Revenge: House of Nephilim

by May Dawson

  Cruelty never inspires anyone to be a better person.

  She nods slowly. “I can get behind part of that plan. What if we kill Kinley? What if he just disappears? We could feed him to the monster in the lake.”

  “He’s not coming,” Julian stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He’d have the guards drag Lincoln here. But since they still haven’t arrived, maybe we should skulk towards his office.”

  “We’re going to get in trouble if they find us out here at night,” I say, but it’s just a statement of fact. We’re in more danger when we walk through the main quad.

  “Then feel free to go back,” Eden snaps.

  I’m already heading toward the quad. But I stop and turn, walking backward, because I want to help Lincoln.

  “It’s okay that you feel like a fuck-up right now,” I say. “We still think you’re amazing, Eden. You don’t have to be a jerk.”

  “She’s not good at being vulnerable,” Julian says to me agreeably.

  She presses her lips together tightly, but doesn’t say anything else.

  I can feel her irritation in the air as the three of us head through the quad, which is both beautiful and eerily quiet at this time of night. The only sound comes from the burbling fountains. It’s so different from being here during the day, with students bustling everywhere.

  The three of us reach the main academic building. This time, the doors are locked.

  Eden looks frustrated as she comes back to us from the doors. “Maybe they’re not here.”

  In the distance, there’s a faint crack.

  Julian looks to me, his lips pressing together hard.

  “It’s better than the detention center,” I say.

  Julian holds up his fingers for air quotes. “I’m sure ‘the detention center was full’.”

  “What is it?” Eden demands, impatience written across her face as she glances between the two of us.

  “Kinley’s got a bit of a sadistic streak—well, that’s common around here—and sometimes he beats students as punishment,” Julian explains. “As bad as it is, it’s…better…than the detention center”

  Eden’s face turns livid as she understands. “I’m going to kill him.”

  Another crack floats through the air, along with a faint ragged cry that Lincoln can’t hold back.

  “No, you aren’t,” I tell her. If she attacks Kinley, and we don’t succeed in covering it up, she’ll end up locked with the flesheaters in the detention center. I’m not sure that we’ll be able to save her.

  She doesn’t listen, just stalks off, and I stop her, slipping my arm around her waist and reeling her against me.

  She goes very still. “You’re about to get yourself hurt.”

  “You can’t fix this by running in there and killing anyone,” I warn her. “Linc already took your punishment for you. All you’ll accomplish is making his pain worthless.”

  “I don’t want you guys to suffer for me.” Her chest flutters with rare emotion. “I didn’t ask him!”

  “Oh well,” Julian says, crossing his arms.

  “Don’t oh well me,” she warns.

  “If you scream, you’ll bring hell down on all of us,” I mutter into her ear.

  Then, as if he understands what I’m thinking without the two of us speaking, Julian grabs her legs. She kicks out at us both viciously, but she doesn’t scream. Julian lets out a soft grunt as she kicks him in the chest, but he doesn’t give up. We can’t let her charge in and protect Lincoln. The damage is done for him; she’ll only make things worse for herself.

  The two of us wrestle her back across the quad, away from Lincoln, until the sounds of the beating and the cries ripped from his throat all fade into the distance. She stops fighting as we carry her down the path, but I don’t trust her not to lull us into a false sense of security.

  When we walk into the Nephilim house, there are two students sitting at a table, studying. “Good night,” I say to them as they look up at us, wide-eyed, before we wrestle our burden up the stairs.

  I manage to slam the door to Julian’s room shut with my shoulder, and we drop her on his bed. She glowers up at us, but her eyes are shining with tears, and she hastily wipes them away before they can fall.

  “I hate this,” she says, her voice tight with rage. “I hate this place, but I hate that I’m—I’m—”

  “Vulnerable here?” Julian sits close to her. She presses a hand against his chest as if she might push him away, but then she doesn’t push him any further.

  “Vulnerable with you,” she admits, her voice reluctant, as if she’s forcing the words.

  “Because we see right through you when you’re being a B to hide your feelings?” Julian asks lightly.

  I sigh.

  He looks up at me and shrugs. “What? Was that not what she was doing?”

  “Maybe,” she whispers. She’s dry-eyed now, but when Julian pulls her close, she leans into his touch, and I sit behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist. “And because I care about you pricks, and then when you get hurt…”

  She trails off; she can’t say the words.

  I crouch in front of her. “We get hurt when you get hurt too, Eden. We’re all trying to protect each other. It’s okay to be protected. That’s what a family does for each other.”

  Maybe someday, it won’t feel so hard for her to be vulnerable with us.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Lincoln

  “WHY DON’T you just admit it was the girl who was flying?” Kinley asks me, his voice encouraging. “Then I won’t have to keep punishing you for lying.”

  I lick salty blood from my lips. “Sorry to disappoint, but the truth is the truth.”

  He snorts. “You wouldn’t know the truth if it punched you in the face.”

  He kicks me again, the toe of his boot slamming into my chest, and I let out a bark that I can’t help as I curl up onto my side.

  He moves behind me again, the whip still dangling from his hand. The school is fond of public punishment, but Kinley has his own preferences. There’s a faint slithering sound as he draws back his arm and the tip of the whip races across the ground.

  “What did he do?” It’s Gabriel’s lazy, drawling voice.

  Despite myself, there’s a reflex of hope that jolts through my body at the sound of his voice.

  “He claims he was flying.” Michael’s voice behind me makes me want to wince, but I steel myself. It’s just a beating—not my first and likely not my last, and as long as I walk away to heal, what does it matter?

  “It’s not like our students to confess.” Gabriel sounds amused.

  “He’s protecting the girl.”

  “Ah.” Gabriel says. “I see. And you prefer to keep Nephilim business to ourselves rather than chastise him publicly.”

  That’s why we have so many separate classes from the other students, though they think it’s just one more example of our snobbery. There’s pressure for Michael and the rest of the Nephilim faculty to truly reform us—and turn us out alive. There aren’t many of us.

  “Yes,” Kinley grinds out. I can feel him circling me, but Gabriel has interrupted his fun. I know he’s been taking out his frustration that Eden is here, alive, on me.

  She’s alive, though. No matter how bruised and bloodied I am right now, she’s alive.

  And she can fly.

  Even if she hates me.

  No matter how much pain blazes across my back and abs and chest, it’s like anesthetic to remember the joy written across her face as she landed, those beautiful wings spreading across her back.

  “Get up,” Kinley barks. “Get back to the dorm. And don’t think that the punishment you earned is any excuse to shirk your classes tomorrow.”

  “I understand,” I force out, my voice a rasp. My lungs ache from the blows and it feels like the skin across my back is on fire as I force myself to my knees and stumble up.

  Gabriel watches me without any sympathy on his face, his arms crossed, as I r
each down to pick up my shirt from the ground. My legs buckle and I hit my knees. But I don’t expect sympathy from him. Sympathy would only reduce his ability to reason with Kinley—and likely increase how hard Kinley beats me next time.

  I finally make it up to my feet, clutching my t-shirt in one bloodied hand, and stagger across the quad.

  When I get near the Nephilim house, Ever runs out. He doesn’t bother to ask me if I’m all right, because I’m not. He makes sure I don’t fall as I struggle up the stairs.

  I fall face-first into my bed. There’s no way for me to get comfortable, between the bruises across my body and the open wounds on my back. I’ll heal fast, though.

  “Let me sleep it off,” I say. “I’ll be better in the morning.”

  He nods, but he doesn’t leave, not yet. “Thanks for doing that for her.”

  I don’t want to admit I did it for her, even though I know my actions make it hard to hide my feelings.

  I growl because I’ve got nothing to say, and his lips curl up faintly as if he sees right through me. He moves to the door, then turns back. “If she wants to come in, is that okay?”

  “Haven’t I taken enough of a beating for one day?” I ask.

  He gives me a sympathetic look, but lingers. Truthfully I want to see her, so I add, “Sure. Fine.”

  He nods and closes the door softly behind him.

  I shift restlessly, trying to find a way to lie that isn’t painful. My wounds are already beginning to heal; I’ve got twice the healing power of the half-angels, and even dosed with Break, I heal faster.

  That’s just another reason it made logical sense for me to take the punishment. Eden wouldn’t fare so easily.

  The door creaks open behind me. I can feel that it’s her before I see her. It’s not just her faint honey-and-flowers scent, it’s her presence itself, which seems to shimmer in the air.

  She closes the door behind her and leans against it. “Oh, Linc.”

  Her voice carries so much emotion, so much guilt and regret and pain.

  “I’ll be fine.” I raise my head so I can see her. “Come here and fight with me, princess.”

  “I was planning to be nice.”

  “Don’t be nice for my sake. I like you the way you are.”

  She crosses the room and sinks cross-legged to the floor beside my bed. The two of us are intimately close like this. Her face is still sad.

  “Don’t look so guilty,” I tell her. “You wanted to do far worse to me, right?”

  Her lips part, and I catch a glimpse of her temper flaring before she reins it in. “Maybe, but I don’t want you hurt now.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She rises to her feet, and comes back with a bowl of water and a towel. “Can I clean you up?”

  “You really want to touch me?” I demand.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe because it will hurt,” she shoots back, her voice testy.

  I give in and nod.

  She gently bathes the blood away from my wounds. “Wow. It looks as if you’re already beginning to heal.”

  “Told you, I’m superpowered, baby.” I deadpan.

  “Aren’t we all,” she says dryly.

  I roll onto my side, and she drops the blood-soaked towel into the water. “I thought you and I weren’t on touching-each-other terms.”

  She stares at me. “Why are you like this? I’m trying to make up with you.”

  “You don’t have to. You don’t owe me anything for protecting you. I always would, even if you are so fucking blind you thought I tried to kill you.” As if I could ever hurt her. The memory of the distrust written across her face when we came back down to earth twists at my heart and makes me furious. I never would have let her get hurt.

  “I don’t think I owe you anything,” she says hotly.

  I roll to sit up, some of the pain forgotten as heat rushes through my body. Her temper makes my own flare. “And I always will protect you—even if you hate me for it.”

  “I don’t need that,” she tells me, shaking her head. “That domineering bullshit? Spare me, Lincoln.”

  “You know where the door is then,” I say. “I am what I am.”

  “I like who you are,” she snarls at me.

  I’ve never heard those words in quite that tone before. Actually, I’ve probably never heard those words before.

  “But,” she pokes me in the chest for emphasis, choosing her location carefully, aiming between bruises, “you don’t have to be an angry jerk. You could be you without all the nasty attitude.”

  “You’re going to talk to me about a nasty attitude?” I raise my brows. She’s come so close to poke me that she’s standing between my open legs as I sit on the edge of the bed. Something about her scent enveloping me makes my cock hard, even if she’s pissing me off.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Because you’re a real piece of work, incapable of—”

  She covers my mouth with hers, cutting me off.

  Without hesitation, I yank her against my body. She straddles my lap, and even through my pants, my hard cock is drawn to the heat of her pussy as she presses against me. Our lips sear together, the two of us kissing each other deeply. She’s a possessive, dominant kisser, gripping my jaw with her hand, her tongue gliding against mine, trying to take control. I cup her angular cheeks with my big hands, kissing her back harder, claiming her.

  She abruptly yanks away, then presses another kiss to my lips as if she can’t get enough. I’m just beginning to tease her lips apart, eager for more of her soft mouth, when she finally manages to pull away.

  “Well, go on,” she says. She’s still breathing hard. “Finish your sentence. What the hell else were you going to say?”

  “You’ve got to get over this need to be invulnerable,” I growl. I can’t lay back on the bed, so I wrap my hands around her thighs and stand with her.

  “I’ve been on my own,” she points out, her brows rising.

  “Because you didn’t trust us,” I growl. I press her against the opposite wall, hard enough that her lips part in surprise. “You could have talked to me.”

  “You could have talked to Ever,” she points out.

  “I don’t want to hear another man’s name on your lips right now,” I warn her.

  “Well too fucking bad,” she says. “Ever, Ever, Ever. And Julian too. I love them both too, and you need to not be a dickhead.”

  I let out a growl, and then my lips crash into hers. I kiss her hard, wildly, like I’m trying to drive her through the wall. But she kisses me back just as hard, her fingers tangling in my hair. Her thighs squeeze around my waist, and I think I’m going to explode in my pants just from the feel of her body against mine. I’m so hard and straining that it hurts.

  “I’ll try to be nice,” I admit, my voice tart.

  “You say nice like it’s a character defect.”

  “I think it is,” I growl. “After all, why do you think I love you, Eden?”

  She stares at me, her eyes full of emotion I can’t read, and a trickle of cold regret begins to form deep in my chest. I said too much, too fast.

  “I love you too,” she says, her voice teasing, but her eyes say she means it.

  We’re such broken people.

  And I don’t give a damn.

  My lips meet hers again, kissing her hard as I let her slide down the wall until she stands on her feet.

  I pull my mouth away from hers long enough to warn her, “You better get those clothes off before I tear them off you.”

  “I’m not sure you’re in good enough condition to handle me.” She taps a spot on my chest carefully, avoiding the deep blue-black bruises where Kinley kicked me with his steel-toed boots.

  She has such a deep, sweet protectiveness, hidden under her icy exterior, but I don’t want her to protect me. I’d rather be hurt than apart from her.

  “I can always handle you,” I promise, grabbing her shirt, about to tear it off her
body.

  “All right, all right,” she says, her hands going to the hem of her t-shirt. She’s laughing that wide, full-hearted smile that makes my heart skip a beat, and her green eyes are luminous under thick, full black lashes. I can’t believe how lucky I am that she wants me.

  Even though I’m a domineering jerk. She’s right about that. That expression of hers when she plummeted out of my arms toward earth haunts me, no matter how much I tell myself I was protecting her. I scared her. I hurt her.

  That’s not the man I want to be. Not for her.

  Even though I want her naked so badly, when she starts to undress, I grind out, “Stop.”

  She does, looking at me with curiosity vivid across her beautiful face in the moonlight trickling through the window.

  “I’m sorry,” I grit out. “You’re right. You trusted me—that’s not easy for either of us—and I was an asshole.”

  “Yes, you were,” she agrees, and I grit my teeth, before she bobs up to press a quick, tender kiss to my lips. “But I forgive you. And you’re still my asshole.”

  I frown. “Does that mean, since I am your asshole, that I get access to—”

  “Shut up while I still want to fuck you,” she snaps, and I laugh before I start helping her tear off her clothes again.

  Her shirt comes off over her head, and she’s not wearing a bra beneath. Her white shoulders shine under the moonlight, and then my gaze drops to those small, perfect, round breasts. Her nipples are pink, the size of raspberries, and I want to taste them on my tongue. She’s so perfect.

  “You’ve seen this before,” she teases me, as if she’s read the desire on my face. “You bathed me, after all.”

  But then she wasn’t mine to touch. The realization that she wants to be mine just as much as I want her staggers me.

  And Eden always takes what she wants…

  I claim her lips again, running my hands up her narrow waist to cup her breasts. Her hips sway forward at my hands on her breasts, so I pause to tease her, caressing her breasts, running my thumbs over her nipples. The weight of her breasts feel satisfying in my hands. The rougher I caress her, the more wildly she kisses me back, and my cock twitches in desire. The demanding way she kisses me is a turn on too.