“Calm down, dear,” said Raphael. “You can’t force Caleb to see the truth.”
Err, I’m still here.
“No, I won’t calm down. Someone has to tell him,” Ophelia continued. “Have you ever stopped to think that’s why those Above chose you to be Evie’s teacher, Caleb? They had a greater purpose for you two from the beginning.”
Caleb opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. Were his concerns over failing the Powers That Be completely unfounded? Had they planned the whole thing?
“Are you okay?” asked Raphael. “You’ve gone awfully pale.”
His hands trembled. Thoughts swirled inside his head, made him lightheaded again despite the hearty meal.
Evie…
Ophelia calmed and gave him another one of her compassionate smiles. “You’ve been in love with Evie since the moment you two met, but you’re too damn obstinate to admit the truth to yourself.”
His whole body warmed as though it too compelled him to see the truth.
He could see it all now. Her turquoise eyes twinkling like sunlight on a tropical ocean. Her charming smile when she’d teased him over his irrational fear of spiders. The sound of her soft laughter had seeped into his soul without him realising it, and now he couldn’t remember the silence before he met her.
Caleb’s gaze flitted between his wisest friends.
He leapt up from the table, grinning. “Thank you, both of you, for talking some sense into a stubborn old chap. You’re right. I am in love with the most incredible angel I’ve ever met.”
They grinned back. “Glad we got it sorted.”
“I have to see her. Now.”
Ophelia chuckled. “Not smelling like that, you don’t.”
She had a point, and there was something else too. His shoulders dipped. “Since my wings don’t work, can you drive me home, Raphael?” Whatever was wrong with them was the least of his priorities.
“I’d be happy to, but your wings will work fine now. Try them.”
Caleb circled his shoulders, and sure enough, the power flowed back into his wings. “How is that possible?”
“Like I told you,” said Ophelia. “You were trying to fly away from the truth.”
It made sense. His wings had stopped working the moment he’d left Evie’s flat.
“Remind me again why I did that?”
Ophelia and Raphael answered together. “Because you’re a stubborn old fellow.”
He smiled. “Not anymore. I owe Evie a huge apology and a piece of humble pie.” Or maybe that roast dinner with all the trimmings they’d bet on whoever found love first. Caleb headed out of the kitchen. “Thanks for everything.”
“Good luck, Caleb, and keep us posted,” Ophelia called after him.
He was too preoccupied to hear her.
He opened their front door and stepped outside, then spread his wings to their full span and took off, revelling in not only the power of flight but the power of love too.
There was nothing he wanted more than to land on Evie’s rusty fire escape and see her again, but he had things to plan first.
He needed to do this right. Everything depended on it.
Chapter Ten
Evie entered the nightclub foyer for her date with the demon, Malcolm.
She giggled to herself. She really must get over how daft his name sounded.
Mary had passed comment on her outfit when she’d paid a visit to the hospital to see Lucy and the other kids before her date. The ward sister said she looked like Sandy in the end scene in Grease; black, skin-tight leather trousers and an off-the-shoulder top she’d found at the back of her wardrobe. The only difference being, Evie wore her usual chunky boots with the laces up the shins, and her wings, of course. Not gold-tipped ones, but she’d given up on that dream since she’d still not heard a peep from her supposed teacher turned traitor, Caleb Pearce.
To her surprise and amusement, Mary had scooted off to her locker and produced a pair of pillar-box red stilettos in her size. She’d said she kept them for when she went for drinks after work, and Evie was welcome to borrow them.
Evie didn’t have the heart to tell her she couldn’t walk in heels, but she hadn’t refused them either. The mood she was in, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to live a little dangerously.
Tottering on the high heels, she climbed the steel stairs that led from the foyer up to the nightclub.
Sweaty bodies gyrated in time with the music so loud she couldn’t hear herself think.
Malcolm—Straight face, Evie—had arranged to meet her by the bar.
Peering into the darkness, she couldn’t see him, so she weaved through the crowds.
Halfway across the dancefloor, she tripped in the ridiculously high heels.
Her ankle twisted beneath her, but rather than fall flat on her face, anything but that, she twisted it back again to right herself. Her wings, cloaked by the magic veil, opened behind her, an instinctual reflex, which knocked a few people off balance, their expressions showing their confusion as to what had brushed against them.
Out of nowhere, a guy looped his arm around her waist and steadied her.
Musky cologne surrounded her as he leaned in close to her ear. “Hi, you must be Evie.” His hot breath tickled her neck.
Evie could hardly hear him above the music. She pulled away to look at him. Her date flashed a lopsided smile that made her belly flutter.
The demon’s profile picture did not do him justice. Reasonably good looking didn’t come close. The guy oozed sex appeal, and his black eyes gleamed with wickedness.
“Malcolm, hi.” His name didn’t sound so daft now either.
“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning in close again.
“Fine, thanks.” She wasn’t. Her ankle hurt like Hell. And maybe that’s where she was going for dating a demon. She wanted to live dangerously, didn’t she?
“Fancy a drink?” he shouted.
She nodded, doing her best not to hobble across the dancefloor, but she stumbled again.
Malcolm noticed and looped his arm around her waist once more.
Scorching heat radiated through his silk shirt.
Oh, boyo.
Her cheeks warmed as he led her to the bar and sat on a barstool.
“What can I get you?”
“A red wine, please.”
“Wine, surely not? The most beautiful angel in the club deserves to be drinking the finest champagne.”
A glance around confirmed she was the only angel, but she didn’t correct him, too concerned by the throbbing in her ankle.
Malcolm ordered a bottle of champagne—she dreaded to think what extortionate prices the nightclub charged. He leaned over the bar and said something to the barman, then handed him a wad of notes.
Overpriced, clearly.
Evie would have been fine with the red wine, and champagne always went to her head, but who was she to argue?
The barman fetched the champagne, placed two flute glasses on the counter and filled them.
Malcolm handed a champagne flute to her. “Are you okay?” he asked again.
“Yeah, it’s hot in here, that’s all,” she said, waving her hand in front of her face. The nightclub was stifling with all the sweaty bodies, but she had a feeling a certain demon’s body heat had something to do with it too. He was standing very close.
Each time Malcolm spoke, he leaned in even closer. His firm body kept brushing against hers.
She drank her champagne quicker than she should; nodded and smiled at what she hoped were appropriate moments, but she barely caught what he was saying above the blaring music.
Malcolm hardly touched his champagne. He regarded her for several seconds as though assessing her.
His intense stare incited a prickling sensation up her spine, but she wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.
He cupped her elbow, his touch persistent and hot. “Would you like some fresh air?” His breath puffed her hair against her neck. Without waiting for her an
swer, he lowered his voice to an evil snarl. “You will come to the roof terrace with me.”
He spoke the words like a command, a compulsion she could not ignore. Warning signals blared inside her head, but Evie nodded as if he’d somehow put her in a trance. Could demons do that?
She stood and lost her balance, wincing as pain shot through her ankle. How much champagne had she drunk? She knew she should have insisted on wine.
With demonic speed, Malcolm scooped her up.
Evie gasped but didn’t protest, drawn to his fiery body heat like she had no choice. What am I doing? This isn’t right.
Her wings drooped. Malcolm carried her through the crowds and up another set of steel steps to the roof terrace.
The sudden blast of cold air made her shiver, but Malcolm’s body heat counteracted the chill.
The roof terrace, although not as crowded as the nightclub, played host to a handful of people shrouded in cigarette smoke.
Evie’s eyes stung, and her vision blurred. The gross taste of smoke coated her tongue. So much for the fresh air.
Malcolm put her down and helped her hobble to a quieter corner where another guy sat at a small table with his back to them. He wasn’t smoking, thankfully.
“I’d like to introduce you to my brother,” said Malcolm.
The guy turned around.
Evie did a double take. Twins? She looked from one brother to the other. She couldn’t tell them apart.
“Hello, I’m Melvin.”
She couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping from her mouth. Another unlikely demonic-sounding name. “Pleased to meet you, Melvin.” Still giggling. Bloody champagne.
“I’m so glad you said that, angel.” Melvin pulled out a chair.
Evie meant to perch daintily on the wrought-iron seat but collapsed in an unflattering flop.
Malcolm sat down too, putting the twins on either side of her.
“Did my brother mention we’re very close?” Melvin asked.
She wasn’t sure Malcolm even mentioned he had a brother, but then with the din in the bar, she hadn’t caught much of anything he’d said.
Malcolm rested his elbows on the table and edged closer to her. Melvin did the same, the heat from their demon bodies coming at her from both sides, like all-consuming flames flickering ever closer.
Despite the coolness of the night, a bead of sweat trickled between her shoulder blades.
Evie spotted another bottle of champagne on the table, along with three glasses.
She swallowed. Was this part of the demon’s plan? A plan she wanted no part of.
Malcolm stroked his fingertips along her upper arm. “Angels are a particular favourite of both of ours. And we like to share everything, don’t we, Melvin?”
Her stomach hollowed as she got an inkling of what he was implying. His touch, while scorching hot, sent ice-cold shivers across her skin.
Fuck.
“Okay, boys,” she said, feigning bravado. “I think you have the wrong angel here.”
“Are you sure about that?” Melvin asked, running his fingers along her other arm.
Evie squashed her arms into her sides, but it didn’t help. “Look, I’m open-minded, and each to their own, as they say, but I’m strictly a one guy type of girl.”
Her declaration appeared to go unnoticed as they inched closer still, their scorching heat oppressive.
Only one guy owned her heart. Her best friend, Caleb. Yes, she was mad at him for leaving her, but it hadn’t stopped her from missing him, and a piece of her had died without him around.
She wished he was here now.
Evie sat back in the chair as far as she could, searching the terrace for anyone who might be able to help her out of her dangerous predicament, one that, despite being tipsy, she was fully aware she’d brought on herself. “I’m sorry, but I’m feeling a bit woozy.”
The Brothers Grimm exchanged a look.
“Perhaps you’d like more champagne?” said Malcolm, his black eyes glinting, his face twisted in a smile.
Fear raced along her spine. “I…I really have to go.”
Evie scraped the chair back and stood, albeit unsteadily. Her ankle smarted again as she put her weight on it, but she didn’t care; she had to get out of there.
“Hey, where’s the fire?” Melvin sneered. “Oh, yeah, that’s later, when we take you back to Hell with us.”
The brothers burst out laughing as though they had some private joke she didn’t find even remotely funny.
Before she knew what was happening, the demons seized her patagium, the leading edge of her wings, and forced her to sit down.
Burning heat from their hands sizzled her feathers.
“Get off me!” she yelled.
No one looked her way, as if they hadn’t even heard her.
In less than a second, she spanned her wings and thrust them downwards.
Malcolm held firm, his grip scorching her feathers down to the bone, but Melvin lost his grip on the other wing.
It was enough. It had to be.
She stood, twisting her torso and flapping her free wing violently. Its force whacked Melvin off his chair. As luck would have it, his head struck the wrought-iron table, and he slumped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
Evie fought Malcolm with everything she had. She punched him and kicked him with her stilettos, gritting her teeth against the pain in her ankle.
Still, none of the crowd took any notice.
With a final burst of strength, she broke free of his blistering grasp.
Half sprinting, half stumbling, she leapt off the roof terrace and spiralled towards the city streets below.
She spread her wings to get her balance, as Caleb showed her the day she fell off her fire escape.
Acute pain seared through her left shoulder blade.
She flapped again, the pain worse this time.
The ground came ever closer.
Chapter Eleven
Caleb landed on Evie’s fire escape and tucked his wings behind him.
The table lamp next to the sofa wasn’t on, but the moon shone its silvery light into her flat.
Perhaps she’d gone to bed; it was kind of late, but this couldn’t wait.
He put down the bottle of wine and two new glasses, a peace offering, cupped his hands around his eyes and peered through the window.
No sign of her. Not in the tiny kitchen leading off her lounge either, from what he could see from his position.
Caleb lifted the latch and leaned over the windowsill. “Evie, are you there? I come with wine.”
Silence greeted him.
Wherever she was, she would be back soon. He was sure of it.
He fetched the wine and glasses and climbed inside with nothing more on his mind than seeing Evie again.
Caleb placed the bottle and glasses on her coffee table and then padded around her flat.
He had to offer his sincerest apologies for leaving her and for ignoring all her texts and voicemails.
He poked his head around her bedroom door. Her bed was made.
Memories flooded back to him of the last time he’d seen her, lying on the bed, so peaceful as he’d covered her with the duvet.
Yes, he’d behaved appallingly, and part of him would never forget that, but once he told her how much he loved her…
He smiled as he recalled the way she’d snuggled into him when they lay there sated and breathless, the duvet tangled around their legs. Maybe, just maybe, she loved him too.
Caleb checked the bathroom. Empty. He returned to the lounge and sat on the sofa, only now realising how improper it was to be in her flat when she wasn’t there.
The silence was oppressive.
He leapt up from the sofa and paced to the window and back again. Then he flitted around the room, tidying a few things for her, more to pass the time than anything else. He couldn’t care less what her place looked like, despite jibing her about her untidiness. She’d made this place a home, made him feel
like it was his home too.
Caleb sat on her sofa again. Strumming his fingers on the arm, he debated what to do.
Maybe he should come back later.
Where was she anyway?
He fetched his phone from his pocket and went to text her, but what could he say in a text message?
What he needed to say had to be said face to face.
He checked the time. Half past midnight.
Evie didn’t usually stay out this late.
Then it hit him. She could be on a date.
His heart sunk like it was made of lead.
How naïve of him to think she would be willing to forgive him.
He eyed the bottle of wine and the two new glasses he’d bought for her—he doubted she would be impressed by his pathetic attempt at a peace offering. The small jewellery box in his pocket jabbed his thigh, a cruel reminder of how he’d failed her.
How could he even think of asking her now?
Caleb stood and paced the room, his wings hanging low behind him. He shouldn’t even be here. The more he thought about it, the more he realised what an invasion of her privacy it was, him being here alone.
He traipsed towards the window, ready to fly anywhere that didn’t remind him of Evie, but a knock on her front door stopped him.
He froze with his foot midway out of the window.
Whoever it was, they knocked again.
Probably some teenagers playing a prank at this time of night. Caleb headed to the front door and opened it.
To his surprise, Ophelia and Raphael stood there with daft grins on their faces.
“What are you two doing here?”
“Sorry, we didn’t mean to intrude,” said Ophelia. “I know you and Evie will want to be alone, but we have some exciting news.”
Caleb frowned.
Raphael elbowed his wife in the side. “I told you it could wait until the morning. Sorry, Caleb, you know what she’s like when she gets a bee in her bonnet.”
Yes, he did, but it still didn’t explain why his friends were at Evie’s flat when they’d never visited before. “Evie’s not here,” he told them.
“You’re in her flat on your own?”
He could count on Ophelia to point out his blatant disregard for Evie’s privacy. “I was just leaving.”
Dating an Angel Page 7