Semi fallen, p.4
Semi-Fallen, page 4
She frowned and started signing so furiously he almost couldn’t follow. Haven told me about you years ago. She said you’d been looking for a Nephilim for decades before you were locked away in the hell dimension. I’m only twenty-eight. I can’t possibly be the same Nephilim you were looking for.
Well, at least she wasn’t debating her status as a Nephilim. The logistics of this whole mess were a lot less complicated than the facts. “You’re twenty-eight in human years in this dimension. I would imagine your mother—or father—hopped between many, many dimensions to keep you safe. You’re much older than you look, Lane. Hundreds of human years older.”
He could practically hear her thoughts. That’s how hard she was thinking. “You know in your heart it’s true,” he told her gently. “You’ve always felt different. More powerful. Smarter. Stronger. Like you don’t belong here, yes?”
Her gaze shot to his, and if looks could kill, he’d be taking his last breath very shortly.
He watched her graceful hands signing furiously, I do belong here. I have family, friends, a job, purpose.
Lucien had touched a nerve, it would seem. He gave her a short bow. “My apologies. I did not mean to offend you. I’m only suggesting that you look into your heart to discern the truth of my words. You are Nephilim, Lane. And I think you know it.”
Some of the fire died down in her eyes, and her shoulders relaxed again. So…does that mean you’re going to try to kill me now?
It tickled him endlessly that there was no fear in her eyes when she signed that question. And that she’d asked him if he’d try to kill her. As if to imply the task wouldn’t be as easy as he might think.
He thought about her question for a moment. Long enough for her to fall subtly into a fighting stance. Lane Hunter was ready to face death, but she’d do it swinging. Ultimately, that—her fire, her passion, her will to live—was what made his decision for him.
“No,” he answered. “I’m not. But…there will be others.”
And it wasn’t until that moment, watching her accept the truth of his words, that he realized he’d fight every one of his brothers and sisters to keep her safe.
Every. One. Of. Them.
God help them all.
CHAPTER 7
Lane sat down in the soft, warm sand.
She’d never been in a more calming, soothing place than this. The gentle caress of the salty breeze on her skin, the sparkle of the moonlight dancing across the water, the vibration of the waves hitting the shore that she could feel in her bones…it was more restorative than any meditation or yoga she’d ever done.
And still her nerves were strung tighter than a bow.
She had so many questions. She’d always had so many questions about who she was, where she’d come from, who her birth parents were. And sitting next to her on this quiet stretch of Hawaiian beach, quietly watching the waves lapping at the shore, was maybe the only person on this planet, or any other, who could give her actual answers.
It was so damn overwhelming she was having trouble thinking clearly.
Lucien glanced over at her, one side of his mouth quirked up in a half smile. “I can tell that you have questions. Go ahead and ask. I can’t provide all the answers you seek, but I’ll give you what I can.”
The thought of him giving her what he could made her inappropriately tingly for a second or two as her mind drifted firmly into the gutter. It had been a long, long time since any man had given her anything worthwhile. Like orgasms, for example. She’d been giving herself what she needed for years now, and it was always adequate.
Something told her that Lucien-provided orgasms would be way better than adequate.
But that so wasn’t the point now.
Seriously, though…what about sex? Was it forbidden to have sex with humans, or was it only forbidden to have babies with humans?
But that wasn’t the point, either!
Lane forced her mind out of the red-light district and moved on to more pressing matters. Who do you think will come after me if you don’t kill me?
Lucien shrugged. “Whoever is next up on the list to take my place when I fail. I have no idea how those things are decided. And I’ve never failed before, so it’s never been an issue.”
She swallowed hard. How many like me have you killed?
He met her gaze unflinchingly. “Eight hundred and twelve.”
Well, that was specific. She’s expected a round number or a ballpark figure. You remember them all?
“Every single one.”
She didn’t need to be able to hear to know he wasn’t proud of his kill count. The tense set of his shoulders and the muscle that jumped in his jaw told her that much. He took no pleasure in killing.
Why’d you do it?
He glanced back at the water for a long moment, and Lane thought he might not answer. She wondered if maybe she’d somehow offended him. She hoped not. After all, he was doing her a solid by not killing her. The least she could do was not piss him off.
Still glancing out at the water, he signed, When soldiers here don’t follow orders, people die. It’s the same principle for soldiers of Heaven, but on a much grander scale. The structure of entire worlds depends on Heaven running as it should.
She laid a hand on his arm until he glanced back at her. She tried—and failed—to ignore the tingle that shot up her arm as her fingertips met the warm skin of his thick forearm. Am I a danger to this world?
His gaze fell to her mouth, and she felt the weight of his eyes on her as surely as if he’d touched her. “I don’t think so,” he said. “If you meant to destroy this place, I have no doubt you could. But I sense no violence in you.”
Is that why you won’t kill me? What makes me different than the other eight hundred and twelve?
His brow furrowed as his gaze moved from her hands back up to her eyes. “I can’t answer either of those questions. Maybe you aren’t different. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m different now. All I know is that when I had the opportunity to kill you, I couldn’t. It would’ve been…wrong. I felt like I would’ve been…”
Killing a part of yourself.
He frowned. “Yes.”
She brushed a bit of sand off her pajama pants before signing, That’s how I knew you were watching me, even when I couldn’t see you. I felt like there was something familiar about you. Something like…maybe we knew each other on some level.
What he said next must have been barely a whisper, maybe a murmur, because she could barely see his lips move. But she would’ve sworn he said, “Perhaps we do, sweetling. Perhaps we do.”
The warmth she felt at his endearment quickly faded as an ugly thought occurred to her. What will happen to you if you defy your orders?
His crooked smile did naughty, naughty things to her train of thought. “Are you worried about me?”
Haven would probably toss out a witty, light-hearted reply. Something coy and adorable and pithy. But Lane wasn’t feeling particularly light-hearted at the thought of something bad happening to Lucien. And she couldn’t imagine that Heaven was forgiving when their foot soldiers went AWOL. So, all she could do was swallow hard and nod, because she was very worried about him for some reason.
His expression softened and she nearly forgot how to breathe when he cupped her jaw in one hand and let his thumb gently sweep over her cheekbone. “Good,” he said. “I think I like the idea of you worrying about me.”
Oh, boy. Why did she suddenly get the feeling she was in way over her head with this man?
CHAPTER 8
So…what now?
It was a good question. Lucien wished he had an answer for her. But he—they—were on untried ground. All he could do was shrug and tell her, “All I know is that others will come for you…and that I’ll do my best to stand between you and them. But I wasn’t made as a protector.” All he’d ever known was how to destroy. Ruin. Devastate. “This is all new to me.”
She nodded, those ancient eyes of hers looking more serene than they had any right to, given the circumstances. “My family,” she signed. “They’re protectors. They can help.”
Lucien couldn’t help but smile ruefully at that. “I believe their idea of protecting you is to kill me on sight.”
Her adorable little nose wrinkled. In all fairness, you did stalk me and watch me sleep like a creeper.
Touché. “I suppose I did.”
That’s not important. I won’t let them kill you. But they have more experience fighting supernatural creatures and protecting humans than anyone on this planet. If they can’t help, no one can.
Lucien rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He wasn’t exactly anxious to run into Lane’s family and friends a second time. The first had nearly gotten him killed. But at this point, he didn’t have a choice. Others would come for her, and he wasn’t sure he could protect her alone. He needed all the help he could get.
Before he could agree, she surprised him by signing, Can I see your wings?
He lifted a brow at the bold question. “And if I show you? Do I get something in return?”
The blush that stole across her delicate cheekbones was very interesting indeed. Exactly where had her mind taken that question? And more importantly, why was he so interested in knowing?
But she composed herself quickly and shrugged. I’m an open book, she signed. What could I give you or tell you that you don’t already know, or show you that you haven’t already seen?
Well, that was a loaded question. One he really shouldn’t answer. So instead, he unfurled his wings and let her have a look.
Her eyes widened as her gaze traveled the length of his wings. He knew they weren’t what she’d been expecting. The human media in this dimension seemed to think angel wings were feathered like bird wings. They weren’t. They were more like beams of energy that glowed with colors similar to the owner’s aura. Lucien’s wings were a multicolored mix of red, orange, green, and blue.
So pretty, she signed.
He would’ve scoffed at such a notion if anyone else had said it. Pretty. A soldier of Heaven’s wings weren’t pretty. They were powerful. Majestic, even. A badge of honor.
But for some reason, having this particular person look on him with such awe was…nice.
His breath caught in his throat as she reached out and trailed her fingertips ever so lightly over the tip of his wing. It felt far better than it should. More intimate, too.
He cleared his throat and with a snap, tucked his wings away, then offered her his hand. “Shall we go back now?”
She paused before taking his hand to sign, When we get there, dodge the flying knives.
He gave her a questioning look, to which she rolled her eyes. Just trust me. There will be at least three of them.
Lucien blew out a harsh breath. Great. Knives wouldn’t kill him, of course. But they did hurt like a son of a bitch. “Fine,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s talk to your family again.”
He tried to ignore the tingle of electricity that arched between her skin and his. That had to be the result of his angelic grace recognizing hers. What other reason could there be for such a thing to exist?
Besides, he needed to focus if he was going to keep from being captured during his second visit with Lane’s family.
This time, he’d be ready for whatever they threw at him.
He was not, in fact, ready for whatever they threw at him.
First of all, Lucien had never seen knives fly so fast as when he appeared back in Lane’s room with her in tow. She’d intelligently dropped to the floor the second they arrived, so she was safe. He, on the other hand…
There were now three knives in his chest.
He’d dodged a handful of others, plus a crossbow bolt from Harper, but those three knives struck true before he could evade them. Riddick, Seven, and the small halfer (a vampire/wererat combo) named Benny were the lucky winners of the “stab an angel in the heart” game today.
Lane had let out the tiniest of whispers to get everyone’s attention (and to stop her mother and father from ripping his head off), then had scrambled off the floor to put herself between him and the semi-humans who wanted him dead.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. In one respect, he was grateful. Her mother was frightening when she was angry, and Mischa was good and pissed at him. Malevolence was rolling off her in waves. Lucien could’ve handled her, but not easily, and not without damaging her. And he didn’t want to do that.
But the thought of Lane potentially getting hurt because she was trying to protect him was humbling. Terrifying, too. He’d accumulated many, many regrets over the course of his long life, but somehow he knew that Lane being hurt—or worse—because of him was something from which he’d never recover.
“Get out of the way, sweetheart,” Hunter said to Lane, then lifted his hands, preparing to grab Lucien in another magical chokehold so that his friends could do…whatever it was they did. Torture, maim and behead if he remembered correctly. It was all part of the potential agenda.
Harper raised her crossbow, aiming it over Lane’s head. Lucien had no doubt she could hit him. Lane was brave to stand in front of him, but she was so much shorter than him that she wasn’t much of a shield.
And while Harper had him in her sights, Riddick, Seven, and Benny slowly circled, effectively surrounding him where he stood.
I’m not moving, Lane signed to her father. He’s not here to hurt me. I won’t let you hurt him. Besides, we need him for what’s coming.
Lucien made the mistake of laying his hands on Lane’s shoulders at that moment. He wasn’t sure why he did it. He imagined it was to silently convey his gratitude for her willingness to not only believe and defend him, but also to trust him with her safety.
Her mother, however, felt no such gratitude. With a snarl, she charged, and it was only the arm Gabriel slung around her waist that held her back. “What’s coming?” he asked calmly, as if he wasn’t struggling to contain a vampire who could probably destroy him where he stood.
Lane had obviously read the question on Gabriel’s lips, because she glanced back at Lucien for an answer. He wished he had one that wasn’t terrifying.
“The wrath of Heaven.”
That seemed to give them pause. Everyone but the halfer, that is, who said, “Is that a metaphor? Shit, I hope that’s a metaphor.”
“I wish it was,” Lucien answered.
More silence ensued while everyone digested that bit of gloom and doom before Benny swallowed audibly and muttered, “Well…shit.”
Shit, indeed.
CHAPTER 9
Harper sat at the head of a long conference room table in Section 8’s war room, rubbing her temples. “So…Lane is an ancient Nephilim, you were sent here on a mission to kill her, but you don’t want to, so now others will come and try to kill her?”
Lane nodded. Leave it to Harper to cut through all the bullshit and lay everything out so succinctly.
“That’s about it,” Lucien said.
All around her, Lane saw lips moving, but none speaking out clearly. They were murmuring—either to each other, or to themselves. She didn’t blame them. This was a lot to take in.
But she wasn’t entirely comfortable with this situation, either. Being excluded sucked ass. It made her feel…vulnerable. And she hated feeling vulnerable.
Her mom and dad, Gabriel, Riddick, Harper, Haven, Tina, Seven, Seven’s husband Lucas, dhampyres Nikolai and Quinn, Benny…they were all here.
These people had been in her corner, caring for her, loving her, accepting her for exactly who and what she was for as long as she could remember. She adored each and every one of them, and they adored her.
But until now, they’d never truly known just how freakish she was. She was a heavenly abomination, for God’s sake. Or…for someone’s sake. She wasn’t sure whose.
Now she knew why Harper was rubbing her temples. This whole mess really was headache inducing and as confusing as the time travel logistics in The Terminator franchise.
Her father leaned forward in his seat and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Why should we believe anything this angel has to say?”
His lips twisted around the word angel like most peoples’ did when they spoke of ticks, bedbugs, and herpes. Clearly, he was not impressed with Lucien’s resume as a soldier of Heaven.
She glanced over at Lucien who had the decency to answer out loud and in sign language for her benefit, since he was holding her father’s cold gaze. “If I wanted to kill her, she’d be dead. Believe me or not, but I have no reason to lie to you. Either way, it won’t end with me. Others will come to destroy her.”
Her mother’s already hard expression got even harder, colder. “And we’ll kill anyone who tries.”
Lucien looked down at Lane, his mouth set in a firm line, something akin to pity in his eyes. Then he met Mischa’s eyes before signing, “You’d try. And you’d fail. All of you together could barely contain me, and I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s right. I’ve seen what happens when this guy wants to hurt people.”
Riddick raised a brow at him. “Or maybe you and your demon friends just aren’t all that tough.”
Gabriel gave him a smile that was little more than a feral baring of teeth. “Sounds like a challenge, old man.”
“Any time, any place.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Look, if I’m willing to stipulate that I think you’re both very manly, can you agree to not whip out your dicks to see whose is the biggest? Seriously, we have issues at hand!”
Benny and Seven snorted in stereo while Gabriel and Riddick mumbled apologies, but continued to stare at each other in a way that made Lane sure they were going to at least arm wrestle later to prove who was the strongest.
Section 8 men could be so predictable.
Quinn cracked his knuckles. “So, you gonna teach us how to kill angels, then, flyboy?”
Well, at least she wasn’t debating her status as a Nephilim. The logistics of this whole mess were a lot less complicated than the facts. “You’re twenty-eight in human years in this dimension. I would imagine your mother—or father—hopped between many, many dimensions to keep you safe. You’re much older than you look, Lane. Hundreds of human years older.”
He could practically hear her thoughts. That’s how hard she was thinking. “You know in your heart it’s true,” he told her gently. “You’ve always felt different. More powerful. Smarter. Stronger. Like you don’t belong here, yes?”
Her gaze shot to his, and if looks could kill, he’d be taking his last breath very shortly.
He watched her graceful hands signing furiously, I do belong here. I have family, friends, a job, purpose.
Lucien had touched a nerve, it would seem. He gave her a short bow. “My apologies. I did not mean to offend you. I’m only suggesting that you look into your heart to discern the truth of my words. You are Nephilim, Lane. And I think you know it.”
Some of the fire died down in her eyes, and her shoulders relaxed again. So…does that mean you’re going to try to kill me now?
It tickled him endlessly that there was no fear in her eyes when she signed that question. And that she’d asked him if he’d try to kill her. As if to imply the task wouldn’t be as easy as he might think.
He thought about her question for a moment. Long enough for her to fall subtly into a fighting stance. Lane Hunter was ready to face death, but she’d do it swinging. Ultimately, that—her fire, her passion, her will to live—was what made his decision for him.
“No,” he answered. “I’m not. But…there will be others.”
And it wasn’t until that moment, watching her accept the truth of his words, that he realized he’d fight every one of his brothers and sisters to keep her safe.
Every. One. Of. Them.
God help them all.
CHAPTER 7
Lane sat down in the soft, warm sand.
She’d never been in a more calming, soothing place than this. The gentle caress of the salty breeze on her skin, the sparkle of the moonlight dancing across the water, the vibration of the waves hitting the shore that she could feel in her bones…it was more restorative than any meditation or yoga she’d ever done.
And still her nerves were strung tighter than a bow.
She had so many questions. She’d always had so many questions about who she was, where she’d come from, who her birth parents were. And sitting next to her on this quiet stretch of Hawaiian beach, quietly watching the waves lapping at the shore, was maybe the only person on this planet, or any other, who could give her actual answers.
It was so damn overwhelming she was having trouble thinking clearly.
Lucien glanced over at her, one side of his mouth quirked up in a half smile. “I can tell that you have questions. Go ahead and ask. I can’t provide all the answers you seek, but I’ll give you what I can.”
The thought of him giving her what he could made her inappropriately tingly for a second or two as her mind drifted firmly into the gutter. It had been a long, long time since any man had given her anything worthwhile. Like orgasms, for example. She’d been giving herself what she needed for years now, and it was always adequate.
Something told her that Lucien-provided orgasms would be way better than adequate.
But that so wasn’t the point now.
Seriously, though…what about sex? Was it forbidden to have sex with humans, or was it only forbidden to have babies with humans?
But that wasn’t the point, either!
Lane forced her mind out of the red-light district and moved on to more pressing matters. Who do you think will come after me if you don’t kill me?
Lucien shrugged. “Whoever is next up on the list to take my place when I fail. I have no idea how those things are decided. And I’ve never failed before, so it’s never been an issue.”
She swallowed hard. How many like me have you killed?
He met her gaze unflinchingly. “Eight hundred and twelve.”
Well, that was specific. She’s expected a round number or a ballpark figure. You remember them all?
“Every single one.”
She didn’t need to be able to hear to know he wasn’t proud of his kill count. The tense set of his shoulders and the muscle that jumped in his jaw told her that much. He took no pleasure in killing.
Why’d you do it?
He glanced back at the water for a long moment, and Lane thought he might not answer. She wondered if maybe she’d somehow offended him. She hoped not. After all, he was doing her a solid by not killing her. The least she could do was not piss him off.
Still glancing out at the water, he signed, When soldiers here don’t follow orders, people die. It’s the same principle for soldiers of Heaven, but on a much grander scale. The structure of entire worlds depends on Heaven running as it should.
She laid a hand on his arm until he glanced back at her. She tried—and failed—to ignore the tingle that shot up her arm as her fingertips met the warm skin of his thick forearm. Am I a danger to this world?
His gaze fell to her mouth, and she felt the weight of his eyes on her as surely as if he’d touched her. “I don’t think so,” he said. “If you meant to destroy this place, I have no doubt you could. But I sense no violence in you.”
Is that why you won’t kill me? What makes me different than the other eight hundred and twelve?
His brow furrowed as his gaze moved from her hands back up to her eyes. “I can’t answer either of those questions. Maybe you aren’t different. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m different now. All I know is that when I had the opportunity to kill you, I couldn’t. It would’ve been…wrong. I felt like I would’ve been…”
Killing a part of yourself.
He frowned. “Yes.”
She brushed a bit of sand off her pajama pants before signing, That’s how I knew you were watching me, even when I couldn’t see you. I felt like there was something familiar about you. Something like…maybe we knew each other on some level.
What he said next must have been barely a whisper, maybe a murmur, because she could barely see his lips move. But she would’ve sworn he said, “Perhaps we do, sweetling. Perhaps we do.”
The warmth she felt at his endearment quickly faded as an ugly thought occurred to her. What will happen to you if you defy your orders?
His crooked smile did naughty, naughty things to her train of thought. “Are you worried about me?”
Haven would probably toss out a witty, light-hearted reply. Something coy and adorable and pithy. But Lane wasn’t feeling particularly light-hearted at the thought of something bad happening to Lucien. And she couldn’t imagine that Heaven was forgiving when their foot soldiers went AWOL. So, all she could do was swallow hard and nod, because she was very worried about him for some reason.
His expression softened and she nearly forgot how to breathe when he cupped her jaw in one hand and let his thumb gently sweep over her cheekbone. “Good,” he said. “I think I like the idea of you worrying about me.”
Oh, boy. Why did she suddenly get the feeling she was in way over her head with this man?
CHAPTER 8
So…what now?
It was a good question. Lucien wished he had an answer for her. But he—they—were on untried ground. All he could do was shrug and tell her, “All I know is that others will come for you…and that I’ll do my best to stand between you and them. But I wasn’t made as a protector.” All he’d ever known was how to destroy. Ruin. Devastate. “This is all new to me.”
She nodded, those ancient eyes of hers looking more serene than they had any right to, given the circumstances. “My family,” she signed. “They’re protectors. They can help.”
Lucien couldn’t help but smile ruefully at that. “I believe their idea of protecting you is to kill me on sight.”
Her adorable little nose wrinkled. In all fairness, you did stalk me and watch me sleep like a creeper.
Touché. “I suppose I did.”
That’s not important. I won’t let them kill you. But they have more experience fighting supernatural creatures and protecting humans than anyone on this planet. If they can’t help, no one can.
Lucien rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He wasn’t exactly anxious to run into Lane’s family and friends a second time. The first had nearly gotten him killed. But at this point, he didn’t have a choice. Others would come for her, and he wasn’t sure he could protect her alone. He needed all the help he could get.
Before he could agree, she surprised him by signing, Can I see your wings?
He lifted a brow at the bold question. “And if I show you? Do I get something in return?”
The blush that stole across her delicate cheekbones was very interesting indeed. Exactly where had her mind taken that question? And more importantly, why was he so interested in knowing?
But she composed herself quickly and shrugged. I’m an open book, she signed. What could I give you or tell you that you don’t already know, or show you that you haven’t already seen?
Well, that was a loaded question. One he really shouldn’t answer. So instead, he unfurled his wings and let her have a look.
Her eyes widened as her gaze traveled the length of his wings. He knew they weren’t what she’d been expecting. The human media in this dimension seemed to think angel wings were feathered like bird wings. They weren’t. They were more like beams of energy that glowed with colors similar to the owner’s aura. Lucien’s wings were a multicolored mix of red, orange, green, and blue.
So pretty, she signed.
He would’ve scoffed at such a notion if anyone else had said it. Pretty. A soldier of Heaven’s wings weren’t pretty. They were powerful. Majestic, even. A badge of honor.
But for some reason, having this particular person look on him with such awe was…nice.
His breath caught in his throat as she reached out and trailed her fingertips ever so lightly over the tip of his wing. It felt far better than it should. More intimate, too.
He cleared his throat and with a snap, tucked his wings away, then offered her his hand. “Shall we go back now?”
She paused before taking his hand to sign, When we get there, dodge the flying knives.
He gave her a questioning look, to which she rolled her eyes. Just trust me. There will be at least three of them.
Lucien blew out a harsh breath. Great. Knives wouldn’t kill him, of course. But they did hurt like a son of a bitch. “Fine,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s talk to your family again.”
He tried to ignore the tingle of electricity that arched between her skin and his. That had to be the result of his angelic grace recognizing hers. What other reason could there be for such a thing to exist?
Besides, he needed to focus if he was going to keep from being captured during his second visit with Lane’s family.
This time, he’d be ready for whatever they threw at him.
He was not, in fact, ready for whatever they threw at him.
First of all, Lucien had never seen knives fly so fast as when he appeared back in Lane’s room with her in tow. She’d intelligently dropped to the floor the second they arrived, so she was safe. He, on the other hand…
There were now three knives in his chest.
He’d dodged a handful of others, plus a crossbow bolt from Harper, but those three knives struck true before he could evade them. Riddick, Seven, and the small halfer (a vampire/wererat combo) named Benny were the lucky winners of the “stab an angel in the heart” game today.
Lane had let out the tiniest of whispers to get everyone’s attention (and to stop her mother and father from ripping his head off), then had scrambled off the floor to put herself between him and the semi-humans who wanted him dead.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. In one respect, he was grateful. Her mother was frightening when she was angry, and Mischa was good and pissed at him. Malevolence was rolling off her in waves. Lucien could’ve handled her, but not easily, and not without damaging her. And he didn’t want to do that.
But the thought of Lane potentially getting hurt because she was trying to protect him was humbling. Terrifying, too. He’d accumulated many, many regrets over the course of his long life, but somehow he knew that Lane being hurt—or worse—because of him was something from which he’d never recover.
“Get out of the way, sweetheart,” Hunter said to Lane, then lifted his hands, preparing to grab Lucien in another magical chokehold so that his friends could do…whatever it was they did. Torture, maim and behead if he remembered correctly. It was all part of the potential agenda.
Harper raised her crossbow, aiming it over Lane’s head. Lucien had no doubt she could hit him. Lane was brave to stand in front of him, but she was so much shorter than him that she wasn’t much of a shield.
And while Harper had him in her sights, Riddick, Seven, and Benny slowly circled, effectively surrounding him where he stood.
I’m not moving, Lane signed to her father. He’s not here to hurt me. I won’t let you hurt him. Besides, we need him for what’s coming.
Lucien made the mistake of laying his hands on Lane’s shoulders at that moment. He wasn’t sure why he did it. He imagined it was to silently convey his gratitude for her willingness to not only believe and defend him, but also to trust him with her safety.
Her mother, however, felt no such gratitude. With a snarl, she charged, and it was only the arm Gabriel slung around her waist that held her back. “What’s coming?” he asked calmly, as if he wasn’t struggling to contain a vampire who could probably destroy him where he stood.
Lane had obviously read the question on Gabriel’s lips, because she glanced back at Lucien for an answer. He wished he had one that wasn’t terrifying.
“The wrath of Heaven.”
That seemed to give them pause. Everyone but the halfer, that is, who said, “Is that a metaphor? Shit, I hope that’s a metaphor.”
“I wish it was,” Lucien answered.
More silence ensued while everyone digested that bit of gloom and doom before Benny swallowed audibly and muttered, “Well…shit.”
Shit, indeed.
CHAPTER 9
Harper sat at the head of a long conference room table in Section 8’s war room, rubbing her temples. “So…Lane is an ancient Nephilim, you were sent here on a mission to kill her, but you don’t want to, so now others will come and try to kill her?”
Lane nodded. Leave it to Harper to cut through all the bullshit and lay everything out so succinctly.
“That’s about it,” Lucien said.
All around her, Lane saw lips moving, but none speaking out clearly. They were murmuring—either to each other, or to themselves. She didn’t blame them. This was a lot to take in.
But she wasn’t entirely comfortable with this situation, either. Being excluded sucked ass. It made her feel…vulnerable. And she hated feeling vulnerable.
Her mom and dad, Gabriel, Riddick, Harper, Haven, Tina, Seven, Seven’s husband Lucas, dhampyres Nikolai and Quinn, Benny…they were all here.
These people had been in her corner, caring for her, loving her, accepting her for exactly who and what she was for as long as she could remember. She adored each and every one of them, and they adored her.
But until now, they’d never truly known just how freakish she was. She was a heavenly abomination, for God’s sake. Or…for someone’s sake. She wasn’t sure whose.
Now she knew why Harper was rubbing her temples. This whole mess really was headache inducing and as confusing as the time travel logistics in The Terminator franchise.
Her father leaned forward in his seat and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Why should we believe anything this angel has to say?”
His lips twisted around the word angel like most peoples’ did when they spoke of ticks, bedbugs, and herpes. Clearly, he was not impressed with Lucien’s resume as a soldier of Heaven.
She glanced over at Lucien who had the decency to answer out loud and in sign language for her benefit, since he was holding her father’s cold gaze. “If I wanted to kill her, she’d be dead. Believe me or not, but I have no reason to lie to you. Either way, it won’t end with me. Others will come to destroy her.”
Her mother’s already hard expression got even harder, colder. “And we’ll kill anyone who tries.”
Lucien looked down at Lane, his mouth set in a firm line, something akin to pity in his eyes. Then he met Mischa’s eyes before signing, “You’d try. And you’d fail. All of you together could barely contain me, and I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s right. I’ve seen what happens when this guy wants to hurt people.”
Riddick raised a brow at him. “Or maybe you and your demon friends just aren’t all that tough.”
Gabriel gave him a smile that was little more than a feral baring of teeth. “Sounds like a challenge, old man.”
“Any time, any place.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Look, if I’m willing to stipulate that I think you’re both very manly, can you agree to not whip out your dicks to see whose is the biggest? Seriously, we have issues at hand!”
Benny and Seven snorted in stereo while Gabriel and Riddick mumbled apologies, but continued to stare at each other in a way that made Lane sure they were going to at least arm wrestle later to prove who was the strongest.
Section 8 men could be so predictable.
Quinn cracked his knuckles. “So, you gonna teach us how to kill angels, then, flyboy?”
