Hunted by the Fallen: A Fallen Angel Reverse Harem Novel (The Fallen Harem Book 2)

by Samantha Britt

  All three girls cower. The culprit is unwilling to face Tina’s wrath. I intervene.

  “She said Preston dumped you. For me.” Taunting Tina fills me with glee. It’s nice to have the tables turned for once. I can’t wait to see her reaction. I hope I’m given an excuse to hit her.

  I’m disappointed when we’re interrupted. “Ron?”

  I should’ve known someone else had appeared in the hallway. Our audience had grown quiet. I don’t turn around, keeping my attention on Tina, waiting for her next move. “Zeke.”

  “What are you doing?” I hear his steps draw closer. He positions himself behind my right shoulder.

  “Talking.” I continue to watch Tina. Her eyes move to Zeke. I can tell she is debating whether or not to tell him what’s going on, but she doesn’t want him to know how this little altercation began.

  “It doesn’t matter what you say or do,” I lean forward and tell her in a loud whisper, hoping everyone can hear me, “Zeke will never be interested in you.”

  Splotches of red rise in Tina’s cheeks. Oh, goody! I’ve embarrassed the queen bee.

  “Let go,” she commands as she tugs her wrist. I release her, and she stumbles back into the wall, knocking down a photo of the Hutchins family on a snowy mountain. She doesn’t bother to pick it up. Tina steps out of line, knocking me with her shoulder, and walks toward the other end of the hall. I smirk, gratified.

  Strong fingers wrap around my bicep.

  I look at the offending hand before raising my gaze to Zeke. I cock my head to the side. “Can I help you?”

  His lips are pressed together, but he manages to say. “A word.”

  Zeke drags me away from the crowd, not waiting for my answer. We walk until he sees an empty room. He shoves me inside and slams the door behind us.

  “Is there a reason you manhandled me?” I sound calm, unaffected by his pushy behavior.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Zeke growls.

  Me? “Nothing.”

  He strides towards me, then pivots and walks back to stand by the door. “Then what was that?” He throws an arm toward the hallway. “Why were your hands on that girl?”

  Annoyance sparks. “For your reference, she tried to hit me. I was just making sure she would not venture such an attempt again.”

  “She didn’t look like she was about to hit you,” he replies. “She looked terrified.”

  I snort. Terrified? Please. “Of course, you defend Tina.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Just because she’s pretty doesn’t mean she’s innocent,” I snap back.

  Zeke looks dumbfounded. “I don’t think she’s pretty.”

  “HA!”

  Zeke holds up a hand. “What I mean is, whether or not she’s pretty, that does not change my read on the situation. You were toying with her. Why?”

  I shrug. “Why not? She’s been a bitch to me my whole life. I wanted to put her in her place.”

  “Are you listening to yourself?”

  I frown.

  Zeke continues, “This isn’t like you, Ron. Since when are you a bully?”

  “I’m a bully? That’s rich.”

  “To everyone in that hall, you were acting as the bully.”

  I want to scream. How dare Zeke make a snap judgment. He wasn’t there. He doesn’t know what happened before he arrived.

  Rather than get upset, I shut down. “You know what? Fine. Think what you want. I’m done talking to you. Feel free to run along and check on your beloved Tina. Be sure to throw in an extra smile or two, and I’m sure she will feel right as rain.”

  I stomp towards the door. I almost make it, too, but Zeke’s quick. He blocks my path, leaning against my only exit.

  “Get out of my way.”

  He stares down his nose at me. “No.”

  I growl. “I’m done talking to you.”

  “Well, I’m not done talking to you.”

  “Yes,” I reach out and try to shove him. “You are.”

  Zeke doesn’t move an inch.

  “Ugh!” I yell. “Move!”

  “Not until you tell me why you are acting cruel,” he shouts back.

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  I shove him again. This time, Zeke’s hands latch onto my wrists, holding them down at my side. Our chests are almost touching. We haven’t been this close since I kissed him on the hiking trail. I shove away the memory. I’m mad at him. Now is not the time to remember how it felt to have his hands pressed against my back and his lips on mine.

  “Are you jealous?... Is that it?”

  “Why would I be jealous?” I try to throw disgust behind the words, but Zeke is not fooled.

  His eyes search mine. “Because you seem to believe I think Tina is pretty.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Not as pretty as you.”

  My heart thumps. I ignore it. “Whatever.”

  “I mean it, Ron,” Zeke lowers his face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You’re beautiful.”

  I refuse to succumb to his charms. “Really? Is that why you’ve barely been able to look at me since the hiking trail.” There it is, my insecurities left bare.

  Our unexpected kiss had ended when Adrian interrupted, then Lukas showed up and all of my secrets blew up in my face. Zeke and I never had the chance to discuss what happened between us. Not that Zeke acted like he wanted to talk about. He’s been avoiding me like the plague, and only talks to me when he absolutely has to.

  Not that I blame him. After all, Zeke told me he wanted to leave town once the yancor demons were taken care of. It was only because of Lukas and his unforeseen interest in me that he decided to stick around and help protect me. Zeke didn’t want me. I knew that. I shouldn’t have expected anything but avoidance after I threw myself at him.

  Still, I continue to feel the sting of rejection, I try to seem tough. “It’s okay if you regret the kiss. Just tell me like a man. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” I try to pull free, but Zeke’s grip tightens. My chest rises and falls while Zeke’s remains still. He is staring down at me with a mix of disbelief and confusion. I really wish he wasn’t blocking his emotions from me. I’d kill to know what he’s thinking.

  He releases a breath. “I most certainly do not regret that kiss.”

  I think I misheard him. Zeke moves closer, as if sensing my denial. “I said, I do not regret it, Ron.”

  This time, I am unable to ignore the rapid beating of my heart. “You don’t?” The monster is back in her cage. Timid Veronica returns. I curse the timing. The wicked side of me is probably better prepared to handle the impending conversation.

  “I don’t,” Zeke confirms for a third time. He leans forward, “In fact, I’ve been hoping for a repeat.” Warm desire replaces his cool expression. I’ve never seen Zeke look this way. Especially not around me.

  I step back, but I don’t go far. He still holds my arms. “You have?”

  Zeke pulls me until my chest collides with his. He bends his neck until his lips are a breath away. “Yes.”

  Then, he kisses me.

  Twenty-Three

  Zeke abandons his grip on my wrists and snakes his arms around my back, pulling me tighter. I mold into him, wrapping my hands around his neck.

  I have no idea how this happened. One minute, Zeke is chastising me for my meanness, and the next he is calling me beautiful and pressing his lips to mine. But who cares how it happened? My heart and soul sing with happiness. They are loving this moment, and they don’t want it to end.

  With that thought, I lift on my toes and press my mouth more firmly against his. Zeke bends down and lifts me by my rear. I wrap my legs around his hips and rest there as we continue to devour one another. My entire body is on fire. His touch burns me with pleasure. I open my mouth and Zeke’s tongue slips in expertly, dancing around mine, taunting me. My hands move into his hair, scratching his scalp. He moans against my mouth.

  Zeke walks
forward until my back presses against the wall. I feel every inch of him against me, and I want more. The desire I’d been unsuccessfully ignoring has completely broken free. I want to revel in what I feel for the Fallen in front of me. My body fits his perfectly, and we move in time with one another. It’s almost like we were made for each other.

  Like you are soulmates.

  I can’t disagree with the thought. In fact, it makes me hold Zeke tighter. I never want to let him go.

  Zeke’s hands trail over my sides. He pulls his lips away, but before I can object, he moves to kissing my neck. His stubble tickles, and I squirm, feeling breathless. I open my eyes to stare at the ceiling, trying to gain control of myself while still enjoying Zeke’s homage to my neck. That’s when I notice the door is open.

  My eyes are hazy with desire. I blink and focus on the doorway. All of the pleasurable heat within me dissipates the moment my eyes land on the person standing at the entrance.

  Preston.

  “Preston.” I try not to sound breathless.

  Zeke lifts his head, having heard me say Preston’s name. Without turning around, he lowers me to the ground. Once my feet touch the carpet, I step out from between him and the wall, straightening my shirt.

  Preston remains standing by the door. Hurt stares back at me. “So this is why you’ve been avoiding me.”

  “No,” I say. Much more than the Fallen has kept me away from him these past few days. “Preston. Please… let me explain.”

  “Don’t bother,” he shakes his head. “It’s not like we were official or anything. No worries, Veronica.” He leaves.

  I feel horrible. I wanted to end things between us, but not like this. “Preston, wait!” I run after him.

  I don’t know what I’m going to say, I just know I can’t let this be the end. While I can’t tell Preston everything, I can at least offer some truth. I like him. A part of me will always care about the first boy I had a crush on, but timing has been against us. We aren’t a match, but that’s not because of anything lacking on his end. This is all me. I’m the mess. I need Preston to know that. He’s been so kind and sweet. He did nothing wrong.

  I see Preston turn left at the end of the hallway. “Preston!” I pick up my pace, skidding to a halt when the hallway is empty. I stomp my foot, cursing the large house. Preston could be in any of the rooms, or he might have taken the back stairs to a different floor. I start to knock on doors, opening them slowly when no one calls out. I don’t want to accidentally intrude on any private moments.

  I knock on the third door, and I finally receive a response. “Come in.” I twist the knob.

  Mrs. Hutchins stands in the center of the room, facing the door like she’d been expecting me.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Hutchins.” I take a step back. “I was looking for Preston.”

  “Stay.” I stop pulling the door. There is something about her voice that demands obedience. I stand in the space between it and the doorframe, looking around. I’ve stumbled into a bedroom, but I assume it is a guest room. It’s too small to be the master suite. I wonder what Freddy’s mom is doing in here. “Have you seen Preston?”

  She moves toward me. It’s at that moment I notice she has changed clothes. Yoga attire has been replaced by tight black pants and ruby red blouse. Her hair is styled to perfection, and her pearl necklace and matching bracelet shine in the light. She must be going out, but I can’t imagine where. It’s almost eleven. Unless she’s going to a bar.

  The thought is amusing. I doubt such an immaculate lady would step foot in a bar.

  Instead of answering my question, she says, “The favor I will receive is going to be incredible. I cannot believe you’ve lived under my nose this entire time.” Her eyes are wide with excitement, and the crazed look in her eyes drives me back another step. Mrs. Hutchins marks the movement.

  Before I can take a breath, her form blurs. Mrs. Hutchins snatches my wrist. “No, you don’t. You and I are going to take a little trip.”

  Holy crap. She’s not human!

  I’m not given a chance to shout for help. The world shifts and spins: the telling signs of angelic transport.

  Twenty-Four

  The world rights itself, and I immediately wrench my arm free. I stumble back. Angel Fire flares to life in my hands. “Who are you?”

  My reaction does nothing to dim the alarming delight in Mrs. Hutchins gaze. Though, she is smart enough to keep her distance. “A loyal Nephilim of the Dark Council,” she reveals, “And I’ve just escorted the most prized possession directly into their hands.”

  “What?”

  “Claudia,” an unfamiliar voice speaks. I whirl around and meet the gaze of a Dark Fallen. His midnight black wings are spread out behind him, blocking the view of the hallway behind him. “You’ve brought a visitor.” My shock causes the Angel Fire to fade.

  Mrs. Hutchins steps beside me and wraps thin fingers around my elbow. “Her name is Veronica Messenger, and she is here to speak with The Council.”

  The male purses his lips, and his dark eyes trail over me from head to toe, as if searching for whatever makes me worthy of a private audience with the angels on the Dark Council. It takes all of my strength not to shake in fear. He is the size of two Fallen, and long scars mar his face.

  “This way.” The stranger turns on his heel and proceeds down the hallway. The tips of his wings brush against either wall, but it doesn’t slow him down. Mrs. Hutchins tightens her grip and ushers me forward.

  Priceless oil paintings line the walls, and heavy wood tables are covered with glass-blown figurines and leather-bound volumes. I feel like I’m in some old rich guy’s house. Knowing I’m dealing with angels, the analogy probably isn’t that far off. Lukas’ mansion had been similarly decorated. I never wanted to touch anything breakable in his home, knowing I wouldn’t be able to afford to replace it.

  Focus, Veronica.

  I keep my attention forward, staring at my escorts back as I weigh my options. I have access to my power. I can try to fight my way out. Maybe I’ll get lucky and I will be able to faze out of here. Almost as soon the idea forms, I write it off as a horrible plan. The only powers I’ve been able to master are my Resurrection and healing abilities. I should’ve taken Joseph’s protective shield lessons more seriously.

  Two ivory pillars outline the entry to a large parlor. The enormous Fallen walks inside. Mrs. Hutchins drops my arm and presses her hands against her blouse. Raising her chin, she follows our escort inside. I stand at the threshold, and my eyes are pulled up. The ceiling must be thirty feet high, and its fresco painting is the focal point of the room.

  Angels float among pale pink clouds. The heavenly beings play the lute and harp while others dance to their inaudible tune. I see snowcapped mountains and a crystal blue lake. A troupe of angels fly over the surface, smiling at one another. One has dipped his finger in the water, and ripples travel through the smooth surface. Is this what heaven looks like?

  “Your Honors.” The masculine angel breaks the silence. I lower my attention to the room in front of me. My formidable escort is standing in front of a long oval table is positioned near the back of the room. An equally stunning fresco provides the backdrop for the twelve cloaked figures seated at the table.

  As one, the twelve figures rise from their seats and turn.

  The muscular angel and Mrs. Hutchins fall to their knees in a respectful bow. I stay where I am, eyeing each of the twelve strangers. They wear hoods, and I cannot make out their faces. I assume these are the angels on the Dark Council, but I don’t understand their wardrobe choice. Surely, their identities aren’t a secret. It seems over the top if you ask me.

  “Claudia Hutchins,” one of the hooded figures addresses my classmate’s mom. The voice belongs to a male. “This is a surprise.”

  Mrs. Hutchins stands. She looks at the figure right in the middle of the table. “Your Honors. I am here to deliver the one who’s signature you seek.”

  Acting as one again, the h
ooded council shift their attention to me. My blood runs cold. It’s like their eyes pierce through my skin, searching my insides for information.

  What the hell had I been thinking? I should’ve made a run for it, not stood there like an idiot admiring the ceiling. I press my hands against my legs, but I’m no longer able to keep them from shaking.

  The same Fallen who’d spoken to Mrs. Hutchins raises his arm. The robe shifts down and reveals normal looking tan skin. “Come.”

  I don’t budge. I’m not willfully defying him. My legs simply won’t move.

  Another cloaked figure says, “Rebellious. Not surprising considering the Fallen she’s keeps company with.”

  “How did you find her?” Another asks. I’m not sure which one.

  “Fortuitous coincidence,” Mrs. Hutchins replies. “I sensed fellow Dark Fallen at my house.”

  “You are not Fallen,” a raspy voice chastises from the end of the table.

  I see Mrs. Hutchin’s lower her head. “Forgive me, Your Honor. Of course not.”

  “You said you sensed Fallen in your home?” A female enters the conversation. “And you found this girl?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. The moment I saw her, I sensed the mark you’ve been searching for.”

  Signature… Mark?

  I can only assume they are speaking about whatever it is which identifies my Fallen race. Dread enters my thoughts. If the Dark Council is able to sense such a thing, they must know I am half-Dark and half-Light. My prospects for getting out of this situation unscathed just diminished drastically.

  I hold out hope I am wrong about what they are talking about. After all, my protectors claimed to barely have a read on my powers, even with the ward being lifted. There is a chance Mrs. Hutchins is talking about something other than proof of my half-race status.

  “Thank you for bringing the girl here so promptly,” the female Fallen says. I follow the regal sound and see she is standing next to the man at the center of the table. “You have done well, Claudia.”

  Mrs. Hutchins dips low. “It is my honor to serve.”