Nathalia reached up to touch the hollow of her neck. She couldn’t physically feel it, but Eiran’s birthmark was there. Red and glowing, it enabled her to not only see the thread of life in each of Ki’s creatures, but also to slice through the lifeline. She could end any living thing—mortal or immortal—and the being’s life force would pool there in the piece of petrified Gregori blood that had settled between her clavicles. She closed her eyes and felt the life that was Eitan—the only one she’d killed using her newfound ability. His prana was hers now, and it made her stronger, fiercer, and more bloodthirsty. She knew there were many Akhkharu that would need culling, but she did not want to be the one to do it. She wished again, for the hundredth time, that the DakuAhu had not been shattered. Better the tainted lives of the Nephilim’s betrayers gather in it than in her.
The sun must have come from behind some clouds, because the light filtering through her eyelids brightened. No, the light was coming from the side of her face that lay against Eiran. Nathalia sat up. Eiran, you’re shining. And I think you’re bigger.
Eiran stood, bringing Nathalia with him in one movement, his eyes on the horizon. We are under attack. His right hand slowly reformed into a short sword as he gathered the metals in his body and focused them there. A Nephilim was never without a weapon; they had complete control over every cell in their bodies. What does Ki say to you?
As a confirmed Sinnis, Nathalia could hear Ki more directly than Nephilim. Ki answered her call, yet she would only answer a group of Nephilim if they prayed in unison. That they are her children too. She does not want us to kill today. But Ki never wanted them to kill, even when it was obviously the right thing to do.
Eiran’s voice startled Nathalia. “Then you had better put away your weapon. Any cut you make will be a mortal one.” The birthmark he’d given her attracted lifelines to the surface, meaning any tear she made in a being’s body would be a slice in their soul.
Nathalia looked down at her hand. It had taken sword shape without any thought. Eitan, inside her, called for violence and death. With effort, she retracted the metal and restored her modified hand back to its natural form. She flexed the fist and looked out over the grounds. Several groups of men—military by the look of their moving formations—advanced on the main building. They were focused and determined, and it seemed they knew where to go to get what they were looking for.
Nathalia and Eiran had to get to Maeve and Genevieve. Harith Samsiel Maru, “He who is for the One,” was no doubt with them, but all Nephilim had sworn to protect the tiny baby until the time she was grown, converted, and capable of defending herself. Eiran wrapped his arms around Nathalia and began the process of breaking down their molecules. As he tabalu’d them, time froze.
Christy stood in the sacred fig grove with the children around her. Christy wasn’t a Daughter. Maeve and Aaron had saved her from gang rape, and she had moved into the compound to be safe from her abusive ex. Christy was young—a lot younger than they had suspected at first—but at seventeen, she was the perfect age for babysitting. She had taken to keeping the younger children during the day as a way to feel like she was paying her own way. She had gathered them to play in the shade of the grove during the heat of the day. As the military men passed near her, one pointed a gun at her. Christy shouted something and put up her hand. A shimmery transparent dome appeared around her and the children. The man stopped to examine it. He put one hand against it and pushed, but it didn’t give. It was a shield of sorts. The group’s leader barked at the straggling man, and he ran to join them. Nathalia had a fraction of a second to wonder what sort of magic it was before she was tabalu’d away to do her duty to the One.
THE ARMS that reached out and grabbed Israel were like tree trunks. He cried out before a beefy hand clapped over his mouth. He struggled, but it barely registered to the thing holding him. The fingers covering his face had a slight glow. Israel would have thought he was going to die, except he recognized the caress of the other hand. While clamping his arms to his sides, the grip was as gentle as it was firm.
He stopped squirming when Camilla stepped into view. She stuck her head out the door Israel had just been pulled back through. The arms holding him disappeared, and Nanae flashed around and put himself between Camilla and the opening. The light-colored cloak he was wearing fluttered and settled around him, covering everything from neck to feet. He stood with his back to them, looking out into the sanctuary.
“You scared the shit out of me, Nanae. I thought you were one of them.”
Nanae didn’t turn, vigilantly looking for other wanderers. “You saw one? Tell me what it looked like.”
Camilla was shaking, and Israel took her into his arms, hugging her close. She was silent, as usual. With her face buried in his chest, her tiny baby bump pushed into his hip. She adjusted herself to fit more comfortably in his embrace but not before he felt it. She was further along than she should be. Maybe the baby wasn’t his after all. Oh, well, it was his baby. He didn’t care who the biological father was. He rested his chin on the top of her head.
“They’re just men.”
“Do they shy from the light? Are they…biting?”
“No, not at all. They ran right into the courtyard with the children. They’re using guns.” Camilla gasped, and Israel paused to address her concern. “The guns are shooting some type of dart. The kids are safe. They don’t seem affected by the darts. I saw a little girl get hit with one when she tried to get between the intruders and a Guardian, but she didn’t go down. The Guardian did though.”
Nanae turned at that. He stared a hole through Israel. “They are taking down Nephilim? I must get my hands on one of those darts. We need to know what this is.”
Camilla spoke then. “Absolutely not. You stay with us.” She stomped her foot. Nanae and Izzy smiled at each other. It was so cute when she tried to be stern.
“What’s going on with your skin, man? You know you’re glowing, right?”
Nanae’s expression changed from jovial to serious like he was on a switch. He nodded. “We are under attack. It brings my true form to the surface. I cannot camouflage.” His cloak fluttered again, rippling from neck to feet. He gestured with it. “This is the best I can do. I can only pretend they are cloth.”
Nanae answered the question in their eyes with silent honesty. He flapped and stretched his wings, showing them his true form. He stood as stoic as a statue, an image of god’s warrior in a church cemetery, allowing them to take it in. It felt good to be truly seen. It had been generations since he had allowed a human to see him without his protective camouflage. Camilla stayed where she was, but Israel crossed the room to Nanae to get a better look.
“This state was a useful defense in ancient times. Men would see us and fear that gods walked among them. Now, camouflage is a much better defense. Modern men do not fear superhuman power; they flock to it. They want it for themselves.”
Israel had worked clubs where teens gathered, dressed like angels and demons and fantasized, playacting that they were vampires and creatures of the night. The world had changed. Who didn’t want to live forever? Whatever the price of that eternal life, it wasn’t high enough that people wouldn’t pay.
A panicked look crossed Nanae’s face before it went blank. His shoulders slouched, and he dropped to the ground, his wings crumpling. One of them stood in the open door, gun in hand. Camilla screamed as he squatted at Nanae’s feet. Israel backed up against the wall behind the door. The man hadn’t seen him yet. Camilla focused on healing Nanae. The faster he regained consciousness, the better chance all three of them had of surviving.
“Shut up! Stupid cunt, I’m not going to hurt you. What would we want with a witch’s blood?” He wasn’t alone. Three more men filled the doorframe. They faced away, protecting the kneeling man. One of them handed him a pack.
The man dug around in the pack now hanging around his neck. He inserted a needle that connected to the pack by way of a tube into the vein in Nanae’s
calf. A pump started, and blood moved away from Nanae and up the tube. She’d been worried they were going to inject him with something, not take from him. Nanae and Nathalia were right. Men didn’t fear power; they coveted it.
Camilla felt Nanae’s awareness a sliver of a second before she saw his eyelids open, and she yelled, “Now!” Israel slammed the door, and it knocked the extractor back on his butt. The blood-filled tube prevented the door from sealing. Camilla jumped across the room. With one hand, she jerked the needle out of Nanae’s leg and tossed it away. With the other hand, she slammed the door closed. The click and hiss of the seal sent a wave of relief to them all.
They rushed to either side of Nanae, but he was already getting up on his own. He accepted the aid Israel offered him just as a loud thud sounded. Camilla laughed. “Now who’s the stupid cunt? It’s gonna take more than four men to get through that door, asshole!” she yelled, knowing they couldn’t hear her. Still, it felt good to say. There was another thud, and Camilla could have sworn the giant metal door moved. “Impossible,” she whispered.
“Not impossible. They know the power of our blood. They may have the strength to break it down,” Nanae said.
Camilla ran to the elevator, punching the down button with her closed fist. It was waiting on their level and opened instantly. She got in and held the door open as Izzy helped Nanae. He was walking on his own but leaning gently on the smaller man’s shoulders. With some effort, Nanae brought his wings down to rest around him like a cloak once again. It allowed them to get through the lift doors, but it forced Israel to walk inside their shelter. It wasn’t an uncomfortable experience for either of them.
Camilla stood next to the controls, hand on her belly. She shook a little, anxiety radiating off her. Nanae opened up and indicated she should join them. She did and was completely encompassed, physically and emotionally. Bad guys were after them, but she couldn’t feel any fear or anger within the shelter of Nanae’s wings. It was pure bliss, and everywhere the wings made contact with her skin tingled. A rush of liquid need was her body’s response. Her gaze met Izzy’s. He was feeling the same things. Nanae’s true form was larger than the one he used every day, and the elevator groaned under their combined weight as it started its decent.
Nanae let out a halting sigh that both his companions recognized as arousal. Hidden there in the darkness of his wings, his skin’s otherworldly glow lit their view of the physical evidence of that arousal. Israel reached out to touch that magnificent member, and Camilla followed his example. She giggled when she realized that they could only encircle it with both their hands together. She had just learned to accept his regular monster cock. What were they going to do with this thing? They laced the tips of their fingers together and crossed their thumbs. Together, they moved up and down the monolithic pillar.
“Stop, my beauties.”
No matter what he said, they knew he wanted this. They could see and feel his desire like it was their own. They did not stop, but continued moving up and down his hard shaft, making mental measurements. He always resisted them at first, but they knew it was just a show, proof of his restraint. They had always been able to get him to give in, and they wouldn’t have been able if it wasn’t what he really wanted. Nanae’s arms, which were resting on their shoulders, snaked around and removed their hold. He pressed them to his chest and opened his wings enough to allow them to see his face. They looked up at him.
“I do want to continue but cannot afford to lose the prana. Not when we are under attack.” He didn’t know what these men where. They were no child of light that he recognized, and they were not children of darkness if they did not hide from the sun. “We do not often allow humans to shelter within our wings, and I was not prepared for my own response.” The doors opened, and as one, the three stepped out into the warm golden glow of the Capacitor storage room.
“It has been a very long time since I have held one so close, and never two. The experience is always enjoyable, but I did not expect eros. Together, you magnified the pleasure.” He paused. “For me, at least. What is the sensation for you?”
Camilla reluctantly gave up her spot, and Izzy helped Nanae walk to his cleared spot of earth. She jammed the controls, locking the elevator and cutting them off. She hated to cut off the other Daughters’ access to this safety, but with those men up there, no sisters could get through anyway.
“Good.” Camilla sounded wistful, like she just wanted to crawl back inside. “Safe.”
Standing with his feet connecting with Ki was rejuvenating, just not enough. Nanae needed prana, especially if he was going to fight. He took his weight off Izzy, who then sat on the cot nearby. Her only defense complete, Camilla joined him on her cot. Nanae sat cross-legged on the dirt and covered himself with his wing cloak.
Israel expounded on her explanation. “We could feel what you felt. It was like you overwrote whatever we were really feeling. It was good, just like Chickadee said, and safe. Like we could never be hurt again.”
“Not while I still breathe.” His incisors showed when he talked.
Israel stood in front of the seated Nephilim and held out his arm, offering his wrist and the prana that flowed just below the surface. “You’re hungry.”
Nanae’s gaze locked on the offering, but Camilla jumped up and gently pushed the hand away. “No violence. He can’t feed down here.” She stood between them.
Israel wrapped his arms around Camilla, hands resting on her tiny tummy. “He can feed without it being violent. I know he can. I know you can. You’re not feeding from Camilla now that she’s pregnant, and those men took your blood. You need to feed.”
“No. No blood. No biting. It’s the same as violence for them.” Camilla gestured toward the Capacitors standing in the sphere of white light. “I wish there was another way.”
“There is.” Camilla and Israel felt rather than heard Nanae. He explained as he pulled the two apart to stand side by side before him. “I feed on prana. Prana is in everything that is alive.” He stretched his wings out, encircling the three of them. Though they’d seen him move his wings, Camilla and Israel still jumped when those wings began to rub their backs. “The less sentient something is, the less prana it carries. Animals have it and plants, but to a lesser degree. Food retains a small portion of its prana, but so little that I could eat every bite of a buffet for a hundred people and feel no satisfaction. We gave up eating food long ago. It was the only way we could coexist on this world.”
Camilla and Israel heard him, but it was as if he were speaking from some great distance. The sensations coming from the slightest touch of his wings were overwhelming. They weren’t made of feathers as most art portrayed them. They were made of the softest skin either of them had ever touched. The wings skated over their exposed skin, focusing on different areas of each of them. For her, the top edge of the wing rubbed her neck, having slipped under her hair, and the prehensile tip traced every ridge and valley in the very sensitive area behind each knee. For Izzy, the top edge rubbed his back, having snaked around his waist, and the fingerlike tip outlined his chest muscles.
“Humans have prana in dense enough quantities to satiate us, and you can rejuvenate it quickly. Every cell of your body contains prana, but it is against Ereshkigal’s Law to kill while feeding. There are very few things a human can give us and not die.” It registered with them that Nanae was talking about eating human flesh and organs, but they couldn’t care less. What he was doing was much more engrossing that what he said. “Only one thing contains more prana than blood, and it comes from here.” The wingtip at Izzy’s waistline dropped to rub the length of him through his jeans. Nanae traced the head outlined so clearly by Izzy’s ever-tightening jeans. The tip rubbing Camilla’s leg slipped up between her thighs to the moist junction. Nanae slipped back and forth along the wet cotton there until he found her clit, already plump and longing to get free of its hood.
Nanae hadn’t moved from his seated position. His wings did all the work
for him. He moved them away from him, but only far enough that his lovers could follow his instructions. “Undress.” He admired their bodies as they efficiently carried out his order.
Camilla could hardly wait to feel the delicate, soft skin of his wing on every part of her. Once her clothes were discarded, she looked back to the wing. It was flexible, and Nanae made a seat for her with it. She backed up and sat down. It bathed her in its silkiness from nape to knee. It rippled, sending sensations across her bare back and butt. The fine bottom edge took over the stimulation of her knee pits. The end was wrapped around the leg closest to Izzy. The fingerlike tip worked its magic between her folds and around her button. She leaned back and closed her eyes, completely giving in to the pleasure.
Israel took longer than she did to undress, having shoes and pant legs to deal with. Once he was nude, the wing pulled him toward Nanae. Seated, Nanae’s face was lined up with Izzy’s chest, but Izzy couldn’t get close enough with the giant man’s legs folded in front of him. Nanae reached out with his hands and guided Izzy to stand with his feet within the parameter of those folded legs. He was trapped there by the wings, legs and hands, doomed to fall if he made a step. Israel smiled. Leave it to Nanae to find a position that made sucking dick the dominant role.
Nanae feathered kisses along the muscled lines of Israel’s upper abs. The kisses got firmer as he moved down to the bottom of his six-pack. Teeth were incorporated when Nanae reached well-developed pelvic muscle that Izzy fondly referred to as the “man muscle.”
“May I watch?” Camilla’s small voice halted Nanae’s progression.
Without waiting to okay it with Israel, Nanae answered, “Certainly.” It was a Dom’s move for sure, but Nanae deserved to be in control. After all, he was pleasuring the two of them at once with barely a move. Nanae shifted, moving her hammock-like wing closer and to the side. She had a better angle and could see both of the men’s profiles.
The Magic Number Page 6
