Unnatural Instinct: Fallen

15.

The sound of his semen hissing against the floor makes you cringe in horror even while you sleep. Your legs curl up towards your chest; you hug yourself. As you slowly wake, you can hear the sound of your own panting.

You must have slept for at least a couple of hours since your escape out of hell because it's dark now. From outside comes the sound of mooing cows. You roll over with a shiver, holding yourself more tightly. The straw in which you're half-buried in does little to keep the cold at bay. The air is so icy your fingers are almost numb. It had been warm during the afternoon but now that night has descended, a chill has crept into your skin.

Burying your head into your arms, you curl into a ball. You deserve to be cold. You deserve to starve and hurt and suffer. You're weak. You're disgusting. How could you have just submitted to him? What's wrong with you? You always thought yourself stronger. You always thought yourself worthy of life.

No longer.

Pressing your hands hard against your face, you give a little sob. Even now, as you hate yourself, you burn between the legs. You can't help but remember how he touched you, nor the hard, hot feel of him inside you. You've escaped him now for a number of hours and yet his startling blue eyes seem to glare at you through the darkness

He has many names ...

My name is Michael ...

You shiver again. Finally, you can sleep no more and sit up. With a start, you wrap your arms back around your breasts. Lost in your thoughts and emotions over Satan, you've completely forgotten about the dark angel who saved you.

He's sitting in the shadows, watching you, like he's no doubt been watching over you ever since he tore you away from Satan's clutches.

'Are we safe?' you say.

'For the moment.'

You look around the barn you've been hiding in. He'd flown for a long time before making the decision to hide in here. The moment he landed inside, you staggered out of his arms and collapsed into the straw. You hadn't meant to fall asleep, just like you hadn't meant to do a lot of things.

Michael's—Satan's eyes seem to flash at you in the darkness.

You close your eyes with a wince, take a breath, then open them again. The dark angel hasn't moved, a strong, huddled shape half-crouched in the corner.

'Aren't you tired?' you say.

'Angels don't get tired.'

You lick your dry lips. So, he really is an angel. 'Why did you save me?'

He hesitates. 'I don't know.'

You can hear his wings rustle as a cold breeze brushes through his feathers. You shiver.

'You're cold,' he says, slowly rising to his feet.

'I'm fine.'

'I should have found you some clothes.' He starts to make his way over.

'I'm fine!'

He pauses. 'You're angry.'

You bite your lip at a swell of tears. 'I'm angry at myself. I shouldn't have—' you take a shuddering breath '—I shouldn't have done that.'

The angel goes quiet. You look into your lap, feeling his eyes on you. 

'You cannot help it. He chose you. He marked you. In a way, you were made for him.'

'I am not made for him!' you snap. You drop your head into your hands.

'It was your destiny. It's hard to fight fate.'

'So it's ... it's really true?' you say, your voice muffled behind your hands. 'About me and ... and ...' It's such an embarrassing, disgusting thought you can't say it. You can barely even think it. All you can do is lower a trembling hand to your womb.

He gazes at you, then nods. 'Yes. If he had completed his task, my master would have been remade through your flesh to become the Antichrist. The time of the Great Reckoning would have descended, and all that was once good and Godly on Earth would have been destroyed.'

You stare at him. To hear the full and open truth of it fills you with something so cold and dark your body turns numb. Slowly, you stand, the straw crackling beneath your feet. You feel strange, as though your mind has separated from your body.

You're naked but you no longer care, stepping up to him without embarrassment. His black eyes watch you. 'You should kill me,' you say. Taking his hand, you place it around your throat. 'You must kill me.'

'No.' He tries to pull away but you keep his hand fastened to your throat.

'Even if it means saving the world?' You bite your trembling lip. 'Let me make amends for what I almost did.'

He continues to watch you with those black eyes. It's hard to see his expression in the shadows. He tightens his fist a little. Your heart pounds but you do not pull from his grip.

'No.'

'You must!'

Shaking his head, he steps back, releasing your throat. 'God would not want this.'

'God?' You sniff. 'Where is God?' You swipe away your tears.

'God is here. With us. I have felt him.'

You press your lips together. 'Then why didn't he stop this? Why won't he help me? It burns.'

'What burns?'

You grab yourself between the legs. 'I can still feel him. I can still feel him inside me. Thrusting. Filling me up. I want him back. I want him back to finish me off!' You give a crazy laugh. 'What do you think now? Think I should still live? I'm disgusting.' You clutch at your face as your laughter turns to tears.

'I can help you,' he says.

'Go away.' And you turn back to the straw and collapse face-first into it. For a moment you remain still, then begin to dig into it with your hands, feeling the need to bury yourself, to hide yourself away. The straw scratches against your skin. It makes you sneeze. It sticks to the tears on your face and the wetness between your legs.

You don't get far before the angel wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you out of it.

'Let me go!' you cry.

He rolls you onto your back. Panting, you gaze up at his dark figure. You can see the arch of his wings sitting above his shoulders, the hard curve of his jawline, his strong chin. His eyes are like black holes.

He drops to his knees in the straw beside you, then reaches out to touch your cheek. His hand is warm. 'You're far from disgusting.'

You don't stop him as he slumps to his hip beside you and gently pulls you into his arms. For something that apparently isn't quite alive, he feels very warm against your numb body. He raises a wing and rests it over you. His feathers are so soft and comforting against your skin you feel the blood start to flow to your numb appendages. You shiver in his arms, your forehead pressed against his chin, his arm draped over you beneath his wing.

He doesn't speak. He doesn't even breathe. You can't feel a heartbeat.

After you stop shivering and sag against him, he touches your hip. 'I can help you.'

You jerk in surprise when he suddenly presses his fingers between your legs.