Unchained (Nephilim Rising 1)

But then she gazed at him again.

God, he was beautiful. She always thought he was, but she never really grasped just how beautiful he truly was. Out here, with the moonlight and the weak flicker of streetlamps, his cheekbones seemed more pronounced, his hair softer, and the indent above his upper lip more lickable.

All around them, people passed her over to stare at him. Male, female, the young and old stared at him. It was more than his looks, she quickly realized. He had this confident swagger that begged people to get out of his way.

She sighed, shaking out her shoulders. They’d been at this for four hours without a deadhead or minion in sight. Last night had been a bust, too. Other than the two deadheads and a minion who practically pissed himself the moment Julian touched him, they hadn’t made any headway. The only thing she accomplished thus far was making herself horny. “Where in the hell are they?”

He tucked his hair back, eyes scanning the crowd as they rounded the avenue. “You do this every night? Walking around until you hear a deadhead?”

“Pretty much.” She shoved her hands into her cargo pants, catching two girls in their early twenties checking out Julian and whispering. A grin played across her lips. “It’s usually busier than this, especially on a Saturday night.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.” He smiled. “Hungry?”

“Always.”

They stopped at a late-night eatery and hung out there for a little while. She made sure to pay attention to her Nephilim radar. Exchanging stories while they ate, she was amazed by how comfortable she was with him doing normal things—human things.

It was like a date—a weird, twisted date that would probably end with them killing something, but that was splitting hairs.

Afterward, when they headed back out into the musky night, she smelled rain in the air. Julian clasped her hand, and her heart exploded with ecstasy. How many times had she seen humans doing this, or Nephilim who hadn’t accepted the Contract? Too many times for her to count, and never once had she thought it would be her doing something so mundanely beautiful.

Overcome by the normalcy of holding his hand, she tugged him off the sidewalk and inside a dark parking garage.

“What?” Surprise colored his words.

Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed into him while still holding his hand. She kissed him like she’d never kissed him before. Her lips bruised from the intensity, but Julian was all about it. He swept his free arm around her, growling against her parted lips.

“You have no idea what you’ve started,” he warned in a low voice. “I will take you right here, inches from the sidewalk.”

She started to tell him that she was completely down with that, but then she heard the eerie whining of a soul…and felt the shiver that accompanied a minion. It was so close, so unmistakable, that it shocked her to immobility for a second. This was what they needed—a deadhead and the minion that had coaxed the soul into the human.

Score.

Julian’s hand squeezed hers as he tipped his head back. “They’re right up there, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” she said. She wiggled out of his embrace, pulled her hand free, and released her blades. “Really odd timing.”

“Yes.”

She knew he was thinking the same thing. There were no such things as coincidences. Together, they started toward the ramp that led upstairs. Her eyes flickered over the shadows as they passed an unmanned security booth. She had a feeling she knew where the guard was.

The awareness increased, like an invisible finger trailing down her spine. She caught Julian’s brilliant gaze and nodded.

He glided in front of her and then simply disappeared. Show off. She rolled her eyes and broke into a light-footed run. Rounding the sixth ramp, she vaulted over the cement wall and landed in a crouch.

And she found the guard.

He stood beside a Mercedes, staring down at his dark uniform. A funny smile twisted his lips as he tugged on the material. The first thing a deadhead did when it came to was check out its clothes. It cracked her up. She laughed.

The deadhead jerked in her direction. He tipped his head to the side. “Nephilim.”

Straightening, she wiggled her fingers. “Hello. Nice night, huh? Mind telling me where your buddy is? I really don’t feel like looking for him.”

Actually, that was what Julian was doing. Popping in and out, tracking down the minion. It was still here; the tingling at the base of her neck told her so.

The security guard rushed her, and the adrenaline of the battle swept through her. Almost as good as sex, but not quite. She planted her booted foot in the deadhead’s chest, knocking him back several feet and to the ground.

The deadhead sprang up, letting out an inhuman growl. Lightning streaked across the sky. Seconds later, thunder crashed and echoed through the garage. Summer storms—Lily loved them.

When he came at her again, she spun around and grabbed him by the shoulder, preparing to deliver a deathblow. Another shiver, much more acute and potent, exploded along her nerves.

Fallen.

Several things happened next. Over the deadhead’s shoulder, the minion rushed down the lane. There was a flash of bright light, and then there was Julian, cutting the minion off with a mean clothesline. The minion hit the ground with a grunt, momentarily stunned.

Julian whirled around. “Lily!”

She dipped and kicked, taking the legs out from underneath the deadhead just as the air stirred unnaturally around her. Her heart stuttered as she leaped to her feet, twisting around.

Not even a few feet in front of her was Baal. “Hello, darling. Miss me?”

Chapter Twenty-five

Shit. That was all Lily thought before rage took over, dampening the fear. “You son of a—”

Julian shot passed her, crashing into Baal first.

Baal hit the cement beam, laughing as Julian clasped him by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Unaffected by Baal’s abilities, Julian got all kinds of hands on with him. “Is that how you greet your brethren?” Baal asked, grasping Julian’s hands. “It’s not very polite.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kill you.” Julian slammed him back. “How badly I’ve wanted to hear you scream.”

“Oh.” Baal laughed. “Is it because your little Nephilim prefers my touch over yours? I bet she does. After all, my mark will stay with her long after you’re gone.”

Julian punched him in the nose. Dark blood spurted across Baal’s seductive face. “I’m going to kill you. Slowly.” Another punch. Then another that splattered more blood. “But before you take your last breath, you will get on your knees and beg Lily for her forgiveness. Do you understand me?”

She liked the sound of this.

The deadhead growled behind her. Pissed that she had to miss Julian beating the living tar out of Baal, she spun around to shove her blade into the deadhead’s chest. But that wasn’t what happened. The minion, back on his feet, slammed into her and knocked her aim off. Her blade dug into the deadhead’s shoulder.

“Shit,” she grunted, throwing the minion off as she aimed at the deadhead again. But the damn thing dodged her blow and bit her arm—fucking bit her arm! Yelping, she pulled back. Blood smeared her arm. “Jesus! You better not have rabies.”

“He likes the way you taste,” the minion taunted. “I know what I’d like to take a taste of, and it’s not your blood.”

Lily fell back, shaking off the pain. The minion and the deadhead circled her. Distracted by her scream, Julian had lost his grip on Baal, allowing the other Fallen to get a good punch in. Julian staggered back as the two grappled. Forcing herself to focus on her own fight was hard, but she did.

“Pretty little Nephilim,” the minion cooed. Icy-blond hair fell over his eyes. “Wanna take a walk on the dark side?”

“Really?” she said. “That’s the best you have?”

The minion sneered. “You’re already whoring it out for the Fallen. Shouldn’t take much for you to spread those—”

She shot forward, twisting to the side as she planted her foot right in his face. The minion’s head snapped back. “There,” she said. “My legs were spread. You like it?”

Howling, the minion’s face contorted, mouth dropped wide and gaping as he launched at her. They needed to keep a minion alive to question, so when she dipped under him and shoved the blade into his stomach, she knew he’d be down for the count but not out.

The minion hit the floor, twitching and making tiny, squealing noises as the silver infected him. She whipped around, spotting the deadhead near the exit to a lower ramp. Taking off after him, she spared a quick glance over her shoulder.

Julian had Baal on his back, throwing punch after punch. From what she could see, barely any of Baal’s face was recognizable. Maybe they wouldn’t need the minion after all.

“Hey,” she called out. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The deadhead rounded the ramp. She picked up speed, springing over the cement riser. Hitting the deadhead on the back, they crashed into the pavement.

Quickly, Lily rolled the deadhead under her. Straddling his hips, she raised her blade. “You shouldn’t bite and run off. It’s rude.”

The deadhead snapped at her again.

“What the hell is it with you and biting?” She brought down her hand, shoving the blade into his chest this time. “Man, I better not start foaming at the mouth.”

Popping onto her feet, she hurried back to where the minion and the brawling fallen angels were. She wondered if she would have to get some kind of shot after tonight.

Julian currently had Baal in a headlock. Good for him. Blood ran like rivers down Baal’s sneering face as he was thrust to his knees. Grabbing the minion by his hair, Lily forced him to sit up. Her eyes locked with Julian’s for a moment, and he winked. Only his lip was split. Otherwise his face looked like it normally did: perfect.

“So, do we keep both of them?” she asked, bringing the sharp edge of her blade to the minion’s throat. “They can be useful.”

“That’s up to you, sweetheart.” Julian tightened his arm around Baal’s neck. “But this one isn’t leaving here.”

“Lily,” Baal grunted, “I have something to tell you.”

Every cell in her body demanded that she run over there and kick him in the junk, but she ignored him. Looking down at her captive, she pressed the blade in. “Who is the Nephilim feeding names to the Fallen?”

“What?” the minion wheezed, clutching the wound in his stomach.

“You heard me. Don’t make me ask you again.” She dug her fingers into his hair, yanking his head back. “The second time won’t be as nice.”

“Lily, look at me,” Baal commanded.

“Shut up,” Julian said.

The minion made another pitiful rasping sound. “I’d rather have…you cut off my head than go against him.”

“Who? Go against who?” she demanded.

Baal laughed. “He’s not going to tell you anything.”