PATIENCE

I clutched my diary to my heaving chest, my fingers wrapped securely around it as though Wrath would come charging at me again, demanding access to it. I forced my eyelids shut, willing that familiar calmness through my veins. That emptiness, that silence quickly tamed the pitter patter of my racing pulse. I couldn't let myself dwell on Wrath any longer.

But I couldn't just remove him from my thoughts either.

He was my personal brand of torture. He was my punishment, my gift from the Seraphics. I had forever with Wrath. And I was destined to spend that eternity in silence. Wearing that same silence like a cloak around me, I walked, dragging my suitcase behind me to my room.

"Ain't yous mama taught yous to knock?"

My hand froze on the handle, the door half open.

"Come in then, no bother getting shy now."

Her accent should have been enough of a warning.

Riveting yellow — yellow in her hair, her eyes and her skin. Warm yellows, golden and bright yellows — yellow, yellow, yellow. She sat perched perfectly on the edge of her bed, her back painfully straight. Her kind was known for their brightness; the air around her seemed to glow with a yellow sheen, a shade that reminded me of the mortal world's sun.

Despite their beauty, I couldn't remember what her kind was called.

It had been so long.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I didn't know someone was in here."

Her face contorted. "Virtue," the girl whispered. I could almost feel the thump of her suddenly racing pulse.

Desperate to escape her fear, desperate to prove to her that she was wrong, I offered her my hand — as if from my touch alone she would be convinced that I meant no harm. "I'm Patience."

But maybe she was right. Maybe I was dangerous. Perhaps it was in my silence that the true threat lived. No one ever knew what I was thinking — and my curse was that no one ever would.

"Patience." The girl refused to blink, as though taking her eyes off me would make her vulnerable. "Patience," she repeated. The panic that had struck her slowly began to clear and she let loose a chuckle. "Ay. I get one of the nice ones." She shook my hand.

Nice. I'd never been called that before. Wrath's presence was so dark that I always felt saturated with it. Far from nice, I felt red.

I forced my lips into a smile, racking my eyes over the rest of the room. There were two beds and two cupboards; the furniture was placed slightly askew so that the wrong angles made the entire layout look off.

"I'm Zeen," she said.

I reached down for my suitcase. "Nice to meet you."

She smiled, sighing. "Ah, it's well nice having 'body different around. I missed it."

I felt myself pale as I took in the contents of my suitcase. I had left everything folded neatly, each pile perfectly placed.

"Yous alright?"

"Yes," I answered. "I'm alright."

It was a mess. My clothes were unravelled, curled amongst each other in a heap of wrinkled fabric. The reds and whites clashed against each other as I picked held up my red bra, its lacy material hanging from my fingers.

Every inch of the mayhem had Wrath written all over it.

My cheeks heated as I looked at my bra and then back down at my suitcase.

"Are yous sure yous okay?"

My panties were missing.

"Virtue?"

He'd taken them.

I closed my suitcase, calmly zipping it shut as though that would be enough to calm the warmth spreading to my cheeks. I pushed it under my bed, trying not to imagine them fisted in his grip.

No matter how much he despised me, no matter how much I hated him, there was something raw and untethered in me that would occasionally remind me of our bond.

I would always want him. I would always crave his touch. But us Sins and Virtues rarely ever got what we wanted.

I cleared my throat only to look up and find Zeen watching me closely. "They do you dirty too?" She paused as if contemplating whether or not to continue. "The Seraphics, I mean."

A sourness settled in the back of my throat. Her words were a reminder that despite their defeat the Seraphics had won. They were still everywhere and we—we were their broken trophies.

I couldn't answer her question. The sentences jammed up in my throat like concrete, tightening their hold around my neck. And in that moment I would have given anything to tell her and rid myself of that weight of silence.

Instead, I offered her my condolences for what had happened to her people.

Zeen looked down at her lap. "My people. Yes. The Altans. But it ain't so that you lot had it any better."

No. No, we didn't.

A quick rap on the door broke us both from our trance. Before either of us could open the door, two sheets were slipped underneath it in a single sharp movement.

Our timetables. There were strict timings for eating, sleeping, training — everything. I smoothed the creases in the paper out, managing to fold it neatly in half just as a shrill bell rang. The urgency of the high-pitched noise drove both of us to our feat.

"Hungry?" Zeen asked, a lopsided grin on her lips.

I followed her out of the room and Wrath's presence met me in a hot wave. A single file line began to emerge as other beings left their rooms and it was then that I realised just how many beings were here. I saw scaly skin, pink skin, pointy ears, webbed hands - so much variety. And so many species that the Seraphics had dragged through torture.

We joined the line. I couldn't go faster and I couldn't go slower, my speed was locked into place as more beings joined the line. My view was blocked by the being in front of me, but eventually, we came to a clearing: a large, empty and hollow room. The benches creaked beneath us as Zeen and I found a seat opposite each other. Dishes and a pot of something steamy moved above our heads in a seamless glide; the clatter with which our trays fell before us had her shoulders jerking, and the grey slop that fell into our plates made my stomach recoil.

"Mmm. Yum," Zeen said under her breath.

The food sat in a lump on my tray, puddles of grease floating in it. As soon as I moved to push the tray away from me a burst of red flashed from the corner of my eye: I was sitting in direct view of Wrath. His rage reached out to me in a desperate ribbon, a concoction of anger and pain carving through his face. It was like taming the rapid strokes of fire: I cooled his wrath suddenly and without warning, leaving him cold.

His lips curled in a snarl, his jaw tensing as his Sin began to engulf him again.

Ignoring him, I reached for my fork, overly aware of his heated glare. Wrath dropped his fork in his tray, as though something had disgusted him enough to quell his hunger entirely.

I felt homesick. But it wasn't actually a home I was longing for. I was longing for some space. To sit untouched and unbothered and in peace.

I watched as Zeen pushed the slop of food around. "Would you swap places with me?" I asked her.

Zeen placed a measured morsel of food into her mouth and swallowed without chewing. "Mate problems?" My surprise made her laugh. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows yous lot come in pairs."

Broken, ruined, jagged pairs.

Zeen jerked her chin in a nod, swapping our trays around. She jumped over seamlessly, while I was left to walk around the table to get to my seat.

This was almost worse. I could feel Wrath's stare through my clothes and the growl that met my ears as I passed him continued to echo in my ears long after I sat down.

This, I realised, was how I would spend my forever.

Always around him, never with him.

•••

Guys!! I'm back! These books mean so much to me and I'm so happy that I can finally sit back down and get writing again. Wrath and Patience are both torn between themselves - Wrath can't keep his emotions under control no matter how much he tries, and Patience can't express her emotions. They're two ends of the same string and I can't wait to continue their story <3

I know that there have been loads of big breaks between uploads but I am definitely going to be completing these books so you guys can look forward to more uploads!!

So, so, so much love,
Laila