Every Last Breath (The Dark Elements #3)(25)
Author: Jennifer L. Armentrout

He smiled slightly as I pulled my feet off the floor, not trusting those damn kittens even if they were playing nice with me right now. “It does have its charm.”

I started to respond, but Roth took a moment to stretch and there was just something about seeing all that muscle and skin working together fluidly that made me lose complete track of my thoughts.

“What something to drink?” he asked.

Mute, I shook my head.

As he lowered his arms, he prowled over to the black mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. Screwing off the cap, he took a healthy drink before placing the bottle down. Then he faced me.

Roth watched me, not like he expected me to break down at any given moment, but simply like he was concerned. He didn’t have to ask as he walked over to me.

“I… I keep thinking that was how…how Sam died,” I admitted. “I’ll think of something else and then he’s back in my mind.”

Roth knelt before me. “Layla—”

“You saw what the Lilin did. He took my… He took Elijah’s soul and then swallowed it. The soul was consumed and it looked like him afterward.” Lifting my gaze, I met Roth’s. “That was how Sam died and that’s why the Lilin was able to look like him. It had to have been so painful.” I squeezed my eyes shut briefly. “But quick, right? It looked like it happened so quick with Elijah.”

He placed his hands on my knees, rubbing gently. “It was quick.”

Shoulders dropping, I shook my head slightly. “I… I’m not really upset about Elijah and he was my father. What does that say about me?”

His expression hardened. “That says nothing about you. That asshole donated sperm. That’s the truth. That is all. He was not your father. You don’t owe him a single moment of sadness. You owe him nothing.”

What he said was true, but… “It’s still hard not to feel guilty.”

He didn’t respond while he studied me closely. “You…you are so human sometimes, Layla, and yet, there is not a drop of human blood in you.”

“Socialization?” I offered, and Roth laughed under his breath. “I’m serious, though. Stacey and…and Sam’s influence on me, I think. They kept me human, and I like that. I like that I feel human.”

“I love that about you.” His response was quick, surprising me.

“Really?”

He nodded solemnly, and I smiled a little. “You don’t owe Elijah anything,” he reinforced. “Please tell me you understand that.”

“I do.” But it was harder to accept it.

His gaze returned to searching. “You’re not planning anything, are you?”

I stilled. “Like what?”

“To get Sam’s soul?” he asked, his eyes latched onto mine. “Don’t try to deny it—I know that’s what you want. I will go and—”

“No. You cannot go down there. I know that if you do, they’ll keep you there,” I interrupted. “You can’t.”

His eyes narrowed. “Someone has been talking to Cayman.”

I didn’t deny that. “I don’t want you to put yourself at risk.”

“Not even for Sam?” he challenged.

Knowing what I planned to do made it hard to say the next word. “No.”

“And I don’t want you to risk it for him,” he replied. “I don’t care if that sounds cruel. You don’t want me to take the chance. I feel the same about you.”

Saying what I did next was even harder than that one word, because I was going to lie and I didn’t want any lies between us, but I had to do something for Sam. There was no way around it and I knew if I told Roth, he would find a way to stop me or he would go with me. Neither of those two things could happen.

“How could I get Sam’s soul?” I asked. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Roth didn’t reply as he stared at me, and I knew that he had the answers. If Cayman did, he had to, but if Cayman also knew Grim wasn’t in Hell right now, then there was a big chance that Roth was aware of that, too. And I also knew there was a possibility that Roth planned on going to Grim despite the risks.

I would have to get there before he did.

“Do you think you can shift real quick, before Cayman gets here with the food? I want to check out your wings.”

Denying Roth this was just going to delay the inevitable and I was thankful for the change in conversation. I shrugged out of my sweater. There were two small tears in the back from where my wings had ripped through the material earlier, but the tank top underneath felt intact.

Before I changed forms, I tried what Roth had done with the kittens. I skimmed my fingers over the area Bambi rested on and low and behold, she came right off my skin. Neat.

Bambi made her way to Roth first, nudging his thigh with her nose. He reached down, patting her head. Appeased by that, she slithered over to the low-backed chair near the piano. Curling up, she rested her head on the arm and appeared to stare out the window.

Shifting wasn’t hard anymore. I really didn’t even have to concentrate or even stand up. I wanted it to happen and it did. My back tingled and then my wings started coming out, the left wing aching, and when I glanced back at it, it drooped slightly, like baby Izzy’s wings did.

“I think it’s broken,” I told him.

Roth walked over to the bed and sat down, twisting toward me. He checked out the wing. “Does it hurt?”

“It aches,” I admitted. “Not too bad.”

His gaze moved to my face and then back to my wing. “It could’ve been broken, but it looks like it’s already healing.” His fingers brushed along the edge of the feathers, not near the aching part. While his touch was gentle, it still sent a shudder through me. He immediately pulled his hand back. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. They’re just supersensitive.”

He arched a brow as he opened his mouth and then closed it. I grinned and said, “I think your mind just went into the gutter.”

“Shortie, my mind exists there.” He winked at my laugh, and then studied my wing for a few more moments. “I think if you can give it a rest for a couple hours, a day tops, you’ll be completely fine.”

I glanced back at the sad, gimpy wing. “Do you think the feathers will fall off?”

“What?”

My cheeks burned. “Maybe I’m going through some kind of metamorphosis and I’m going to shed these feathers.”

He looked like he wanted to laugh, but wisely kissed my bare shoulder instead. Standing from the bed, he walked over to where he’d left his water. “You really hate those things, don’t you?”

“I don’t hate them. Not exactly.” I moved my right wing closer to me and gingerly ran my fingers over the feathers. “I just don’t understand them. So some Upper Level demons have them. I get them, but I’m not an Upper Level demon.”

Roth took a drink, and then placed the bottle down. “You know you feel like an Upper Level demon now, to other Wardens and demons, which could be because you’re maturing. Maybe the feathers are another sign of that maturity. You’re not like the rest of us—or any demon really. You’re a blend, and that makes your growth patterns tough to predict.” He shrugged a shoulder. “That’s the best guess I can come up with, anyway, but I’m a little out of my element here. Most of us were created almost fully formed and the growth that takes others decades to achieve, we finish in a day.”

“Aren’t you just special,” I muttered under my breath.

He grinned. “The feathers and the way you look now when you shift? Yeah, I don’t understand that myself. I get that my response isn’t helpful, but you’re the first who carries both Warden and demon blood—and not just any demon’s blood, but Lilith’s. This could just be a stage of you finally coming into who you truly are.”

At that moment I remembered I hadn’t told him about the other demon in the coffee shop. “When I went to talk to Zayne about…well, you know what, there was an Upper Level demon who came into the shop after he left. You know how demons don’t normally sense me, right? This one did.”

“Upper Level demons are different, Shortie. Some of them probably could sense what you are.”

Huh.

I lifted my gaze to his. “But this demon…it ran from me, Roth.”

Both brows lifted.

“It legit ran from me and it looked scared,” I continued, unsettled by the memory. “I’ve never known an Upper Level demon to run from anything, not even the Wardens.”

“They don’t.” His features tensed. “The only thing an Upper Level would run from would be the Boss, me, or…”

My heart turned over heavily. “Or what?”

Roth’s frown did nothing to deter from his beauty, but it made my stomach drop nonetheless. “They’d run from one of the originals.”

“Originals?”

He leaned against the wall, eyeing me with lowered lashes. “The originals, Shortie, the ones that are like the Boss. The ones that fell.”

“That fell…?” I whispered to myself, and then it hit me. “You mean, the angels that fell when they were first sent here to help mankind?” When he nodded, my eyes widened. “They have black raven wings?”