Fated

by Liza James

  I quickly glance up again, realizing that still, her blood is not accepting of mine. A bitter growl erupts from my throat as Nathanial rests his hand against my shoulder. “Focus, Elijah. Focus not on the covenant, but on the innate bond you feel even without her blood.”

  I force my mind to target the emotions I experienced at the mansion, before I ever laid eyes on Luna. I pull up the deep yearning I felt as I stalked through the halls of Amelia’s home. I absorb the unexplainable tether I felt to Luna when I entered that room and saw Danner’s arms wrapped grotesquely around her waist. I relish in the hatred I experienced when Amelia’s lips fell to Luna’s and I instantly knew that I needed her with me, away from them and safely hidden.

  I target the notion that while I have easily denied every single emotional connection over the last seven years of my life, I was unable to deny this unknown woman even the simplest of actions. Simply not knowing her, ignoring the draw I felt to her very core was impossible.

  Finally, fucking finally, I feel it. The smallest integration of our blood in a quick second. Just one cell to the other, minute, barely noticeable until they each begin working together. In a seamless moment our blood assimilates, harmonizing as one while everything pulls upwards and simply stops flowing out and over her small body. Instead, they move together, working together, building and healing together as one entity.

  As our blood connects, I realize hers quickly transforms into that black, inky substance that fuses perfectly with my deep red. As one, we create an undeniable masterpiece, even I can see that. It’s a twisted sequence of dark and light, evil and good. We’re an impossibly imperfect blend of things that should never unite. Yet here I am, feeling wholly complete for the first time in my life.

  One inherently good and one intrinsically evil.

  An Angel and a Demon.

  Unfortunately, at this moment, I’m not sure whether I’m the good in this union, or the evil.

  I gasp as the first, full invigorating breath of oxygen fills my lungs.

  I’m alive.

  I’m not sure how long I’ve been out, but I relish in the feeling of warmth radiating against my skin. I’ve felt cold over the last twenty-four hours or, oddly enough, I’ve felt cold my entire life compared to now. It’s like I’m experiencing the intense sun on my skin for the first time. It’s addicting, truthfully. A searing blaze that ignites inside my chest and spirals out into my limbs.

  Hell, I’m feeling the best I’ve ever felt and considering everything that’s happened since I was taken outside the coffee shop, I expected to feel a little worse for wear. I begin with my fingertips, testing out the movements and slowly working up towards my elbows and shoulders. I gently attempt to move my head and open my eyes but the lights above seem strangely bright for what I’m adjusted to after so much time in the dark. I close them again, open again, close, open, waiting for everything to acclimate so I can figure out where I am and how to get out of here.

  In an instant, the warmth that I now realize was so instrumental to my comfort, is gone. But, I know it’s near, like the heater had been up against my body but now pulled across the room. I know it exists, but no longer for me.

  Lifting my hands, I softly push the heels of my palms into my eyes, rubbing away the exhaustion and discomfort while I attempt sitting up. A large hand hastily lands on my shoulder for assistance and I feel an odd pang of jealousy scorch my chest, but it’s just as quickly gone.

  “Be still, you’ve been through a lot over the last day,” the voice says. It’s a man, but not the one who I met in that awful place with my captors. I open my eyes and process who is in front of me. He’s large, almost as big as Elijah from earlier. But while Elijah had dark, long hair on top and was covered in tattoos, this man is a clean cut version. His golden hair is long on top as well, but still an inch or so in length on the sides. His is a bit messier, clearly pulled at or mussed with tension. I don’t see any visible tattoos under his pristine, white, button-down dress shirt. But his sleeves are rolled up and cuffed tightly, revealing a set of strong, sinewy forearms.

  A hit of possessiveness that isn’t mine bolts through me and instinctually my eyes dart to the corner of the small room I’m nestled in. I’m overwhelmed as I try to make sense of where I am and who I’m with. But when my eyes land on Elijah’s, an unfamiliar wave of relief washes over me. He leans against the doorframe, his thick, muscular arms crossed tightly around his chest. His dark, distressed jeans still cling to his powerful thighs and one black biker boot is casually crossed in front of the other.

  I press my hand against my heart, absently massaging a mild painful tick that has started there. “Who are you?” I ask, bringing my eyes back to the man in front of me.

  “My name is Nathanial. Elijah is my brother.” His voice is low, a gentle tone laced with uncertainty.

  “Did you—” I pause, trying to find the right words to describe where I came from. “Did you find me where I was? In that place with, what were their names? Amelia and Danner?” I’m not sure who brought me here, or what happened after I passed out when Amelia kissed me. Nathanial opens his mouth to speak but is abruptly cut off.

  “I found you and brought you here to my brother.” Elijah’s snarling tone rips through the room and Nathanial’s face falls with disappointment as he turns to face his brother.

  “Elijah, no need to be so aggressive,” he snaps admonishingly. Elijah looks like he’s going to argue so I quickly jump in between the two before things spiral.

  “The other girls I was with, are they safe too?” I ask tentatively, I have a feeling I know that answer, but I need to hear the truth from them.

  Nathanial looks to Elijah with surprise, clearly unaware that there were more people taken captive. “The others were dead before I could intervene,” he deadpans. The lack of emotion he shows both infuriates and confuses me. I feel an odd sense of connection to him, yet a massive wall is erected between us.

  “I don’t understand. How were they killed? How did that happen?” I lift my hands to my eyes again, anxiously trying to scrub away the confusion lacing my mind. Elijah’s voice cuts through the fog again as he stands up straight in the doorway.

  “I’m leaving. Nathanial, you can bring her to my place when you’re finished explaining everything. I have a few things I need to get done beforehand.” Nathaniel’s head whips towards him as he stands up.

  “You are not leaving. You need to explain to her what’s happened, Elijah.” Nathanial moves toward his brother and I feel the tension building in the space between them.

  “I am leaving. You’ve always been better with words than I have. You do it, I’ll take care of the rest later.” His flippant tone makes me feel like whatever it is, isn’t a big deal. But the way his brother is so clearly out of sorts makes me wonder what exactly I’ve been dragged into.

  “You can’t leave. You know it will hurt her and you in the process.” This time, I can barely make out the words. He said them through clenched teeth and in a hushed tone, but I decipher them all the same. It makes no sense. Honestly with Elijah’s attitude the way it is, I’d rather hear everything from Nathanial anyway. I’m cold again, frustrated, beyond confused and all I want are answers. I have a feeling that hearing them from Elijah won’t make it any less painful.

  “Leave,” I grind out. “If you don’t want to be here, then leave. I won’t stay long and I won’t come to your place. I need to get a hold of my sister anyway. I just want to know what happened and then I’ll get out of both of your hair. Thank you for helping me, now go.” The words feel oddly painful as I choke them out. I’m angry and unexplainably hurt for no reason. Elijah’s eyes meet mine in silence, showing no hint of what he is thinking before he turns on his heel and stalks out the door. Nathanial pauses for a moment, letting his fist reluctantly fall to the door frame before taking a breath and turning to face me.

  I hear what must be the front door slam shut after Elijah’s gone. Nathanial quickly steps back over the couch an
d takes a seat across from me, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. Strangely, that mildly painful tick in my heart grows, becoming a sore throbbing that radiates across my entire chest. My breaths are suddenly coming in shallow inhales and a wash of panic runs through my mind. I’m confused and worried that maybe I’m not in the clear after all, maybe I’m still going to die, and they’ve somehow just prolonged the inevitable.

  “Something’s wrong,” I begin as I rub a hand furiously across my aching chest. Nathanial’s eyes are filled with regret and disappointment, but I don’t see fear there. That’s my only reassurance that maybe he knows I’m not going to die after all. “Seriously, something’s wrong. I-I can’t breathe and—”

  “Slow down. Focus. I promise you’re okay. Ah, it’s hard to explain. It’ll be like this for a little bit, but I promise it’ll get easier. I’ll take you to Elijah soon and—”

  “No. No, I don’t want to go to Elijah. I need to call my sister. Fuck, my chest aches. What the hell happened to me?” I ask, panic dripping from my tone as I wrack my mind for answers. Nathanial’s hands fall to my shoulders as he tries to still me with his touch. It helps only mildly, but his calm demeanor seems to give me some sense of hope.

  “Just tell me if I’m going to die. Rip off the damn band-aid and tell me. I don’t want to be babied.” I hate when people skirt around the truth. I’d rather just know what’s going to happen than spend an hour trying to get to the point. Nathanial’s face breaks into a small smirk, which I take as a promising sign to relax just a bit. But the aching pain and short breaths don’t go away.

  “You’re not going to die. That, I promise, but we do need to talk about what’s happened to you.”

  “Spit it out already. I feel like I’m choking here,” I say, forcing my mind to focus on taking slower, deeper breaths.

  “Well, I guess I’ll start at the beginning. Tonight, you were taken by Angels.”

  I heard him wrong.

  Obviously, my mind was playing tricks on me or my oxygen deprived brain was hallucinating the words he just spoke.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. Say that again?” I reply, dragging my hands through my entirely too tangled, matted hair.

  “Angels. Well, Fallen Angels technically. It’s a long story, but Amelia and Danner, myself and Elijah. We’re all Fallen Angels, on opposite sides of an impending civil war, but Angels all the same.” He speaks the words so casually, as if we’re talking about the new restaurant that recently opened up in Times Square, or the weather outside on a sunny day.

  I pause for several moments, processing and discrediting what he just said. Suddenly, an uncomfortable laugh bubbles up from my throat and spills out between us. It’s bitter and sad and also amazed at the fact that he can say all of this with such a straight face. I’m not sure what has made him believe that now is the best time for a joke, maybe the truth is just so horrible that he needs to lighten the mood beforehand. That realization scares me the most.

  “Wait, is the reality that awful? I wasn’t kidding when I said to spit it out. I don’t want to beat around the bush. Believe me, I went through some shit years ago and I’d rather know the truth now.”

  Nathanial watches me for a moment before speaking again, “This is the truth. I’m not joking or lying to you. I’m not hiding the facts from you. You don’t deserve that, not after what you’ve just been through and what you’re going to go through.” His continued calm demeanor causes my heart to begin thundering in my chest at the idea that this could possibly be real. There is no fucking way what he’s saying is true. No way. None of them look like Angels, where are their wings for fuck sake?

  “Okay.” I pause, “Let’s just say I believe you. First of all, you all are nothing like the Angels I’ve ever heard about, especially Danner and Amelia. Secondly, where the hell are your wings? If you’re Angels, you have wings.” I lay out my rebuttals that clearly discredit his words as he watches me with intrigue written across his face.

  “Fallen Angels, remember? Each of us has been stripped of our wings.” I don’t miss the pain lacing his features as he mentions this. It’s undeniable and sends a wash of sadness rolling through me. “Second, just because we are Angels, doesn’t mean we do the right thing. Amelia and Danner are perfect examples. Amelia has been after the throne of our Fallen race for a long time now. Danner is her bonded mate, together they are attempting to start a civil war to pronounce her as Queen.”

  Amelia’s words crash back into my mind. “You unknowingly speak to your Queen with such disrespect, a fault I will choose not to hold against you. You have no idea, after all, the kind of blood that flows through your veins.”

  No. This is impossible.

  “No, no, no. There has to be some logical explanation to this. Show me. If you were stripped of your wings, you have to some kind of scar, right? Prove to me you had wings.” For a split second, I worry that I’ve asked something too intimate of him. Then I realize the fact that I’ve even worried about that notion at all means that in some space, I do believe him.

  What the hell?

  Without hesitation, Nathanial stands and turns his back to me. He lifts his long, strong arms in front of him and slowly unbuttons his white dress shirt. I feel my heart thundering in my chest, causing my already shallow breaths to shorten even further. All of this new and overwhelming information has briefly taken my mind away from the fact that my entire body trembles with a low ache. It feels like I’m missing something vital to my living.

  He drops his shirt half-way down his back, exposing not only his sharp and impressive muscles, but also two long, red and raised scars. They start at the tips of his shoulder blades, very distinct wounds in which his flesh looks like it was torn and ripped where something permanent should have remained. His skin is healed, but the wounds were clearly not bandaged and cared for well. The scars aren’t thin clean lines, they’re rough and jagged, the skin puckered up around certain edges and flat in others. They disappear behind his lowered shirt and I gasp at the obvious pain he must have gone through.

  I quickly realize somewhere deep inside of me, in a place dark and unknown, I do believe him. I don’t understand why, and I don’t believe it simply has to do with the fact that he showed me his scars.

  I think it’s because of the way he didn’t hesitate or seem surprised when I asked. He simply showed me, in honesty and vulnerability. He revealed something that has clearly caused him immense pain.

  I can’t deny what I saw happen in that cold, dark room tonight either. I witnessed Danner kill those women without laying a hand on them. I felt Amelia steal something fundamental from me when her lips landed on mine. I sense an innate and distinct pull when I lay eyes on Elijah. There is something uncontrollably supernatural about these people that I can’t ignore and what’s even stranger, is that I feel a vague taste of familiarity to all of this. As if this isn’t such a farfetched possibility, which makes absolutely no sense.

  When Nathanial turns to face me, I see the agony blazing behind his eyes. I feel badly for having him show me and relive those memories he so obviously tries to forget.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, continuing my gentle massage over the pain in my chest.

  He offers me a weak smile before rebuttoning his shirt and taking his seat again. “I understand the need for proof. I’m sure this is a lot to process.”

  “Do you know why I was taken? Amelia said something about my blood,” I ask, hoping he has the answers I so desperately need.

  “I don’t know the details. But after what happened with you and Elijah, I assume you must have the blood of Angels in your veins. I believe he knows more than I do, so you’ll have to get those answers from him.” He looks at me with kind and sympathetic eyes, as if he knows Elijah won’t give them to me. The mention of his name awakens a response inside of me, something that’s currently painful and poisonous underneath my skin. Even the thought of his name elicits an ache in the pit of my stomach.


  “What do you mean? What happened with Elijah and I?” Other than the fact that he brought me here, I don’t have an idea as to anything else.

  Nathanial sighs, readying himself for whatever he’s about to tackle. “In order to save your life, Elijah had to initiate a blood covenant with you.” He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink into my already overwhelmed mind.

  “A blood covenant,” I repeat. “And what, exactly does that mean?” I say flatly, irritation suddenly building in my gut at whatever I have been pulled into.

  “It’s difficult to explain. It’s something you’ll honestly have to experience to truly understand. Hell, you’re partly experiencing it now,” he says as he dismissively waves his hand in my direction.

  “Try explaining,” I bark out, mentally preparing myself for his answer.

  “The pain you’re experiencing now, the way your breaths are shallow and rapid, the dull ache in your chest. It’s because you are away from each other. Now that your blood has integrated and fused as one, you are literally each other’s other half if that makes sense. You are stronger and more powerful together than apart. But it also comes with its own set of problems and complications.” He speaks as if he’s giving me a textbook answer and I hate it. I don’t want the definition. I want the truth. The hard, nasty, emotional truth.

  “You’re saying the pain I’m in now, isn’t one of the fucking complications?” I feel the anger welling in my chest.

  “I’m saying it’s one of the milder complications.”

  “So, lay out the others, Nathanial. What am I dealing with here?” I urge him forward, frustration leaking through my voice and infecting my words.