Dove Caught in a Burning Bush Ch. 05

The night air was awash with countless tiny, twinkling sparks of light, each mote catching the light of the moon in waves as they swirled gently down over the sloped roof above.

Crucifel had always loved watching stardust fall, it was as if the Creator Himself were reaching out from wherever He had been all these countless millennia, dusting Edenara in an ethereal, shimmery blanket. The room atop the lonely palace tower made a fine spot to sit and watch as the dust rolled in without having to experience it quite so directly.

Once upon a time it had been actively occupied by lookouts as a lighthouse, but as Edenara relaxed into the lengthy peace it had enjoyed for so long after the first Martyrcost, there were less shift rotations and other structures to better serve such a purpose.

This lofted loneliness was why it became a fixture of her youth, when she would steal away to watch as life went on below; gardeners, creatures, seasons and weather all coming and going. But the night was still now, and her only companion was the silvery shafts of moonlight that filtered in through the storm outside and the starry waters of the sea beyond.

Inhaling deeply, Crucifel gathered her bravery to push aside thoughts of curved horns and needle teeth waiting just beyond the glass, then opened the window to be immediately struck by the familiar scent. It was never something that she could ever truly put her finger on, somewhere between the watery ozonic note that hung in the air just before snow and a sweeter, light raspberry fragrance. Gentle, refreshing and steeped with nostalgic memories that made her chest ache.

She reached out with cupped hands and let the gossamer-fine dust gather in them, watching as it sifted through her fingers to fall like sparkling grains of sand down to the palace grounds below. She closed her eyes, taking in another long pull of air and enjoying the tranquility of the moment.

It was of course disrupted by a soft hush of feathers dragging through the breeze and she felt the wind shift, fluttering against her hair and mixing the smell of stardust with a distinctive, warm scent that failed to surprise her with its presence.

"What is it, Promethiel?" Crucifel asked, opening her eyes to see her brother leaning his elbow on the window frame, his chin resting on his palm. Stardust dripped from his long white hair and robes, glittering in the moonlight like a thousand constellations had spilled over him.

"May I come in?" he asked, voice casual despite his precarious position of hanging off the ledge of a high window. She could see that his wings were pressed to the wall outside, holding him steady as he lingered.

"I should leave you blowing in the wind out there," Crucifel said, reaching up to flick a drop of stardust from his hair that threatened to fall down onto her face. "You are a terrible, pestering wretch."

"You are too kind, dear Sister," he grinned, making as if to bow but then thought better of it, steadying himself by bracing his legs against the stone beneath the window.

She had to admit, seeing him like this was good entertainment. "So, what is it that you want?"

"I wanted to apologize for what happened after I smited that trespassing incubus last week," he said, letting the smile slip slightly. "It was uncalled for and unbecoming of an Archangel. I am sorry."

Crucifel tilted her head at him, studying his expression for any hint of deceit or duplicity. He had given her space in the following days, almost hiding away from her aside from required functions and events so that their angels wouldn't have more to worry about such personal matters. "Does this mean that you're giving up on your immoral pursuit of me?"

He laughed at that, shrugging helplessly as the celestial winds ruffled his hair and robes. "I can't give up until I have caught you. And truly? Even then, I don't think I'll ever stop trying to woo you."

"Oh, Promethiel," she sighed ruefully, looking out at the falling flecks. "You're as awful at apologies as you are at...well, what you call 'wooing', but I suppose I should be thankful that you bothered to make one at all."

"Thankful?" He scoffed, sounding amused but also not unoffended. "My dear, I'm the most appreciative being that I know!"

"Yes, thankful," she replied, poking him in the chest and holding back a chuckle at how his wings twitched in quiet indignation. "It's a rare thing for you. I can count on one hand the amount of times you apologized to anyone but our parents. And even then, it was only because you were forced into it by Father."

Crucifel paused, blinking.

They were adults, yes, even if still considered wet behind the ears by many of the population who had been alive for thousands of years. Even so, they had centuries worth of life lived. Had he really gotten away with displaying remorse so little?

Wretched thing, indeed.

Promethiel chuckled, shrugging once more with a tilt of his head. "Yes, yes, I know. You're right, I'm a terrible Archangel and being in general. But you must admit, that kiss we shared was anything but."

Crucifel gave him a long, cold stare, flushing under his knowing golden eyes. "Goodnight, Promethiel."

She pushed him back without ceremony, shutting the window and closing the silken blinds in his face, blushing darker as she felt her body react to the memory of that kiss. Promethiel had been insatiable, kissing her like he had been starved for her for all of those centuries. But he'd said so himself, hadn't he?

She could still practically feel his lips on hers, the pressure of his tongue sliding along her own, the heat of his breath against her skin. The prophetess pushed it from her mind, feeling disgusted with herself for how her gut roiled with countless wings of invisible butterflies.

That was always the problem with Promethiel, he was too audacious, too forward, and yet she had never reciprocated his advances until allowing him to kiss her in a way entirely unbefitting of their familial relationship.

Now she found herself wondering what else he might have done if she hadn't rebuffed him. The thought made her wings shift restlessly as further heat crawled up her neck.

"It's rather cold out here," Promethiel called through the window, "you'd leave your king to freeze in the night? That has to be some form of treason, yes?"

Frowning, she swept the curtain back and opened the window, gripping him by the front of his now thoroughly shimmering robes and tugging him into the tower with her. "You will behave yourself or I will do something violently unbecoming of a princess!" she promised.

He fluttered his pale lashes innocently at her, holding her around the waist as he let Crucifel pull him inside. She shut the window behind them once he was on his feet, then turned to face him.

"You truly are an annoying pest," she said. "There's no towels up in this tower so try not to drip every--"

She was cut off as Promethiel used his hands to wring the stardust from his hair, then proceeded to flick it from the tips of his fingers at her with an impish grin.

"Promethiel!" Crucifel gasped, reaching forward to grab his wrists and twist them behind his back. She stiffened at the feeling of her breasts pressing to his chest, the heat of the other angel's body and the way the fabric from her robes shifted across her nipples left them feeling far too sensitive after the memories of their kiss.

He laughed, grinning down at her with a cat-like mischief in his golden eyes. "Oh, Crucifel, it's just a bit of stardust. Not afraid of some shimmer, are you?"

She glared at him, but ended up rolling her eyes at his childish antics. "You come to apologize, then spray me in the face with stardust! You're incorrigible and owe me a second apology now."

"Oh, but being a nuisance is a specialty of mine," Promethiel tsked, lowering his chin and meeting her gaze more directly. She pointedly ignored how her heartbeat quickened, squeezing his wrists tighter as he continued speaking. "I think you've survived me long enough to know that already."

Without warning, he shook himself again, spraying her with more stardust as it flew off from the ends of his hair.

"Promethiel!"

He pulled out of her grip and leapt away to dodge a swat from her wing in his direction, teeth glinting bright when a shaft of moonlight struck across his face as he danced out of her reach. Once the regal menace was sure that she wouldn't try again, he stepped back toward the window he'd entered from to open the curtain further and watch the celestial detritus fall outside.

"It is beautiful, isn't it?" he commented quietly after a few moments, glancing over his shoulder as if he hadn't just been harassing her.

Crucifel sighed, brushing as much dust as she could from herself before moving to stand next to him and join in looking out at the night air, observing as it swirled like it was full of the ghosts of countless stars caught in oil. "It is when you're not spraying me with it. That's why I came up here, to see it from a good vantage point."

He hummed in agreement, leaning against the frame in contented silence with her for some moments.

Kneeling onto the wooden bench set against the wall below the window, Crucifel folded her arms onto the sill to rest her chin in the hollow behind them, her body slowly relaxing into the calm. It tensed again as Promethiel kneeled next to her, peering at the other royal through his bangs with a careful look not unlike an animal seeking permission to climb onto a bed.

The Archangel seemed to be holding his breath, and eventually, with her failure to shoo him away, he turned his gaze back outside with a small smile.

Something about it made Crucifel feel strangely melancholy, bringing back memories of when they were younger and in this near exact same position; sitting side by side as they stared over the gardens, quiet as if breaking the silence would shatter some sort of peaceful spell. Usually, it would be broken by someone looking for them stomping up the steps, a thwarted governess or a parent if they were particularly unlucky.

Then Promethiel would swing the windows open with a flourish, tugging on her hand as they spread their small wings and escaped with muffled laughter. He always had been a bad influence, hadn't he?

A troublemaker who tempted her into antics that she knew would lead to trouble too fun to avoid.

Crucifel was pulled back into the present when he leaned his head against hers, still keeping his eyes straight ahead. When she looked at him though, Promethiel turned in kind, brushing his cheek with hers.

"Do you remember how we used to make crowns with pilfered roses from the gardens when we were younger?" He asked in a hushed whisper, proving that even his strange new self couldn't deny the unspoken rule of quiet here now that it had fallen back over them.

Crucifel was silent for a few heartbeats, watching him with an unreadable expression as they kneeled together. "I do," she said finally. "You always spent so long scraping every single thorn off before you let me even touch them."

Promethiel smiled, and she felt the way his cheek bunched against hers as his lips curled. "Ah, yes, that was the worst part! I got pricked so many times, I practically gilded the stems."

She smiled ruefully, shaking her head. "I remember. You always insisted on it, and I was always horrified by the sight of so much ichor."

"I recall a time when a thorn went so deep that it got stuck, and you shrieked like you thought I would bleed out," he teased, unable to stop the laugh that rumbled in his chest. He snorted as his grin spread wider at the memory. "It didn't help that I pretended to faint after. But you must admit, Crucifel, your shrieks of indignation were and are to this day amusing."

A sudden sense of boldness overcame her, and she reached over to pinch his cheek, pursing her lips tightly to keep from smiling. "I do not 'shriek', Promethiel. I thought you were seriously hurt, you wretched thing!"

He smirked gleefully, raising a brow at her as he tilted his head away from her grasp. "Yes, you do."

"I don't," she denied.

"Oh yes, Sister dear, you do," he repeated. "And it's such a lovely sound."

"Oh, please be quiet!" she groaned, tugging on his hair and shaking him.

He let his sister wobble his head, giving himself over to her grip on the white hair that settled along the side of his face. Then he gripped her wrist and brought her up to stand with him and spin around the room.

"Come now, Crucifel," he cooed, beginning to lead her in a mindless dance as he had that night in the library. It wasn't quite as winding with the tight space they were afforded, but it felt less sinister, enough that she moved freely with him. "Have you lost that playful spark from when we were younger?"

"I haven't lost anything!" she said, frowning defensively at him. "You're just... different."

"I am," Promethiel agreed with something almost like somberness, whirling with her through the small room with his wings closed tightly to his back to avoid catching on anything. "But that doesn't change how I feel about you. How I always have."

"No," she admitted, letting him lead her through alternating moonlight and shadow as if a recursive eclipse was dancing alongside them. The only constant was the warm glow of Promethiel's amber eyes as they stared back at her. "It doesn't. But it changes how I feel about you."

"Why?" he asked, twirling her with a careful hand on her waist to keep her steady. "You still love me, don't you? Am I not still your brother?"

"Of course you are," she said, her voice cracking softly. "But must you know better than I do that you risk corruption if you keep this sinful desire so close to your heart. And if you don't stop, Promethiel, you will be damned for it."

"Then let me be damned," he whispered, pulling her close in a dip. "Let me love you."

Crucifel closed her eyes, pressing her face into his chest. She was shaking, that much was obvious from the way her fingers trembled against the pale cloth of his robes, but she couldn't stop herself from melting against him. "Promethiel...please just think, truly think on what you do."

"I do," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight as he straightened them back up, holding her close. "All of the damned time."

She shook her head, speaking against his neck. "Not like that, you shouldn't."

"Should I be thinking or not thinking?" He laughed. The king sounded less like the smug devil he had been showing off as of late, changing to something less certain, almost fearful. "It doesn't matter either way because I love you. I have loved you since we were children. Did you know that I once told Mother that I wanted to marry you?"

Promethiel snorted as he looked away, almost embarrassedly, at the memory. "She had a very long and serious talk with me after that, not that it ever changed over the years. It's just become less innocent now that we're older."

"You are my brother," she said, her voice low in an effort to fight the tremor threatening to shake it. "You are meant to love me in innocence, not lust after me."

"What if I did both?" he asked, stilling their dance with a final spin, leaving her form exposed in the moonlight while he was just out of the pale eye's reach, swallowed by the night. "I'm a clever being, Crucifel. I can lust for you and love as I hold you close, it's not that hard."

"You'll ruin our divinity!" she cried, shaking his shoulders. "It's wickedness, you know this!"

"I do," he agreed. "But what is wickedness, Crucifel? Protecting you? Having my heart race every time I see you? Or maybe it's the part where I want to bury myself inside of you until we're both seeing stars."

Crucifel gasped as his lips touched her neck before he pulled back, looking down at her with eyes that were shaded and hungry.

"Please," he breathed. "Let me love you, Crucifel. Let me watch out for you like I used to when we picked roses in the garden together."

She shivered beneath his gaze, her own softening as she realized how desperately she missed having her brother as a confidant and fixture in her life. They had spent almost a thousand years alongside each other, countless days worth of memories, so many words exchanged and secrets shared between them. Murderer, usurper or not, she couldn't deny the way her heart ached in this moment. "Promethiel..."

"Please," he begged softly, kissing her throat and nipping at her flushed skin as her wings ruffled behind her. Promethiel's wings cocooned around them to still hers, shuddering as he dragged his lips across her jaw.

"Think..." she whispered, her voice barely a breath as she bared her neck for him. He wasted no time kissing it, nipping gently and caressing the hollow of her throat with the tip of his nose. Crucifel's body was shaking, her heart racing and her breath coming in short gasps.

She wanted him. Crucifel wanted him so badly that she ached deep inside, beyond just her heart. A sinful, fleshly desire that made the angel feel vulnerable and mortal. "Oh, God," she breathed, her voice hoarse. "You must--"

"I've done all the thinking I need to," he interrupted, kissing her shoulder. "I want you, more than anything else in my life, so please...be mine for a moment."

She didn't want to think either, selfish or sinful as it was. When he kissed her lips, she let him.

His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and coaxing her to open. Crucifel moaned as he pressed on, his fingers sliding along her spine and pulling her closer. She felt weak, lightheaded, like she might float away if he wasn't holding her so tightly.

It was different from before, more tender, more deliberate. There was a desperation still, a longing that she could almost taste on his tongue. But it was measured, too. He held her firmly as though afraid she might disappear, pressing her against the stone wall of the tower as his lips devoured hers.

Her wings were pressing out against his surrounding ones, back arched as Promethiel pulled away to drag his tongue across her collarbone. His fingers found the sash of her robes, undoing it and pulling it away hastily. Desperate, seeking hands parted the flowing, silken garment before tugging it and anything else he could get his hands on off her body to leave her bare.

Crucifel gasped as he traced the curves of her hips with his fingers, gripping and squeezing them possessively before sliding up over her sides and cupping her soft breasts. "Promethiel," she gasped, biting her lip as he pinched her nipples between his fingers and kissed his way down to the left one. "Wait..."

He paused, obviously pained by the command but remaining still as stone. "Yes?" he asked, voice ragged and tense with need.

They shouldn't be doing this, but Crucifel couldn't deny the heat spreading through her body with Promethiel so close, touching her like he was. She gave so much of herself to everyone around her, but only in matters of the spirit. Her time, her effort, her words of hope even through her own fears of inadequacy, she gave freely to the beings she cared for. But not her body. Not her flesh.

For just once in her long life, Crucifel wanted to be selfish and take. Take Promethiel and everything he had to give her, every kiss and touch. Every bit of his love that he so desperately wanted to fill her with. It made her feel grateful for how his wings shielded them, hiding them from God's ever watching eyes.

"If I am going to be naked, then you should be too," she shuddered, blushing bright at her own words. "I don't want to feel exposed like this alone."

Promethiel's shoulders sagged in relief before he straightened once more, nodding to her and kissing her forehead. "Of course, Sister dear. I'd never let you be so vulnerable alone, I was overexcited."