Forbidden Love

There were a few pros and cons to staying at his place.

Pro: His house was small and cozy.

Con: It's in the middle of nowhere.

Pro: It has a kitchen, living room, bathroom and two bedrooms.

Con: The guest room is a game room.

I felt awkward standing in his house. Hell, I felt awkward just being around him. "Now, I want answers," I said, almost miserably.

"Well, we can't all get what we want. Hate to inform you of that."

A small, almost animalistic, growl left my throat, shocking us both. "You said I'd have answers!" Tapping into my powers, I brought my telepathy to life, only to hear absolutely nothing.

"You can't read my thoughts. I have you blocked."

My heart skipped a beat, fear rocketing through me. Oh, God. Flight or fight instincts kicked in and I took a step back. I saw his muscles tense as if he were going to pounce. I took another step back, watching him closely.

"Faith," he spoke slowly, following my movements with his eyes.

"Stay away." Fear layered every word I spoke and I took yet another step back, reaching behind my body for the doorknob. The gold, metallic thing was cold on my fingers. As I turned it, he was there, pinning my hands above my head.

"I told you, Faith, that I'm not going to hurt you. Unfortunately, out of everything, I'm the one you can trust the most."

"Who are you?" I whispered, my instincts still telling me to run.

"I'm your guardian."

"My...guardian? W-What?" What could I possibly need protected from?

"Look, I said I'd give you answers; however, now is not the right time. Although, to appease your thoughtful mind, I will answer one question. Now, if I release you, will you run?"

I shook my head, allowing his hands to release mine. I rubbed my wrists, sighing. "One question?" When he nodded, I said, "What are you?"

He took a step away and looked at me, calculating. "What I used to be and what I am now are two different things. I promise that you have no reason to fear me."

"What does that mean?"

"You might want to take a seat," he responded, sweeping his arm out toward the black leather couch.

Taking his word, I walked past him and plopped onto the cool leather and rested my head back against the back of it. Once I heard Nicholas sit down in the matching recliner, I said, "Okay. Talk."

Leaning back in the chair, he crossed his legs at the ankles and started, "Long ago, a few hundred years at least, I was born to my human mother and demon father. In some way, my mother was able to take me away from the evil side. She gained custody and hid me from my father. She taught me the human ways and loved me as any mother would."

He watched my reaction, but when I didn't give one, he continued, "Since I was half-demon, my dark side started taking over. I got into fights at school, threatened everyone, stole and did all of the things any evil being would; except kill.: Reaching over, he brought a glass of water to his lips. I did not know where it came from, but I didn't comment.

A loud clank was heard as he placed the glass back on the small wooden end table. "My mom didn't agree with what I was doing, so she tried changing it to no avail." An air of sorrow suddenly appeared, surrounding him like a halo. "One day, she got angry and grabbed me. I didn't mean to, but I retaliated. After I was done, her body was on the ground, lying in a pool of blood. I killed my own mother. And so, to avenge her death, I poured lighter fluid all over my body and set myself on fire. I felt that she deserved a great ending, but I destroyed that so that was how I fixed it."

My hand was placed over my mouth. I could have seen him shooting himself in the head, but picking that painful of a death? He really loved his mother.

"Death was nice, in my opinion. It took away the object of pain, it made my violence come to rest. However, someone had other plans." Glaring up at the ceiling, I caught onto who he meant. "He brought me back to life. He told me that He found my death a way of showing my good side. So I gained my wings and became your guardian. That is how you are my assignment, how I know everything. However, you and I meeting was never supposed to happen."

"So what exactly are you?"

"An angel."

No wonder he's gorgeous. "If you're an angel, then why are your wings black?"

"Because of being a half-demon in my previous life, I now have to prove myself."

"Oh. Well I guess that makes sense. But," I said, standing up from my spot on the couch, "I still don't know if I can trust you."

Annoyance clouded his features. "I'll take the couch. You can have my bed." He sighed. "you'll have to go home on Sunday, tomorrow."

Home? "No way," I stated. "I will take the couch." The clock hanging on the far wall read that it was ten fifteen. When did it get so late? And since when do I have a "home"?

"My house, my rules."

"Well your rules suck," I said, turning around to grab a pillow off of the back of the couch. They looked fluffy and soft. Though, as soon as my fingers touched the pillow, I was off of the couch, two strong arms holding me in the air. "hey, put me down!"

"Nope," he stated, popping the "P". As he walked into the hallway, I glowered up at him. He shouldered the bedroom door open and in three long strides, he had placed me on the bed and moved away, standing in the doorway with a triumphant smirk on his lips.

"Goodnight," I muttered, ungratefully. He nodded in response and softly closed the door, closing me in darkness.

I heard him move down the hall and then plop down on the couch with a heavy sigh. I felt guilty; he was obviously just being chivalrous. I couldn't see why, though. Did it really matter? Tomorrow would be Sunday.

When will he fill me in on everything? I wondered, sighing softly.


It must have been an hour before he finally fell asleep. once I heard the soft, almost silent, sound of snoring, I placed my feet on the cold hardwood. It sent a shiver through my body. Tiptoeing through the room, I felt around until my fingers found the knob; I twisted and pulled the door open, a soft squeak from the dry hinges making me cringe. I was actually surprised that the door wasn't sealed shut or some stupid crap.

My feet were silent as I made my way through the house, the occasional creak coming from the settled wood. Half of the time I stopped to listen, but always heard the snoring. It gave me confidence. But not enough to where I stopped being sneaky. The darkness of the house cloaked almost everything.

Once I got into the living room, I paused. I seemed to have forgotten what I was doing, in the first place. Why was it, that whenever a person left their thoughts behind, we forgot everything?

My dry, parched throat reminded me of what I was doing. Quickly, I raced into the kitchen and ended up slamming my knee into the cabinet door. I hid in the corner of the room, fighting a hiss of pain as I heard Nicholas sign in annoyance. I had both hands over my mouth, my body pressed tightly against the wall. My heart thumped loudly against my chest, the thump thump making it impossible for me to hear Nicholas. It's possible that he went back to sleep. But I doubted it.

My eyes, luckily, had adjusted to the dark and I could make out small figures, but not enough to know exactly what they were.

I blinked a few times and moved forward, out of the corner and toward where I assumed the glasses were. Opening the cupboard door, I found that I was right and grabbed ahold of a glass, quietly shutting the door.

Before I opened the fridge door, I bit my lip and then decided to just get water instead. Cold tap water filled the clear, five inch tall glass. As I shut the water off, I brought the glass to my lips and let the water moisten my dry throat.

My eyes sought out the window above the sink and what I saw made the glass slip from my hands. Glass shattered and water pooled onto the floor. Despite just having a drink, my mouth went dry.

In the window, hanging from a rope was someone I knew from school. I couldn't remember his name, but that didn't matter. The body turned slowly, his face turning to stare through the window. I screamed and Nicholas was there a second later, moving me away from the window. He whispered in my ear, but I didn't hear a single word. All I saw, in my mind, was that boy turning, showing his open-mouthed, wide-eyed stare. Obviously he was dead and there was nothing we could do about it. But why was he here? Who found this house? Who did someone know that I'd be there, at that time, staring through the window?

By the time I came back, I found that Nicholas was on a phone, the shiny silver square device on his ear. His mouth moved quickly, but I didn't hear a word. Who could talk that fast and not actually talk? It was strange, in my opinion.

"I'm sorry," he apologized once he was off the phone. "As I said, you aren't supposed to be here and clearly, someone knows this."