Page 6 of Seraph's Tears
He stood in profile to me, face raised to the sky. Hair the color of night tumbled down the sides of his face, unkempt and wild. His skin, naturally pale, was pink in response to the cold, for he wore no shirt. None at all. Broad shoulders turned to a well-defined chest and abdomen, evidence that while the church might call him the Herald of Death, he was very, very alive. Leather trousers covered powerful, long legs. His face was beautiful. Tragic. The line of a broad forehead and prominent nose traveled down to a square jaw. I wished I knew the color of his eyes.
The stories were true.
But this man was no human. He wasn’t a monster, like Zorababel had warned me. He was an angel.
Wings as white as snow sprung from his back. The crests were nearly equal to the crown of his head, and he was a tall man. Those wings, folded tightly against his bare back, swooped down until the primaries stopped inches from the ground.
My heart ached—literally ached—at the sight.
I must’ve breathed, must’ve gasped, or made some other noise, for he went still, as still as a predator, and then his head turned and he pierced me with his gaze.
Eyes the deep, soulful green of a pine forest pinned me where I stood.
I understood why Zor’s grandfather called him the Herald of Death, though my body thrummed with life when he looked at me. That intense stare, those finely cut cheekbones, the angelic wings, and the latent power within this otherworldly being all spoke of a power over life and death itself.
Was he from Erlik? Was he a god, one we hadn’t known existed? All I knew was I could not bear the weight of his gaze, and yet I could not turn away.
Had Zorababel lied to me? Or had he not known? Those questions were nearly a constant refrain in my head for years now, so it should not surprise me that he’d lied—or been misled—about this otherworldly man with wings. But, then, some monsters were the most beautiful creatures. Which was he?
“You.” His voice was soft but deep. “What are you doing here?”
“I–I’m getting water.” I held up my bucket as proof.
His wings twitched. “I did not expect to see you today.”
Clearly not. Heart thumping, I dropped into a curtsy, the bucket of water sloshing and getting the hem of my apron wet. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Ser.”
His eyes flashed and he stepped toward me. His bare feet moved silently over the moss-covered cobbles of the courtyard
Oh no, he’s coming over to meet me. I wasn’t ready for this. I was a terrible liar, and I couldn’t tell him why I was truly here. My eyes flicked anywhere but his face, landing on his wings. My breath came in shallow, uneven pants.
The master stopped right in front of me. My eyes jumped back and forth between his bare chest and the wings peeking over his shoulders.
My mouth went dry. I set the bucket on the ground, afraid it would slip from my suddenly sweaty hands. By all four gods, he was even more gorgeous up close. Tragically beautiful. I was a drab little sparrow beside a swan.
“Gabriel.” He was tall, well over six feet, and his chiseled jaw could rest on the top of my head. His eyes had the faintest wrinkles at the edges, and stern, deep lines bracketed his mouth, as if he’d forgotten how to smile. He seemed to be in his mid thirties, which made no sense at all.
My mind still wasn’t working with all that unearthly beauty focused on me. “Beg pardon?”
His jaw worked and he folded his arms across that muscular, expansive chest. How was he not cold? It was November, for goodness’ sake. “My name. It’s Gabriel. Not Mr. Ser.”
“Oh,” I said stupidly. It finally caught up to me. “The, uh, job posting in the newspaper. It said you were a reclusive gentleman named Ser.”
His skin had goosebumps. I had the sudden urge to reach out and warm them away. “My manservant likely chose that because it’s a shortened title for what I am: a seraph.” He spoke with a faint accent I didn’t recognize.
I nodded, eyes wide and innocent as if I’d never considered that. Zorababel had guessed it. It’s why he’d told me to apply for the position, because it was one of the clearest clues that this “reclusive gentleman” was who he wanted.
Gabriel’s green eyes never left my face, though I wished they would. I didn’t want an angel to see my human flaws. “Will this be a problem?” Little plumes of breath escaped his smooth, inviting lips. Why couldn’t I look away from those lips?
“Problem?” I squeaked.
“That I am not human,” he said slowly. “That I am a seraph.”
Oh, that. He must think I’m an idiot. I shook my head even though it was very, very much a problem for me. I had been prepared for a wizened old monster or an otherworldly sinister creature, among many others. I had not prepared for this masculine, virile angel.
My body wanted to cant toward him, wanted to feel those big, strong arms around me, wanted to touch his wings.
No. No. This wasn’t the plan. I could not be attracted to him. Zor would murder me if I ruined his plan, and I didn’t wish to ruin my own plan, either.
