Satan's Hunger

2

Jacob squinted against the glaring sunlight as he slowly woke. It was an extraordinary business—this sleeping thing. The way his body could feel so tired was something new. The way he could simply disappear into his dreams, as though he'd left the world behind, as though he no longer existed, was almost magical.

And a little scary.

How could he defend himself if enemies attacked? How could he know if he was in danger? How could he protect Kaitlyn if he couldn't even protect himself? Briefly, he felt a stab of regret for what he'd done, sacrificing his angel power, abandoning God's light, before remembering that it wasn't his job to protect her body—she had Ezekiel and the others for that—but to protect her heart.

He hoped he was succeeding.

Rolling over, he laid his hand upon her pillow. It was warm from the sun pouring in through the window. She'd left a long strand of hair behind. He smiled as he twisted it between his fingers. It gleamed auburn against the light.

He yawned and stretched. He'd slept heavily and his neck and wings were stiff. Turning onto his stomach, he stretched both his wings out with a groan. They felt so heavy now. They made his back sore. But it was nothing he couldn't handle. He just needed to get stronger.

Raking his fingers through his hair, he sat up on the edge of the bed. He yawned again. How long had he slept for? It felt like a long while and yet he still felt groggy and dazed. He smacked his dry lips. Fisting his hands in the blankets, he curled his toes into the softness of the large rug that covered much of the polished stone floor.

He looked around at their large, private room, at the elegant timber furniture, at the glamorous arched window. The crystals in the chandelier above glittered against the sunlight. Their bed was large and soft with sheets that felt smooth against his skin. It wasn't surprising Kaitlyn was so happy. It was certainly comfortable—on the surface. He frowned. But what was this place? He still didn't know.

Where was Ezekiel? He needed to talk with him.

Rubbing at his eyes, he stood. With a grimace, he dropped his hands to his abdomen. He still felt uncomfortable after his big breakfast. Like Kaitlyn had said: he needed to learn how to control himself. Becoming more human, more mortal, was a learning curve.

Where was she anyway? She'd better not be far. He'd told her to not leave his side. She might feel happy here with all its comforts and luxuries but Jacob couldn't. Not with so much at stake. Not with so many enemies gathered, drawing ever closer, becoming ever more desperate. The more time that passed, the more dangerous it became.

He walked across the room. He opened the door that led onto the adjoining room—only to find it empty. He frowned. His heart beat a little faster. He looked at the dining table, already set up for lunch, the silverware and plates gleaming against the daylight, before turning his eyes to the tapestry hanging upon the opposite wall.

Jacob twisted his mouth in disgust. It displayed a revolting scene of the fight between good and evil, between demons and angels and God and Satan. There was blood. There was violence. It was very detailed. Where had it come from? It stood out amid the rest of the building's more mild and unassuming artwork.

Jacob turned his eyes to the door leading outside onto the hallway. Jacob's frown deepened. Had she really disobeyed him again? He marched across the room, but just before he opened it, he paused.

The urge in his bladder suddenly turned fierce. No. Damn his humanly needs. It could wait. He needed to find Kaitlyn first. He turned the handle, then grimaced. With a scowl, he hurried back towards their room.

The bathroom door was closed. He twisted the handle but it wouldn't open. His eyebrows shot up as he twisted the handle again. It was locked.

'Kaitlyn?' he murmured through the door.