“I’ve always been prepared to die,” his voice was soft, his fingers, which would normally have reduced your lifetime, interlocked with yours while one wing brought you closer to him. His words were true, Angel never had his drive… never a reason to live.

Your soulmate’s gaze was soft — he didn’t understand the reasoning behind your immunity to his ability, but he wasn’t one to complain, not when his thirst for touch was finally quenched.

“I don’t know if I’m prepared anymore..”