Fallen Angel

Chapter 6.2

Gabriël allowed Joan to lead him away from Michael and whatever he had done this time. As they returned to his home in silence, he tried to recall the incident, but the last thing Gabriël clearly remembered was Joan leaving the cottage. 
He was missing hours. Hours in which he could have done, God only knows what. He could have hurt someone. What if he had followed Joan and tried to... The mere thought of it made him feel sick. Surely Joan would have said something. She wouldn't be alone with him now if he had done something to her. Had they gone to the training room together, or had he gone on his own?

"Joan, what happened?" he asked her with a quivering voice.

Though he wanted to know, he feared her answer. And with Michael now knowing something was controlling him. All hope of keeping this between Joan and himself had disappeared.

"We're almost home," Joan said shortly. "I'll tell you when we're inside."

It seemed like she was afraid as well. He tried to touch her hand, but Joan walked faster, creating a distance between them. Gabriël's anxiety grew with every second that passed. When they finally arrived at the cottage, Joan made him enter first. She told him to take another vial of antidote, but what was the point? Clearly, Raphael's concoction only healed his physical wound. Whatever was inside him wouldn't be quenched so easily. Still, more to put her at ease than himself, Gabriël did as Joan asked and fetched a vial from his bedroom. When he joined her again, he saw Joan clutching a paper in her fist. It disappeared as she opened her hand.

"What was that?" he asked. "Who are you messaging?"

"Michael. Just letting him know we're here." She faced him and noticed the vial in his hand. "Gabriël, you need to take that."

"I drank half. The rest needs to be rubbed directly on the wound."

Joan stepped up to him. Their eyes met. She exhaled and reached combed his hair away with her fingers. Then she took the antidote from him and motioned for Gabriël to sit down. She draped a blanket over his shoulders. He realised then he was still half-naked, wearing only his training pants. Thank God for the early hours. Everyone was still sleeping, so nobody had seen him like this.

Gabriël reclined against the cushions so that Joan could treat the wound. He closed his eyes and focused on her touch, recalling what they had done the previous day. He thought of her soft skin warming up as he held her in his arms. Her dulcet moans when he moved inside her. The taste of her lips when they kissed - sweet like honey.
How Gabriël longed to experience that all for every single day of their eternal life together. But he doubted Joan would ever let him touch her again. After seeing how he tore up her dress and bruised her, he didn't blame her. He only blamed himself. For hurting her. For not being stronger.
And now that Michael was thrown into the mix, they could never be together again. The risk was simply too great.

***

Joan felt Gabriël move under her touch. She peered up through her lashes to see a single tear fall from his closed eyes. Dropping the now-empty vial to the floor, she sat up on her knees with one hand on Gabriël's chest and the other at her side. She had a small French dagger, a baslard, hidden in her boot, but she preferred not to use it. Hesitantly, Joan touched his lips with her own and whispered to him, "Open your eyes."

He did. To her great relief, his eyes were blue and as beautiful as the deepest ocean. This was her friend, her lover, her Gabriël, and not the demon lurking beneath the surface. For now, at least, she was safe. 

"You shouldn't be so close to me," he whispered back to her.

"Please, don't tell me to leave," Joan begged of him. "I can't bear to be apart from you now."