Chapter Fifteen

Temple of feelings

He had grabbed her wrist.

They’d been talking, and she’d turned to leave sooner than he’d wanted. He’d reached for her and caught her. It wasn’t rough or outwardly aggressive in any way. It would’ve seemed entirely innocent to anyone looking on. Neither of them had done anything to wrong the other in that instant – so why the reaction? – one might’ve wondered.

It was only a problem because it was Alessandra Morgan’s wrist Samir Mehra had taken hold of.

All morning, she’d been aware of his mood, but its nature wasn’t out of the ordinary. Still, sometimes he was just too much for her empathy to cope with, and that morning the overload of emotions threatened to send her into a meltdown.

No matter where she flew, he followed. So not long after she’d taken off from the stairway landing, she took a break from flying. It was no fun when there was no peace. She felt guilty for tearing Cassandra away from her conversation with Warren, but she needed someone to distract Samir, even if just for a little while.

That tactic had worked – The spar with her sister was a welcome distraction of Samir’s attention. The moment Samir was locked in combat with her sister, she’d taken off from the rooftop they were on to go on a solo flight about the catacombs. Alessandra made a b-line to her favourite place in the world.

En route, she had noticed her mother lead Warren into one of the houses. Although she hadn’t meant to spy on them, she didn’t need her empathetic gift to read the emotions - the expression on their faces was enough to pique her interest. She circled the house just once more and opened up her empathy – scanning the vicinity.

Feelings of lust and excitement were familiar to her, but the next sensation left her clutching her throat as it burned in sympathy. Bloodthirst. Something she’d never experienced before. Thankfully, moments later, it was sated. The relief that followed was also unfamiliar but extraordinary. Then the security of being held in someone’s arms washed over her like warm water. Love… well, that her like a freight train. It was winding and nearly enough to pull her from the sky.

Swooping away, she perched herself onto the balcony rail of another villa and caught her breath. Oh, how she ached to feel that emotion for herself! To love someone that deeply was what she’d found herself praying for lately. She wasn’t sure she loved Samir, not how she ought to, not as deeply as he loved her. Still, she hadn’t received an answer or a sign.

Returning to the air, with her prayers in mind, Alice carried on towards her desired destination; a little temple in the centre of the catacombs of Old Enoch. The circular temple built out of glistening white stone had been made to shelter a sacred nephilim landmark – Star Fall.

The blackened crater left a scar on the sandy Enochian earth and shone like freshly polished obsidian. Celestial religious texts told that the location was the site of Lucifer’s deliverance into Hell from his descent from Heaven. It was the sole reason that the first Morningstar nephilim had chosen to build their home around it.

In all other aspects of her life, Alessandra came across as absolutely logical, though; in fact, she was actually a spiritual and intuitive person. Perhaps her mother’s belief in fate had somehow permeated into herself, but truthfully, she only came across as so linear so as to appear sane. Her headspace was so undoubtedly ruled by her emotions that it would’ve been so easy to appear unstable. If she didn’t control her ability, she would’ve flitted from one emotion to the next, which varied depending on how those around her were feeling. Even after years of honing her skills and disciplining her gift, she could sometimes still lose herself, which brought about its own mental challenges.

Alice felt genuinely at peace in Star Fall Temple. Alone at last.

Though she wasn’t sure if she truly believed in Celestism and that the Angel’s who still resided on the Heavenly plane could hear her wishes and pleas and might even be moved enough to act and answer them, she prayed regardless. If for no other reason than it brought her peace of mind. She was actively pursuing her deepest desires by praying alone. For Alice, the first step in obtaining something was to put some thought behind wanting it. So, as she had many times before and daily since her mother’s Sire had arrived in Enoch, she’d taken to her knees in the Star Fall Temple and prayed to find real love.

Soon the Enochian Court would start urging her to find a husband, especially if she would follow in her mother’s footsteps and take over the Enochian Throne; she’d need a consort and an heir or two. In a perfect world, she’d fall in love with someone suitable and be happily married before the Court intervened, but if they saw fit, though, they’d provide her with suitors.

Alice didn’t doubt that amongst them would be Samir Mehra. Afterall, he was everything she was supposed to want and probably at the top of The Court’s list. Socially speaking, he was perfect as the son and heir of the Captain of the Royal Guard. His family was notable and notoriously ‘good people’. A kind, nurturing family that had welcomed Alice and Cassandra since they were little girls. The matriarch of the family, Asmara Kadisha, heiress to Enoch’s famed fig orchard and estate and family that’d grown and supplied the celestial city with fig wine since the establishment of the settlement, had raised her four children well alongside their father, Vivek Mehra. His accolades as a protector of Enoch and its crown spoke for themselves. Still, otherwise, he was a poet and a man whose mind was traditional enough to instil in his son all the manners required of a noble and upstanding Enochian man. He’d instilled all his philosophies in his son, so he practised spirituality to appear well-balanced and not overly concerned with the material. However, he was equally and sufficiently open to accept that sometimes social tastes alter and so taught Samir to be polite, always act accordingly and be as politically ambiguous as possible.

Consequently, Samir was bright, cunning even. In the ways of warfare, though he was rather green on the battlefield, he was a sharp tactician. Ah, yes, the handsome eldest son of House Mehra was Enoch’s golden boy. With gloriously luscious black hair and skin that glistened like brown sugar with sweet, tender eyes that swirled like delicious pools of chocolate – ironically, or ideally, Alice’s most favourite thing in the entire world – was the most eligible bachelor in celestial society. With his broad shoulders and rippling pectorals, he was a heartthrob that all the high-born ladies of Enoch swooned over.

Often, he’d flick his shoulder-length hair and bow respectfully to all the young women he passed; regardless of class, he’d earn himself some blushes that would boost his moderate and gentlemanly sized ego. You bet he’d stop and flirt shamelessly with the maids! One time, on his way back from a sparing or workout session at Morningstar Palace’s guard training arena Alice had caught him and bent his ear. He’d laid on the charm to spare himself a real telling off and had insisted that it was all harmless fun because he only wanted Alice, and besides, he was building up repour with the people that might one day become his staff. Samir was certain that Alice would eventually accept his proposal and marry him. Then he would become King when she was coronated. It was just a matter of when not if. She wasn’t even officially his girlfriend, but Samir Mehra was in love with Alessandra Morgan, and he wasn’t shy about letting her know it.

Calida made it no secret that she presumed the two “lovebirds” were just waiting for the right time to announce their romance and make it official.

Alone in her Temple, with her feelings, Alice was overcome with guilt.

She’d fled to her place of solace because she was agitated by Samir’s overpowering fondness for her. He’d turned up in such a rush and desperate to see her like always. The first thing he brought up was how he’d missed her the previous night. They had arranged to meet up, but she’d blown him off at short notice, saying she felt a headache coming on. It was only a white lie, and even though she apologised, he had to stick the knife in by backhandedly complimenting how well she looked that morning to imply that he didn’t believe she could’ve had a rough night. Not like him, at least, because he’d had an awful night since he hadn’t seen her. Didn’t she know how pent up and on edge, he felt now? Wasn’t it cruel of her to have abandoned their plans? Oh, she felt it all right! There was no doubt in the empath’s mind about how ‘wound up’ Samir was and how fervently he craved her ‘affections’. Straight away, she felt his lust steaming off of him. The man was literally in heat! It made the back of Alice’s neck sweat uncomfortably. She knew that if she allowed it to overcome her like she did once or twice a month when she felt lonely, several more extreme things would happen – her thighs would quiver, her hands would twitch with the urge to grab her breasts and kneed them as her chest undulated, sucking in deep lusty breaths, which would leave her as cries of pleasure once he was close and sating her hunger.

Now and when she was in her right mind, the idea made her dry heave and shudder.

Indeed, it hadn’t taken long for her to find him overbearing. There again, since Alice’s childhood innocence faded with the onset of puberty, she recalled Samir always being this way. At the tender age of seventeen, he’d promised to marry her, which seemed so innocent, cute even, but now she was well aware of how he’d intended it. He was six years her senior, which made up for the maturity gap and meant that he was well into his nephilim adolescence by the time she blossomed into womanhood, came out of dormancy and realised the brutality of male lust.

It hadn’t taken her many months of unrelenting pursuit for Alice’s demur and polite refusals to be ground down to compliance. When it came down to it, she’d been so overwrought with his feelings that she’d completely disregarded her own and given him everything he wanted. Oh, and he took everything – every ounce of innocence was plucked from her with a leery grin and groping hands.

But Samir wasn’t a bad person.

Therein lay the Enochian Princess’s turmoil.

Samir Mehra couldn’t be bad because everyone around her adored him, and most of the time, he gave her no cause not to either. His infatuation with her was pure; she knew from what she’d gleaned from him that he genuinely liked her. In fact, he adored her quite blindly. He disregarded all of her flaws without giving them any due care or attention because he was so eager to accept that she was perfect.

Mostly it was wonderful to feel so adored. Alice was a princess, living the perfect fairytale. A knight in shining golden armour wanted to sweep her off her feet and become her loving husband. But every now and then, like just now, a tiny seed of doubt would sprout in her mind. Sometimes, it felt too good to be true, but time and time again, her quarms had been quelled by all those little throwaway phrases that people would tell her. They made her feel spoilt and as if she were a drama queen, looking for something to create chaos over when everything was fine and dandy. She and Samir were meant to be. They were in love – it was plain to see.

Now, Alice didn’t know what was worse, the fact that she deceived herself or that she was leading Samir on. Once she was outside the reach of his penetrating aura, her helplessness and cowardice made her feel pathetic. Why couldn’t she just tell him to give her some space? It didn’t matter if she protested; he’d tease her tirelessly, wear her down and inch his way closer until he was right back where he started. He was persistent in his pursuit; she could give him that.

Ultimately, the problem was that Samir wasn’t capable of cooling his firey passion down to a simmer for even a moment so that she might get a chance to get a handle on her own feelings. It left Alessandra with almost no idea whether she loved him or not. Still, given all the advice and reassurance she’d received, she found herself veering toward her feelings not being genuine because, like her mother, she was a hopeless romantic. She believed that if Samir was ‘the one’, she’d have figured everything out by now. His infatuation with her would’ve been reciprocated without any pushback, and they’d probably be happily married already!

If only Alice could rely on the Enochian Court to choose a husband for her in these tumultuous times. It’d be easier on her heart and sanity. They’d select Samir anyway. Wasn’t it better for her to choose him herself than be forced to take his hand in marriage?

Rubbing her fingertips into her aching forehead, she sighed and stood from the semi-circular pew she’d taken refuge on. Tearing her eyes away from the Temple’s focal point, the crater known as The Lucifer Font, she cast her gaze over the statues of the Fallen Angels that stood within the alcoves of the Temple walls. Staring up into the androgynous face of her forebear, she pondered whether he would have bothered with his uprising had he known how much chaos it would cause. Within Luficer’s stoney gaze, she realised that he had made personal sacrifices doing what he believed was right. As the heir to the Enochian throne, shouldn’t she be doing the same?

Now that her mind was clear again, she had concluded that it was better not to cause unnecessary chaos and try to get alone with Samir.

Within ten minutes of her being back in male nephilim’s company, Alice regretted not keeping her distance. While Cassandra was paying more attention to her Seraph blade than their conversation, Samir had taken Alice to one side and less than discreetly made his intentions for their evening clear. He wanted her alone and at his disposal. The mistake Alice made was deciding to play coy and laugh it off. She had turned away as if she were hiding a blush and not the dry heave at his crude demand, and that was when he grabbed her wrist, and she felt the full brunt of his ‘desire’.

“What? What’re you looking at me like that for?” Samir asked, offended by the look on Alice’s face and the way she’d snatched her hand back from him as if his touch had burned her.

“I’m not looking at you any kind of way…” Alice cleared her throat.

“You’re looking at me like I’m some creep. Come on now; I was just saying I want to spend the night together.” He closed in on her again and whisper-shouted. He wanted to get his point across, but if he could help it, he didn’t want Cassandra listening in. “Is that so wrong, bird?” He sounded so sweet and gentle, using an Enochian term of endearment.

“I-… Samir.” She didn’t know what to say. “I just… Don’t want to.”

“Right, what’s the excuse this time?” He rolled his brown eyes. “You only want me on your terms, is that it?”

“No, that isn’t it!” Alice raised her voice.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Cassandra stepped in. Unfortunately for Samir, she’d heard.

“Oh, that’s right, come help the damsel in distress! Make me out to be the bad guy again.”

“If I don’t say no now, you won’t listen once we’re on our own,” Alice admitted. “You’ll carry on no matter what I say…”

Cassandra’s face lost all colour.

Samir laughed. “Ha, are you saying I force myself on you?” He couldn’t believe what she was saying and how incredible Alice’s words were to him showed on his face, which soon met Cassandra’s fist.

“You asshole!” She bellowed as she planted the blow onto his right cheek.

A screaming match ensued, and fists flew left and right as Cassandra and Samir fought.

Alice cupped her hands over her ears, squeezed her eyes shut tight and backed away from them. She stumbled backwards over the ledge, and before she could register what was happening and her wings could catch her, she fell to the ground.

“Alice!” Cassandra and Samir cried in unison.

The fight ended abruptly when he dived over the edge after her, and Cassandra dashed to the stairs to get to the ground floor.

Alessandra would never recollect much of the next week, but the next few minutes played out before her fading grey eyes in mute.

Samir’s concerned face loomed over the space above her head as she stared up vacantly at the ceiling of the catacombs. His lips screamed her name repeatedly, but she couldn’t hear his voice. His warm hands clutched about his face, yet she felt cold. The fear that she felt from him and saw lingering in his eyes was the selfish kind. He was likely wondering what would become of his life now – would he be blamed for the untimely death of the firstborn.

Cassandra’s emotions were as frantic as a faithful sister could be expected to be. She was combing her fingers through her hair, rubbing over her face, screaming for their mother, who she knew was close by.

From the little underground house burst Karou. Her motherly instincts had kicked into overdrive as she dashed in the direction of the sound of her screaming daughter. The scene that she found struck fear right through the core of her being.

Alice laid prostrate on the dusty sandstone cobbles staring aimlessly skyward.

Samir attempted to explain, but Cassandra cut him off by going with a simplified explanation – there was a fight, and Alice got scared, distracted and fell. For now, Cassandra wouldn’t divulge what the argument had been about; she’d give Samir the benefit of the doubt. She knew better than anyone as her sister’s confidant that she and Samir’s love affair was off and on and rocky even when it was in full swing.

Karou dashed to her daughter’s aid, but Warren calmed the situation with nothing but his presence. Alice didn’t want a chaotic scene and somehow seemed to latch onto his level-headed emotion and project it to settle the mood. He peeled Karou’s hands away from Alice’s shoulders, warned Samir to back up with an icy glare and then his face came into Alice’s line of sight.

His lips said, “Everything will be alright,” She believed him, closed her eyes, and committed herself to his care.

Despite the blood he felt and smelled pooling into his palm when he lifted her cracked head from the ground, Warren gathered Alice’s petite body into his arms and began to carry her away. On their ascent out of the catacombs, Cassandra dashed off to call on their personal doctor and get her to attend immediately, while Karou led him to Alice’s bedroom. Samir was dismissed under Karou’s authority until further notice, so the boy skulked off; he wouldn’t be getting any of Alice’s attention for a while.

Settled comfortably in her bed, Alessandra wandered off into her unconscious. Around her, her family busied with keeping her comfortable, and a fleet of medical staff kept her health stable. The doctor had at least given them the peace of mind that she wasn’t in any life-threatening danger, her skull fracture had healed quickly, but her mind just needed some time to settle itself. Eventually, she expected Alice to come around and be back to her old self. All they could do was wait.