The Bound Angel (Sacrilege Rising: Book 1)

Chapter Twenty One

“Let go of everything you have,” Lana murmured.

Mike was fondly remembering the time he had sex with Allie in the bathroom when Lana’s words cut in. Was that the day before? Two? A week? It was a little scary not being able to remember. The days were all running together. Life was consumed by constant sex and… whatever this was.

Lana spoke in that now-familiar voice she used during their sessions. An even pitch, a relaxing volume, a steady rhythm. She sounded like those recordings that helped people fall asleep, and Mike wondered at her patience. After all their failed attempts, she never grew resentful. Just that quiet, steady voice.

“Follow my trail like footprints in the snow.”

They’d done this countless times by now, and it didn’t take long for Mike to fall into that drowsy place between asleep and awake. How many times had they tried and failed? The thought threatened to disrupt his composure, so he relaxed his focus and let it slip through his fingers.

Instead, he concentrated on the feeling of the bed under him. The temperature of the room. The thump of a door closing down the hall. Less tangible things, like school, or Mom rose up through his soft mind. When impressions threatened to become into thoughts, he let them go.

After a time, he found Lana. It was coming quicker now, the familiar path worn down from his steps. It was always the same. First, he noticed warmth, like the sun on the back of his neck. As he approached, his thoughts changed. Through their shared bond, their psyches mixed together. Faith met doubt, confidence met worry, pride met guilt. Then memories. A night on the couch watching TV. Walking through the city holding hands. Laughing at something she didn’t quite understand.

Those sky-blue eyes. The feeling of her shift against his skin. Their bodies pressed together in bed. The world around him shook, like a warning tremor before an earthquake.

“Focus, Michael,” her voice said, and it calmed him.

Through it all, two threads were woven into everything. Frustration, and faith. Frustration at the collar on her neck, the thing that held her back from doing what she was meant to do. And faith that he would figure it out. There had to be a way, he just had to make his brain listen to his mind. Mike tried to ignore the pressure and focus on her.

“There. Reach for it. Search along the edges for something to grasp. The smallest crease or inconsistency, a crack to be pried open.”

He searched, sending out little tendrils of awareness to explore the surface of the thing he thought of as Lana. It was round, smooth, unchanging. There were no handholds or imperfections. Nothing to grab.

Another tremor.

If there were no crevices, maybe he could make his own. He imagined a hammer and chisel, picked a spot, and started to work. Small taps at first, like hanging a picture. He was hesitant of something sharp, even if imagined, punching a hole into her psyche. When that failed to make a scratch, he swung harder. Then harder still, until the tip was scratching wildly along the surface with each blow. He reached out again to feel for a mark, but there was nothing. It was no use.

Another tremor.

What would happen if he couldn’t free her? Would they stay like this for the rest of their lives? He would die first, of course, and then what?

The walls around him shook.

“Steady,” Lana’s voice said.

She was doomed. He should have just died at that church. Then this never would have happened. Without him, there would have been no one for the binding to latch onto. Now the city would be overrun by demons. His city. His family and friends. They would all be tempted and persuaded to do dark, evil things, until they were beyond saving. Because of him.

“Michael-”

The world unraveled. He opened his eyes and found Lana watching him. They sat across from each other on the bed. He searched for a sign of anger or resentment but only found compassion.

“It is alright,” she said, her voice soft in the moonlight. “We will keep trying.”

“What if I can’t do it?”

“You can.”

“But what if I can’t and you’re stuck here?”

She smirked, “Then we will need to teach you how to cook.”

Her humor threatened to pull the rug out from under his guilt, but he pressed on. “Seriously, you’re an angel. An actual angel. And here you are sitting in this crappy apartment instead of being out there fighting bad guys and helping people.”

She stared calmly into his shame. “Do you know what I mean when I use the word faith, Michael?”

He wasn’t in the mood for a sermon, whether it was the uplifting or chastising variety.

“I do not say belief, or conviction, or hope, because those words do not represent how I feel. I know, Iknow, Michael, this is meant to be. In my heart, in my soul, I am certain that He would not put this obstacle before us if it was not necessary. It will take as long as it takes, whether that is a day, a week, or a lifetime. Do not despair. Come now, a break will do us good.”

Mike grumbled something unintelligible about her annoying confidence.

Lana turned her back to him and moved her ponytail to the side. They’d done this enough times that words weren’t necessary. He unlatched her armor, and she carefully set the gold plate down by the window. They sat on the couch and faced the TV, each taking the same seats they always did, like it was any other night. Like they were roommates.

As usual, it didn’t take long for his eyes to wander. The way Lana sat, with her bare feet up on the coffee table, made her shift fall to her hips. He didn’t know how it stayed so clean. As far as he knew she never washed it. But night after night, even when she came back bloody and injured, it remained a brilliant, unblemished white. And now it was pooled around her waist, revealing long, toned, sun-kissed legs. He forced his focus away, to something else, only for it to drift back again.

“I can feel you looking,” she said quietly, without turning to him.

“Sorry,” he answered, annoyed with himself. In these intimate moments she seemed so… human. But he knew better.

“I have told you before, there is no need to apologize. It is alright to look.” She turned to him then, and her eyes were so very big and so very blue. “There is no sin in physical connection, Michael.” Her voice was a quiet murmur. “It is a thing to be celebrated.” When she moved, he noticed how her chest shifted under the thin white fabric.

“The bond lets me feel you. All of you. Your moments of pride and shame. Your confidences and insecurities. Your wants. Your needs.” Her voice dropped lower. “Your desires. The things you think of when no one is watching. And I am still here. I do not fear, because there is nothing to be fearful of. I do not judge, because these things are not worthy of judgment.” She was so close he could smell her. Fresh shampoo and clean laundry. “You do not have to hold back so. It is alright to relax, lean into it, and let your desires take you from time to time. Or, you can do the taking.”

She leaned in to kiss him. Mike met her halfway, and melted as their lips met. He didn’t always notice it, but worry and guilt were constantly gnawing away at the back of his mind. Worry about whether he was taking advantage of Allie, and giving Meredith the stability she needed, and class, and, and, and. Their kiss, this first kiss, made all those worries fade away. For the first time in a long time, the burden fell from his shoulders, and he was free to feel.

Lana’s mouth was soft and welcoming. She pushed with passion, then backed away, encouraging him to take the lead. More than happy to oblige, Mike took her in his arms and pulled her closer, burning for her touch, until she was in his lap. His hands roamed, mapping her body for the first time. Lana’s legs were strong and smooth, her back lightly muscled, her hair silky as he ran his fingers through it.

She moaned into his mouth when his hands settled on her ass, and shifted her weight to straddle his stiff length. As much as his body ached for her touch, the kiss couldn’t be ignored. It was both encouraging and desperate, gentle and needy. When he reached up to cup her face, his fingers brushed the collar around her neck. The collar…

Mike pulled back. The kiss broke. A growl rumbled in Lana’s throat. She looked fierce and focused, like a lioness in heat. “I’m sorry,” he managed, backing away, separating, standing. “I can’t. I just can’t. It isn’t right, not when you have that thing. It isn’t fair.”

To his surprise, Lana didn’t try to tackle him. She just sat back and watched. “You are a curious man, Michael Davis.” He didn’t know how to respond to that. “Not what I expected.”

“Right. Uh, thanks, I guess.” He still ached for her, and he adjusted his pants to accommodate the obvious tent.

She stood then, but kept her distance, as if afraid a sudden movement might scare him off. “There is the option of taking it slow, if you wish. There is no rush. I can simply help you with that,” she glanced down at his groin, “for now. If it would make you more comfortable.”

A clearer signal had never been sent. She was offering what he’d dreamed about so many times. But Mike would never forgive himself if he took advantage of their situation. How much of this was her true feelings, and how much could be attributed to their bond? Did she even know? Could she even say no to him if she wanted? He had to get away, for both their sakes.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not right. I don’t know what exactly that thing does, but I wouldn’t feel okay about it.”

He should leave, needed to leave, before he did something he would regret. But his eyes betrayed him, drinking her in, lingering on her smooth tan skin and the way her body moved under her shift.

Lana cocked her hips. “Are you sure?”

It was now or never. Either go to bed or go away.

“Yes. I’m so sorry.”

“Not what I expected at all,” she murmured as he forced himself to walk out the door.