Page 16 of Raphael
Baal’s deep laugh rumbles. “We make a great team.” He holds my arm, dark eyes twinkling. “These are gonna sell like hotcakes. The ladies will be lining up for copies!”
I grab my clothes from a nearby rock, ducking behind a palm tree to dress. The lightweight linen feels cool against my sun-warmed skin. Finally presentable again, I rejoin Baal to help pack up the photography gear.
“So, what now?” he asks. His voice is a lazy drawl, but his eyes glint with excitement. “We’re done early for once. Up for hitting the tavern, knocking back a few drinks?”
I glance at the darkening sky. The prospect of drinks and carefree socializing appeals little to me for some reason. My mind keeps wandering back to vivid brown eyes and raven locks...
“Thanks, but I should head home,” I reply. “I’m beat.”
Baal pauses, staring at me incredulously. In all our centuries of friendship, I’ve never turned down drinks or a chance to meet women.
“Alright, who is she?” he asks knowingly, crossing his arms.
“What? No one. Just tired,” I answer evasively.
Baal snorts. “Please. Iknowthat look. You’ve met someone special.”
When I don’t respond, he clasps my shoulder. “Hey, no judgments here. I’m happy for you.” His expression grows somber. “After everything we’ve seen, we all deserve a little light in the darkness.”
I nod slowly. “Thanks, brother. But it’s early still.” I force a casual grin. “You know me—footloose and fancy-free.”
Baal just smiles and returns to packing up. We chat lightly about plans for the calendar release and fundraising events.
After farewell hugs, I watch him vanish in a crackle of crimson energy. Alone now, I meander to the lake’s edge, gazing at the moon’s rippling reflections.
Try as I might to deny it, Baal saw right through me. Thoughts of Helena consume my waking moments, and my dreams—her fierce beauty, her quick wit and intelligence, the fire in her eyes when she came undone against my scorching kiss...
Fuck. I shouldn’t see her again.I know that.Our worlds are incompatible, our natures opposed. Nothing can come of this attraction but tragedy and heartbreak.
With a heavy sigh, I unfold my wings and take to the dusky sky. The night breeze cools my flushed skin as I fly aimlessly over Purgatory’s peaceful desert. Only time will tell if I have the strength to resist this siren’s pull, or if I will surrender and let the currents sweep me away. For now, I take solace in the freedom of flight, leaving my conflicted desires far below.
I lose track of time among the clouds, the rhythmic beating of my wings lulling me into meditative calm. But even this serenity cannot fully quiet my racing thoughts. Unbidden, vivid images of beautiful Helena intrude, quickening my pulse.
Gradually, almost unconsciously, I find my aimless course directing me back towards the glittering city lights. The impulsive desire to see her again smolders inside me, reckless and irresistible.
Before I can overthink it, I angle down, gliding silently over the bright buildings. My sleek sports car waits where I left it. With barely a rustle of feathers, I fold my wings and conceal them beneath the tattoos spanning my back.
The engine purrs to life, and within seconds, I’m winding through sultry LA streets towards the DeLux’s den of sin. I tell myself I’m just passing by, harmless curiosity.
This time, I don’t sneak in through the basement. I walk straight to the front door where the beefy bouncer eyes me warily. He knows who I am—and in this part of town, archangels mean trouble. I offer a genial smile and slip him a weighty tip. His scrutiny eases and he turns a blind eye as I enter, merging into the shadows just inside.
The atmosphere thrums with familiar sensual energy, scantily clad bodies gyrating on the crowded dance floor. Usually, this provocative display would stoke my appetite for hedonistic delights. But tonight, my focus narrows only to one goal—locating the elusive Helena.
My heart thunders in my chest as I weave amongst the sea of revelers, sharp gaze combing every nook and alcove for that fiery mane of chestnut curls. The club bustles near capacity for a Thursday. I hope locating one woman amidst this throng won’t prove impossible.
After one full circuit yields no sign of Helena, my irritation sparks. Where could she be? The brace of sin couldn’t keep its captivating hostess hidden forever. Could it?
I pick a strategic vantage point along the bar, swiping a lurid violet cocktail to blend in. The liquid courage burns smoothly down my throat despite its Day-Glo appearance.
Soon, my tapping foot ticks out my growing restlessness. The crowd morphs into a singular writhing organism, faces blurring together. Still no Helena.
I scan the undulating dance floor again, my focus turning inward. Perhaps showing up unannounced was foolish, bordering on creepy. Helena made it clear she regretted our tryst. This brash stunt smacks of desperate stalking.
I rake a hand through my hair, shame rising hot on my neck. This obsession needs to be reined in before it gallops further out of control. Time to leave before I do something truly idiotic.
I’m about to stand just as the sea of bodies parts for an instant. Across the cavernous space, an achingly familiar visage materializes from the chaos. Helena, resplendent in crimson, leans elegantly against the bar, chatting with a buff bartender. Her waves tumble loose about gently sloping shoulders, lashes lowered demurely as she speaks. Even at a distance, her otherworldly magnetism tugs at my core.
She seems to sense my stare, eyes suddenly darting up and clashing with mine. Her lips part in surprise and a hint of something more—not quite fear or nerves. But perhaps reluctant intrigue?
