The Seventh Angel

Chapter 10

For the first time in days, I slept so deeply that no nightmares of black-winged angels or tortured souls haunted me. The oblivion was so peaceful, I wished I could stay in it forever. But my peace was shattered by an irritating voice.

"Wake up! We need to move."

I tried to ignore the deep, commanding tone, hoping it would go away, but then the blanket was yanked off me. Startled, I shot up in confusion and annoyance, the reality of my captivity snapping back into focus. The winged man stood there, utterly indifferent to my discomfort, the blanket discarded on the floor. His sharp eyes were fixed on me with an irritated glare.The scratches I caused while fighting him,long gone! How annoying!

"What? Can't a girl get some decent sleep?" I snapped, but as usual, he ignored my words and turned towards the door.

"Grab what you need from the shelves. There's a bag," he said, leaning against the doorframe. I noticed he had changed into an old, dark brown long-sleeved shirt, his arms crossed as he watched me with impatience.

A rush of excitement surges through me at the thought of changing out of my filthy clothes. I ignore the growl of my empty stomach and jump to my feet, heading straight for the shelves. With the sun now high in the sky, I can finally see what's on them: hoodies, boots, jackets, and trousers, all neatly stacked. Grinning, I grab the bag from the floor and start filling it with whatever seems useful. I can feel his icy blue gaze on me, but I don't care. Right now, all that matters is the possibility of clean clothes.

"I need to change," I say aloud, realizing the cabin is just one open room with a small bathroom off to the side. As I start toward it, he steps in front of me, blocking my path.

"Here," he says curtly, his tone enough to set me off.

"I'm not changing in front of you!" I snap back, my cheeks flushing with heat. He glances at me quickly, his eyes scanning me from head to toe, but his expression isn't one of attraction-it's more like repulse.

"I don't care," he says flatly. "You can stay in those filthy clothes if you want, but you're not leaving my sight." He shrugs his broad shoulders.

"Oh, you think I'm going to escape?" I challenge, trying to get under his skin, but he just looks down at me with that same condescending stare. Of course, he does.

"Don't kid yourself," he replies, his voice cold. "You wouldn't even make it to the door."

"Then surely, you can let me use the bathroom," I shoot back, irritated. "I might have to... do other things."

Without a word, he steps aside, but to my annoyance, he follows me right up to the bathroom door. You've got to be kidding me, I think, but I bite my tongue and let him trail behind me. He stops at the entrance while I step inside, relieved to be alone, even if just for a moment.

I turn the tap, and a small trickle of water splashes into the sink. A surge of dissappointment floods me at the sight, realizing how thirsty I am,but I cannot drink from it! At least I can wash my face.

"Hurry up," he barks from outside, making me roll my eyes as I quickly use the toilet and change into the new clothes.

"Don't look," I mutter, glancing over my shoulder. I can take a peek at his presence from the half opened door but his back is turned.

"I wasn't planning to," he replies, his voice dripping with smug indifference. The sting of his words hits me harder than I'd like, but I push it aside.

I pull on a large burgundy blouse, a pair of khaki trousers that must have belonged to a woman, and some sturdy brown boots. My hair hangs loose around my shoulders-there's nothing to tie it with-so I walk out with the bag of clothings on my back, without waiting for him to follow. I know he'll be right next to me in seconds anyway.
*
We walk in silence once more, him in the lead as always. My stomach growls louder now, the hunger gnawing at me, and embarrassment washes over me at the sound, though he seems to ignore it. After a few moments, he suddenly stops, causing me to freeze as well. His sharp gaze sweeps over the forest around us, and my nerves flare up, expecting something-or someone-to leap out from the shadows.