Unchained Desire

by R. C. Alvarez

  On the bottom mattress to the left, a little body huddled under some covers. Val sat at the foot of the bed and rubbed the sleeping child’s back while Kyria lowered herself onto the empty bed across from them.

  Val whispered, “This is David. He’s ten.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “I worry about him. But yes, for now, he’s just tired.”

  Kyria relaxed, but if the kid wasn’t sick or hurt, why did Val want her to meet him?

  In the dimly lit darkness, the woman raised her head. “He’s like you.”

  “Another Nephilim.”

  “Well, yes. But different than the others.”

  “Is he yours?” Kyria leaned forward. Is she smiling? It was hard to tell in the dim lighting.

  “They’re all mine in a way, but no, I didn’t give birth to any of them.”

  “How long have you had them?”

  “The ones I have now all came within the past fifteen years. But I’ve been helping Nephilim for about five decades now. I have seven other people helping me with homeschooling and basic childcare. Some are women of the men who work on the ranch. Others are Nephilim who left me when they turned eighteen and have come back. One of them even has a daughter now.” She paused. “David was born here. You never met his mother. She didn’t want anyone to know she was here, but we did bury her on the ranch when she…passed.”

  Kyria swallowed past a lump in her throat, imagining the little girl she used to be, the one who lost her own mother. “What about Eli? Is he one of the Nephilim that came back to you?” And please tell me the truth.

  “Yes. But…” Silence filled the space between them, then she sighed. “His father is a formidable demon lord in South America. So, obviously I couldn’t protect him from everything.”

  Her mind reeled. “How does he get on the ranch if he’s half demon?”

  “Demons started off as angels. So, when they have children, they’re born as normal Nephilim. Everyone has choices. But depending on their actions as they grow up, they could turn into powerful demons in their own right. Eli struggles with that as much as the rest of us.”

  Kyria inspected her hands. “Is his father the one my dad is running from?”

  “I don’t know. Darius never talked about it.”

  It was difficult to maintain a whisper when all she wanted was to run around and pull her hair out, screaming.

  “You know I love you, but it’s hard to believe everything—” The words pained her, stretching her heart thin.

  Val sighed. “I know, sweetheart. I tried my best to prepare you without disrespecting your father’s wishes.”

  “Why?”

  “You were marked for something special. Then David came to me. And now that Bishop has shown up, I’m afraid it’s about to get so much worse. He wouldn’t leave his basement and get involved unless something big was on the way.”

  Turning, Val mumbled sweet motherly nothings to David as she partially removed his blankets and lifted his shirt to reveal a birthmark on his waist. “Look.” A mark exactly like the one Kyria had at her nape. Instinctively, she reached up to rub her neck.

  “Oh my God. Do you know what it is?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s part Enochian, but that’s all I can tell.”

  She could recall Val teaching her some of the language. Not enough to be fluent, but she could recognize it. Even on a large, brooding fallen. “Like Ramiel’s tattoos.”

  “Sort of. You two were born with it. Ramiel must have gotten the ink after he fell.”

  “What do they mean?”

  “His tattoos or the markings?”

  “Both?” Curiosity burned.

  “From what I can read on his arms, Ramiel’s been through a lot. And your mark, well, all I can say is that none of the other Nephilim have one, and they mean something about your powers. But I haven’t been able to find the information I need to complete my research.”

  Kyria missed the normal talks about cartels and mob thugs. The good old days when bad men were, well, men. Though somehow, as stressful and new as it was, the world she had discovered fit. Like this was why she never belonged anywhere else.

  Kyria shifted forward just as David stirred, rubbing his eyes and rolling over. Dark curls stuck out in different directions thanks to the pillow. Blue eyes still carried the exhaustion of a nap as they squinted in the lamp light. He was an adorable mess.

  He blinked up at Val before turning toward Kyria’s general direction. His mumble was a sleepy one. “Val?”

  “David, this is my friend Kyria. I’ve told you about her, remember?”

  The boy hesitated before another murmur tumbled from his lips. “Yeah.”

  “Kyria, David can find people.”

  “Find them?” A small flame came to life, fanning through her body like a wildfire of hope.

  “His powers developed early, even earlier than yours. He’s clairvoyant. He can pinpoint a person’s location. It’s a bit spotty sometimes, but he’s gotten pretty good. He helps me find other Nephilim.”

  As Val explained the boy’s power, he slowly sat up to perch in a crisscross position, rubbing his eyes. “You fix people, right?”

  Kyria clutched her chest before softly speaking, “Yeah, I can heal. Pretty crazy, right?”

  “I think it’s cool. My superpower gives me headaches sometimes.”

  Kyria had to smile. “I think I might be able to help you with that.” He was so cute, and it sucked that his powers hurt. She didn’t even remember ever getting sick. Maybe if she could use her power to help with his, he could help her locate her father. “Does he have wings?”

  Val pushed his curls from his face. “No, not yet, but I thought maybe he could help. With your father.”

  She hugged herself tight, trying not to cry in relief. Then again, Ramiel might leave once he found out she would be fine without his help. Did she want him to go?

  No, he’d proven to be a solid anchor in all the chaos, but she doubted he had plans to stick around. She didn’t understand why he’d even stayed this long.

  A chorus of childish screams smashed through the silence. Kyria jumped to her feet and ran onto the walkway with Val.

  They peered through the wood railing and gasped at the same time. The children in the playroom below huddled around two people grappling each other. Ramiel and a man with huge gray-tipped wings that obstructed her view of his face.

  “Eli!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Why anyone would leave Ramiel alone with Bishop and teaspoon-sized Nephilim was beyond him.

  Large pillows and small furniture filled one half of the third floor. Toys and electronics he wasn’t familiar with cluttered a low table nearby. Mary had called it a game room.

  The three boys sat on couches in front of the tv, glancing at him a few times. When he simply stood back to observe, they continued playing their game and bantered without blinking.

  Bishop stood next to a couch, rambling, annoying them. Yeah, it could be worse. He could be stuck talking to that one.

  The littlest girl had wrapped herself around his leg. She smiled at him, two bottom teeth missing. A quick firm shake did nothing to remove her or even loosen the surprisingly strong grip. She giggled.

  They all baffled him. No fear of his scars and fangs. Just like Kyria.

  All the centuries he spent in hell, the years they ripped, torn, dissected, and branded him, Nema using his blood to try to create abominations of her own—it had hardened him.

  He’d never been the soft, sentimental type, anyway. But now this tiny waif dared to bind him in her delicate arms? Brave for someone so small.

  Like Kyria.

  “I bet I can stick my tongue out farther than you.” Another girl challenged.

  Why were they talking about tongues? Sounded like another type of torture to him.

  “No, you can’t.” A different child put her hands on her hips and stuck her tongue out, then took off running.

  They chased each
other in circles, running through the tall bookshelves. The smallest still had an arm wrapped around his leg, her feet on top of one of his boots. She didn’t argue but stuck her own tongue out. On impulse, he bared his incisors. She giggled.

  Such an innocent sound and it twisted his gut. They were so temporary but lived as if they had forever.

  An older teenager in the room, babysitting the teacup Nephilim, kept her distance. She was smart enough to be afraid.

  He scanned the area again. Kyria had been out of his sight too long. Not that she was in any danger on a protected ranch like this. No, it was his inexplicable craving to be near her and settle his soul with her presence. He moved toward the stairs leading up, causing the barnacle on his leg to giggle again.

  I gotta keep these kids out of town. He wasn’t sure if it was hours or months away, but he was sure the dead red-headed boy from his vision lived here.

  He shook his leg to remove the chubby arms, but the bundle of softness squeezed. “You’re mine.”

  Mine.

  Stinging needle sensations pierced between his shoulder blades.

  The teenager finally rushed forward and swung the girl up, carrying her away from him with a soft apology.

  “Nooo.” Little hands reached for him. The older girl huffed and fussed.

  What the hell made females think he belonged to them?

  Finally free, he grabbed the railing of the staircase and took the first step.

  “Hey.” All noise stopped as another man called out.

  I’ve heard that voice.

  Yesterday, actually, in the alley behind the liquor store. There wasn’t going to be a bottle of whiskey to save him this time.

  A cacophony of squeals and shouts of joy echoed off the concrete walls. He grimaced as the five youngest children rushed Eli. Even the little clinging vine that had claimed him ran to the Nephilim.

  All he could do was return the man’s glare with one of his own. Then, shielding the kids with a flare of his wings, Eli lunged at him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The walls shook at the loud noise below. Kyria rushed downstairs behind Val, and the boy followed her.

  “Eli. Ramiel,” Val yelled, her voice crackling with authority. She called the children to her. Eli’s wings disappeared as his fist pounded Ram’s face. The fallen grunted, his head snapping back from the impact. But Ram was already swinging back.

  Kyria wanted to rush in but wasn’t sure how. “Eli, stop! Ram’s with me.”

  Eli staggered back from a hit, holding his nose. “Oh, I’m sure he is, but why?” he spat then turned on Ram again. “Why the hell did you leave me in the alley with no identification?”

  “To get you out of my hair.” Ramiel’s body remained rigid.

  “Do you have any idea how long I had to wait until I was finally alone in that jail cell?”

  Her archangel sneered. “I thought you liked jokes.”

  Eli lunged again. A few of the children squealed. Kyria moved at the same time as Val to intercede before another fistfight broke out.

  But they only reached halfway before Bishop appeared next to Eli with no warning, grabbing the back of his neck. “Do not mess with my marbles.”

  Eli broke his stride and swung at the strange angel who leaned out of reach, remarkably calm.

  Bishop sniffed—“You smell like a guinea pig”—then disappeared with the enraged Eli.

  Val grabbed her hand and Ramiel’s arm. Without warning, they flashed to the courtyard in front of the bunker.

  Taking a moment to anchor herself, Kyria squeezed her friend’s hand. It was cold and clammy, her face dotted with sweat. Eyes glazed over, she dropped her arms with a look of someone who just ran a marathon when all she’d done was teleport them.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine. I just forgot to feed.”

  She rubbed the woman’s back and scanned the yard. On the other side of the front gate, Eli struggled in Bishop’s hold. Ramiel stormed toward them with a dark expression twisted across his scarred face.

  “Ram, you bastard.” Eli rubbed his neck with both hands after Bishop released him. The large, stunning wings folded behind him, completely out of sight. “I can’t believe you. With all the other crazy crap going on, the police actually booked me.”

  Ram threw his shoulders back, and, with a nudge from Val, Kyria ran after him.

  “Wait.” She placed a hand on his clavicle, close to his throat where his pulse beat rapidly beneath her fingertips. “He was in Houston, and you didn’t tell me?”

  “I don’t trust him.” Ram didn’t back down, but at least he stopped stalking forward.

  Eli, on the other hand, glared. He never glared. “You’re the one that knocked me out with a fucking bottle.”

  “Enough.” Val arrested the coming argument, finally catching up with a shuffle of her boots in the dust. “This is a safe place for the children. If you have a disagreement, take it off my damn ranch.”

  Kyria turned with her back inches from Ram’s chest. The haunted shadows on his face spoke volumes she didn’t fully understand. It triggered a protectiveness she hadn’t known she could spare a stranger she just met three days ago.

  Careful not to touch his chain, she searched for his fingers to hold onto. “What happened between you two?”

  Eli popped his knuckles. “Don’t worry, Ky, it’s just a disagreement between friends.”

  A wave of malevolence so strong she feared the others would notice drifted from the archangel. “I don’t have any friends.”

  “Ram. Please.” Her hand squeezed around broad knuckles. He squeezed back, an unspoken understanding. His malevolence receded beneath a softer expression. Her heart fluttered. That’s right, I’m your friend. I’m here for you.

  Seconds passed, and his eyes roamed down her figure, kindling a tight awareness in her skin and in places on her body that she only ever tentatively explored. Oh man, she needed to get a hold of herself.

  Ramiel relaxed. She dropped her hand and cleared her throat, catching Val’s gaze. The other woman nodded and climbed the front steps of the bunker.

  “Ramiel. Eli. You two get your act together and take it back to the main house.” She paused to lower her voice. “If this happens again…I’ll skin you both myself and feed you to the hogs.”

  “He started it.” Eli brushed his clothes off.

  Val rolled her eyes. “Eli, you’re gonna help me with supper here. Kyria, use the Jeep and take Ram to the house. We’ll talk this whole mess out.”

  Kyria glanced at Bishop, who veered off to climb the jungle gym. “What about him?”

  Ram snorted, and Val shook her head. “Bishop will do whatever Bishop wants.”

  Kyria couldn’t argue with that and led Ramiel to the Jeep.

  He grunted as he climbed into the passenger’s seat. “Those Nephilim. They have no survival instinct.”

  Shaking her head, she started the vehicle and drove out. “They’re just kids.”

  “Kids can be taken, tortured, and killed just as easily as anyone else. Demons love hurting children. They raise some to feed on. Sometimes…I heard their cries. Down in hell.”

  She gripped the steering wheel hard and stared at him, icy disbelief coursing through her. She couldn’t imagine the things he’d experienced down there. Tears stung her eyes, threatening to fall. But she didn’t let them, holding her breath and counting to ten.

  He said it so matter of fact, too, but the uncomfortable twist of his mouth betrayed his concern.

  “They’re safe here, Ramiel.” She had to believe that. Val did.

  He turned his face away. “Whatever you do…just don’t take them into town.”

  The way he said it… Hollow. Grave. His words carried an ominous weight she experienced once before when Bishop had snapped, chanting a rhyme about dead things and crimson plains.

  The cold night air rushing through the Jeep had nothing on the sudden chill that numbed her fingers.

  She
shifted gears and hit the rocky path a bit faster than was necessary.

  In her room, Kyria found Buddy huddled under the little cardboard box he loved so much, which sat in the corner of his wide cage. Safe and sound.

  She shrugged out of her coat, tossing it on the bed. “I hope Bishop was nice to you, pal. I’m sorry he carted you off like that.”

  He chattered at her, happy to be home. But even that lightened her mood only a little.

  A million thoughts crowded her head as she descended to the kitchen. Maybe she should try and eat something.

  Rattling chains warned her of Ram’s location, not far behind her. Had he been upstairs, too? She stood in front of the sink because sitting at the large farm table in the attached dining room would only remind her of her father. Of the times they sat there with Val and Eli for almost every meal.

  The sting of hot water running over her cold fingers helped take her mind off it.

  A small metal box landed on the countertop next to her with a rattle.

  “I found your father’s room.” Ramiel leaned a hip against the counter a few feet away from her, arms crossed. “This was warded, but I managed to break into it. Apparently, Eli told your dad about me years ago.” He didn’t sound happy about it.

  Thankful for the distraction, she dried her hands off and picked up the plain tin case. “He must have forgotten it here. We left in such a rush.” The box was old, the clasps engraved with Enochian symbols. All the time she spent with her father and she’d never seen it before.

  “But what does this have to do with Eli?” The hinges creaked as she opened the lid. Inside was a pocket-sized notebook. Flipping through the pages didn’t clarify much. Everything written in a language similar to Spanish.

  “That’s a journal your father kept over the past few years. He went to Peru recently. Something to do with your mother and her enemy. Seemed like he was worried about her.”

  “Worried about her? That doesn’t make sense.” Her throat dried. “She’s been dead for a long time.”

  His tall, muscled frame drew closer, the scent of spices and leather clouding her mind as he pointed to a certain page in the journal where a strange mix of Spanish and Enochian made it difficult to decipher the text. “It says here he was ambushed by demons, and they brought a dark witch to curse him with their blood. Made him sick. He got away and tried drinking human blood, but it didn’t help. In the next passage, he wonders if archangel blood can counter the curse. There aren’t that many of us available anymore, and I guess I was the closest. So, Eli told him about me. Can’t keep his damn mouth shut.”