Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 653(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
He drapes his arm around my shoulders. “Why wait? Get in with me.”
“Oh, no,” I say, feeling him hard against my hip, and I try to be serious. “Micah, please. You are not going to behave if I do that, and you have to heal first.” I push out of his arms, and he’s too weak to stop me but apparently not too weak to be rock hard and impressively erect.
He groans and rifts himself into the tub, proof he is most definitely already feeling the impact of the soto. I spellcast a chair with a high back and curl up in it beside him.
“Fuck, it feels good,” he murmurs, glancing over at me. “Better if you were in here.”
“Next time,” I promise, and when I reach for his arm, he catches my hand, turning it palm up and staring down at the tattoo, a full smile curving on his lips.
“They were very insistent,” I explain.
“As they should be,” he says, approval in his voice. “And now you know where you belong, Ember. With me. With us.”
The words stun me, and an image of the man with the red wings fills my mind. Where do you belong? he’d asked me, but deep inside, I know he wasn’t talking about here with Micah, and I feel angry with that realization. He wants me to leave this place. He wants me to leave Micah, and he will not get his way.
Micah allows his head to rest on the back rim, his eyes shutting. I draw my knees to my chest and settle my head on the edge of the armchair. The instant my eyes shut, he’s there, the warrior angel is in my mind. And for just a moment, I’m in a black space, still in my chair, him standing above me, his blood-red wings stretching broad and wide. “Where do you belong?” he demands.
I jolt and sit up straight to find I’m still in the bathroom and Micah is knocked out in the tub. A breath trickles from my lips, but as I look down, I suck it right back in as I stare down at a single feather splayed on the floor.
The Sacred Book of Nephilim
Angels and humans became Nephilim. No one wants to know what a human and demon might become, and we must fight to ensure we never do.
Chapter forty-nine
Asecret is a lie packaged with pretty ribbon, and yet when Micah shifts in the tub, my heart thunders in my chest with warning, and I spellcast the feather to a spot under my mattress in my room next door.
“I need out of here,” he murmurs, and he seems worse, not better. “My side feels like I got stabbed with a sword.”
He once told me sleep is the most critical part of a Seer healing, and it seems as if his body is demanding he give it what it needs.
I help him out of the tub, rifting him to a standing position, and in the process, end up drenched, but I don’t care, and neither does he. Gone is the man who was flirty and playful, and considering the exhaustion creeping into my own limbs, I think we were both riding an adrenaline high. I spellcast a pair of pajama bottoms on him, and he doesn’t even seem to know, after which I rift us to the bed.
He ends up on his back, arm resting above his head, and I drape a blanket over the top of him, with a little déjà vu in reverse. This is what he did for me. I dim the lights, the soft flicker of candles illuminating the room. It’s chilly in here, actually quite cold, and I ignite the fireplace I should have lit sooner. Still shaken by the red feather, I walk into the bathroom and opt for a real shower, not the magical version. Way too much of Micah’s blood dried in random places all over me. The way he’d bled, the volume of blood he’d lost, is still terrifying to process.
Crystal Seers might not die easily, but we can die.
I step under the hot water and replay the events with Jeremy. The sword did nothing to him, and yet it all but killed Micah. He is not like Jeremy. He bleeds. I’m not like Jeremy. I bleed. We need soto to heal. Micah and I are as good as human against him, except, I remind myself, Micah is ancient and powerful, and I have my fire. Somehow, we will defeat him.
Suddenly, I just need to be close to Micah, and I rush through the shower and dress myself in leggings and a tank top, ready for fast action should trouble erupt. With pink fluffy slippers on my feet, I return to the bedroom to find Micah has not moved.
How is he?