The Destiny of Angels

Chapter 30

When I open my eyes, I'm alone in a plain grey room. I sit up suddenly in panic when I realize that it's Cash's room. What am I doing in here?

I look around hazily, not remembering much from the night before. The last I remember is getting a little tired in the gym while working out. I had been down there most of the night.

"Good afternoon, sleepyhead," a half-naked Cash says as he walks into the room. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, and knowing him there was nothing under it.

I groan in response, "Why are you always basically naked?"

"Why deny the world the view?" I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"More like why torture the world with it," I refute, throwing a pillow at him. I hear the soft thud of the pillow hitting him and look over at him.

Cash, in all his glory, stood there looking down at the pillow on the ground. "Was I supposed to catch that?" he ask studiously.

"No, it was supposed to send you flying into oblivion. Why am I in your room? And I reitterate, why are you naked?"

His hearty chuckle fills the once empty room, bringing a small smile to my face. "I think you just wanted me to bend over so the towel would drop," he soothes. His eyes gleam mischievously. "All you'd have to do is say the word, little one."

I chuck another pillow from off his bed straight at him. He snatches it out of the air seconds before it hits his face, with a dark chuckle. "You're gross, Cash. Now answer my questions!" I half yell at him.

This makes him laugh again, some of his true laugh slipping through. "I was kidding, you know? You need to learn to chill Aurilyn, and say thank you."

"What would I have to thank you for?"

"Catching you as you fell asleep while standing, and carrying you to bed."

"Your bed," I point out, "when you have plenty of extra rooms."

"I can protect you better here," he answers calmly. Gracefully he walks across his room to his drawer.

"And why, last time I'm asking, are you not wearing clothes?"

"I find clothes restricting, but I also just got out of the shower," he replies. His voice was so steady, and smooth. Like dark coffee, gravelly and an acquired taste, yet simple and elegant. Not to mention it was dark and thick, fitting for him.

His hair was wet, I notice. The black chunks of his hair reached just past his ears, as they were matted down with water. Small droplets slide down from his hair and slither their way down his bare skin. I bit the inside of my cheek, but this time not out of stress.

"Ah," I finally spit out, not knowing what else to say. He walks out of the room, reentering in just his boxers. "You must not have been kidding about finding clothes restricting."

"I wasn't. Shifters of any kind, even the angelic kind, don't tend to feel natural in clothes. Neither do fae. We're too in touch with nature and our animalistic side, for such mundane formalities," he explains. He doesn't bother to look my way as he runs his fingers through his hair.

His eyes flicker my way, making my breath catch in my throat. "You will find for yourself, Little A, as your fallen side makes itself more and more apparent, that modesty won't be something you're as worried about." His eyes glide their way up and down me for a split second before returning to my eyes.

"I don't think you'll find me walking around without being substancially covered," I answer. My eyes narrow at him. We make eye contact for far too long before I look away from him.