Vengeance: The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 3

by Denise Tompkins

  If the bad guy came back to the house, he’d have to wait to have a fair fight on his hands. I assumed I’d be fully recovered by next Wednesday. Probably.

  Hellion lowered himself to the floor next to me with shaky arms. My skin registered the movement of every hair as he slid an arm around me and pulled me close. His chin rested on the crown of my head and my soles rested atop his feet. We touched everywhere in between.

  Part of me wanted to weep with gratitude that he touched me tenderly while the rest of me was just so damned grateful that this man was mine, scars and history and all.

  “Tá grá agam duit, Maddy.”

  “And you, my love,” I whispered.

  “Have I hurt you?”

  “No. I think we both needed that. I know I’ve needed it since I woke up this morning.”

  He licked the shell of my ear. I hummed my approval and he chuckled. “I must admit, I don’t think I’ve ever been so rough with you. Have I?”

  “I think a man your size has to be careful when you’re that aggressive—”

  “So I did hurt you.” He moved to prop himself up on one elbow.

  I shifted so I was lying on my back looking up at him before I answered. “I wouldn’t want it that rough every time, but there are times it’s the only type of love-making that will do. Don’t you think?”

  “I do, but I’d not call it ‘love-making,’ mo shíorghrá. That was clearly fucking.”

  “You’re wrong.” I traced a hand over his face and, in the now-dark room, it was the only way I knew he’d quirked his brow at me. “You are. It was making love. Know how I know?”

  He waited, silent.

  “I never stopped loving you.”

  “You slay me with mere words, Madeleine Niteclif. Should you ever decide to turn them against me in true anger, you’ll likely leave nothing more than the husk of a man.”

  “Sweet talker.”

  He laughed out loud, and it was a wonderful sound.

  We cleaned up and, as usual following exuberant sex with him, soreness set in as endorphins wore off. We chatted comfortably about inconsequential things, both of us avoiding the mounting tension that was developing as we sought to avoid the topic of the supernatural creature in the main floor guest room.

  The third time he asked me if my stitches were okay, I snapped that if he was that concerned he should just heal them himself.

  “What do you want from me, Maddy? I’ve lain myself bare at your feet and then used you unfairly. Would you prefer I just leave you to your own devices and go on about my business?” he demanded.

  “No, but we need to talk about what’s really going on here. I don’t ever want this to come between us, Hellion, and it feels like it’s still there, hanging on to you like some wraith.”

  He turned to me very slowly, and he couldn’t have turned any paler than if I’d kneed him in the balls.

  “What did you just say?” His voice was little more than a whisper.

  “Which part?”

  He moved to lean his ass against one of the bathroom counters, scrubbing his hands over his face. Without a word, he reached out, took my hand and led me back into the bedroom, folded the covers back and gestured for me to get in.

  “You’ve threatened to walk out on me twice tonight, so you first.”

  “Stubborn wench,” he muttered, but climbed in.

  “Bull-headed Irishman,” I countered and accepted his help up into the tall bed.

  “I suppose we’re both right then.”

  “Har, har.”

  Hellion shifted pillows around until we were propped up side by side and he took my hand in his, lacing our fingers together with care. He used his free hand to better settle the covers around us. When he began to straighten the duvet, I nearly popped a major vein.

  “Enough. Jeez, Hellion.” I flipped the covers back and scrambled to my knees to face him. “What did I say that freaked you out so bad?”

  “Sit,” he commanded.

  “Would you like me to speak too? Woof.”

  “Damn it all to hell, Maddy! Give me a bit of a handout, would you?” He yanked his hair off his face and reaching for one of the seemingly hundreds of leather thongs that he was forever taking off and setting down around the house. He moved as if punishing himself, tying it back tightly as he answered my question. “What I said earlier is true. I’m not afraid of Micah. But I’m afraid of what he represents. You need to understand something about the Nephilim, Maddy.”

  “What are Nephilim?”

  “They were all angels in Shamayim, and they were thrown, or thrust, out for some indiscretion. They truly can’t say. To declare to others what should only be confessed to Yahweh is called asur, or forbidden.” He shifted to face me, so solemn.

  Kissing him gently seemed the only answer I could provide, so I did.

  He rewarded me with a fleeting smile. “When Nephilim are thrust out of Shamayim for whatever indiscretion they commit, and I understand it must be significant, they’re sent to Earth to live among mortals and earn their forgiveness and redemption in order to be allowed to return. As immortals, they can be stuck here as long as is necessary to appease Yahweh. That’s nearly all that’s known about them, whether you search religious texts, formal mythology or urban fantasy.

  “Nephilim are the most secretive of all the supernatural creatures on this plane of existence. They don’t participate in the world’s High Councils, they don’t interact with other immortals and, to the best of my knowledge, they don’t reach out to form relationships with other supes.” He gave me a second small smile. “You might catch them with a woman now and again, but even that’s rare.”

  I settled back and knelt beside him, my nakedness forgotten. “So what’s so scary about this secretive group? Do they have special abilities or heightened senses that pose a threat? I don’t get what freaked you out so bad.”

  Small lines of tension had formed around Hellion’s eyes, made all the deeper by the shadows cast from the lamplight. I reached out to smooth them, but he moved his head, shaking it slightly. “That night…” He paused, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly before continuing. “That night, a member of the Nephilim opened the door to the room. He assessed the situation and decided to leave me.”

  “He left you there?” Ignoring the discomfort, I twisted to face him.

  “You don’t remember Agares’s initial threat to me? That he would peel the flesh from me in strips if I cried out?” Hellion looked up at me and the tension multiplied and migrated to form deep grooves beside is lips. “It wasn’t an idle threat, Maddy. I cried out once, and he stripped away a piece of skin and muscle.” He shuddered involuntarily at the memory. “I remained silent from that point forward, first in fear, then in pain, later in consideration, and now in preparation.”

  I wanted to gag. I wanted to know where he’d been hurt. I wanted to know how to find the Nephilim that had turned his back on a child. But most of all, I wanted to know how to kill Agares.

  “There is a rumor regarding Nephilim and Dominae, but I want to speak to Micah before we discuss this much more. I don’t want to confuse the issues at hand with speculation.”

  “And Dominae are what exactly?” I asked. “And is that what showed up at our front door?”

  “Dominae are demonic. From what I’ve been able to ferret out, Agares is their leader. Anything else I have is speculation at this point.” He was quiet for a moment and it was like he was trying to decide what to say and what to leave alone.

  Being me, I just couldn’t let it go. “Okay. Just give me a very brief overview—”

  He shook his head and small strands of hair escaped their binding. “No, my love, I won’t. Dress and we’ll go down and get some answers from our temporary guest, but I’ll hear it from him or he’ll be put out of this house immediately. I won’t risk me and mine when his kind turned away from me.”

  I moved slowly, bending and stretching as I slid off the bed. As
soon as these stitches were out I was going to begin sword and handgun training again. And after our little discussion tonight, I was also going to demand both a handgun and dirk of my own. No more borrowing. I wasn’t sure how I’d carry them around, but I was tired of being unprepared for the big bad uglies that kept popping up uninvited.

  Pulling out a pair of yoga pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, I was dressing in my closet when I had a disturbing thought. “Hey, Hellion?” I called.

  “Yeah?”

  I crossed the small hallway to his closet and stuck my head inside to find him pulling on a T-shirt to go with his jeans. It always struck me odd that this crazy-powerful magus wore denim and tees more than anything else. Shaking my head and smiling at my distraction, I asked, “Micah said you’d only cast Agares out earlier. So if that’s true, how do you kill a Dominae?”

  “I imagine we’re about to find out.”

  Chapter Four

  Micah was reading one of my contemporary romance novels when we walked into the room. Such mundane behavior from a member of the Nephilim caught me so off guard I never even wondered where he’d found it. He set the book down and watched as Hellion moved two large chairs close to the edge of the bed and invited me to sit.

  Most of Micah’s wounds had healed in the short time we’d been gone. All that remained were the faintest of indentions at the ribs plus pale traces of bruising around both his face and the knife wounds I could see. He didn’t bear a single scar.

  “You’ve spoken,” Micah said softly.

  My banked rage flared to life. “I want to know why your kind turned your back on a child. Now.”

  “I understand your anger as well as your need to strike out at someone, Maddy, but it wasn’t I who neglected your declared.”

  “Excuses won’t carry you far with me, especially when it comes to him.” I was conflicted and confused. My job was to deliver justice, but I wasn’t sure if I was saving Micah or Hellion. If I didn’t get it right, I’d begin to fade. “Your kind left him to suffer. Seems turnabout would be fair play.”

  Hellion reached over and took my hand in his, squeezing gently. It was a wordless reminder that we needed Micah, or at least his knowledge, in order to stop Agares.

  Worst fucking catch-22 ever.

  Micah turned his electric gaze to Hellion. “I’m sorry, Hellion, that one of my brothers delivered you such an injustice. I would right it if I could.”

  “Do you mean that?” Hellion asked, his eyes gazing past the fallen angel to the window that held the night at bay.

  “With all that I am.”

  “Then I offer you the chance to earn my forgiveness, Micah.”

  Micah’s brows drew together, wrinkling his otherwise perfect countenance. “To deny your offer is to increase my earthly burden, while to honor it is to risk violating my vows.”

  “Which is the greater punishment?” Hellion asked, not without a little compassion.

  Micah was silent for several minutes, his breathing the only sign of life about him. He finally turned to face Hellion. “I believe I’ll do my best to earn your forgiveness, but keep in mind it’s a fine line I walk in what I may do to redeem your suffering at the Nephilim’s neglect.”

  “I need to know more about the Nephilim and the Dominae.” When Micah nodded, Hellion leaned forward, braced his forearms on his knees, and continued. “I need to know what you are to each other, specifically why they’re after you, and I need details. I need to know how to end a Dominae. I want to know how you knew about my childhood, and I need to know what happened to the Nephilim who turned away from me.”

  I laid a hand on Hellion’s back and rubbed it slowly up and down, my eyes never leaving Micah.

  The fallen angel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then answered Hellion’s questions out of order. “I will tell you what you want to know. I will also tell you what you need to know, though you may not like my answers. You must understand that I will not destroy my chance at redemption in order to slake your curiosity.” His voice had evolved from soft to menacing and he seemed to grow larger beneath the bedding, sitting up straighter until I was sure he was well over seven feet tall.

  “Threaten me all you like, but remember this—me, my magic, my coven and my declared are the only things standing between you and Agares, and you said yourself I’ve only cast him out.” Hellion glanced at the darkened window and said softly, “If you deny me what I need, none of us will stand between the two of you when he returns.” He turned slowly back to Micah. “And you know they’re strongest at night. I bought you a temporary reprieve, not a pardon.”

  The two men stared at each other, and I was reminded of the history of each, one divine and one self-made, yet both prideful and both powerful. Micah looked away first, and Hellion’s shoulders relaxed.

  The doorbell chimed and made us all jump. Hellion stood with slow deliberation and said to Micah, “I doubt Agares would ring the doorbell. Regardless, I expect you to protect her if it’s required. I’ll be back.”

  I watched him stalk out of the room with purposeful strides, and I admired his courage. There were never enough years to put between yourself and such a horrifying event that would diminish the residual fears left behind.

  I heard voices in the foyer and I crept toward the door.

  “Maddy?” Micah asked.

  “Shhh. I think it’s Darius, but I want to be sure.”

  “It’s me, Maddy,” the vampire called out.

  Shit. I’d forgotten about his hearing. When I heard him chuckle, I realized I’d also forgotten about his mind-reading skills.

  The two men walked into the room. Darius moved to me, wrapped me in a firm, cool hug and kissed my neck at the pulse-point of my throat.

  I shivered at the feel of his lips on my neck and Hellion raised his brows slightly. Shrugging, I smiled and stepped away from the wickedly attractive vampire. Clad in all black, he was working the metrosexual look, though he’d deny it if confronted. He’d once jokingly called it “coffin chic”.

  “Maddy, you’re looking as delicious as always.”

  Darius’s flirting always bordered on intent, but since he was allied with Hellion I wasn’t too worried about it getting out of hand. “Had you shown up a little earlier, the show would have been better.”

  “I find I’m instantly regretting my tardiness.” His eyes lightened from their dark chocolate color to reflect hints of purple at the edges.

  I blushed. We were back to that caveman lust thing again.

  Darius looked at me and mouthed, Caveman?

  I flipped him off, blushing harder.

  Micah watched the whole exchange with interest while Hellion watched him. The Nephilim said, “I’m not sure I should discuss this in front of one of Cain’s sons.”

  Darius sneered at the other man. “You’ve not got much choice, son of Seth.”

  Micah’s head snapped back and he glared at Darius.

  “Hey, hey, hey.” I stepped in between the two supes and pointed at one of the vacant chairs for Darius. “Have a seat, D. Micah, enough. We need answers more than we need sniping. Period.”

  Darius sank into a chair and Hellion took the other one, holding out a hand to me. I took it and sat on his lap, shifting around until we were settled as close together as possible.

  “Micah, I need to include Darius in this conversation as my second as well as my ally. Please, let’s just get this over with.”

  Darius was his second? That was news to me.

  The vampire looked at me and arched a brow, to which I only shrugged.

  “I think there’s an easier way for me to do this than to answer some of your questions while denying you answers to others. I’ll tell you what I may. Agreed?” Micah asked, never looking at anyone but Hellion.

  “I’ll agree with the stipulation I have the right to ask the questions you don’t answer.”

  Micah settled himself back into the pillows and threw an arm behind his head. I was struck by his unsuppress
ed sexuality and was reminded of what Hellion had said earlier. You might catch them with a woman now and again. Unwelcome images raced through my mind of Micah cavorting with a faceless woman, and I looked down, my blush returning.

  Darius turned his head and watched me carefully, and for the first time I was grateful as hell that he could only read cognitive thoughts and not images. He clearly knew something was up, though. I shook my head and lifted my eyes. Micah gazed at me as if he knew exactly what I’d been thinking.

  “Just get on with it already.” Frustration bled through my every word.

  Hellion squeezed my knee and I shifted so he had to let go, keeping my attention on a spot just to the left of the Nephilim’s shoulder.

  Micah lounged even more provocatively, baring a narrow line of his flesh from ankle to shoulder. He took a deep breath before beginning. “The Nephilim are connected by thought in Shamayim so that our voices are used only for praise. When one of us is thrust out, he is cut off from his divine brothers the entire time he is relegated to the land of his punishment.

  “Nephilim are connected only when one of our fallen brethren commit an act of extreme emotion, either in the Taking or the Ascension. Otherwise we are completely isolated and forbidden from organizing in any manner. We may exist in small numbers in the same regions, though this is regulated by Michael.”

  I interrupted. I just couldn’t help myself. “The Michael?”

  Micah looked at me and a small smile played across his sensuous lips.

  What the hell happened to angels, fallen or otherwise, being androgynous?

  He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “When Sachiel found you that night, Hellion, he was horrified. But…”

  “There’s no excuse,” I reminded him, sitting up straighter. All thoughts of his attractiveness fled in the face of my rekindled fury. “No. Excuse.”

  “For what?” Darius asked.

  “The mistreatment of a child,” I answered and dared him to question me.