The Edge of the World

Chapter Thirteen

In her dreams, Tatum found herself traversing a world ornamented by smoldering ruins and crumbling cathedrals. She scented brimstone and heard the cries of the lost souls scorned by the divine, sent to meet their spiritual reprimand. But as she walked through the sweltering plains, her bare feet moving painlessly along the broken cobblestone path, she experienced no fear. The red sky above seemed familiar, as did the fetid heat, which should have blistered her flesh, but didn't.

Her body knew where to go, even if her mind was naïve to this domain, and she stopped in a corner of the shattered city, the area cloaked in gloom and shadow. Beyond the gnarled trees, and fractured statues, was a tall, broad shadow figure of a man...

Not a man. No. Men don't herald massive black wings and soul-searing crimson eyes.

However, this figure sure did.

But rather than run from him as most should... would... Tatum moved closer to him, believing herself safe with this being.

Was she crazy? He was obviously a demon, or something along those lines, but the woman within seemed pleased to see him. Just as he pleased as he was to lay his ancient gaze upon her.

He touched her once she stood in arm's reach, his warm fingers tracing her jaw as he murmured in a tongue, she realized only the divine, both fallen and blessed, uttered.

And she understood his intricately spoken words as if it were a first language to her.

"Have you missed me, little cat? Are you ready to be my wife?"

At her silence, he shook his head, unable to understand her reasoning.

"He will fail you just as he always fails you. I promised three chances and he teeters on the final cusp. He will fall. That's all he knows."

Tatum's brows furrowed, and she covered his hand with her own, loving the tender contact, but knowing it wasn't the touch she longed for.

"He hasn't failed yet."

The voice was hers, but the words shared in his language, was something she didn't fully understand. Who was failing? What promises, and who was this dark angel who wanted her? Tatum was never wanted by anyone, yet this paranormal being whose raven-black hair blew across his exquisite face stared down at her with longing. Why would he want her?

"No, he has not. But you know just as well as I, he will fall for her wiles. He will become seduced by the idea of filial responsibilities to the Devine Father, and his need for you will become like vaper. He is a fool devoted to those who controlled then expelled him. Weakness is a trait only humans carry."

"But he isn't human," she corrected... or at least the voice within her conveyed. Tatum, herself, was lost as hell.

The fallen angel dropped his hand from her check and scoffed. "He is the original. The template for the fools in flesh. He might as well be a human cat. Let him go. Cut your losses early and come home to me, where you're loved, and nobody can ever hurt you again. I have fulfilled my vows to you, which is more than he can say. More than any of them can say!"

"I need to see this through, my lord. I have to! If I walk away now, I will always wonder."

The angel sighed before leaning down and brushing his perfect lips along her cheekbone.

"I hate watching you be hurt, cat. Your claws are useless against him just as mine are against you. Very well. See this through. And Tatum, find the truth. Hiding from it won't save you this time."