Claimed by the Fallen: A Fallen Angel Reverse Harem Novel (The Fallen Harem Book 1)

by Samantha Britt

  “Nothing.” I don’t sound nearly as believable as Gabe had.

  Annie narrows her gaze. “I know you, Ronnie. And I know something is going on. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing,” I repeat. My wide eyes implore her to believe me. “Really, it’s nothing. I’m just as confused by all this as you.” I’m being honest. I am confused by the insanity my life has taken. I hate lying about why the angels are in my life, but I don’t have a choice.

  “Excuse me... Oh, hey, Annie. Hey, Veronica.” Preston appears on the landing behind Annie. He had nearly tripped as he tried to walk down the stairs, but he backtracked when he realized we were in his way. He looks behind me, and I have the thought he is searching for Gabe. When he doesn’t see the angel, his shoulders relax.

  I paste on a faux smile. “Hey, Preston.”

  Annie presses her back against the wall and says, “Hi.” She’s unconcerned with concealing our argument.

  Preston shuffles his feet and runs a hand through his hair. I think he is about to excuse himself, but I’m surprised when he says, “Annie, think I can get a second with Veronica? I want to ask her something.”

  My friend perks up. “Sure. Absolutely. I’ll see you downstairs, Ronnie.” She peers at me from the side of her eye, a silent promise that our conversation is not over, before walking down the stairs.

  I ignore her insinuating look and face Preston. I maintain my forced smile and ask, “You wanted to ask me something?” I’m too distracted knowing Gabe is standing downstairs to think anything of the odd request.

  Again, Preston brushes his hair back. I’m observant enough to realize he seems nervous when he says, “Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime?”

  I swear I misheard him. I blink and shake my head. “I’m sorry… what?”

  Preston’s cheeks turn pink. “I want to take you on a date.” He misunderstands my reaction. “Are you… seeing someone or something?”

  “No!” I cough to clear my throat, my brain finally catching up with what is happening. Thoughts of Gabe disappear. All I see is my childhood crush, looking nervous to be talking to me. “I mean, no. I’m not seeing anyone.”

  His face brightens. “So… are you interested? To go on a date with me?”

  Now, my cheeks color. “Sure. That would be fun.” I sound composed, but I’m a tangle of excitement and nervousness.

  “Cool.” Preston smiles shyly. Again, I’m taken aback by his timidity. I’m the least intimidating person on the planet. “How about we head downstairs and grab some water? We can decide what we want to do on our date.”

  I must be dreaming. How many times have I imagined this moment? Never, in my life, would I think this could really happen to me, Veronica Messenger, notorious bookworm and social nobody.

  Just as soon as the fluttering starts in stomach, an opposing reaction takes root in my chest. The sharp pain reminds me of the morning after my birthday. I nearly fold over, but I steady myself on the banister at my side.

  I return Preston’s smile, hoping it isn’t a grimace as I say, “Actually, I have to go. My friend is here to take me home.” I clench my teeth to withhold a hiss as the stab seems to morph into hundreds of sharp needles. I don’t understand the conflicting feelings.

  Preston’s expression shifts, and I see his disappointment. “Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow to make plans?”

  I nod eagerly, hoping he doesn’t think I’m blowing him off. Despite the pain robbing me of breath, I manage say, “Yes. Sounds great.”

  We remain there for another moment. Then, someone from downstairs calls out, “Preston, man, let’s go. We’re waiting for you to start beer pong.”

  Preston lifts a finger, telling his friend to wait. Then, he looks down at me and says, “I’ll talk to you later, Veronica.”

  I continue to smile the best I can. “Bye, Preston.”

  He walks down the stairs, sparing me one last glance, before he disappears into the crowded dining room.

  The moment Preston is out of sight, I sag against the railing. My arms shake from the weight, and I feel faint. I don’t understand what is happening to me. The pain sears throughout my body. After not experiencing it for days, I thought my bout with transformative pain was over. Turns out, that is not the case.

  My vision blurs around the edges. I try to walk the last two stairs to the second floor, hoping to duck into an unoccupied room until the awful feeling passes, when gravity overcomes the strength of my muscles. I start to fall backward, and I have absolutely no strength to stop it.

  I squeeze my eyes closed, bracing myself for impact.

  Only, the impact never comes.

  Before I can tumble down the wood staircase, two strong arms wrap around my back and knees, catching and hoisting me up as if I weigh no more than a pillow.

  I open my eyes, but my vision is completely blurred at this point. I’m losing my battle with consciousness, but I hear a, now, familiar voice say, “Don’t worry, Angel. I’ve got you.” Then, darkness wins and pulls me under its heavy weight.

  Seventeen

  I’m lying in my bed the morning after the party, stretching out my limbs, when memory of the pain from last night hits me. I sit up quickly, startling Periwinkle who is sleeping on the edge of my bed. She jumps down and scurries out of the room as I assess my body. I don’t feel any lingering pain. I’m momentarily relieved before I remember this is the second… no… third time I’ve felt the stabbing feelings in my chest and stomach.

  The pain began on my eighteenth birthday, and I know it has something to do with my developing angelic powers. But I thought it had stopped.

  I need to speak with the four angels and ask them for a solution. I cannot continue to live my life with the constant threat of debilitating pain hanging overhead. If my parents find out, they will think it’s some kind of illness. I don’t doubt they will try to keep me from moving away for college until I’m cured. I can’t let that happen.

  With resolve, I throw off my covers and head to the bathroom. I shower and wrap myself in my towel-robe. After brushing my teeth, I walk downstairs for a glass of water.

  I yelp when I step into the kitchen and see, not one, but four angels sitting at my family’s table. They rise at the same time.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I cross my arms and hold the robe tightly against my body. “How’d you get in?”

  “Checking on you,” Adrian answers.

  “Through the front door,” Mr. Cohen replies, too.

  Zeke and Gabe are tightlipped, but their eyes trail over me, looking for any sign of injury or fatigue.

  My brain clicks, and I understand why they’re here. “I’m fine,” I reassure the angels, looking between each of them. “Whatever happened last night, I don’t feel the pain anymore.”

  Collectively, the angels sigh. Mr. Cohen and Gabe’s shoulders release their tension. The other two brothers nod their heads and share a loaded look before returning their attention to me.

  I shift my feet, then move toward the fridge and pull out the filtered water pitcher. I take the pitcher with me as I move to the cabinet. A blur crosses my vision. Startled, I stumble back a step before I look up and see Gabe. He smiles sheepishly and holds out a glass.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, taking the glass. I pour the water and turn to return the pitcher to the fridge. Adrian is there, holding the door open for me. He reaches out and takes the pitcher, placing it back in the fridge.

  “We put on a pot of coffee.” I spin around and see Mr. Cohen standing near my father’s French press. He gestures to the warm, black liquid and continues, “In case you want some.”

  I can only nod. I don’t know what to make of the angels’ attentiveness. They are treating me like a fragile, porcelain doll. It’s almost like they’re holding their breath, waiting for the moment I break.

  I sit at the kitchen table, sure to keep my chair from shifting any closer to Zeke as I do. He’s sitting in the corner of the small dinin
g area, and he hasn’t spoken a word since I came downstairs.

  Taking a sip of water, I prepare myself for the inevitable. Lowering the glass, I ask, “What’s going on?” I don’t bother looking at Zeke; he is the king of hiding emotions. Instead, I focus on Gabe, then Mr. Cohen. Both have found the tile on the floor entertaining.

  My gaze flickers towards Adrian. The platinum blond’s lips twitch, but his eyes are unreadable. He leans his shoulder against the fridge, shifting a magnet of the Golden Gate Bridge. “What do you mean?”

  I wrap my hands around my water glass. “Why are you all being so nice to me?”

  “You’ve been sick,” Mr. Cohen looks up from the ground. “We want to make sure you’re recovered.”

  “I’ve already said I’m fine.” I stare at him, looking for a hint as to why the angels are really looking at me like I might break into a million pieces. “What’s really going on? And don’t tell me nothing. I’m not stupid.”

  I mean what I say. I’ve already decided to seek answers from the angels, but I can’t do that if they are tiptoeing around me. I want them to be honest.

  No… I need them to be honest.

  I know I’ve done my best to avoid having conversations about my developing powers and my biological father’s past, but if talking about my abilities will help me know how to prevent the debilitating pain from last night, I’m willing to do it. I just need the angels to meet me halfway.

  Unfortunately, the light brothers are back to staring at the floor, and Adrian has become distracted with his fingernails.

  I’m about to call them out on their evasiveness when Zeke finally ends the silence. “I told you she wouldn’t be fooled.”

  My attention swings toward my ex-kickboxing instructor. His hazel eyes hold no amusement, and his tone is low.

  “It seems you were right, Brother.” Adrian pushes off the fridge and returns to his seat at the table. Mr. Cohen and Gabe do the same.

  Now that all four angels are seated around me, they stare. I can tell they are waiting for some mysterious sign to say whatever they need to say.

  I take a steadying breath. “I thought my pain was normal for a Nephilim developing angelic powers.” I’m proud of how calm I sound. The subject is still weird to believe, much less say out loud.

  “It is,” Mr. Cohen confirms.

  “Then why are you all acting so concerned? Is…” I pause as a horrible thought occurs to me, “is something wrong with me?”

  “No,” all four of them reassure me with varying levels of intensity. Gabe and Adrian are the most enthusiastic, Mr. Cohen looks pained, and Zeke maintains his distant expression.

  I sigh. “Then what is it? Why are you treating me like an invalid?”

  This time, no one is quick to respond. Their silence only serves to heighten my anxiety. What could be so bad that the angels can’t just tell me? They’ve already turned my world upside down by revealing I’m half-angel. Not to mention, I’ve been attacked by demons and am currently being hunted. How much worse can my life get?

  Ten seconds pass before Zeke, again, ends the silence, “We do not know how you will react to our news.”

  I straighten, and my stare lands on him. “What news?”

  Zeke’s empty eyes swing towards Mr. Cohen. I follow his gaze.

  My teacher dips his chin. “We’ve realized something, Messenger. The signs were there, but we didn’t realize the truth until last night.”

  “What is it?” I hold my breath.

  Instead of coming right out and saying it, Mr. Cohen shakes his head and looks to Adrian. Adrian understands the cue and reveals, “A Nephilim is rare nowadays, but you, Veronica, are even more rare.”

  I try to decipher what he could possibly mean. “Because?”

  Now, its Adrian’s turn to look to another. I meet Gabe’s eye. I’m tired of the angels deflecting. Someone needs to tell me the truth. Now.

  Gabe doesn’t balk at my hard expression. Thankfully, he delivers my request and reveals, “You’re not a Nephilim at all, Veronica.”

  Hope springs up in my chest. I’ve been praying this is all a misunderstanding, and it seems like my prayers are about to be answered. I ignore the part of me which mourns the potential loss of the angels’ company. It’s not like we’re friends or anything. Until less than a week ago, none of them were a part of my personal life. I’ll get over their imminent departure soon enough.

  Distracted by my thoughts, I almost don’t hear Gabe say, “You’re a full-blooded angel, Veronica. Half-light and half-dark. Your parents were both Fallen Angels.”

  My hope crumples into a heap of ash on the kitchen floor.

  Did Gabe really just say I’m a full angel?

  It can’t be. I would know.

  Wouldn’t I?

  I shake my head, immediately rejecting his words. “No. That’s not possible.”

  “We thought so too.” Adrian leans forward and rests his elbows on the table, looking directly into my eyes. “Until we all felt your agony last night.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? You all felt me the night of my birthday, too.”

  “True,” Adrian says, “but not like this.”

  “Each of us could detect your growing powers the eve of your birthday, as well as the day after,” Gabe speaks again. “But last night, each of us felt your agony as if it were our own.”

  “And that only happens between members of the same Fallen race,” Adrian finishes. “It’s a way for our kind to know when our people are in danger. We can detect Nephilim abilities, but Fallen aren’t linked to them like we are to other Fallen.”

  I see Mr. Cohen nodding from the corner of my eye, and Zeke crosses his arms and mumbles in agreement. I know the two sets of brothers don’t like one another, so their support is noteworthy.

  Still, I cannot bring myself to believe that they’re saying.

  “But that doesn’t make any sense. I’m human. Or, at least, part human. I’m normal.” Or as normal as a half-human, half-angel can be. It’s hard enough to accept the fact angels are real and one of them is my mysterious father, but I can’t abandon my link to humanity.

  I just can’t.

  “Trust me, none of us understand this either,” Adrian says. “Your existence shouldn’t be possible. Not only are Light and Dark Fallen bitter enemies, but never before have two Fallen come together to produce offspring. Not since the Fall.

  “And while I’m not a mathematician,” Adrian continues, “I know your birth happened long after the Fall.”

  “Then what you’re saying can’t be true.” My head whips back and forth between them, my eyes pleading with them to see logic. “You’re wrong.”

  None of the angels are willing to be swayed.

  “Trust me, Messenger,” Mr. Cohen speaks softly, “we wish we were.”

  The other three angels murmur their agreement.

  I’m beginning to feel trapped. The angels refuse to listen to reason, and they are determined to rob me of my tie to humanity—to my entire life.

  The walls start to close in, and my breathing accelerates.

  I push my chair back and stand. The angels mimic me.

  “What if the feeling has something to do with that bashert thing?” I look at each of them, hoping there is another explanation other than I’m a descendant of two fallen angels.

  Zeke’s eyebrows lift to his hairline. “You know what a bashert is?

  “We haven’t gotten that far, Zeke,” Adrian interrupts before I have the chance to answer.

  The two blond brothers stare at each other, having a silent conversation.

  Mr. Cohen clears his throat. Reluctantly, I pull my gaze away and look at him.

  There is compassion in his expression. “We’ve all discussed the matter, and we are one-hundred percent certain what we say is true. Your parents are Fallen, one Light and one Dark.”

  I close my eyes and try to steady my, now, pounding heart. This is too much.

  All of it is
too much.

  “Relax, Ron,” Zeke reaches out and touches my arm, adopting the caring voice I rarely heard all those years ago.

  My eyes fly open and I flinch from surprise, but that doesn’t deter him. Zeke wraps his fingers around my elbow, and I’m surprised by how steadying his touch feels.

  I glance at Zeke. I must look terrified because his eyes soften. “It’s alright, Ron. I know this is a lot, but you’re tough. You’ll get through this.”

  “And we’ll help you.” Gabe steps up and places a warm hand on top of my other shoulder. I see him give Zeke a hard look, and I swallow.

  “So… what? You guys are going to work together now? You don’t even like each other.”

  I look across the table and see Mr. Cohen and Adrian share a glance.

  Then, Mr. Cohen faces me, and his blue eyes peer into my soul, “We’ve found something worth putting aside our petty feud.”

  “Indeed,” Adrian agrees. “Something much more valuable and precious.”

  Refusing to be influenced by their flattery, I pinch my lips together and step forward, forcing Zeke and Gabe to drop their arms.

  “I need time to think,” I tell the room, but I’m not looking at anyone in particular. My gaze is locked on the tile beneath my feet.

  “Take all the time you need, Messenger,” Mr. Cohen replies. “When you’re ready to talk, we will be here.”

  “All of us,” Gabe sounds from my right.

  Not trusting my voice, I can only nod. Keeping my head down, I walk around the table and exit the kitchen. I half-expect one of the angels to say something else to me, but no one does. I escape up to my room, and begin questioning my entire life, wondering if everything I’ve ever loved and cherished has been a lie.

  Eighteen

  The angels leave me alone the rest of the day. The only interaction I have with them is when Zeke texts me, asking if I’m still feeling well. After reading the message, it takes all of my willpower not to scream. Of course, I’m not okay. The angels keep throwing me curveballs, and I barely have time to process one when another comes around the corner. I understand there is little they can do about it. I know they feel the need to tell me the truth—to not keep me in the dark. On any other subject, I would appreciate their honesty. But when the topic is the alleged angelic status of my parents, making me an even bigger freak, I’m not so keen to thank them for sharing the news.