Chapter 1 –
June 3rd, Austin, Texas
"Gavin! Are you serious? They paired me… with Gavin?" I snapped.
" How is this even possible?" I said.
I couldn't process any more catastrophic news that could surpass this announcement that I would be enslaved to the wrong person for ten years all because of a fate determined romantic match. Every one-hundred years (twenty five in human years) a unilateral decision from the havens is made and nested in a six by six Manilla sealed folder. The purpose is simple. Two candidate angels. Sometimes, like this oddly romantic and exotic pair off, from different tribes must rise and ascend during a clandestine celestial event and furthermore made to serve on Divine Council, a community governing body for ten years.
The catch? Forty-two days. That is how long you have to find it. Only this time there was even a bigger catch. I had to go. No if ands or buts. Why might you ask? This particular year the numbers on council were not in our favor and I needed to find and protect our most sacred family item: A heirloom past down from our ancestors. Now it was my turn to preserve it.
Every last Thursday of the month we always ate at the same place. It was the quintessential family aroused affair, only this time all looming sights were set on me. The room we were in always caught my hypercritical eye yet appeased my fleeting attention: The twelve foot tensile suspended Victorian chandelier centered sky high but dimly lit; the phantom edges of the ballroom floor, the fuchsia red walls plastered with flora from another country. I could tell they were trying to make it seem luxury but also relatable.
I couldn't even fathom devoting the next arduous forty two days and moreso even ten years of my life to deeply sworn celibacy with a chauvinistic pig: an earth angel a.k.a. "the manwhore" known as Gavin.
Today was the day of the "Selective," ("Ra") a universal wide process by which fate determines not only who you are romantically supposed to be with but also if you'll become immortal. Amongst my family, it's the biggest and most paramount rite of passage event you can find amongst the angel universe.
It is where a female gets her wings, have the ability to walk amongst Earth and Havens as well as the ability to possess and protect your family heirloom which in our case: holds the secrets to the creation of mankind. Consequently, it also holds the power for mankind's annihilation. Sounds dangerous, huh?
"I know you are upset Quinn, but-- at least he's--very attractive," my mother said.
"… and he get's a lot of girls. A lot, honey. A lot" she continued.
I look at my mom and could see that she was actually dead serious. I began rolling my eyes hoping she would get the message that I was so ticked off at her comments.
"How could you say that!" I said.
" I'm sure you'll make wonderful children. Everyone likes Gavin." she uttered.
"Wonderful?" I said.
My brother tried to snatch the envelope from my hands, and I gave his hands a simple swat. If I had known better, I would have ripped the envelope into pieces, but I knew that would taken as offensive. I didn't understand how to keep my cool when you are being pawned off romantically to someone you never wish you were standing near. Its not that Gavin wasn't an attractive candidate. Its just that I was expecting someone who I imagined…someone who values me.
Yes, to look at, Gavin was the perfect specimen. A nicely cleft chin, a chiseled jaw that was godly square, symmetrically aligned furrows when he laughed, high cheekbones that were prominent and striking, supple lips, a caring look that could undress you when he stared at you, almond-shaped eyes, dark hair and extremely striking eyes. When he smiled it was an impression that lasted for days.
But the most beautiful thing about him was his wings. He was the only angel that had wings that were the color of the light. It was almost impossible to miss him based on radiant he was. That's what drew everyone towards him. Everywhere he walked crowds of people would gather around him just to stare at him open and withdraw his wings. The color of a summers glow. Every time he stretched his wings it was a majestic sight. No other angel could compare. But this was all secondary to how I felt about his behavior.
"It's not so bad. Your sisters went through the same thing. Besides, honey, you'll live-- forever. You can't beat that. Nobody on this Earth can give you what he can" mother said.
"Mother! We're not even from the same tribe!" I shouted.
"Quinn, I get it. He's not the exact flavor of the week you were hoping for but it's a commitment that we have to our community" she said.
"Why aren't you happy? He's gorgeous!" Isabelle, my sister said.
"I feel like I'm being used. There I said it" I snapped.
"Community: now, darling, you remember what that means? The responsibilities, the creed, coded honor and duties that we have to Divinity: Our home, our people. Now, you don't want to ruin our presumable reputation and destroy what we have worked so hard to build over the last century. Do you sweety?" she said.
"Quinn, don't you know what is at stake! How could you be so selfish! Why are you so selfish and… picky… and greedy!" my sister Lana screamed.
There was one thing that I knew. The heat was on and the stakes were heavy. Not only was the heirloom dangerous if it was in the wrong hands but Divinity had rules about angels that skip out on their rite of passage. I'm talking about wings clipped and incinerated, reduced to mere mortal with no chance of return to the havens, excommunication from the tribe, and more dangerously the loss of the ability to have a child.
I could not decide. How could I ask for forgiveness if I skip out on Divinity and tell a small white lie? I need to tell someone; I need to tell God that he blatantly chose the wrong guy. Its not that I don't like him. It just makes me feel if I date him there's always going to be an exponential price with him. He'll use me as ego boost but never treat me as a woman whose a trophy but an old pair of shoes, something you wear and tear, then throw out the window just when you're old , no longer elegant and relevant like yesterdays' news.
"Isabelle and Lana barely even made it to day twenty-five! Fifteen, if you count angel assistance. Why does it have to be me?" I said.
Did she realize what this meant? Does she even process what vain and superficial nonsense she just said? Could anybody feel my pain?
"Were talking about Gavin, mom. Gavin! Come on he's an angel with the mind of a scheming junkyard dog--a modern day scrapper, out of all people, why did the universe have to choose him! For me!" I said.
"It will be over in two months and you won't even remember this conversation" she said.
"Like, honestly I don't even think he's ever told, respected, or even spared a woman a moment of pseudo spotlight by acknowledging that she's beautiful-- let alone modern day present" I said.
"I know Quinn. But…Everyone needs you. I need you. I'm the one dying for Christ sake remember. There is no turning back now. It is just you. There is no hanging out anymore. You are way too deep, and time is not on your side" she said.
"Grow up! Get serious. You are too picky and fickle. Right now, you can't be anything else but a girl, from Divinity. An angel from Divinity. That is what you are and what you will always be. There is no skipping this. It's too dangerous. Do you know what the consequences are?" she said
"Yes, mom but what about my needs" I said
"I don't have to remind you! Your father is expecting you as well as many people are depending on your arrival. You're not going to flake, are you?" Mother said.
"Mom, this is not even fair. I get it. I get it. Divinity was around when we first came but, fuck-- I just want to live and be free. Why can't I choose my own destiny? I feel like I'm being caged in--and used. I'm not even getting what I want out of this and I hate the way you're treating me and my body like I'm just a turbine fertility machine with no personal rights, or personal values who needs to submit to the demands of some bullshit tradition " I said.
"Honey, its a full ride scholarship to immortality, eternal beauty and power over the entire kingdom. Why wouldn't you want that? We've been talking about this for seven years" She said.
"Mom, have you heard half the condescending stuff that comes out of Gavin's mouth?" I said.
"Without me, without my family, without Divinity, who the hell would know you?" I told her.
"How do you expect me to tread the Earth, the rest of my right of passage and ten years with a guy who can barely hold a ten-minute conversation about something other than himself and personal conquests?" I said.
"You're overthinking this kiddo. Life is not supposed to be as hard as you are making it. Everything will fall into place. I promise" my mother said.
If there was such thing as overdosing on their own ego boosts, the trophy would go to Gavin. Hands down. No contest. Not to say he didn't deserve it at times, he was way too pretty for a guy--- but let's just say he could become drunk on his own phantom reflection in a mirror and was overindulged in the perils of vanity. My natural life on Earth not to mention, my romantic life was coming to an exponential plunge while my drive was stocked at the height of peak season. The one person who I thought would be understanding to my needs, my body and my future was completely indifferent to say the least, and apathetic at best.
"Why can't you make a sacrifice for all of us Quinn?" Michael, my brother said.
No longer known was I just little "Quinn", but I was maturing from a fledgling shy socialite into a rising twenty three year old bon vivant; an incorporeal free spirit that had feral needs, bestial wants, and sybaritic desires.
"Quinn, you are lucky you did not end up with Ivan" Michael, said.
" This is the best thing that could happen to you, to us, and to Divinity—to all of us in fact. Any other pairing could have fueled the war even further" he said.
I hated how he was always right at exactly the wrong times. Submitting to Gavin would cause the amplitude of the deeply seated Defiance and Divinity conflict to taper and fade. Defiance was the other tribe that has been around since the beginning. They make up one third of Divine Council, our government. Gavin and I amongst the havens would probably see us as some exotic and asynchronous miracle meant to happen.
" I think I'm going to appeal" I said.
"HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT IN MY PRESENCE! You must be mad! Don't you dare appeal!" Mother said.
" Quinn, there are a lot of people depending on you. This is not the time to quit on any commitment" Michael added.
I was so frustrated that I needed to take a walk. As if one single ornate cloth wasn't enough, this moderately overpriced restaurant decided on a theme with two contrasting pallid colors on the walls: maroon fuscia and black with each orbital table, stamped by three centered mantelpiece glasses. A friendly Orleans jazz band played retired basement instrumental Dave Matthews Band songs and film show tunes in the corner.
I could tell that this was designed and catered to an eater of a certain flavor: The everyday urban business professional dressed in a meron nylon wool sweater or maybe some sort of comfort cashmere sweater laced over a shirt and tie gathering around for post sales day drink or an impromptu "impress you with a shock-price value dinner date".
I knew this nuclear announcement was more than important not because my mother was the opposite of aspirating silent for a presumable independent decision--but noticeably three idle balloons were tied behind her chair. I could hear the phlegmatic wooden knocking reverberations of my brother, Michael, annoyingly thumb throbbing and ankle-knee tapping under the table and most importantly my two sisters, actually showed up—thirty minutes late—no surprise.
No one had even thought about touching their menus either. My sisters were dressed in black peacoats each doused with heavy Austin inclement rain.
Under usual circumstances, this almost diamond in the rough sixth street southern palpable restaurant called "La Belle" was my favorite comfort spot. I could not wrestle nor wrung out the throbbing sensation that churned in my stomach over a six inch by six inch piece of paper that was sitting on the table with my name sealed on the center in cursive. It decided not only the next forty two days of my life but who I was capable of having a child with.
Not that it was something that I thought about that often. More importantly, I was the only one, the last of my kind—"The Divine", and the only eligible angel from my family for Divinity which meant this time, all decisions were up to me--and Gavin unfortunately.
"What is your deal? Do you know how many angels that would love to be in your place right now?" Micheal said.
"You are lucky!" Isabelle added.
"And what about me!" I snapped.
"I just got back into town. I have friends. I have Trish. I have school. I have my whole entire life and wish—" I said.
"Were not even from here!" Michael said.
"Your talking about a life here that is marginal! Divinity is so far beyond anything you've experienced" Lana said.
Understandably, at twenty-three I had procrastinated long enough, and had come to the age where it was vacantly my responsibility and no one else to pursue my divine right of passage. The sacrifice was not ideally for religious reasons per se. This time around, It about pursuing for the sanctity of our entire tribe and the preservation of our history tied to a sacred family heirloom and lastly, saving my ability to conceive a legitimate first-bourne child, a keystone to the pilgrimage.
Forty-two days: one main event testing my loyalty, celibacy and strength but also willpower towards our tradition. That's all the people wanted to see.
So what's the problem I thought? There wasn't any other time more than now, the summer before my first semester of college, that I was ready to have an intimate relationship, or maybe even start possibly having sex, like some of my friends; or so I thought…or maybe both. Not just any sex, but a liberation from the chains of parental repression.
Yearning for my sheath to be dominated and pummeled without restraint or thoughts of refrain. How can I even think about Divinity when my mind is thinking about obscene lascivious gestures.
. Wanting to be relegated by an attentive "general" who could discipline me to sustain. Circumscriptions of a man's fingers kneading me at the velocity of a colanders' strain. Chronically single, with no prospects of romance brought tears to my eyes, and I am justified that I might grow old and lonely, a haggard virginal "boring" with my doused parchment wrung dry.
Spawning inspiration from the sultry sway of my hips; I wanted a grid iron fiend with an exquisite shaft where the necessity is to squat, squash and plunge, and the mandatory is to drip. A corrosive addiction so abhorrent it forces me to nostalgically lick . My eyes wide shut and my legs prancing on thin ice. A raspy voiced phone call from a blood hound savage that whispers, "Do you play naughty, girl! Or nice?" The tyrant that condemns me for my unscrupulous behavior; fastening me with his tirelessly violent grip; the rile raw rugged wild barbarian whose anger upheavals me and turns him into a violent flip.
Righteously, he's the thirsty stocky knock kneed "Rocky" fellow brutally jocking as he pangs at my concealed door; he noticeably focuses his eyes all on me and my sessile crevice spread wide eagle open for lubricious lips as I pant, my bowed knees skip, scoff, and strut; abrading a hard tiled floor. He yells, "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME WOMAN!" to check me' for my rightful obedient compliance. A libidinous man that treats me as his equal when we are in public and as his nuisant child when I've been defiant.
The fallen valiant hero that surprisingly hijacks the mast to my mottled turns; Handcuffing me to a rose pedaled four post bed, my frequency breached, and my flamboyant body vacillates, wheedles and churns. I'm the lustful laudable laborer to a tycoon's black goose linens--He's the obsequious orphan Annie savage feasting on me like a buffet dinner hosted for ten thousand starving soldiers with humble beginnings.
Why do I feel this carnal attraction to humans and we are not even from the same slice of life? I could have any man within Divinity, who is immortal but I still have thoughts about being a domesticated human housewife. Why do I cherish this life so much and crave it so bad? Is it because growing up I missed out the best I should have had?
Bowing and yielding to an sentimental savior as he empties and ejects his voluminous clip; I want his thick to be the vigilant that over fills the gorge behind my fissure wide open, even if it's too colossal to fit. I'm the daughter to my lieutenant "daddy", my muse is his collared chains, I just wanted a valuable guy worthy enough to swallow volume with a mouthful and make me feel a frisson of indelible pain.
Will he make errors or blunders? When he pours the lavish liquor on the cleft of my chest that shimmers : Will he be fickle, clamp up and stumble proper like a trained individual or score big like a modern day winner ? or will he let it trickle and will he man-up, grapple, gallop and suckle like I'm his dinner? I hate men whose intentions are flimsy, they flinch and they're actions seem squeamish, noticeably boyish and subtle.
He succumbers his fucking number through the saccharine drums of my ears like vespertine thunder. He calls me his nomadic muse. When he lays down the pipes Im the one prancing on the tongue of his timbs, dancing and lunging on his two static boots.
I hate the fact that everyone thinks I'm so one dimensional; like I should be reading textbooks all day rather than being the life of the party and mingling. Why are my bothered thoughts of the past still lingering? Like I'm a square who should be auctioning herself off to a suburban provider on Christian Singles.
I want a guy whose demeanor is kind of in the middle, of an hot asshole whose fun and a slick gentleman whose slightly dickish but nonetheless an interesting individual.
He calls me baby during the day, calls me his contorted prey of the dusking night. Hes a natural born player from the tier of a new class, the enigmatic man who has the wrath of an archaic knight.
Admittedly, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Deprived from the frills of a normal teenage upbringing and devoid of any excitement I was craving someone beside me . Not hindered by the reality of my mother's wishes nor persuaded by any secular Laws that swindles, I too wanted to party, slide, stroke, twerk and suck covertly until an eligible suitor finished and dwindled.
Hoping for a panther's eyes of cautious scrutiny; I wanted a brute who treats me as his ruthless prey with no judgments or labels as a woman, especially with concerns to my vanity or sexuality. The phenomenon who finally sees past my intelligent quotient, the lascivious predator who is willing to fucking put the work in, and rouses my body into a violent, vigorous buoyant motion.
A cold Austin nights' sweat and he fondles me with nondiscriminatory hands; He lacerates the straps on my midnight corset, the tamed player you always saw as grand. Depressing my back against the hard-bitten mattress, sieving his fingers between my mounting cleavage; delicately scouring my most private lips, provoking spasmodic leakage. Drinking from my splayed fountain, from a nose tip to a warm clit, feasting on me like a rabid junkyard canine with no sleep; a stubborn man who doesn't put up with my bullshit.