by C. G. Blaine
“No,” I say fast. “Gabe and I happened after, and I didn’t even see Cass again until a few weeks ago.”
She nods, her eyes trailing around the room. “And now you two are together?”
“I think so.”
“Think? You want to more than think with that thing walking around out there. Dude’s sex on a stick.”
“No, we’re together.”
“And do your parents like him?”
A sick feeling creeps over me. My face must show it because Terra shakes her head.
“Sorry, Han. You don’t have to answer that. I know you and your parents don’t—”
“My parents are dead,” I blurt out. “They were killed in a plane crash five and a half years ago.”
Her eyes bulge, and I cover my mouth like it will somehow take it back. But I don’t want to because, as terrible as it is to say, it’s not as hard anymore.
My gaze lowers to the bedspread between us. “I should have told you a long time ago, but you never asked about them, and it was just easier not to talk about it.” I look up, and she’s crying, and I’m a terrible person. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head and wipes her hand across her cheek. “Don’t apologize, Hannah. The reason I’m crying is really stupid.”
“More stupid than not telling your best friend your parents are dead?”
Terra sniffs and nods, picking at her nails. I almost think she’s going to tell me her parents are dead, too, when she takes a deep breath.
“I sent a really angry letter to your parents last year, telling them how amazing you are and how they don’t deserve you. And I put a shitload of glitter in it, so it would get all over their house and their clothes and be stuck in their carpet forever.” She takes another breath, and the tears are rolling down her face. “Then I snooped through your things and found an address in Colorado and sent it without a name on it or a return address. And whatever poor soul opened the letter probably still has glitter in their hair.” She sobs into her hands, loud and heartbreaking.
A laugh bubbles up out of nowhere, followed by an incredibly embarrassing snort. “You glitter-bombed the Chelowskis?”
Her head pops up, eyes devastatingly sad. “Oh God, now I know their names.”
Cackling even harder, I drop back on my pillow, tears spilling from the corners of my eyes. My response is ridiculous and borderline inappropriate, considering the situation. Exactly the kind of behavior that would make my parents proud.
Slowly, Terra’s crying morphs into embarrassed giggling. She lies down beside me and wraps her arms around me. I try to keep my breathing even so that Cass doesn’t appear in a blaze of light, ready to fight something.
“Should I write them an apology?” she asks once we calm down.
“Something tells me they don’t open anything without a clear return address anymore.”
She sighs. “I’m sorry about your parents, Hannah.”
That’s something you never learn how to respond to. Thank you sounds wrong. No reason why, it just does. And it’s okay comes across as dismissive.
I roll my head toward her. “They would have loved you, by the way. And the glitter.”
“What about Cass? Did they know him?”
I smile and shake my head. “No, but he remembers them.”
“Would they have approved of him?”
“Probably not.” Then I add, “But I really doubt he’d care.”
She scoots over and rests her head on my shoulder. “Well, even if he’s a dick most of the time, I like him.”
“Yeah,” I say, playing with the keychain in my hand. “Me too.”
We stare at the ceiling until she claims she can smell her clothes. While she finishes gathering her laundry, I unpack and sneak a few things into her load before she knots the bag.
“You want to come?” She opens the door and sees Cass on the other side. “Never mind.” She passes him on his way in and turns, so she can still deliver her glare. “I’m watching you, pretty boy. I have glitter, and I know how to use it.”
His eyes dart to me and back, then he slams the door on her. “What the fuck is she—”
It swings back open, two of Terra’s fingers pointing to her eyes and then to him. “Watching you.”
This time, I shut the door on her.
Cass catches me around the middle and spins me around. “Did you stay in your room?” he asks, his mouth already on my neck.
“As commanded.” I tilt my head to the side, giving him better access, and inch the hem of his shirt higher.
He reaches back between his shoulders and tugs it off. “Is that what you want?” He kisses me and jerks my hips forward.
It’s exactly what I want. My fingers trail over his hard abs, heading lower and lower. I reach the button on his jeans as his teeth sink into my bottom lip. Hard.
“Ouch.” I jerk back from him, bringing a hand to my mouth. “Cass, that hurt.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” He moves my hand away and rubs the pad of his thumb over where he bit. It comes back with blood. He kisses my forehead and steps back. “But it’s much easier than how I usually get your blood. More fun too.”
My mouth opens to ask but snaps back shut. Nope. I do not want to know the how or when or number of times.
Cass goes to the bed, focused on a small velvet pouch in his hand. “Squeeze your lip and come here. I need at least a few drops.”
He sits against the headboard and pulls me between his legs, so I lean back on his chest. His arms encircle me while the tip of his finger runs over my lip. He holds it over the bag. Slowly, one drop forms and falls and then another. He tightens the string, cinching the top closed, and hands me my laptop off the nightstand.
“Find a movie.”
“You want to watch a movie?” I turn my head to look at him, surprised at his choice of activity, given the empty dorm room.
“I want to fuck you senseless. But I need to chant for the next three hours to finish this spell. You can at least sit here and suffer with me.” He skims his nose along my jawline until he reaches my ear. “No chick flicks. And none of the crap Fiona watched with the cheap production and everyone crying over real-issues bullshit.”
I smile. She loved those movies. Give a woman terminal cancer and introduce her to the love of her life the next day, and my mom was a blubbering mess, watching it three times in a row. My dad actually canceled cable just so she couldn’t torture herself anymore.
Cass nuzzles into my neck, his lips moving, and I hit play on a blow-it-up movie my dad liked. His hold on me tightens, and everything feels better than it has in a long time. Even if demons are trying to kill me.
With him here, everything feels right.
A bare foot slides over the couch cushion, up my leg, and straight into my crotch. I ignore it, not looking away from the dusty-ass book I pulled out of a bank vault a few days ago.
The keychain spell only lasted a day. A more permanent solution to hiding Hannah from demonic tracking and blocking powers exists. I know it does. Until I find it, though, anywhere she goes other than her now-protected room and my apartment, I’m with her.
Two weeks in and we’re still in a sweet spot of needing sex more than air, so being on top of each other works out rather well. But one of these days, we’re going to get sick of each other and need a break.
The foot starts to retreat, and I catch Hannah’s ankle with my hand, stopping it. I finish my page and let the book fall to the floor, dragging her across the cushions to me. The spells have been around for millennia. They’ll wait another hour. She giggles and lands in my lap. Her mouth’s all mine while she repositions, straddling me and holding my face in her hands.
And then someone knocks.
She tries to pull away, so I fist my hand in her hair to keep her in place. My tongue’s in one of its favorite two places right now, and whoever the hell is out there needs to respect that.
They kn
ock again.
Fuck.
“You should get that,” she mumbles into my mouth.
“Not a chance.” My hands grip her ass, and I shift off the couch onto my feet, bringing her with me. Her legs wrap around me as I carry her into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind us. She lands on the bed, and I’m on top of her, pushing under her shirt and kissing my way up to her bra.
I dig my vibrating phone out of my pocket with one hand, the other cupping her breast. Unknown number. I toss it aside even though it keeps vibrating after I ignore the call.
I only take my lips off her long enough to get rid of our shirts. Hannah moans, her back arching to meet my mouth when it returns. The feel of her is as incredible as the light pulsing through me. I make quick work of her jeans, shoving them down over her hips and off her legs.
Now they’re pounding at the door, and I’m moving south. Lower. Lower.
My teeth are clenching panties when something bangs somewhere on the other side of the door.
“Tamiel!” The shrieking female voice cuts through my apartment, my old name bouncing off the walls.
Hannah sits straight up. “Who’s that?”
“Someone who can’t get in,” I murmur. I push off the bed and lean back down, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll be back.” Walking away, I add, “Be naked.”
I crack my neck on the way down the hall. Lydia irritates me on every visit, but interrupting me mid-Hannah destroys any chance of me having patience with her. Since the door already sits wide open, there’s no need for me to answer it.
Lydia crosses her arms over her chest. Her hair’s pulled back into a tight bun, and we both know the glasses are a fashion choice.
She looks me up and down, scowling. “What the fuck, Cass? A divinity blocker?”
“What can I say? You dropping in whenever you want doesn’t work for me, sweetheart. Like right now, I’m kind of busy. Maybe we could schedule something a little later in the decade.”
“Let me in.”
I consider leaving her out there, but she looks ready to throw an arc at me, and since she can’t, she might make a scene in the hall. I run a hand through the back of my hair as I walk to the kitchen, then I dig the pouch out from behind a bottle of scotch and take one of the crystals out.
She’s in the living room when I come back. “Where’s Samyaza?”
I shrug, positioning myself between her and the hallway. “Have we had this conversation before?”
“Cut the crap,” she snaps. “I’ve given The Fallen a pretty long leash over the past few thousand years. All I ask is that you check in once a century and let me know when you relocate. Which none of you do, by the way.”
“And yet, you always seem to find me. How exactly is that, Lydia?”
“Auction house receipts.” She stares at her nails, as bored with me as I am of her. “I find the highest-priced item sold and check which sellers also signed new leases on apartments or bought a house around the same time.” She cocks her head to the side, eyes back on me. “Mr. Asher van der Rohe.”
Huh. Good to know, so I don’t make that mistake again. Samy and I should probably stop cycling through the same names we’ve been using for the past hundred years too.
“Well,” I say, “Samy’s not here, and I haven’t talked to him.”
She straightens her shoulders, ready to lay down the law. “Well, either you track him down or I escalate the situation.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I spit back at her. “You going to banish us from Heaven and threaten us with an eternity of nothingness?”
Lydia starts with a comeback until her eyes cut to Hannah’s bag on the floor. Her shoes by the couch. The almost-healed bite mark on my chest from earlier.
Shit.
“Is there someone here?” She takes a step toward the hallway, and I shake my head.
“Back off, Lydia.”
“If it’s a human, I need to make sure she didn’t hear us.” Again, she tries to get around me, but I don’t budge. Her eyes roll. “Why are you…”
The door to my bedroom creaks open. I check over my shoulder and can’t help but smile at Hannah walking down the hallway in my T-shirt. She hesitates, seeing Lydia so close to me. The same harsh warmth from the night at the bar enters my chest. Before she jumps to conclusions and I have a pissed off Hannah on my hands, I pull her over and tuck her against my side.
“Lydia’s looking for Samy,” I tell her. “But since he’s not here, she was just leaving.”
But Lydia’s not paying attention to me, her focus fully on Hannah. “A Nephilim.” She whispers the word like she doesn’t believe it.
Outside of The Fallen, very few angels have encountered one out in the wild. Mostly because very few angels ever set foot on Earth. It’s kind of that part of town where no one goes unless they want crack, and even then, they don’t tell anyone about it.
“Just. Leaving,” I repeat.
Lydia blinks several times and clears her throat, straightening her already-straight skirt. “She knows about us?”
“Of course not.”
Her eyes narrow at me. She doesn’t buy it. “You know what? Whatever. It’s not my job to care how you deal with your charge. Just find Samyaza, or next time, I won’t be alone.”
Lydia’s gaze drifts back to Hannah. A look of wonderment returns to her face, and then she glares at me once more. In case I’m not lying, she marches out and slams the door behind her.
I go back to the kitchen, and I toss the crystal back in the bag and return it to its hiding spot. Next time, I’ll let her throw a fit out in the hallway and cover her own tracks.
Hannah’s propped against a counter.
“Why aren’t you naked?”
She giggles as I throw her over my shoulder and carry her back to the bedroom. I let her down on the bed and grab my phone off the mattress. While I text Samy, I sit down. She comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“You think he’ll answer?” she asks.
“No idea.”
I hit Send and twist around, pulling her face to mine. It only takes a few breathy sounds from her before I flip all the way around, crawling on top of her to resume where we left off. If I remember correctly, my tongue was about to be in its other favorite place.
My phone slips off the bed, landing on the floor, my text to Samy already forgotten.
You have a week, brother. Then I come looking.
A few nights later, Hannah falls asleep on my chest while I read through a collection of spells in another book. These specialize in enchanting objects to repel magic and look promising for a more long-term solution. I might spend an entire day chanting to pull it off, but if there’s even a small chance it might work, I have to try.
My phone vibrates on the floor next to the couch. I rest the book on Hannah’s back and reach down. I almost think I’m seeing things when I check the screen.
Samy.
I keep my voice low in the hopes of not waking her and answer, “What the hell, man?”
“Hey,” he says just as quietly.
“That’s it?” Hannah stirs, and I stroke her hair. “I’ve been trying to reach you for months.”
“I know. I just haven’t been in the best place lately.”
I recognize this voice, low and somber. It’s the one he uses when he’s beating himself up on the inside.
“You have to stop doing this, brother. We’re supposed to all be in this together, and we’ve really needed you lately. Have you at least been reading our messages?”
“Lydia’s up your ass. Demons are attacking Nephilim.”
“What about your charge?” I ask. “Any Lowers come after her?”
He doesn’t answer right away. I’m about to lose my cool when he says, “Yeah, I’ve dealt with some. Look, I can’t talk right now, but we should get together soon. You can catch me up on everything. Tell me what I can do to help.”
“Your definition of soon or within the next decade? Because I have better shit to do than wait around for your ass to quit feeling sorry for yourself.”
A soft chuckle comes through. “You’re such a dick. I should have called Ros.”
I smile, more relieved he’s back than I’ll ever admit. “Text me when you can meet up.”
“Yeah, and Cass?” He pauses and then, “I’m sorry.”
My eyes roll. “Screw you, asshole.”
I end the call and drop the phone on the floor. My days of faking leader for the other two are over, and I couldn’t be more fucking glad to hand over the position to its rightful owner.
“And why are we meeting him in a cemetery?”
“Because I need to rob a grave, Hannah.”
She doubts me, narrowing her eyes on our way up the cracked concrete steps to the brick mausoleum. It’s been at least a century since I’ve been here, and I don’t remember which crypt I stowed my shit away in. This one or the one with the creepy headless cherub sitting outside. Or another cemetery altogether because I was drunk and hid everything away on a whim.
It’s only been a few days since Samy called, so I have a hard time believing he’ll show. Even if he doesn’t, I needed to make this stop anyway.
I work the bolt over and grab one of the rusty metal bars of the door. The hinges creak and groan as I jerk it open.
“After you,” I say.
Her chest rises, light entering my own, and she cautiously passes me. I bang the door shut behind us. She jumps at the clang it makes, and I smile.
She whips around, not nearly as entertained. “You did that on purpose.”
I shrug and head to the tomb at the far back. My hand runs over the engraving, wiping away a buildup of cobwebs from the name. Hannah steps beside me, her hand on my arm for protection from nothing.
“Say hello to your great-great-something-or-other grandfather, Ivan.” I shove on the heavy stone lid while I still have the strength from her. It grinds, stone on stone, and slowly shifts enough so that I can see in. “Shit.”
“What?”