by C. G. Blaine
Not that I’ll give Lydia the pleasure of knowing any of that.
“I think he mentioned something,” I say, feigning indifference.
She narrows her eyes, suspicious of any bullshit out of my mouth.
Fair, because it is all bullshit. I know every detail about what happened with Samy. Far more than the scraps she’s pieced together. I also know the Demon of Destruction cracked open the Abyss, so he could get the Dimming Blade—the only thing that can wipe an angel from existence—but she doesn’t know anything about that.
And I’m not going to be the one to tell her.
“Why are you here, Lydia?” I ask. “Is this another sad attempt to get with me? Because I hate to burst your bubble, but—”
“Please stop talking.” She holds up a hand, her cheeks brightening. “I would give up my eternity to forget that night.” She drops her arm and sighs. “Since none of The Fallen have been checking in once a century as required, I’m conducting random drop-ins. So, report on your charges.”
The Fallen. Our punishment as Watchers shines as a prime example of how fast everything can go to shit. Twenty of us were sent to Earth to oversee mankind. None of us expected to find such a shitshow when we got here, humans starving and struggling to survive. Sure, my brothers and I technically went against God’s plan by deciding to help them. Still, I stand by the fact that they would have learned how to predict the weather and plant a fucking seed anyway. Except, while we were busy teaching them how not to die like dumbasses, a bunch of the other Watchers created a race of angel-human hybrids—the Nephilim—which led to a fucking bloodbath.
Was it a disaster? Yes. So much so that God opened the Abyss, bringing on a flood that scratched out creation so a new one could begin.
Did the thirteen assholes who couldn’t keep it in their pants deserve to be punished? Probably. They weren’t remorseful for the part they’d played, even after they were turned human and told their souls would rot outside of Heaven’s gates for eternity after they died.
Should those of us who were only guilty of being too nice have been banished from Heaven until we redeemed ourselves? Hell no. But we were, and I’ve been tied to one of the seven Nephilim bloodlines saved by God for our punishment ever since. Their powers on lockdown, mine only available when one’s in danger—or when they experience a spike of adrenaline, my favorite loophole. I’ve kept all my charges safe until they died of natural causes, self-sacrifice, or an act of God. And now, I’m down to the last two. Then I’ll finally be able to go the fuck home, where I belong, with the divine light pulsing through my veins—a true angel and not this sad excuse of a babysitter.
“Kai and Avery Benson,” I tell Lydia.
She stares at me, expecting more, and when I don’t provide, she rolls her eyes. “You guys make me drag every single word out of you. What happened to the other charge you had last time?”
“Their mother, Rachel Benson, died of cancer just shy of a decade ago.”
The same type as her father and his grandmother and her brothers before that. The cancer had been skipping a generation until then. Now, it seems to hit all my charges, the last one before she turned forty. After she died, Kai and Avery were raised by their paternal grandparents, who are currently enjoying retirement in Arizona.
“Avery,” Lydia says, a hint of disdain rolling off her tongue. “Do I have to worry about you screwing her like Kasdaye and his little—”
“Hannah. And can you blame him?” I add with a smirk. “She’s hot.”
Lydia’s always had a thing for Cass, and her nostrils flare at the mention of Hannah Kelley, his final charge and love of his existence—his words. The connection we share with a charge is strong, and Kelley’s cool and all, but the sacrifice to be with a mortal is our immortality. To ask to become human and give up the light we’ve been fighting to get back this entire time.
“Whatever.” She clips her tone, trying to regain control even though she’s never had the upper hand. “Just keep your ass in line, and remember, I’ll be back soon.”
“I’ll be waiting, gorgeous.” I gesture to the door. “Now, why don’t you go bother Rosdan? Give him a chance to turn you down.”
She levels me with a glare. “Screw you, Chazaqiel.”
“Been there, done”—she’s gone before I finish—“that.”
I sigh, returning to the kitchen. The crystal goes back in the bag, the bag back in the cupboard, and my ass back across the hall. When I throw the door open without warning, the light that was dulling reignites as Avery jumps.
She groans, realizing it’s just me. “You suck.”
I chuckle and crash down on the cushions beside her. Maybe I get the Cassannah attraction a little. The light feels incredible on its own. Throw in direct contact with the source and sex, and you have one hell of a combination. A chance at combustion under the right circumstances.
I end up watching Avery instead of the movie, tracing the soft curves of her face and then lower, my mind playing with the possibility.
After a while, she flinches at something on the screen and covers her eyes. The heat inside me churns and thrashes around along with the beat of her heart.
As she lowers her hands, she glances over. “If you plan on messing with me again, don’t.”
I shake my head, sliding closer. I’ve never thought about Avery as anything but a charge until recently, but I won’t lie, I’ve been wondering.
Her eyes dart between mine when I lean in. “Chaz…”
“Yeah, Aves?” I brush my fingertips up her jaw, and her eyelids fall halfway closed at the contact. I move my other hand to where her pulse throbs in her neck so that it beats against my palm, and she swallows as my mouth hovers in front of hers.
“Fuck it.”
And my lips are on her.
She sucks in a breath, her face cradled in my hands while I toe the hell out of this line. I don’t even know what I’m expecting—sparks or fucking fireworks or some revelation I’ll never recover from. A transformation, me and her different than before, savage and ripping at each other to get more.
But it’s just Avery. Smooth skin that smells like her body wash and a mouth I could spend some time on. Nothing existence-altering though.
Our lips are still mashed together when hers turn up, and I chuckle, still kissing her.
I keep a hand on each side of her face, pulling back. “Want to pretend this never happened?”
She nods, smiling, but when she tries to sit back, I hold her there until her cheeks warm under my touch and her eyes look lost in mine.
We have quite a few years left before I’ll need to drop out of their lives, so they don’t realize I’m not aging with them.
I’d rather not spend it in some awkward dance with her.
“I came back in here, and we watched the movie,” I tell her. “No weird kiss or anything other than a normal Chaz and Aves movie night, okay?”
I get another nod, another smile, and I let her go. She slumps back on the cushions, turning to the screen, and after a few seconds, she curls up next to me and rests her head on my shoulder. Roughing up her hair, I relax more than I have in a while.
It would be fucking fantastic if the feeling could last. If, after the shitstorm and the vague threat from Lydia, I could at least make it to the credits without the door flying open.
I jerk my head to the side as Kai strolls in, giving us a grin before he glances over his shoulder.
And then she walks through the door.
Pouty lips. Perfect ass.
Our eyes connect, hers widening when he hauls her to his side.
His hand splays out over her stomach, his mouth pressing a kiss to her temple. “Guys, this is Nyx.”
Fuck.
When Kai introduces us, she sticks out her hand and puts on a sham of a smile.
“Chaz,” she repeats. Her mouth forms around my name the way it did when she moaned with me inside her.
With that image front and center, I slip my ha
nd into hers. “Nyx.” Then, for kicks, I tug her closer and kiss her cheek. “Like the goddess,” I whisper.
I pay little attention through the rest of the intros. They met at the coffee shop where she works, and she burned his macchiato or some shit. He’s been there every day since but only orders water. Blah, blah, Avery thinks the story is adorable and drags Nyx into the living room, insisting they stay for the rest of the movie.
That means the four of us are tucked in together on the couch. Me, the charge I just kissed, the chick I fucked in the back of a bar, and my other charge, who considers me a brother and is now dating the previously mentioned couch occupant.
Lovely.
A few jolts from Avery in, I tip my head back on the cushions, maneuvering around her head to see Nyx on her other side.
Even in profile, lit with the blue light from the screen, I catch the tension in her face, down her neck, and into her shoulders.
When she looks over, I don’t even pretend I’m not watching her. She acted like she didn’t know me, like my hands hadn’t been all over her, in more places than Kai’s—unless he’s figured out a way to have sex without triggering adrenaline. Her indifference shouldn’t bother me, but Avery’s overreaction to the movie cranks the furnace on my irritation. The light fuels my own overreaction to the woman I’m now in a stare-down with over the back of the couch.
Kai’s arm slides around her. She licks her lips, and my jaw ticks when she turns to him.
“You said there’s water in the fridge?” she asks. Kai starts to stand up, but she pats his leg. “I got it.”
She sure as shit does.
I wait for her to disappear behind the wall blocking the kitchen, and I stretch, purposely knocking my elbow into Avery’s head. She whips toward me, lips pursed.
“Beer?” I ask.
I get a curt nod.
As I get to my feet, Avery’s attention drifts back to the screen where, in about thirty seconds, the possessed-looking kid will start freaking out like he’s … possessed. Movie-type possession, that is. The darkness never really alters appearances that much; it just takes over and extinguishes the soul.
Kai kicks at my foot as I pass. “See if Nyx needs help.”
I sure as shit will.
When I round the corner, she’s pulling a pitcher of water out of the refrigerator. She turns around, slamming straight into my chest just as Avery screams from the other room.
Perfect timing, Aves.
Light floods through me, and my hands catch her face. She looks up as I tilt her head back, the heat pouring from my palms.
“Why are you here?” I ask softly.
Her eyes soften to honey-colored pools, the pitcher resting against my chest. “Kai wanted to watch a movie,” she answers, almost robotically.
Divine light—the most potent truth serum in existence. But I still follow up. “How did you meet him?”
“A coffee shop. But I’d seen him before at the bar where I met you.”
I should let her go, stop interrogating her. Except part of me wants to push further and find the right question to reveal that she’s really here to see me. Fuck, because having her be some nut, hunting me down and getting with my charge to get to me, is better than a random second encounter?
“You aren’t here to see me?”
Her head shifts from side to side. “No. I didn’t want to see you again.”
Words I planted in her head somehow manage to fucking spear me. Shit. She’s really dating Kai.
I feel the power start to fade and brush my thumbs over her cheeks. “You won’t remember this conversation.”
When I let her go, I back up a few steps.
Nyx blinks out of the daze and notices me standing near the door. All the tension returns to her. “Glasses?”
I point to the cupboard, crossing my arms while she pulls out a glass. She fills it, returns the pitcher to the fridge, and turns around in front of me. Her teeth work her lip to the point that I think it might bleed before I move around her to the refrigerator.
“He doesn’t need to know,” I say, grabbing three beers. “Actually, I’d prefer Kai doesn’t know how I really met his girlfriend.”
“I’m not…” She’s still facing away from me, but she turns over her shoulder. “We’re still feeling things out.”
An interesting distinction she felt the need to throw out there, and like a complete asshole, I smile. “Well, by all means then”—I slam shut the fridge and pass her without another glance—“feel away.”
I hand off beer bottles on my way back to my end of the cushions. I twist off my top and land it on the coffee table in front of me with a tink, propping my feet up next to it.
Nyx comes back a minute later, no glass. Kai’s arm goes around her, and Avery inches closer to me as the creepy music picks up on the screen. She’s hiding her face in my shirtsleeve, all of me burning hot when I feel eyes on me from down the couch. I bite back another smile and hold Avery to my side.
Lydia clearly pinned her concerns on the wrong Nephilim causing trouble. Because this is setting up to go all kinds of wrong.
“Make her forget you fucked her,” Cass commands. “Tell her the first time you met was at the apartment. And suggest she never see your charge again, too. Don’t screw around with this mortal soap-opera bullshit.”
I laugh into the phone. Leave it to Cass to jump straight to the nuclear option. But he’s not wrong. A little light and a smooth suggestion, and Nyx disappears. Things could go back to normal, and I wouldn’t need to hang back like I have been the past few days. It would also mean the texts from Avery would stop.
Messages have been popping up while I bounce between following her to lectures and watching Kai from across the street as he becomes a piece of furniture in the coffee shop. Avery has dissected every aspect of what she could coax out of her brother about his new obsession, and she likes to share with the class.
Nyx Lamore. A twenty-three-year-old barista, only able to afford her first-floor one-bedroom, thanks to a small inheritance from an aunt she never met. She has a twin sister but doesn’t talk about her, and her parents died years ago too. Kismet, according to Kai. Bullshit, according to Chaz.
I flop back on my bed, turning the palm stone over in my hand. The flat, polished crystal works like a crystal ball, except two-sided with each side tied to a charge’s soul, giving me a quick way of summoning their image. I spend longer on Avery as she’s crossing the street on the way to her car after her last class of the day. Mostly to avoid watching Kai across the hall with Nyx. She’s splattered with paint for some fucking reason.
The phone vibrates against my cheek, and I pull it away to check the screen.
“Why’s your charge texting me?” I ask.
Then I see what Hannah sent and roll my eyes at the morality police.
You will NOT make a woman forget she slept with you.
“Unless it’s life or death,” she adds, shouting from somewhere near Cass. “And being annoyed is neither.”
Fucking Kelley.
But again, point made.
“At least get her away from you and your charge.” Most of the edge has left Cass’s tone. I’m still not used to the effect she has on him. Who knew all it would take to soothe my brother’s forever-tortured soul was a fiery redhead who doesn’t put up with his shit?
I toss the palm stone into the air and catch it. Maybe I shouldn’t do anything. I wouldn’t if this were just some random chick my charge brought home. They’re a fling, and soon enough, the whole Nyx storm will blow over—with or without my suggestive influence.
Kai doesn’t even like coffee.
My phone vibrates again. I turn my head to check the screen, lit up with a message from Cursed One.
Call me. Now.
Our other brother must be feeling left out.
Anytime I start to bitch about any part of my existence, I only need a text from Rosdan to settle me down. The dude hasn’t caught a break in … well, ever. An
d while twins have been a rarity in my line, Ros deals with them regularly. This last go-round, triplets.
I sigh, letting the stone fall onto my chest. It slides off onto the mattress when I sit up. “Well, you two have been shit for help. Remind Kelley I’m here if she ever wants to—”
“Fuck off,” Cass says. “Deal with your charge before it blows up in your face.”
He hangs up, and I chuckle, calling Rosdan. I’ve made it to the living room by the time he answers—or before he starts making demands.
“Let me in,” he says, followed by a click.
And he’s the polite one.
I redirect to the kitchen and disengage the spell. “It’s open,” I shout, setting my phone on the counter.
Rosdan charges in, flying right past me.
“Great to see you too, dude,” I say, shutting the door behind him.
“Sorry. Mark’s at the gym—new kickboxing class. I waited for his heart rate to get up so I could drop, and I don’t have much time.” When I turn around, he’s holding out his hand with a wild look in his dark eyes. “Amulet.”
Another attempt to get Samy’s amulet working. It’s essentially been nothing but dead weight the past few months, but Ros is determined to find a spell so we can use the power stockpiled inside.
I pull at the chain to bring it out from under my shirt and then drag it over my head while I give him a once-over. “I take back the great part. You look like shit.”
Dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess like he’s been pulling at it—sure signs of a stressed-out Ros.
He practically jerks the amulet out of my hand. “It’d better be this one. I’m running out of scrolls.”
“Maybe Samy cast an original.”
“Fuck, I hope not. I’ll still be trying to figure it out when the triplets go to college.” He holds the amulet to his chest and chants the spell. Nothing happens, so he shakes the crystal—which houses enough divine light to blow up the moon—like it’s a remote with dying batteries and tries again.
Not even a spark.
“Shit.” He shoves the amulet back at me, tugging at the back of his hair. “I really thought I had it.”
“I know, buddy.” I pat him on the back, walking him toward the door. “You’ll get it next time.”
