Demon in My View

Psalm V: The Darkness

Psalm V: The Darkness

The morning had been a blur.

Miles didn't remember the phone call and how it had sped his heart so much he felt it would explode. He didn't remember answering the door, his sweaty hands slipping on the knob. He didn't remember what Manuel had asked or what Miles had answered. All he knew was that now he was standing alone in his living room and facing the steel crate that held her.

He dropped his change and lost his face. He was himself, someone he hadn't seen in a long time. Seeing his reflection on the smooth silver, Miles had forgotten how hideous his right eye looked. The one he had stabbed with the feather of his angel. A marble of red veins suffocating a pool of green, it was a miracle he could see out of it.

He grinned.

The metal was cold and smooth under his palm. Miles didn't know what to expect as he touched the cage. It almost felt empty and a wave of panic overwhelmed him for a second, but he knew she was in there. He had heard the rustle of a body as Manuel and another nameless Cleaner had set her down on the floor. He placed his other hand on the grey surface. The wall beeped, twin doors slowly slid open, and, like a light breeze pushing curtains apart, Miles's angel was revealed.

She sat with her back towards him, knees drawn to her chest.

Silver.

That was the color of her hair. Pale blue hues danced within the straight strands. The locks were kept between shoulder blades that poked under silky, pale skin. The curve of her spine disappeared halfway down her back under the white cloth that wrapped around her body.

White. The color of sin.

But where were her wings?

Miles took a step towards her, entering the cage. The angel didn't move. He took another tentative step followed by another until he was directly behind her, his shadow overtaking her. She still refused to budge as if dead. He kneeled down.

Her wings. He knew they were folded under her skin. But he had to see them.

His fingertips brushed her shoulders, and all the heat of the world was in his hands. Miles half cried, half sighed as he wrapped his arms around her torso and pulled her against him. He bowed, burying his face in the hollow of her collarbone. Her hair fell on his head and divine smelled like cold.

Miles rocked with her, each movement delivering a kiss, a touch, a lick. He relieved her of her crude wraps, of her falsely implied sins, and spread her legs to see she was like any other woman but also not. He ran the pads of his fingers on her, one after the other.

Desire exploded in him coupled with an expansion of another emotion he didn't recognize it was so rarely encountered in this world. The swirl of these sensations gnawed at his stomach each time he touched her. Her warmth fed it, growing. Mounting. Until he grunted and pulled her hair so she would face him. She stared at him with garnet eyes, but he only caught a flash of their burn as his mouth closed over hers.

He ignited.

She was divine. She was eternity. She was salvation. All this he tasted on her. He wanted to feed on her, devour her.

He wanted to see her wings.

Miles opened his mouth to ask his wish, but he realized something. "What is your name?" he asked instead, his lips brushing hers.

She stiffened, the only reaction she had done thus far.

He ran his thumb on her lips. They seemed thicker when he kissed her.