by C. G. Blaine
My eyes fall to the screen and the message he just sent to Whipped One.
Blocker bag to protect the other Descended from Disastrous Donny?
The phone buzzes with a response: Address?
A relieved sob escapes as I set the phone on the floor and enter the address for the farmhouse. Armaros—Rosdan’s nickname is Cursed One, which leads me to believe I’m texting Cass.
Nothing like chanting in the middle of the night, he replies. We’re going now.
I sit back on my heels and wipe the tears. I almost laugh because Nyla would probably die just from knowing he was there. Her little old lady heart wouldn’t be able to take it.
“Thank you, Chazaqiel.” It comes out soft. I’m not even sure he hears it over the shower until I put his phone away and stand up.
“Yeah,” he says. “Now, can you shut the damn door and let me wash my junk in peace?”
I smile and pull the door on my way out, turning the handle when it doesn’t latch and tugging again so it stays closed.
I’m on the couch when he comes out a little while later, dragging a towel over his head. He barely glances at me before going straight to his room. I sigh and slip my shoes off. As I reach for the blanket at one end, he steps around the corner in low-slung sweatpants with a Q-tip shoved in his ear.
He doesn’t say anything. Just raises his eyebrows and gives me a what the fuck are you doing look. Then, he clicks off the light and disappears. I decide that’s his way of telling me he doesn’t trust me out here on my own. Which is fine because I want to sleep in a real bed.
Neither of us says anything after I follow him. We get under the covers and lie in the dark, facing away from each other. It’s hard to believe we were naked in the camper just a few hours ago. Now, we’re here, where the sheets and the pillows and the comforter smell like him. Everything except me, which is still a mix of artificial strawberries and cheap vanilla.
“You were talking about killing me earlier.”
The mattress shifts under his weight. I think he rolls over, but I don’t look.
“How else did you think this would play out, Nyx?” he asks. “You thought Abaddon would abandon the grudge he’s held for an eon? That I would be cool with my existence, relying on no one killing him? Neither of those is happening.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, wanting to hate him for what he’s saying. For all but telling me what he’ll do to me once he regains his light. Or what someone will do for him.
In the desert, Chaz’s life was at risk, and I was safe. But the second we left, the coin flipped, and the safer he becomes, the closer I am to death. The scales haven’t been in balance once since we met, and somehow, I’m only realizing it now.
One of us has been dead all along. We just haven’t figured out which one it is yet.
When I wake up, my hands are free, and Chaz isn’t beside me anymore. I stretch, looking around the room in the morning light. All black furniture with nothing personal in sight. Not that I can imagine him framing pictures of Kai and Avery or the other angels. But it does make him look slightly like a serial killer.
Feeling the effects of two and a half days in the desert, followed by a half-day of drinking, I want water, shower, and food. In that order.
I climb out of bed in search of all three but pause at the sound of voices in the living room. The amulet’s gone from the nightstand, so I’m guessing it’s Cass or Rosdan.
I consider listening, but in case they’re planning my murder, I’d rather break up the conversation. The door creaks the rest of the way open, and Chaz looks up as I step around the corner. He’s on the couch with the Dimming Blade while Rosdan stands several feet away, fingers steepled under his chin. Rosdan’s eyes flit to mine and then down to my hands.
“She won’t suck the life out of you or something?” he asks.
Chaz only shrugs a shoulder, his focus returning to the weapon. “Water’s in the kitchen. Towels in the cabinet.”
“Thank you.”
But neither is paying attention to me anymore.
“Human sacrifice.” Rosdan dips his head for a better look. “Should we see if straight blood works first?”
“Nephilim,” Chaz says as I open the fridge. “I’ll grab a vial.”
As I drink my water, I notice a black velvet bag on the counter. The drawstrings are loose and the top open. A crystal lies beside it and a few more inside.
“It’s a blocker bag.” Rosdan’s propped in the doorway. “When active, it prevents anything light or dark from entering other than whoever cast the spell.”
“This is what’s protecting my sister?”
He cautiously approaches, like all five-four of me will attack the towering and muscular angel at any given moment. “Cass set one in the house last night.”
I nod and force a smile. “Good.”
Chaz rounds the corner, rubbing at his chest. “Ready?”
Rosdan passes him, and I leave my glass on the counter, following them.
“When can I go to my apartment?” I ask.
“You can’t,” Chaz answers, sitting down.
Rosdan looks between us, his face saying he wants to be anywhere but here right now. “I’ll check on Avery and Kai.” He quickly strides across the room and into the hall.
“I need clothes,” I say. “And my phone.”
Chaz reaches in his shirt and takes off the amulet. “A swarm of Lowers will be waiting for you the second you step foot into your place. And Hex is one hundred percent the kind of ex who would be tracking your phone.”
“What if Nyla’s doctors need to contact me?”
“Give them my number.”
“And what am I supposed to wear? I have a shirt, sweatpants, and one pair of underwear. Do you expect me to do laundry every day and hang out in a towel until it finishes?”
He smirks and spreads his arms across the couch cushions behind him. “Suddenly shy of strutting around my apartment in a towel?”
I let out an exasperated groan and stomp toward the bathroom, but he cheats with a portal and appears between me and the door, bracing his arm on the frame.
“Fine,” he says. “You can get some clothes from your apartment.”
“Fine.” I duck under his arm, and he switches direction, pressing his other forearm to the wall.
“But you still aren’t stepping into the building.”
Rosdan lands us directly in the center of my bedroom.
Chaz cocks his head to the side. “Lucky shot, Ros?”
Rosdan steps away from us, scrunching up his face. “I might have been here before.” I raise an eyebrow, and he says, “Kai mentioned your name when I went deep-diving for anything useful in finding Chaz. When his car ended up being in the parking lot, I thought it was worth checking inside.”
Chaz moves to the dresser and picks up one of my bras. “So, you raided her panty drawer?”
I rip it away from him, and he winks.
“Recast your amulet spell,” Rosdan tells him. “Your darkness is showing.”
He flips Rosdan off, but his lips move.
“You have a bag?” Rosdan asks. “We need to hurry before Mark and Scarlett, uh…” Dimples appear with his half-smile. “Before they—”
“Ros’s charge is getting laid on his lunch break,” Chaz says. “So, we need to be in and out in the time it takes him to be, well, in and out.”
“In the closet.” I shoulder past Chaz and show Rosdan where it is on the shelf.
He brings it down for me and opens it on the bed while I gather a few shirts. I toss them in and return to the dresser for the rest. Jeans, underwear, another few bras. When I turn, Chaz is beside the bed with shampoo and body wash. I nod, surprised he’s helping.
He stuffs them in along with my armful of clothes and shakes the bag to make more room. “Anything else?”
I scan around, looking for my clean laundry. “Let me grab something to sleep in—”
With my first step toward the door, a hand clasps
on to my upper arm. Chaz drags me backward until I hit his chest, and his other arm snakes around my waist. I look up at him behind me, but he’s watching something outside my room.
The rest happens fast.
He whips to Rosdan by the bed, and his brother throws my bag at us. At the same time Chaz catches it, Rosdan hurls a lightning bolt from his palm. It strikes the chest of a man in the doorway. He flies into the drywall but vanishes before he hits the ground.
Demons.
And then they pile in through the door, and Rosdan dives for us. The bright light from earlier surrounds us, Chaz’s hold on me tightening as the world turns white and hot around us. I only get through a single breath before we’re in Chaz’s living room again.
He lets go of me and my bag, shaking his head as he runs into the kitchen. “Sorry, dude, but—”
“No,” Rosdan says. “Blocker bag in case they followed.” He no more than finishes when he disappears.
By the time I get to the kitchen, Chaz is cinching shut the black velvet pouch. He tosses it in a cupboard and slams it closed. Sighing, he turns around and plants his hands on the countertop, hanging his head between his shoulders.
“You good?” he asks.
He looks up, and I nod.
“Good.” He takes off the amulet and lays it on the counter. “Everyone’s fucking good, and you have clothes.”
“Right,” I say, deciding not to tell him I only have half my clothes.
In about twelve hours, he’ll find out on his own.
Cass continues to glower at me from the opposite end of the couch while I dick around with the blade. Since he and Hannah are on Kai and Avery duty tonight, he thought he’d come here to help—or babysit, as he put it. He’s not ecstatic that we left here to go to the only other place guaranteed to have Lowers watching, and that it resulted in us being on the receiving end of a demon firing squad.
“Recast the amulet spell,” he says, “so I’m not tempted to finish what the goddamn Lowers started.”
But he’s hiding the emotions well.
I mumble the spell and fight not to wince as the darkness balls in my chest to get away from the light.
“You think a few drops will do it?” I ask, unscrewing the top from a vial of Nephilim blood.
He shrugs, and I decide fuck it and pour it all out onto the steel.
Cass leans forward, and we watch the blood smooth over the broad side. I flip it, and the other side is entirely covered too. Sparks of light seem to flicker beneath, trapped inside the metal.
“Shit.” I set the blade on the table. “Is that my light?”
He reaches out, curling his fingers back in a moment of hesitation before he snatches the handle. “Now, how the fuck do we get it out of there?”
We exchange looks, and because we’ve known each other since our beginning, I know we’re both thinking about Rosdan’s offer to stab me.
I tip my head in suggestion, and Cass shakes his in a hard no.
“I am not dealing with Hannah if she finds out I stabbed you when you can’t heal.” He rotates his wrist to pass me the knife. “You’re on your own with this little experiment, brother. In fact, I don’t even want to be here when it happens.”
I put the blade down as he stands up. “Not sure I’m up for it tonight anyway.”
He looks at the closed bathroom door. Nyx has been in the shower for-fucking-ever, and I’m starting to wonder if she’s staged an elaborate escape plan. Dug a hole through the wall or something.
“Are you telling Hannah they’re related?” I ask.
He shrugs, still staring at the door. “If I wait, she won’t have to live with the guilt of choosing to save you over her only living relative.”
I see the torn look on his face and have a Rosdan moment, swooping in for a hug.
He stays absolutely still and lets out a slow, impatient-as-fuck breath. “You really want me to wipe you from existence, huh?”
I chuckle, slapping him on the back a few times before I pull away. “Come on. We all know the Kasdaye lineup of love.” I hold my hand like a shelf. “Hannah.” I move it down a notch. “Chaz.” Then another with each item. “Your motorcycle, cigarettes, and then Rosdan.”
He blankly stares at me and then walks out without a word. The door across the hall shuts a few seconds later, and I imagine Cass is already bitching to Hannah that he wants me immortal again, so he can punch me in the face.
I go back to the blade, still flickering and taunting me with what’s just out of reach. Sighing, I flip it around and press the tip between my ribs. Right over my scar. I blow out a few quick breaths, and then just before I plunge it into myself, the energy dancing through the metal fizzles out. A second later, the blood starts to drip onto me and the carpet.
Of course, this is the exact position Nyx finds me in when she finally swings open the bathroom door—bloody dagger poking into my side.
“Chaz!” she squeaks more than says. “What did you do?” She rushes over and moves the blade out of the way, lifting up my shirt. Her hand is already splayed over my abs when her eyes snap up to mine. “You’re not hurt.”
I shake my head but get distracted as my gaze rakes over her. She has on a familiar-looking T-shirt—mine—that hangs to her mid-thigh, and everything from there down is bare.
Her hand falls away, and she stops holding up my shirt. “I forgot a few things at my apartment.”
She flushes and starts for the bedroom, and I have no issues with watching her go.
After I reengage the blocker bag, I clean up my mess in the living room. Maybe I’ll give Rosdan a little time with the blade. See if he finds a method that doesn’t risk massive blood loss and a trip to the ER.
I lock it in the box hidden behind books on a shelf in the living room. In case Nyx gets any ideas.
The amulet is still active. Just like Rosdan predicted, each time I cast, the longer the spell works before the crystal powers down. It’s also getting stronger. Badass because, soon, I’ll be able to use it in place of my light. But the space between the light and dark is hurting more each time.
I’m rubbing my chest as I walk into the bedroom. Nyx is cross-legged on the bed. She has the tie, dragging the silk through her closed palm. Trying not to smile, I bring the chain over my head and lay the amulet on the nightstand. Then I beckon her over, and she walks on her knees to the edge of the bed.
“Why don’t you tell them?” she asks, holding her wrists together.
“Care to add any specifics?” I fold an end over the material bridging her hands.
“Why don’t you tell your brothers what the amulet is doing to you?”
I consider bullshitting her with a, No idea what you’re talking about, but with the look she’s giving me, she won’t let me dismiss it.
“Angels are created with light to protect from the darkness. I’m not going to force them to deal with something they’re programmed to fight because it makes me uncomfortable.”
I finish the knot with a gentle tug to tell her I’m done. She sits back on her heels, and before she digs deeper into where she doesn’t belong, I strip off my shirt and walk away, making sure not to massage the spot on my chest until after I get out of the room.
Nyx has only been here since yesterday, but her scent already covers my bathroom and is all over my sheets. Every single time I turn around, I’m breathing her. Eating, showering, sleeping, and most definitely when I wake up in the middle of the night with her back against me. The shirt she’s wearing has ridden up, leaving her warm skin torturing mine.
Christ, if I were ever going to lose my mind, it would be because of her.
I run my hand over the curve of her hip, and she relaxes into me, the sexiest hum escaping her. And there’s no chance I’m going to stop touching her now. I keep skimming down the front of her bare thigh, and her body shifts further into me. Her head lulls back against me as my palm glides back around, and when I nudge her panties down, she sucks in a breath.
“C
haz,” she starts as a warning but never finishes.
I’m right there with her, reminding myself of all the ways this goes wrong. I just can’t stop with her. Fuck, I’m not even sure I want to anymore. Everything’s so screwed, so why not enjoy the ride?
My lips graze over her shoulder. “Tell me no.”
But she doesn’t. She rubs her ass against me. I pull her against my hard-on, grinding right back. I move to grab a condom, pushing down my boxer briefs. When I turn over again, she brings her arms over her head. She hooks them over the back of mine, forcing my face into her neck. I roll on the condom and slip inside her from behind. Slow thrusts while she sighs and pushes back.
“Chaz.” The breathy way my name spills out of her mouth makes me groan, and I pump into her faster, pulling her leg back so I can go deeper before sliding my hand between them. I move my other down to her breast, my arm holding her against me.
When she tugs at the back of my head, I bite down on her shoulder until she whimpers, but then she’s tugging at me again, asking for more.
“What are you fucking doing to me?” I ask, then I drag my teeth over the shell of her ear. “So goddamn irresistible.”
She moans, already close, and so am I. I unhook her arms from around my head, pulling out of her long enough to push her onto her back. She loops her arms over my neck again, her knees pressing into my hips. The chill starts in my spine, working its way out until her skin cools where I’m gripping the back of her neck.
“Yes,” she says. “Put your hands on me.”
Not about to argue with the chick I’m burying myself in, I run my other hand up her leg. Her breaths become desperate, and when she comes, I barely get through another three thrusts before I’m growling out my own release. My forehead rests on her cheek for a few seconds, and then I roll onto my back.
I’m still panting, semi-coherent after I take care of the condom and flop down beside her again. “You’ve got to be pretty fucked up to get off on the darkness.”
“Well”—Nyx drags my arm across my chest to her—“I guess we’re pretty fucked up then.”
