Page 184 of Drown Like Heaven
How did I know?
Fear blinked white in my mind and my chest seized. I didn’t have an excuse for this. My mind was too flustered to come up with a lie. I hadn’t eventhoughtabout the fact that Micah might be suspicious and now it was too late to—
“I cut my hand the other day,” Mason interjected. “Opening a box with a knife. She thought she saw gold, but I convinced her otherwise.”
“Explain,” I ordered, trying to swallow down my nausea, gripping my weapon harder, pointing it in his direction. My hand was trembling so bad I was scared I’d drop the knife, and it was my only line of defense. I gritted my teeth.
Mason looked at Micah, then said something too low to hear before slipping out of the kitchen. A minute later, I heard him leave the house. It was just me and Micah now, silence spanning the air between us, a knife in my hand.
“What do you think it is?” he asked. Like Mason. But I wouldn’t let him intimidate me.
“I think it’s gold. In your fuckingblood. And you have scars on your back that are huge and unusual—which might’ve been fine had I not just also seen Mason’s huge and unusual scars on his back, identical to yours.”
“Yeah. There’s gold in my blood. There are scars on my back.” He started prowling towards me and I held the knife up higher—pointlessly, because now I wasn’t so sure I could kill him with it—scared out of my fucking mind. “Are you going to do something about it?”
I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking do this. I want to go home, but I can’t now. I fucked up.
“Yes. Yes, I’m going to—” My foot caught on the leg of a chair and I stumbled, righting myself in an instant. Micah wastoo close now. I couldn’t stop my eyes from darting back to the blade, the crimson dripping down over my fingers and my wrist, the gold glimmering unnaturally through it.
“You’re going to what?” His voice was so cold.
“Explain this shit to me, Micah.” I emphasized each word, a million emotions swimming in my blood, wreaking havoc on my thoughts. I was trapped against the table, my free hand gripping the back of a chair.
“I’m an angel.”
“That makes zero sense—”
There was a loud rustling sound, something powerful and terrible, as a black void rose above Micah’s shoulders. I took a step back, my breath getting caught in my throat, primal fear making me feel like I was about to pass out. The knife fell out of my hand, clattering to the floor, as hot tears flooded down my cheeks and my mouth dropped open. My vision dipped and blurred, acid climbing my throat.
Coming out of his back were two black wings, covered in feathers, stretching high above his head and sweeping the ground at the bottom.
“Dakota.”
“Get the fuck away from me!” I shrieked, skittering around the table, my feet slipping on the tile as I sprinted to the back door. I slammed into the wood, fumbling with the lock on the door.
A large, warm hand covered mine, stopping me.
“You can’t leave,” Micah said, low.
I could see darkness in my periphery. Panic wrapped around my neck tighter and tighter.
“Yes I can,” I breathed, horrified.
You aren’t real. None of this is real.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“You can’t leave, but I can make it better. I can take care of you.”
“No.” I shook my head, focusing on breathing, focusing on getting enough oxygen to my brain so I wouldn’t lose consciousness. I couldn’t open my eyes. Micah’s heat was radiating against the back of me, and what had always been comforting was now terrifying. Was he so warm because of this? I thought of Mason in the ocean, thought of his strength in the car. “No. No. No.”
“Yes.” Micah grabbed my shoulders, gently turning me to face him, but I kept my eyes closed. I could feel him leaning closer to me. “I’ll make it better. You’re mine to protect, to keep safe.”
“I’m not yours,” I choked.
But Iwashis. Wasn’t I?
A sense of calm enveloped me. This wasMicah.
