𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗈 | 𝖬𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖽𝗈𝗇

Chapter Eight

Her face screamed annoyance. Not at him, just the feeling in her stomach. She felt angry because she was looking for something to worry about, because that's what she felt compelled to do. That's what they had always done. She couldn't be upset about it, so she was just mad.

"I've got a.." She cut off, staring at the wall in front of her. He removed his lips, pressing his forehead to the side of her face as he waited for her to speak. "feeling." She pursed her lips, dropping her hands to her lap.

He nodded slightly, his hand brushing her thigh. "What about?"

She took a deep breath, shaking her head as she closed her eyes. "I don't know, just a feeling. It's pissing me off."

He chuckled at her response, removing his face from hers to look at her. "Feelings are a human emotion, Anastasia. It's like I told you before, just because you've sold your soul doesn't mean you are no longer human. Just wired a little different." He tucked a curl behind her ear, smiling lightly at her. The candles that the old school held graciously admired her beauty, and he was often taken off balance just by even looking at her. "What's this feeling?"

It wasn't exactly scary, more off putting. She wanted to study it, to find out what it truly was that she was feeling. But truthfully, she felt like she wasn't allowed too, maybe even guilty. Still, Michael wasn't going to let it go. "Like something is going to go wrong." She gave in, her eyes slowly turning to meet his. She took a breath, shrugging her shoulders. "I know it's stupid, but I can't help it."

Anastasia had forgotten about Cordelia, along with the other witches. Her body would not allow her to think about them, wouldn't allow her to sink back into that spiral of depression. Whenever Cordelia was in her mind, the thoughts of death, fear and suicide also lingered. Her system couldn't manage that, not with the happiness and joy her veins were ignited with. It just didn't go. Michael knew this too, and was extremely fascinated by it. Ana's brain was always something that took him by surprise. So, without being said, he had no plans of mentioning the woman.

And it wasn't exactly the witch, herself, that Ana couldn't handle, it was what she had caused; the separation.

"It's not stupid." He grabbed her chin. "Nothing about you is stupid. How many times am I going to have to tell you that?" He traced her bottom lip with his thumb, taking a deep breath. "You have nothing to fear. Look how far we've come, Ana. We have no enemies, here. Relax, darling, I don't want my birthday girl getting grey hair." He pulled her into his side, her head resting against his shoulder as he held her.

Her birthday was the following day, and he had been constantly reminding her so she wouldn't forget. He kept hounding her about a gift, but she couldn't imagine would he would give her, considering he blew up every shopping mall in the world.

He calmed her nerves, but he had done so rather quickly. He didn't like thinking of Cordelia either, because it brought up unanswered questions. To that very moment, he still didn't know what had happened with the witch. After their conversation, the conversation with him killing one of her beloved witches, the woman had fled. She had disappeared off the map, and after years of searching, Michael had simply given up. Even if she had been alive then, she simply couldn't be now. It wasn't possible, not with the bombs he had casted upon the Earth. So, whatever his beloved was feeling, he chalked it up to her imaginative head.

He turned to rest his hands on the keys, continuing to play where she had left off. "I know this question is meaningless," He began, her head resting on his shoulder as her hands stayed wrapped around his bicep. "but what do you want for your birthday? We have approximately four hours until midnight."

She rolled her eyes, though a smile stayed on her lips. He had calmed her, made her feel more certain of their situation. It was ridiculous to worry when there was nothing to be concerned over. She had just been used to doing so, is all. But she didn't have to do that anymore. Michael and her were safe, and it was time to start acting like it. "Michael, I don't need anything. I've got all I need."