Chapter:-8

Adom stood within Win cell watching as the Angel exercised with what was available to him. He'd left the Angel alone for nearly two weeks and all but one Angelic Mark had faded. The Soulmate mark (in my story soulmate mark not summarise as love on, when a two angels born in same time they have the soulmate mark ,they can feel each other pain , happiness etc) stood out starkly black against Win fair skin.

Win James..

He'd recognised the name as soon as the first report from one of his spies has come in. Son of the James family and one of the most respected Angel within the shrinking Angels forces.

The young man was also at the eye of a hurricane brewing within the angel clan. A civil war that threatened to tear the entire organization apart from within. The consequences of their actions for not lifting a finger when God had been on his rampage and now the disdain that the upper echelons of the society towards one of the their brightest Angels  . . . They could fake their unity for outsiders and other creatures, but the factions within the hunter organization would have done his work for him given enough time.

No . . . He knew all about Win James.

He remembered the 'scandal' a few years back—remembered how he'd chuckled as the young man was put on trial and nearly stripped of his Angelic Mark  for the crime of homosexuality. His peers had argued tirelessly on his behalf, but they had no power within the ruling council of the Heaven. It was only the ongoing war and Win exemplary record in battle that had saved him. Even with the way the Heaven  had shunned him, he'd still continued to fight for the Angels —winning several skirmishes against Adom forces.

Adom licked his lips as the young man dropped down into a set of pushups on the ground. He'd had little need to interrogate Win—or even speak to him. So he'd left the Angel alone . . . well, he'd hidden his presence as he'd watched. 

Win eventually finished with the pushups and had moved over beside the antique coffee table that sat in front of the fire that never died. Adom cringed as the young man began doing box jumps . . . onto the coffee table. He sighed dramatically as the heavy wooden piece groaned a bit under the strain but did not shatter or even crack. This was his punishment for choosing such a . . . plush room to put Win into.

He'd forgotten to provide additional clothes, however. He could see that now with the way Win had apparently washed his clothing in the bathroom, and they now hung from the mantle over the fire to dry. It left the hunter in only his undergarment—a small clingy thing that left nothing to imagination as Win did his jumps and the small bit of fabric provided next to no support in his . . . lower regions. Sweat had beaded along his back, running down the grove of his spine and the scar that still nearly bisected his back.

"Are you going to continue to watch me or are you going to say something this time?" Win asked as he hit the ground, pausing his movements.