KAIAH

The wind whipped through my hair as I gunned the engine down the highway, smacking me in the face. Unlike full-blooded humans, I hardly needed a helmet; if I crashed, I could sustain damage, but my reflexes were far superior to that of humans. Still, normally I had time to tie my hair up so it wouldn’t do this crud.

My hands gripped my bike in a death grip, my hands shaking with the effort of steering in the opposite direction of the stranger. My mind was crowing a victory, but my very soul rebelled against me.

The last time I had felt this way was the first time my father had ordered me to kill someone.

But this was different. This didn’t hurt anyone.

I never want to hurt a soul again.

If only. But that was a pipe dream. A fantasy. The world revolved around hurting one another. There was no space for kindness or weakness. I’d have to kill again. And again, and again, and again-

I shook my head, desperately fighting back tears. I was stronger than this. I had learned to shut off the part of my heart prone to such weakness, I just had to do it again. But it was difficult now. My run-in with the stranger, however brief it had been, left me feeling raw and vulnerable and…weak.

No. That was my father’s word.

Did that make it untrue?

Suddenly, a man appeared in front of the bike, and I shrieked, braking abruptly and feeling my precious bike shuddering under the strain. My whole body jerked forward, and I grit my teeth with the effort to stay astride, my knuckles and fingertips going white at the pressure I exerted. Once I finally regained my equilibrium, I raised my head to see an imposing male standing about five feet in front of my front wheel, arms crossed and looking entirely unconcerned for someone who almost got a new tire tattoo, looney toons style.

He was at least six-foot four, with broad shoulders and a musculature to match. His longish, inky black hair fell around his shoulders in well-groomed waves, glowing like the rest of his golden complexion. But those eyes of his stopped my heart in its tracks.

I had eyes like those. His were a little lighter, differently shaped…but those were unmistakable.

“What are you?” I meant it to come out as a demand, but it felt more like a whimper.

The eyes I knew narrowed, and I flinched on instinct. Sure, he was a fair distance away, but if my suspicions were correct, that wouldn’t matter.

“A concerned friend.” His voice was clipped as he eyed me.

“We’ve never met.”

“I didn’t say I was your friend, Nephilim.”

Do not panic. No weakness.

“You claim to be Blessed, and you certainly seem to be…but my little brother was always too smart for his own good. I can’t trust that. Surely you understand?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! If you knew a thing about me, you’d know there’s no way I could be blessed!” I cried, desperately trying to make him understand. “But I am no threat to you, I swear it.”

The male snorted. “Where have I heard something similar? Oh, yes,” his lips peeled back from his teeth, “when Michael looked me in the eyes a millennium ago and told me that the rumors weren’t true, that he’d never spread such lies about me in Heaven.”

My toes curled in my boots. “You’re the devil.”

“To some,” he admitted, inclining his head. “To you? Very possibly.”

I had the distinct feeling this interaction was not going so well for me.

“I’ve never met you before,” thank creation, I added silently, “so why do you hate me so much? I know my siblings are…vile, but they were made to be so. You want to kill me, that’s obvious. I just don’t understand why.”

His jaw clenched, and before I could back away, he was in front of me, nostrils flaring. My blood ran cold. My father had never moved so fast…and my father was the strongest of the archangels. Such a thing wasn’t possible.

“My brother, your father, did unspeakable things to my mate, and thousands of others. And I know of your…occupation. I would cease speaking so innocently, Nephilim. There is much blood on your hands.”

I jerked back before I could stop myself.

He’s right. You’re nothing but the child of a monster. A cold-blooded killer.

I could say nothing to that. I had no defense for the truth.

A heavy sigh came from above. “But I have no choice. I cannot kill you. Marcus…wouldn’t take kindly to it. But make no mistake, put one toe out of line and my father’s wrath will seem like a toddler’s tantrum.”

“I don’t want to go with you!” I pleaded, finally finding the courage to again meet his eyes, “I want to be left alone.”

He met my eyes with a cold stare. “Even if you had a choice in the matter, I think we both know that you’re not going to be left alone. Whether it be by my family,” he paused, “…or yours.”

Helplessness threatened to drown me. “But-”

“Do not presume I am giving you any power here,” the devil interrupted on a growl that made my hair rise. “Your life belongs to me now, Nephilim. And I’ve decided to let you live.”

Then he reached out and grabbed me by the arm, a grip not painful but about as immovable as an iron manacle. I thrashed and twisted like a worm on a hook, but from the beginning I knew it was futile. Then, blackness crept over my vision in a process I knew all too well.