“If I throw this rock, do you think I could get it onto that rooftop?”

I respond to the inane question with a deep sigh. Not just any sigh—a dramatically deep one. My shoulders rise to my ears before I force them down with the expelled air.

“Okay, what about that one over there? I bet I can get it into that potted plant.”

My eyes remain closed, but knowing Harmony, she’s probably pointing anyway. With a grumble, I open my eyes. Of course, I was right. Harmony’s outstretched arm directs my attention to a rooftop table and chair set up a few buildings away, surrounded by a sweet ring of potted greenery. I tilt my head, calculating the distance.

“Which plant, or just any of them?”

“Any, it still counts.”

Before I can respond, the air pressure around us changes, a faint shimmer in the distance that can only mean one thing. “Our teacher is on their way, you’ll get us in trouble,” I say, not bothering to mask the annoyance in my voice.

“Depends on which teacher,” Harmony quips, her cheeky grin spreading. “Maybe they’ll just adore me and my many, many skills.”

“First of all, that’s disgusting.” I keep my voice high, a prim acceptance affecting my words. “To imply that you would trade sexual favours for good marks, Miss Harmony, it’s deplorable.“

“Hey, hey.” Harmony quickly cut in. ”Who said anything about sex? I’m just good with my spell crafting.” 

“Indeed.” I raise my noise, like some stuck-up professor. “I think you should spend some time reflecting upon your actions, Miss Harmony, and write me 20 pages about the aerodynamic differences  between the short bow and longbow.”

“All this talk about bows... I can show you how to really hit your target.”

The deep voice catches me off guard, and I spin around to see a tall, dark-haired man wearing black denim pants and a leather jacket zipped tightly around his chest. I clear my throat, dropping the prim voice Harmony and I use when we’re being ridiculous.

“Seriously, do you always sneak up on people like this? It’s not exactly charming.”

He moves closer, and the air behind his back shimmers like the heat of the midday sun. Damn, that was so cliché. Where have all my smart words gone? The faint shimmer behind him draws my eye again—his wings, veiled in a haze like smoke curling around the edges of a fire.

I can hear Harmony’s sharp intake of breath from here. I understand. For a professor, this guy is hot. I mean young—he’s young. Not that age can be fairly assessed with an angel. Some of the Senior Cherubim look no older than a human man in his forties. There are a few silver foxes among the teaching staff, if that’s the image they want to convey. But this bad-boy biker vibe is new, and it’s working for me.

After giving Harmony a slow once-over, he turns to me. “So, what’s your name? Let me guess,” Ace says, his voice a low, teasing hum. “Something pure, like Faith? Or maybe Bliss? Tell me, which part of you fits those names?”

I clear my throat, struggling to keep my composure. “And who are you, exactly?” My voice comes out steadier than I expect, though my heart is racing.

“Me?” His grin is infuriatingly casual. “I’m Ace.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Harmony mutters under her breath, but her wariness matches my own now. The initial charm is fading, replaced by a creeping sense of danger.

“So, did I really hear something about trading favors for grades?” Ace’s grin spreads wider, and the cockiness in his voice twists something deep in my gut. He’s playing with us.

The heat that rises in my face isn’t just embarrassment anymore; it’s something darker, something that tightens in my chest like a coiled spring ready to snap. Ace’s eyes linger on me for a moment too long, and I swear he knows—he sees right through me. The frustration gnaws at me, but beneath it, something else stirs: a pull I can’t explain, a temptation that makes every logical thought I have blur at the edges.

When neither of us spoke, Ace cleared his throat and looked around. His eyes landed on the dark brown bow against the edge of the rooftop. The bow sits exactly where I dropped it when we landed. It may be a priceless angelic artefact, but it was also heavy and uncomfortable. 

“Alright, let's begin the lesson. Please bring me the bow and I will show you the correct hold for that style of bow.”

Harmony tilts her head at him, “We already went over that in the last lesson, haven’t you seen the lesson plan?” She squinted her eyes at him, “How long have you been a teacher for?”

That was pushing it, honestly. This guy could be a multigenerational elder angel, and she was talking to him like he was another one of our classmates.

“Harmony, maybe we should…” I stop when I notice her eyes narrowing.

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“Cherish,” she says slowly, “...his wings.”

I blink, confused, but then I see it. Most professors had wings streaked with gold, a mark of their rank. But Ace’s wings were hidden—barely a shimmer of heat in the air. Something about that didn’t sit right with me.

Every teacher we’d met had wings on full display, a show of their celestial status. But Ace... he wasn’t showing us anything. And that jacket—it didn’t match the academy's formal attire either.

My gut twisted. Why did we assume he was a teacher? Just because Noble had mentioned a guest lecturer.

As if he knew where my attention was focused, Ace unzips his jacket, the slow, deliberate motion as calculated as the grin playing on his lips. My breath catches in my throat as the leather peels back, revealing a chest too perfect, too sculpted. It’s not just a casual move—it’s a challenge, one that makes my pulse race for all the wrong reasons. This is him, pushing boundaries, testing me. I bite my lip, hard enough to keep my thoughts from spilling over.

Oh gods, what is wrong with me? My thoughts scatter, and the heat in my body is no longer just from embarrassment. I bite my lip, trying to keep it together, but when his gaze lands on me again, my mind screams at me: Bite him.

Ace catches the look on my face and smirks, the tip of his tongue brushing a sharp canine as he clicks in amusement. "Is something wrong?" His voice is dripping with mockery, but the intensity behind his words sends a shiver down my spine.

A loud sharp whistle sounds through the air and grows louder so quickly that I don’t have time to react before a loud thump in front of me takes all our attention. Professor Noble crouches on the ground, his wings spread around him in the textbook example of the landing he taught us last week. He stands, adjusting a pair of thin glasses on his nose. Angels don’t need glasses, but I suppose it helps the professor vibe, which Ace has none of, now that I can see them side by side. 

His wings spread wide, gleaming in the sunlight, while his presence carries an authority that wraps around us like a protective shield.

“Ace,” Noble’s voice is steady, but there’s no mistaking the hard edge beneath it. “What, may I ask, are you doing with my students?”

Ace steps back casually, that same smug grin still plastered on his face. “Teaching them, of course.”

“I don’t believe you were assigned to this class.” Noble’s gaze sharpens, his wings flaring slightly as he moves to position himself between us and Ace. The message is clear—Ace is not supposed to be here, and Noble isn’t going to let him get any closer.

Ace’s grin doesn’t falter. “I was just testing them. Your students were doing quite well.”

“He wanted the bow,” I say suddenly, as clarity washes through my brain. This artefact, one of the original Cupid’s bows, can only be physically passed into another’s possession by handing it to them. Otherwise, the bow returns to the academy if the current holder moves a certain distance away—a necessary safeguard for one of the few remaining angelic artefacts. “He asked me to hand him the bow.”

That doesn’t earn me a glance from Noble, but I don’t care. I prefer that he keeps his eyes on Ace, the hot, manipulative demon who watches us with an amused grin.

“Indeed. Perhaps you’ve uncovered the reason for his being here.”

“Not at all,” Ace grins widely, seemingly unaffected by the three-against-one dynamic on the rooftop. “Perhaps I simply wanted to test your current batch of angelic potentials.”

“You will keep your hands off them,” Noble states.

I have to look down. The blush at the thought of Ace getting his hands on me has spread rapidly and now centres as a warm throb in my body. A quick glance at Ace confirms my worst fear—he’s staring right at me, that damned tongue licking his canine tooth again. I honestly don’t know which of them I want in me more at this moment.

Oh my gods, what is wrong with me? Just one minute around this demon, and I can’t control my own mind or body anymore. I flap my wingtips gently, trying to give an air of boredom or concern about the demon, not looking like I’m fanning the heat from my face. I don’t know if it’s working.

Professor Noble glares at the demon. “Ace, is this accusation about the bow true?”

Ace turns his cheeky grin to the professor. “Do you truly believe I would do that?”

“Yes,” Noble states, with no amusement in his voice. “But why—that is the question.”

Ace lifts his arms above his head, stretching them with a satisfied grunt. Both the action and sound renew the blush I’d almost banished from my face. His movement pulls the jacket aside, and any attempt by the fabric to cover Ace’s abs and chest is ruined—just like me. I turn away, unable to look away otherwise, and my eyes land on the Cupid bow. 

Focus, Cherish.I take a deep breath, struggling to tune out the deep voices behind me. I focus on the bow, the familiar curve of the wood, the shine of the string in the sunlight. 

Another deep breath. Focus on the unmistakable sound coming from the bow, the high-pitched, nearly impossible-to-hear singing of the string as the wind moves across it. 

Focus. I see the translucent, not-yet-there arrow that exists only in potential at this moment. It waits for an angel to hold the bow in perfect position before manifesting—a skill that can take angels eons to achieve, yet for me, a skill that came very easily, almost without thought.

My mind zeroes in on the bow. The bow would be useless to a demon. They could take it as a trophy, perhaps, or ruin it to hinder the angelic forces, but they couldn’t use it for its intended purpose. My feet carry me to the bow, and I lace one arm through it. The top of the bow rests against my wing, a comfort. With the sensitivity of my wings, I’ll know if Ace tries to take the bow from my hands.

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I spin quickly, a single thought flashing through my mind: Protect the bow. My free elbow swings upward at the perfect angle to connect with Ace’s jaw—at least, it would have if he weren’t still standing on the other side of the rooftop with Professor Noble. My eyes refocus on Harmony standing before me, too late to stop the elbow from connecting with her face. She stumbles back, the force of my blow rippling through her. The movement draws the attention of both men, and Noble skims across the rooftop in a rush, reaching Harmony before she hits the concrete. He catches her under her arms before her head can hit the ground and stands her back up, looking between the two of us in shock. Harmony cradles her chin where a red mark has already formed and stares at me in equal confusion.

“I'm sorry," I blurt. "I thought you were him.” I point at the demon—or rather, the place where he’d been standing moments ago. I push past Noble and Harmony and look over the edge of the roof to see Ace tumbling towards the ground. He turns in the air gracefully, shooting me a grin before large wings spread from his back, swooping him upward on the wind. He veers away from my building and dashes between others easily. I follow his path as long as I can before losing track of him between buildings. Those wings. I stare at the spot where I lost sight of him. I had so resigned myself to the thought of him being a demon that the sight of his wings shocks me—not the leathery bat-like wings of a demon spawn, but the large browny-white wings of an angel trainee, just like me.