled tight and hot, erasing all thought. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t want to see you again.”

And with that, I turned on my heel and practically fled out of the cave, taking flight as soon as the sky opened above me.