Angel's Feather (Flyer Chronicles, Book One)

by Alina Popescu

  “Seems to me you’re well on your way, Adam.” A small smile played at the corner of his mouth and it made me almost combust with the heat burning within me. I caught myself before I pushed my groin against the tractor in search of something to relieve some of the sudden pressure. “Do you have a blueprint for the engine?”

  I nodded lamely and looked away from him. “I do, but for a much older model,” I said quickly, rushing to push the words out. I reached for the printout and handed it to him. As he took it from me, the tips of his fingers brushed against the back of my hand. I froze, unable to think or breathe. Time seemed to lengthen as my mind wildly tried to get a grip on my body. It was pointless though, that whisper of a touch was all it took for me to go fully erect. As my jaw dropped and my eyes bulged at the realization, Michael’s nostrils flared again and I saw him shake a little. I immediately forgot all about my arousal, worry for him replacing everything.

  “Are you alright, Michael?”

  He shook his head, as if to clear it, and smiled weakly. “I don’t know. You… You make me feel strange.”

  “Strange how?” I was convinced I was making him uncomfortable. He might have sensed just how I imagined him, how I wanted him, and that had probably sounded all his alarms.

  He looked into my eyes and took my hand in his. It was a shy approach, but he wrapped his fingers around mine and closed his eyes, his chin lifting as if he was tasting the air. When he opened his eyes, they had an unfamiliar shine to them.

  “I don’t know how to explain it. You make things within stir, things I cannot understand. It’s as if you can see through me.” He released my hand and shrugged, then took a step back. The space between us suddenly felt cold and void of any life. “I caught a glimpse of it the day I first saw you,” he whispered, and the skin on my arms and back turned to goose bumps. He’d known it straight away, that I’d seen into his soul.

  “Oh,” I said lamely.

  “I thought it was hate at first, silent loathing. It has only gotten stronger with every encounter and I don’t know what to make of it.”

  I nodded, although I had no clue what he was talking about. I suspected what was going on though. Being desired by one of us was probably the strangest feeling our guardians had ever been exposed to. I could imagine it rattling them, putting them on high alert, causing them to try and shield themselves from our lusty greed.

  Michael came back right next to me, holding up the schematics. “These parts have been replaced with more intricate designs,” he explained, pointing each of them out. “Start with everything else, and when you’re done, whatever is left, group in a way that replaces them.”

  His voice sounded deeper somehow. Husky, maybe. Or maybe I was just imagining it. Seeing him from afar did crazy things to me. It was no wonder having him this close would be much worse. I took a deep breath and turned to face him. I needed to warn him off. I needed to tell him to stay away for me, otherwise I’d soil him with my thoughts and wants.

  I kept my head lowered and my eyes landed on his groin. I gasped loudly at the sight of it. My eyes darted up to his, and once again they were glazed over, darkened by his huge pupils.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice cracking. “You smell different. So do I. What’s happening, Adam?”

  I blushed so much, my face, neck and chest burned. I looked away, not wanting to say the words out loud.

  “You are… blushing?” He sounded weary. “That means shame or excitement, or…” I waited silently for more, not looking at him. “Being embarrassed. Why are you embarrassed? Is it this change in your scent?”

  I ventured to look at him, and my hungry eyes got lost in his. Without thinking and unable to stop, I took a step forward and reached out, cupping his heavy bulge. He groaned loudly and his eyes fluttered closed. I watched him, mesmerized by the shiver going through his body and the way his tongue darted out to moisten his lips.

  “It’s called arousal, Michael. That’s what you’re smelling. Mine and yours.”

  Michael’s eyes popped open and he stared at me, mouth agape. His lips moved wordlessly and I had a dire feeling he’d run from me. I was only partially right. He pushed my hand away and staggered back.

  “That cannot be,” he said through gritted teeth. “Arousal is not something we, flyers, feel. You must be mistaken.”

  I wanted to tell him the hard length in his leathers said differently, but I knew well enough that would be harsh. I was human, so far beneath him it felt dirty when I thought about it. I was also a male and I had no clue what his species thought of that sort of pairing. I nodded and leaned against the truck as despair coursed through me. A deep sense of loss took hold and I could barely keep the tears at bay. I’d never imagined I’d have a chance with him, I’d always believed I’d want him from a distance, nothing more. That pathetic belief had shielded me from the possibility of a rejection.

  I felt the very essence of my being shattered. I’d been pining over him for almost a decade now and I should have known this would happen if I ever showed any of it to Michael. Were I him, I would have reacted the same way.

  “Adam,” he called, his voice sounding unsure. I answered on reflex by looking at him. Worry twisted his face. He was breathing heavily.

  He kept staggering away from me and the image of his departure tugged at something primal and possessive within me. Before I knew it, I called his name and made a beeline for him. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him to me, smashing my lips against his and whimpering at the contact. I did not move my mouth over his, I just soaked up the heat and softness of his lips and the way his body pressed against mine. If I were to lose him forever, if he was going to run and avoid me entirely from then on, I wanted this memory to keep me company. Somehow, I knew deep down there’d never be anyone else from me.

  I finally released him and smiled apologetically. He was stunned, frozen where I’d left him and looking at me as if I’d struck him. That made me feel so much guilt I was drowning in it.

  “Go, Michael. It’s quite alright, I promise I understand. I will stay away from you.”

  He finally nodded and left without another word, leaving me there to pick up the pieces he’d broken me into. Although he’d done nothing wrong, it had been me who’d caused this, who’d pushed him too far in my lust driven haze. What had I expected? Him bending me over and ravishing me for the rest of my days? Of course he’d reject me.

  I looked at the engine parts scattered on the floor. I’d made quite a mess of everything. I wanted to kick and scream, but I had no energy for it. Feeling dejected and drained, I pulled my shirt on and dragged my feet home.

  Head bent, I made my way to our house. I couldn’t remember anything of my walk back to our small dwelling. The moment I stepped inside and the sweet aroma of dinner being prepared hit me, I lost it. I slid down and crouched against the door, hugging my knees and pressing my face to my thighs. The strain of holding it all in took its toll and all my muscles hurt. I heard a long wail and it took a moment to realize it was my own. I gave up on my attempt at keeping it all locked inside and let the tears and snot and heartbreak pour out of me.

  Mother’s thin arms wrapped around me and pulled me to her. I felt her slowly patting where she could reach and realized she was checking for damage.

  “I am not hurt,” I managed to say through my hiccups and tears.

  “Oh, baby, yes, you are. But it’s not the kind of hurt I can use my plants and teas to heal, is it?”

  I had no idea how she knew, but then again, she was my mother. She was the only person in the world who really knew me. So I nodded against her shoulder and let her cradle me while I cried myself silly. When the sobs finally calmed down enough, she stood and pulled me up with her. I followed her to the kitchen, let her seat me on my usual chair, and waited quietly while she prepared a strong tea. I could smell the Valerian, but that wasn’t all she’d used. I didn’t care what it was, if it could numb me, I’d be grateful.

  I
SPENT THE following week locked up in my room. I did not want to face anything of what was looming beyond the safety my door provided. I still read and learned, it helped with the self-loathing, but I refused to step outside the small space between my four walls. I’d kept the curtains closed in a desperate attempt to keep the glare of light away and succumbed to my pain and depression.

  My mother would come by in the morning to bring me a tray of food, and then again in the evening. She’d stay with me at the end of her day, making sure I finished everything she’d prepared. Then she’d sit on my bed, pull me close and let me rest my head on her lap, curled into a fetal position.

  I knew I looked pathetic. I knew I was breaking her heart and disappointing her, but I was grateful for her silent closeness. It was all I needed to keep from drowning in hopelessness. Every time I felt like it was all too much, like I could never get anything right, and the wish to see it all end fluttered at the back of my mind, I’d remember she’d later come by to check on me. The fear of hurting her even further kept me from falling over the edge and succumbing completely to the dark tendrils of depression.

  Mother never asked what had caused this. She had surely assumed something had happened. Word of the two visits I’d gotten the day it all went to hell must have reached her. In the end, nothing happened in our village without everyone knowing about it. I thought of telling her everything a few times, but what use would that be? If I were a parent and my child were hurt by one of the flyers, I knew how I’d react. Like me, she wouldn’t care Michael wasn’t responsible for any of it. That he’d never done anything wrong.

  One morning, after a particularly bad night, she burst into my room. She stood at the foot of my bed, legs spread apart, her hands propped on her hips and her brows furrowed.

  “Child, it’s been a week. Enough’s enough. Now get out of that bed, have a shower, and come have breakfast with me.”

  I grunted and slid further down in the warmth of my bed, pulling the cover over my head. A sharp tug pulled the cover away from me and she caught my wrist, squeezing it until it hurt.

  “Now listen here, boy. I’ve never done it before, but I swear on all that is holy that I’ll put you across my lap and spank you till you snap out of it.”

  I don’t know if the comical determination to discipline a twenty-five year old or the image of my much larger body over her lap was what broke me, but I was rolling with laughter for long minutes. I breathlessly staggered out of bed and crushed her small body into a tight hug.

  “Thank you, Mom,” I whispered in her ear and she chuckled as she patted my back.

  “You’re welcome, son. Now go take that shower.” She wrinkled her nose and waved the offensive odor away. I laughed again and headed to the bathroom. I scrubbed myself clean, shaved, and put on clean clothes. Looking at myself in the mirror, I took a few deep breaths and headed outside to face the world once more.

  OVER THE FOLLOWING few months, Michael did as I’d told him I’d do. He steered clear of me. All the usual visits to check on us villagers and sniff out any rule breaking were relegated to other flyers. That way, he did not have to make an appearance. Everyone around the village was whispering about their small victory. The Punisher could no longer deal with the shame and he’d sent his lackeys to do his dirty work.

  I knew better. It was me, the dirty human boy that had practically molested him, I was what kept him away. I couldn’t blame him, really. Just like I couldn’t help the pang of pain every time I’d see flyers approaching and realized Michael wasn’t among them. The bitter disappointment parched my mouth every time.

  Unfortunately for Michael, the other flyers caught one of the villagers while he was trying to power an old rocket engine. There was to be a public execution, as always, and the Punisher would have to carry it out. Those were the rules and flyers would never break them.

  It was quite a struggle to hide how happy I was one of the Freedom Alliance had been dumb enough to try something like that. Flyers could detect them easily, they had the technology for it when it was done like this, out in the open. I was so excited, the delight was bubbling out of me. I had a renewed spring to my step, I could barely keep from smiling all the time, and everyone looked at me funny.

  When my mom asked about it, I had the bright idea of saying I was almost done with the tractor engine. We’d have our first farming machine in working order in the near future. She laughed with me and hugged me fiercely and I felt like the scum that I was for delighting in the idea someone was going to be executed.

  I took no pleasure in the untimely death of my people. I’d never been able to mourn or pity them either. Did that make me a poor excuse for a human being? Maybe. What about them, though? We were so stubbornly fighting some pathetic rules that we had to obey because of the millions of bad decisions we as a species had made for so many centuries. Yet instead of remembering all those who’d died at our hands, humans and aliens alike, to try our best to improve our lives, heal our world, and atone for our crimes, we rebelled against the supposedly harsh fate bestowed upon us. Such hypocrisy! We thrived on our double standards and I was sure, deep down, most of us believed we were better than anyone else.

  My enthusiasm at seeing Michael again quickly faded when he arrived. He seemed cold, uncaring. There was no trace of feeling in his eyes, no expression on his beautiful face. He wore his usual leather trousers that I was sure he had to cut off his body to undress. The new addition was a metallic looking… something. It looked like a sleeveless shirt or some sort of body armor, but it kept me from seeing his strong upper body and watch the stray rays of sunshine reflected by his glorious skin.

  All in all, he looked like a true warrior, a right enforcer. And did he ever act like one! Michael had never been a man of many words, but he was eerily silent this time. He did not offer a glance or a word to anyone. Even when it came to the other flyers, he only communicated through mysterious nods and gestures. To make it worse, two of the other flyers that had come with him, the ones who had taken over his patrolling duties, were stabbing me with their glares. He’d told them? Or maybe they’d figured out his mood had soured after coming to see me…

  Either way, not seeing Michael was a lot easier than having him ignore me like this. With a deep sigh, I turned around and made to leave, but one of the other flyers stopped me.

  “Where do you think you’re going? Everyone healthy and able is required to attend the executions.”

  I slapped his hand away and then pressed my palm to his naked chest, pushing him back. The crowd around me gasped in unison, then went deadly silent.

  “What is the point, angel? I’ll just watch your broadcast later. They never learn, nothing changes. There will be another execution soon enough.”

  I left the village square without ever looking back. I heard the flyer calling my name once, but for some reason he did not try to stop me again, nor did he say anything else. I went straight back home, trying to keep myself together until I was safely hidden away in my room. I could not afford to fall apart out in the open, I couldn’t have any of the other villagers see me like that, see how weak I truly was.

  I threw myself on my bed, face first. I expected pain and sobs and punching the pillow until I had no strength. Instead I found I was numb inside and out. A restless, dreamless sleep followed, and by the time I woke up, sweaty and huffing, it was dark outside. I considered going downstairs to find the dinner I knew my mother had saved for me, but decided against it. I got under the covers and closed my eyes, praying that I would be graced with the same dark slumber. For once, my prayer was answered.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up early enough to watch the sunrise from my window. I showered, got dressed, and went downstairs. I took my dinner out of the oven, and I turned it into our breakfast after adding a few more ingredients. It was the least I could do to make up for bailing on dinner the night before. And for embarrassing my mom in front of the whole village.

  She finally came into the kitchen when every
thing was ready and sat on her chair without saying a word to me. I bit my lower lip until I felt blood oozing out of it. I’d really upset her this time. Reluctantly, I sat down and pulled my tea cup closer. She turned to face me, as if she hadn’t even realized I was there. Her warm smile took me by surprise, but I welcomed and returned it. I picked up the hot cup of tea and brought it to my lips to take a small sip.

  “So it is Michael, isn’t it?”

  The words shot right through me. I felt the hot liquid scalding my thigh and dripping down my leg, but I couldn’t move or scream in pain. My mom darted out of her chair and forced me to stand. She removed my pajama bottoms and started mumbling something I couldn’t quite understand. In a flurry of motion and broken whispers, she had ointment spread over my fresh burns and had them wrapped in soft bandages.

  “You silly child, why would you do that?”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I know I am a disappointment.” I felt like crying again, but before I could, she had me nestled against her chest, hugging me as if her life depended on it.

  “No child has ever made a parent prouder, Adam. Don’t you ever doubt that!”

  “But… but I lust after an angel, mom. And not any angel, their freaking leader!” I sounded like a petulant child who’d broken his favorite toy and it made me cringe. I wanted the earth to split open and swallow me.

  “Oh, my poor boy! He’d be lucky if he ever had you. You are not beneath Michael, you’ve never been subpar, and I thought that flyer knew it as well as I did.”

  Her words shook me out of my tantrum. I pushed away from her and stared dumbfounded into her eyes. “You mean to say you haven’t just realized this now?”

  She laughed softly and ruffled my hair. “Adam, I knew Michael fascinated you since the day your father was executed. I just never guessed it went that deep.”