I look up at Rhys and smile sheepishly. He gives me a stern look and then sits down beside me, "So?"

"I don't really know." I admit, "Some stupid sleazy paparazzi person might have seen us together. I'm sorry, are you mad about it?"

"No." Rhys shakes his head, "It's okay, I don't mind. Your mom seems quite confident that you're not in the wrong kind of company."

"Well, I'm not." I point out, "You and Avril don't really count as bad company, do you now?"

Rhys leans in and whispers in my ear, just loud enough for me to hear, "I'm a fallen angel. Does that count for anything, beautiful?" I look at him, my eyes wide, and then glance at Avril. She pretends that her latte cup is suddenly the most fascinating thing in the word. I look back at Rhys, who is still waiting for an answer.

"Er..." I say and then scramble to my feet, "I'll get you a latte." I join the queue, sighing in relief. There is no way I can answer that question. I look back apprehensively to see Rhys grinning at me. Avril has gone. I look toward the entrance just in time to spot her auburn hair flying out of Starbucks. I sigh and then realise the guy is waiting for me to order. "Sorry. I'm sorry." I apologise, "I'd, er, like one latte, please."

"One dollar, twenty five." The spotty, nerdy teen replies. I hand him the change quickly and then stride back to the table, setting the latte down in front of Rhys who is not moving his gaze from my face. It's making me uncomfortable.

"So? You didn't answer my question." Rhys raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of the hot drink.

I look at him steadily and cross my arms, "I am not going to answer the question, Rhys."

"Why not?" Rhys says. His eyes go cloudy and he looks distant, as if he's thinking of something. Then they're back to normal. I don't reply, I just stare out of the window. I jump when a voice hisses in my ear, "Why can't you answer my question, Donna? Is it hard for you? To decide whether I'm good or bad? Whether I'm a hero or a villian?"

I don't look at him, I just stare at the tale nonchalantly and try to ignore Rhys. But that's not possible. Not if he has anything to do with it. "Come on, Donna." He whispers temptingly, "Are you not going to tell me, baby?" He trails a finger down my arm, taking my hand gently in his. My heart thuds erratically and Rhys chuckles huskily as if he had heard it. I look at him. His eyes are cloudy again, with that distant look in them. "Donna, tell me. Are you scared?"

I wrench my hand from his grasp, "Stop being a jerk, Rhys. What are you doing? Please stop it."

Rhys' eyes are suddenly shiny again, without that hazy look in them and he asks, "What did I do?"

"Huh?" My eyebrows draw together, "What do you mean?"

"Did I hurt you? Did I -- I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Rhys looks concerned and nervous.

"You didn't -- What's going on?" I ask, taking his hand, my earlier annoyance forgotten.

"I just, I..." Rhys' eyes look everywhere but at me, "Can you do me a favour?" I wait for him to continue. "Don't follow me." Rhys says and then he gets up, storming out of the café. I stand and follow him anyway. No way am I letting this go. Something happened to Rhys and I want to know what that is. I'm not going to ignore it. Outside on the sidewalk, I look around frantically. I can't see Rhys anywhere. It's like he disappeared.

Then I see his dark hair bobbing up and down in the crowd. I follow it, unwilling to take my eyes off him, elbowing people sharply as I go, making them cuss at me. Us Americans -- charming! I call his name but he doesn't turn once. He swerves left into an alley. I shove a throng of people out of my way and jump into the alley.

It's empty.

I walk forward, my heart thudding and my Converse making an echo on the ground. I call, "Rhys? Rhys?" I look around, but the alley is deserted. "Rhys?" I am almost in desperate tears, "Rhys, where are you?" I continue to walk forward, beads of sweat breaking out on my forehead. My eyes scan the alley, sweeping it for any sign of human (or angel) life. None at all. My Converse clunk on the gravel as I step forward, getting more and more apprehensive by the second. Where is he? Where could he have gone? How could he have gone so quick?

The alley turns right. There's a dead end. Despite knowing there's nothing to find, I walk until I reach the red brick wall. I rest my back against it and slide down to the grount. "Rhys." I mutter, "Where have you gone?"

I burst into irrational, hot tears...

Something velvety and fluffy hugs my body, making me feel cozy and snug. I hug it around me, snuggling deeper into it. Then I realise I should be stiff. After all, I'm in the alley. My eyes fly open and for a moment, I'm disoriented. Then I recognise my surroundings. I'm in Rhys' tower. How in the world did I get here?

I sit up. The room is completely empty. I look toward the back of the room. Rhys must be upstairs. I walk over to the back of the panelling. There's no way I'll get the code thing that Rhys put in. But almost as if I've done it about a million times before, my fingers fluently slide over the panelling and before I know it, I'm creeping slowly up the staircase to Rhys' bedroom. At least, that's what I genuinely presume -- and hope -- it is.

Do fallen angels sleep?

I walk into the room and freeze, my whole body stiffening. Rhys is bent over on the floor, clutching his stomach, his back to me. I gasp, "Rhys?" Rhys turns his head to look at me. My eyes widen. Because sitting there is someone who is not Rhys. He has the same coloured hair, but his eyes are emerald coloured and his face is more elongated, Also, this is guy has the coldest expression on his face, an expression I have never seen Rhys hold.

"Who are you?" I manage to stammer, trembling. The guy gets up, snarling, and then he has suddenly got me, holding a knife to my throat, facing me towards another dark-haired figure.

Rhys.

"Rhys." I choke out, my eyes dripping with tears of extreme fear. He looks from me to the stranger.

He clenches his fists and his features twist in rage, "Let her go this instant, Elijah. Now!" He steps forward but the Elijah guy presses the knife a little harder on my neck.

"Move one more step, Rhys, and I will kill her. So this is your new human toy. Donna Jade Morrison." There's an inhaling of breath at the nape of my neck, "She smells good, too. You really should share your treats. Us angels need to look after each other."

A slimy kiss lingers on the back of my neck and I cry out desperately, "Rhys!"

Rhys growls, "Don't touch her, Elijah, or you'll regret your very existence. If you value your life, you'll let her go. Right now, Elijah."

There's a smile in Elijah's voice, "Why? The fun's just getting started, Rhys. Seeing her upset torments you far more than when I try to hurt you. Why would I let her go? I've got a good mind to take her with me. You know, to get a good game."

"Let her go, Elijah." Rhys' eyes darken perceptively and he hisses at Elijah.

Elijah chuckles, "Now, now, now, little Rhys. You behave yourself if you want your little toy here back in one piece. You know how easy it is to break them. Just one little slip of concentration and oops..." He draws the knife across my neck, just grazing my skin but not drawing any blood. I gasp; I'm the toy, I'm the one whose life is being threatened by this stranger. But why? What have I done?

Rhys looks at me, his expression torn between angst and fury. I gulp, the cold steel of the knife pressing at my neck. "Please." I whimper, "Please let me go. Please."

"Ah, look, she speaks more than one word!" Eljah's voice lifts, "And what a beautiful voice! To match a beautiful face! Am I right, Rhys?" Elijah leers at me, trailing a finger down my cheek.

Tears spring in my eyes and then there's a deep, resonant, animalistic roar. I'm shoved to the ground roughly and then Elijah and Rhys are both on top of each other. Somebody suddenly bellows in a cry of pain and blood splatters on Elijah and Rhys' tops. I scream because I don't know whether Rhys or Elijah is the one who has been hurt with the knife. One of them growls and then Rhys swipes at Elijah, connecting a punch in his gut.

Elijah throws him off and Rhys is launched into the wall. I scream again, my eyes as wide as saucers. Elijah lifts his arms and huge feathered wings appear. He drifts out of the window, leaving nothing but a couple of feathers in his destructive wake. I look at Rhys, who jumps up and goes over to the window. Then he closes it and punches his fist on the wall in rage. His top is soaked with blood. He looks down and clutches his gut suddenly, his face twisted with pain.

"Rhys!" I cry and dash over to him, wrapping myself around him, not even caring that my top is getting stained with blood. I'm just glad that he's okay; that no one is taking me away from him. I just want him to hold me forever.

He kisses the top of my head and then cups my face in his hands, "Are you okay? Donna, are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"No he didn't." I shake my head. Rhys looks relieved and then angrily presses his lips against mine, a hungry passion breaking into everything else, making me momentarily forget everything important. "You're okay." Rhys says, like he's convincing himself of it, "You're okay."

"Yeah." I nod, breathless then look down at the blood soaked shirt, "Rhys, are you hurt?"

Rhys glances down and then pulls his top up, "Yeah. It'll heal in a moment."

"Rhys, he stabbed you!" I'm hysterical, fear tainting my every thought, smothering all my senses, "We need to get you to a hospital!"

"Hey, hey, hey." Rhys says, clutching my hands, "Look at me. I'm not human, remember? Angels heal at a fast rate. Look, I'm already done healing." I look down at the wound again. There's nothing there. The skin isn't even broken. There's no sign that Rhys was ever hurt. I run my fingers over the skin and Rhys shudders pleasantly.

I glance at him, "It's gone. You're not hurt." Rhys shakes his head and then pulls me in, embracing me tightly.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. How did you get up here?"

"I did the panelling thing. I guess I must have remembered it from last time." I mumble, holding on to him as tight as I can. I don't ever want to let go. "Who was that guy? That... Elijah guy?"

"He is a rogue angel. They come sometimes, to pick fights and then fly off like the cowards they are. They're just trouble makers. But you don't worry about that." Rhys strokes my hair absentmindedly, "I am just happy you're okay. If you got hurt...."

"But I didn't." I cut in, "I'm fine and so are you."

"Yeah." Rhys says, looking down at me, "I thought I told you not to follow me."

"I don't always listen." I provide.

Rhys chuckles and holds me closer, "Twenty first century girls never do, do they?"

"Not really, no."

Later on...

"You should get back." Rhys mumbles, "Your dad is probably wondering where you are."

"I don't want to go." I say, tightening my hold on his waist. We're curled up on a sofa downstairs. My top has crusted stains of blood on it and I'm wearing one of Rhys' jackets over it so Dad doesn't see when I do go.

"Yes, I know, but it's nearly ten 'o' clock, and you've been out since eleven am. He's going to be worried."

"Okay." I say reluctantly, sitting up straight. Rhys smiles at me and then leans in to give me a gentle, reassuring kiss.

He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, "I'll see you at school, Donna."

"School?" I whine, "Can't I come back during the night, Rhys?"

"You haven't had any sleep for two days. You need rest. We'll meet in school." Rhys is firm on his decision.

"Please?" I attach myself to him, climbing into his lap and curling my arms around his neck, pressing my face into the crevice between his head and his shoulder.

Rhys laughs, "Will you stop trying to tempt me? We'll meet tomorrow, I promise. You need sleep."

I press my lips against his and then lay my head in his lap and drift off to sleep...