“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, his tone thick with resignation, “I really need to sleep. Someone shot me today.” His gaze shifted from me to the door with unmistakable meaning. He sauntered back toward the bed without a hint of drunken clumsiness.
I watched him sink onto the mattress and lay down, turning to face the wall. He pulled his knees up, settling a thin white sheet over his hips. The hard planes of his back rose and fell with his breaths. The bloody bandage clung to the muscles of his shoulder.
I stood frozen, mesmerized by the contrast between his powerful form and the vulnerable position. My blood burned with a potent mix of desire and compassion, a combination so fierce it almost propelled me forward against my will. Suddenly all I wanted was to lie down next to him; to curl my body around his, trailing my fingers across his smooth skin until he drifted into a healing sleep.
No. Dothan was a manipulative liar who clearly had no respect for me, my family, or my intelligence. Every tender moment we’d shared had been motivated by his quest for vengeance. Besides, he’d asked me to leave.
Summoning my last shred of dignity, I tore my gaze from the wounded man in the bed and trudged out of the little room. I forced myself not to look back inside as I closed the door with a quiet click.
Chapter 19
Nathaniel’s car wasn’t in the driveway when I pulled up to the house, which spared me the embarrassment of being caught in yet another situation where I blatantly ignored his instructions. A surge of relief flowed though me even as worry pulled my brows together. He’d been gone for hours—hopefully he was okay. I couldn’t bear it if I’d somehow caused him harm.
Dutifully, I ran through the evening shadows with my keys in my hand, mindful of both Nathaniel’s earlier warnings and the recent feelings of being watched. I raced up the steps to my apartment, checking to make sure my door was locked before letting myself in.
In my haste to confront Dothan, I’d forgotten to leave on any lights. I quickly illuminated each room in my small living space, carefully checking for intruders along the way. I wasn’t really sure who or what I thought might be lurking, but my nerves were frazzled.
Satisfied I was alone, I fired up my computer and stared at the search engine box. Where to start? Angels? Nephilim? Or at the beginning—Genesis—like Dothan had? In retrospect, I really should have played along with his story for a while; then I could have at least fished for more details. I sighed. My poor brain had been forced to process way too much today.
I was quickly overwhelmed by all the information out there. I didn’t even know what to look for. If I had hoped to find a site with definitive proof of the existence of Nephilim, I was sadly out of luck.
The front door closed with a rattle, causing me to jump in my chair. Nathaniel. I shut down the computer and hurried over to the door at the top of the stairs.
Would he want to see me? I crept downstairs, hesitating in the foyer near the front door. The hollow drum of water filling a kettle drifted from the kitchen.
“Can I join you?” I asked from the doorway to the living room.
He turned from the stove, a weary smile on his face. Exhaustion deepened the lines of his face, but his inherent kindness still shone in his green eyes. “Of course, Jamie. This is your home.”
My footsteps lightened as I crossed to the cabinet and pulled out two mugs. “I know,” I said haltingly. “But I messed up today. I’m really sorry.”
He nodded, studying the tea bags. “Teenagers make mistakes. Last I checked, adults do too. It’s all right.” Lifting his head, he tipped his chin toward the table. “Let’s sit down.”
A plaintive gurgle erupted in my stomach, and I suddenly remembered I hadn’t eaten since lunch with Dothan. Pain flared in my heart to join the cramp in my belly. I grabbed a box of graham crackers from the pantry and a bowl of grapes from the fridge. Not the greatest of dinners, but it would have to do.
“Is it all right, really?” I dropped into a chair, a handful of grapes suspended in the air as I waited for the answer.
Nathaniel leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes, I think so.”
I popped the grapes into my mouth, barely registering the burst of sweetness as I hurried to fill my stomach between questions. “I know I wasn’t supposed to open the safe without your permission…but I didn’t think there would be any harm in letting someone just look at the books. What did he find in there?”
The kettle whistled plaintively, and Dothan turned back to the stove. “That book contains some very powerful information. Information that could be quite dangerous in the wrong hands.”
“And Dothan . . .” I trailed off, unsure if Nathaniel even understood my connection to him. “The new stable hand at Fox Run, the guy who was here—he’s dangerous now that he has this information?”
Nathaniel set the mugs on the table, his expression contemplative. “I don’t think so,” he said finally, lowering himself into the chair across from me. “He doesn’t have…everything he would need to put it to use.”
“That’s good,” I murmured, willing my tired brain to connect all the cryptic clues I’d been given today. I longed to simply ask Nathaniel the exact nature of this powerful information. But I sensed I was tiptoeing along a very fine line; any question considered too direct might cause me to fall further away from the solution I sought.
“But now I’m worried about you,” I continued. “If you know what’s in the book, are you safe?” My hands shook slightly as I broke off a piece of graham cracker. Crumbs fell like sugary sand onto the tabletop.
His lips curved into a small smile. “Yes, I’m safe. I’m part of the small group entrusted to protect the knowledge in the book.”
My mind whirled with possibilities. A small, presumably secret, group? Elite scientists working on a new weapon? That hardly seemed to fit, given what I knew of Nathaniel’s background. Organized crime? Freemasons? A religious sect? A shiver ran through me as I remembered the shock I’d received from Nathaniel’s touch earlier. Nephilim? No, Dothan had claimed to be the only one.
Tread lightly, I reminded myself as I brought the steaming mug to my lips. “If it’s so dangerous, why don’t you just destroy the book?”
He nodded ruefully. “That’s an excellent question. Unfortunately, the knowledge inside is something that is sometimes needed.” His green eyes darkened as they looked beyond me, focusing on a memory I wasn’t privy to.
I interrupted his ruminations with another delicate question. “Why would Dothan think he needs it?” My throat dried up suddenly, and I took another tentative sip of the tea.
Nathaniel snapped back to the present, his mouth settling into a hard line. “I’m sorry, Jamie, but this is not a topic I’m comfortable discussing. I will tell you that Dothan is an angry and misguided boy who you should avoid. Most likely he’ll move along soon, and you won’t need to worry about seeing him at the barn.”
I sucked in a breath, overwhelmed by the devastating anguish this thought caused me. Bending my head, I fumbled with my crackers to hide my reaction.
Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Nathaniel continued, “Now, you’re a 16-year-old girl and it’s Saturday night. Why don’t you go do something fun?”
I suppressed a hysterical giggle. Between Sam and Dothan, my social life appeared to have picked up a little recently; but I’d spent all last night monopolizing Sam, and Nathaniel had just told me to stay away from Dothan. Not that the brooding, injured, and possibly crazy stable hand-slash-Nephilim was even an option for me. That bridge had not just burned—it was now a smoldering heap of ash.
“I’m a little tired,” I explained in the understatement of the year. Stifling a genuine yawn, I swept the sticky crumbs into a pile on the table. I brushed them into my palm and carried them, along with my mug, to the sink. “I’ll probably just hang out and chat online with some friends.”
I turned on the faucet, my face averted to hide the outrageous lie. After last year’s inciden
t, I’d deleted all my social media accounts in an attempt to cut off that method of abuse. As far as the cyber world was concerned, I didn’t exist. But Nathaniel didn’t know that.
“Okay, sweetheart. I’m tired too.” He pushed himself up from the table, his normal fluid grace impaired by the day’s events. Gripping his mug, he trudged toward his bedroom. “Don’t forget to lock your doors,” he called over his shoulder.
Chapter 20
I dragged myself home from school Tuesday afternoon, determined to get myself to the barn. Sleep had been eluding me every night since Saturday’s fiasco. If I wasn’t listening for suspicious sounds in the darkness, my mind was relentlessly analyzing every event in my life since meeting Dothan. Confusion and anguish fought an ongoing battle to dominate my every waking moment. And I still felt unseen eyes watching me too often to ever fully relax. I never saw or heard any tangible evidence, but the prickling along the back of my neck as I walked to and from my car unnerved me just the same. It didn’t help that the shadows of twilight began their descent a little earlier each night, plunging my surroundings into the deep black of midnight before 7:00 p.m.
I refused to skip my ride again today. Dothan could not hold that kind of power over me. He had probably taken off anyway, returning to whatever mysterious place he had come from. I spent equal time debating whether that place was the realm of Nephilim or the psych ward. Either way, desperate panic clawed at my insides at the thought of never seeing him again. It was infuriating.
My fears subsided slightly once I saw his car in the stable lot. But when I didn’t actually see Dothan out in the fields, where I tricked Beau into his halter, or back in the barn, where I tacked him up for our ride, I considered the ridiculous possibility that he’d just flown away. Could angels even fly? That sounded like a myth. And my thoughts sounded like those of a raving lunatic.
I forced my attention to the jumps in the ring, but I’d set them low in any case due to my exhaustion. Despite my efforts, every time I walked Beau after finishing the course, my gaze still swept the property. I searched for Dothan’s tall form throughout the sprawling fields, from the White’s house on the hilltop to the distant edge of the woods—all the while silently chastising myself. Still no sign of him.
So when he strode into the barn as I finished grooming Beau, my blood surged with relief. There’s no reason to talk to him, I reminded myself sternly. Maybe I couldn’t control my physical reactions, but he didn’t deserve an outward show of concern.
But I could feel his gaze raking over me as he returned a lead line to a peg on the wall. I glanced up and our eyes locked, held by an irresistible unseen force.
Ignore him, an inner voice commanded. But we stared at each other in silence until I was certain we’d still be at it at midnight.
I finally cracked. “Are you…okay?” I asked, breaking the spell. I took another swipe at a knot in Beau’s mane.
He studied me, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
I held on to the dark hairs of Beau’s mane to avoid hurting him as I tugged. “Um, because last time I saw you, you had a gunshot wound and a pretty serious buzz.”
“Right,” he said, rubbing at his shoulder distractedly. “Well, my arm is fine. As for the drinking—I do remember what we discussed.” He quickly checked behind him to make sure we were alone before he continued. “You need to forget everything I told you. And to stay away from me, for both our sakes.”
A jagged bolt of anguish tore through me. I leaned against Beau’s neck, desperately trying to hide how much his words hurt. A childish instinct to hurt him back overtook me before I could contain it. “That was Nathaniel’s advice for me too,” I snapped.
Dothan laughed cruelly. “Nathaniel’s one to talk. What a hypocrite.”
I whirled on him. “What?” I couldn’t stand one more second of being kept in the dark. “What are you talking about? Please, Dothan …” I trailed off in defeat, horrified to feel the sting of tears pressing against the backs of my eyes. “Someone just needs to tell me what’s going on.”
He hesitated for an unbearable second, weighing his options. Then suddenly he was at my side, grabbing my arm roughly. He pulled me into the tack room and shut the door, closing us in with the pungent smell of old leather and musty blankets.
“Jamie,” he said, holding both my shoulders in a vise-like grip. “Who do you think killed my father?” His clear brown eyes searched mine urgently.
My breath caught in my throat as I tried to decipher his question. I shook my head in confusion, exhaling with a shudder. “What? Surely you can’t think Nathaniel had something to do with your father’s death?”
“His murder,” he corrected, his voice an angry growl. “And yes. Nathaniel is the one who killed my father.”
I gaped at him. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? Ask him.”
Dothan’s fingers tightened, digging into my flesh painfully. But I welcomed the pain. It grounded me in reality; the aching pressure traveling down my arms gave me something physical to focus on in this surreal conversation. “I’m not going to ask my grandfather if he killed someone!”
His full lips pressed into an angry line. He released me, taking a step back. “Fine. Then you’ll have to trust me.”
I blinked at him incredulously. “Trust you? Seriously? You used me to get to Nathaniel. You tricked me into opening that safe. And I’m guessing you screwed with my car to get to my house!”
He shrugged. “All true. But I never knew you had any connection to Nathaniel until I came into the store that night after he’d left. Even when I was checking out his house, and I found you outside, I still only believed you worked for him and also rented the apartment upstairs.”
Blood heated my cheeks as I pictured myself lying in the street, covered in paint—a victim of my classmates’ hatred. And now I was hiding in a dimly-lit tack room, arguing with a gorgeous man who thought he was Nephilim. Compared to this time last year, my life was almost unrecognizable.
“I’ll admit deciding to use you was no great hardship,” he continued, closing the distance between us again. “I was attracted to you from the beginning. It seemed perfect.”
“Perfect,” I echoed softly, looking up at the tortured expression clouding his beautiful features. His topaz eyes pleaded with me silently. Conflicting emotions raged within me, overwhelming my ability to think straight. I dropped my gaze to his chest in an effort to break the intensity.
“But somehow in the process, I came to truly care about you.” He seized the sides of my head, forcing me to meet his gaze again. My scalp tingled under his fingers. Bending down, he brought his face closer to mine until only inches separated us. “If you don’t believe anything else that comes out of my mouth, believe that.” He brushed his lips across mine, a whisper of a kiss.
My heart contracted painfully. I didn’t doubt his sincerity. But it didn’t change the horrible truth: my grandfather was the target of his plans to avenge his father’s death.
The tears finally fell, spilling down my cheeks in warm rivulets. “And yet, you want to kill my only family,” I whispered. “The one person I have in this world.”
He released me, closing his fingers into fists. “He killed the one person I had in the world.” His voice was rough with anger and grief.
“Why?” None of this made any sense. I dragged my fingers through my hair forcefully, as if I could push Dothan’s words back out of my head. “What possible motivation would he have to do such a thing?”
He pressed his knuckles to his forehead, blowing out a breath. “There are…different rules…that govern the supernatural world. My father was an angel. So is Nathaniel. In fact, he’s a very powerful angel. He’s called an archangel.”
“No,” I said weakly. “That’s not right.” But I sagged against a vacant saddle stand as my joints loosened.
“Think about it!” Cords of muscle strained against the flesh of his neck. “Angels can only be killed by ot
her angels. That car accident that killed your mother—Nathaniel escaped with just a few minor injuries, right? And how quickly did those heal?”
I gripped the saddle rack, my hands moist and clammy against the wood. Underneath the outrageous allegations, Dothan’s words held an eerie ring of truth. But I wasn’t giving up my sanity without a fight.
“He was lucky. Very, very lucky. It was a—” I broke off, unwilling to finish my sentence.
Dothan’s mouth curled into a sad smile. “A miracle? In a sense, yes. After the accident, did he let the medics take him to the hospital? Did he see a doctor even once? I’m guessing he’s never had a single medical procedure since you’ve known him.”
I wasn’t at the accident. But I knew Nathaniel had refused medical care at the scene. He’d insisted he was fine and convinced a policeman to bring him home to break the news to me. Blood rushed in my ears as I searched through fuzzy memories. But I couldn’t think of a single occasion, before or after that horrible day, when my 72-year-old grandfather had visited a doctor. Ever.
Too much. The edges of my vision turned gray, colors leaking away along with my consciousness. I heard a faint cry before a merciful darkness engulfed me.
“Jamie?” Dothan’s voice pierced the silent oblivion. The rough pad of his thumb stroked my cheek, leaving a trail of fiery heat in its wake. I dragged my eyes open to find his face hovering above mine.
“Huh?” I mumbled, blinking repeatedly. Why was I on the floor of the tack room? A quilted horse blanket lay across me, covering my body with a heavy bulk that matched the fog in my head.
“Are you okay?” he asked anxiously. He studied me from above, his eyes flashing with concern.
“I think I fainted.” Yes, I thought, pressing my lips together. That seemed abundantly clear.
“Sorry, Jamie—I shouldn’t have sprung that on you.” He smoothed my hair back from my forehead. “I promised myself I wouldn’t tell you anything more. But it’s been so long since I had someone to talk to,” he added with a sigh.
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