Asher faces me, breathing heavily, his eyes untamed. "I'm sorry, Ember. I didn't mean for things to get so out of hand."

My heart knocks energetically in my chest. I feel alive, high on adrenaline, like I could conquer the world. "It's okay. Trust me when I say I'm used to bar fights." I touch the tip of my finger to his bottom lip. "You cut your lip open." I wipe the blood away and I start to pull my hand back. But he covers it with his and presses it against his lips. He kisses my palm and his eyes penetrate me, making me feel exposed. Our breaths quicken, in sync and matching each other's desire.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers with begging eyes.

I nod my head once and his lips crash into mine.

My first kiss. And it's as beautiful and exciting as everyone makes it out to be.

Maybe even better.

He covers my lips with his, quickly, like how he moved during the fight. But his touch is gentle. My skin ignites with heat and I wrap my hands around his waist. My lips part and his tongue slides in. He caresses the roof of my mouth with his tongue ring and I let out a moan.

He withdraws slightly, and I worry he's repulsed by my enjoyment. But then he growls, wraps his fingers around my thighs, and picks me up. I enclose my legs around his waist as he continues to taste every inch of my mouth and backs us against the wall, beneath the shadows and florescent lights. There's no s.p.a.ce remaining between our bodies and I can feel every inch of him. His kisses bring me a feeling of ecstasy for the first time in my life.

His hands are tangled in my hair. They trail down my neck, finally settling on my hips. He slips a hand up the back of my shirt and the contact sends a jolt of electricity down my spine. He holds onto me like I'm his lifeline, as if letting me go will kill him.

"I've wanted to kiss you forever." He groans against my lips and steals my breath away. It's like we've unleashed a hungry animal in each of us. But the sound of the sirens makes him pull back, although it looks like he doesn't want to. His eyes are as black as coals and his lips are swollen.

"We should get out of here," he whispers, looking like he might kiss me again.

I nod and untangle my legs from his waist. Holding hands, we sneak around the side of the building and quickly hop into the car. Red and blue lights flash through the dark parking lot and cops hop out of squad cars. A swarm of people are barreling out the front door, distracting the cops enough for us to drive off into the night unnoticed.

From the corner of my eye, I watch Asher. He meets my eyes and gives me this look that makes me wonder what he could possibly want to show me.

"Now where are we going?" I ask, buckling my seat belt.

He smiles and winks at me. "You'll just have to wait and see."

I lean back in the seat and watch the trees blur by, feeling alive and carefree for the first time in my life. I wish I had a pen so I could write about this moment and preserve it forever. Then I could remember what it felt like when it vanishes.

Chapter 11.

We drive along the highway, making small chitchat about the fight. Asher doesn't ask questions about what was said. When he looks at me, it feels like he's really looking at me, instead of at the girl who was brought in to the police station for the suspicion of her dad's disappearance.

Asher finally turns off the main road and parks his car in a gravel turnout overlooking the lake. He turns the car off and dabs the cut on his lip with the collar of his shirt.

"You know, this whole night really didn't turn out how I was planning it," he says.

The lake shimmers and the moon reflects against the surface, the water rippling a dance against the breeze. The mountains are black and the trees dark silhouettes.

"How were you planning it to go?" I ask.

He puts the parking brake on. "A little less bar fighting and a lot more making out in the back of the bar."

I look at him to see if he's being serious. He stares at me with hunger in his eyes. I touch my lips. "How did you learn to fight like that?"

His jaw tenses. "My dad taught me."

"Yeah, mine too," I mumble, lowering my hand from my lips.

He relaxes a little. "Yeah, I saw you knee that guy... You didn't so much as hesitate."

"Hesitation shows weakness." I sigh. "At least that's what my dad used to say. He was a do-or-die kind of guy." I pause. "I didn't kill him."

"I know." His voice and gaze is rock steady.

"So you don't believe the rumors at school?"

He shakes his head and a wisp of his inky black hair falls into his eyes. He leans over and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. "Come on, there's something I want to show you." He grabs a flashlight out of the glove box and hops out of the car.

I climb out and meet him at the front of the car. We walk down a dirt path, holding hands. It's pitch dark and he lights the way with the beam of the flashlight. An owl hoots from in a tree and the crickets' melody haunts the night. It's strange but peaceful knowing we're the only two out here and that we are sharing a private moment no one else can ever touch.

Asher unexpectedly makes a sharp veer off the path into the trees. The leaves and twigs crunch under our shoes as we hike deeper into the woods.

"Where are we going?" I whisper, forcing my eyes to adjust to the night. The branches form eerie shadows above our heads and the soft swish of the lake's waves whisper in my ears.

He shoves a branch aside and lets me walk through first. "There's something out here I want to show you."

"What? A roll of tape and a shovel," I say sarcastically.

He spots the flashlight on my face. "Am I scaring you?"

I shake my head. "I think it would take a h.e.l.l of a lot more than a creepy walk in the forest with a really hot guy to scare me."

"You think I'm hot, huh?" It's nearly pitch black, but I hear the smile in his voice.

I roll my eyes, playing off my slipup. "So what's really-"

He silences me with his lips crushing into mine. We melt together, steaming up the woods as he presses his body against mine. His fingers find my waist and I wonder if it's possible to stay like this forever, in the darkness of the woods, away from the world and death.

He pulls back, breathing ravenously. "You're beautiful, you know that? Especially when you're embarra.s.sed."

"I don't get embarra.s.sed," I a.s.sure him. "Only uncomfortable."

We finish the rest of the walk holding hands and taking in the serenity of each other's company. We finally emerge out of the trees and onto a flat spot of land. Asher sweeps the light across the area, highlighting a stone statue of an angel with wings pointing at the sky and its head and back is curled toward the earth. Surrounding it are small wooden crosses staked in the ground, covered with vines of rose bushes.

"How did you know this was here?" I roam through the tiny cemetery, feeling as though I'm stepping on forbidden territory. "And does anyone else know it's back here?"

"My father took me here when I was younger." He watches me with the flashlight in his hand. "And I don't think anyone else knows it exists."

"How'd your father know about it?" I stare up at the angel statue.

"His father showed it to him." He spotlights an engraving on the foot of the statue.

I read it aloud, "To guard the earth from the wrath of death, we must use vigilance. For those we seek to guard could destroy us and themselves."

"Do you know what it means?" I run my fingers along the elaborate lettering. "It feels like I've heard it before."

His mouth moves next my ear. "Some people believe that angels are the guardians of humans' deaths. However, most humans have a general fear of anything involving death. They have the potential to destroy themselves and their protectors. A long time ago people used to slay anyone they suspected were Angels of Death."

"Did they have black-winged feathers," I half joke, but am half serious, thinking of all the feathers I've come across during my life.

"Are you speaking of Laden's crime scene?" Asher asks gravely. "Or of something else?"

"You know about the feathers on Laden's crime scene?"

"Everyone knows about the crime scene."

I unintentionally b.u.mp a cross with my boot. "Do you know it was almost exactly like my dad's crime scene?"

He places a hand on my hip and gives it a gentle squeeze. "Yeah, I heard that."

Silence capes us as my memories drift back to the night my dad disappeared; the panic that led to my stupid decision to run away and who ran away with me.

"Do you know that some people believe that angels exist?" he asks. "And that they walk in disguise, looking for the Grim Angel who will save them?"

"That's not too hard to believe, I guess. I mean, there are a ton of strange things in this world." Like me. I lean back against his chest, breathing in his proximity. "But what's the wrath of death?"

His fingers coast up my forearm and my stomach quivers with desire. "The Grim Reaper," he whispers and I'm slapped back to reality.

I jolt away, stepping on a cross. I quickly pick it up and stab it back into the moist dirt.

"What's wrong?" Asher asks. "Did I say something that makes you uneasy? Because if I did, you can tell me."

It's like he knows. I gaze up at the statue and then at the crosses in the ground around it. "No... it's just getting late. I should probably get home."

He nods, not pushing me to tell him. "Yeah, we can go back."

As we backtrack through the trees, I think about the Grim Reaper. In my head, I picture walking inside my house and he's waiting for me on the couch with a cup of tea, like we're old friends. But I'm too old to be seeing imaginary people.

"Do you think that... do I come off as a little crazy?" I ask.

We edge along the turnout and he pulls me close so I can see the genuine expression on his face. "I think there are a lot of people that are considered insane, but they just see and go through more than the average person can understand." He kisses me on the forehead and I breathe in the warmth and silence of his lips.

We move away from each other and climb in the car. He starts up the engine and places the flashlight back in the glove box.

I watch him with a guarded expression. "Asher, why did you bring me here?"

He places an arm on the back of the head rest behind me. "Because I wanted to show you that people tend to fear the different, even when the different is good."

"Like Angels," I make sure.

He nods expectantly. "Like Angels, and like people who are out of the ordinary."

"But what does this have to do with Garrick and the Anamotti? Or can you not tell me that yet?"

"Do you want me to tell you now?" He waits patiently for my answer.

I hesitate briefly, nervous what the answer could be. "Umm... yeah?"

"The word 'Anamotti' means death. And they believe that angels exist," he says. "And they want to destroy them."

Angels? "Are you part of this group?" I tread with caution.

He shakes his head. "I'm not, but I know people who are."

I take in the dark alteration of the night. "What does that have to do with me?"

He tips my chin up and claims my gaze, looking past my eyes and into my soul. "I can tell you, but I want you to make sure you're ready for that answer, because it's... it might be hard for you to take in, especially when you've got so much stress in your life already. I want you to really make sure, whether you believe me or not, that you can handle whatever it is I tell you."

"How do you know about my stress?" I say, unable to look away from him.

"Because of the sadness you always carry." He brushes the tip of his fingers along the corner of my eye. "It's in here, all the time. So please, if you're not ready, it can wait."

It's frightening how much he sees me.

He gives me a moment to contemplate. My mind reflects back to Garrick and his multiple death omens. To Raven. And Ian. My alcoholic, manic-depressant mother. My dad's disappearance. Angels and secret societies? There is so much going on in my life and for once I have an escape-Asher. Tonight has been one of the best nights of my life and I want to hold onto the feeling of bliss for as long as I can. Whatever he's about to say will change it. Perhaps even destroy it-I can sense it through the tone in his voice, the way he moves, and the way his eyes watch me.

"Can you take me home?" I ask, fearing having to deal with what's before me, worrying that I'll crack and end up insane. "It's getting late."

He nods with understanding in his eyes and pulls his hand away from the head rest. "Whatever you want, Ember. And I mean that. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

I wonder if he really means it.

All the interior lights in my house are off. Either the power is still out, my mom and Ian are in bed, or no one's home.

"Is anyone here?" Asher stares at the house. "It doesn't look like anyone is."

"Well, it is," I glance at my watch and my eyes spring wide. "One in the morning. Jesus, how'd it get to be that late?"

"Time flies when you're having fun," he teases with a soft laugh.

The darker side of tonight has dissolved. The ride home was filled with light conversation about music, school, art, writing. And I refuse to think about Angels, the Grim Reaper, and the Anamotti.

"Tonight was fun though." I push the car door open. "And I needed some fun."

He captures the hem of my tank top and his knuckles brush the side of my stomach. He draws me back into the car. "Then why does it have to end?"