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“We have the nephilim retreat this summer,” he explains, leading me down the hallway toward the front of the school.
“What’s that and why is it bad?” I ask, curious about anything that relates to the supernatural world.
“Roughly every ten years, all the nephilim in a particular region—ours is the west coast—gather in the middle of fucking nowhere to bullshit and celebrate being angels’ bastard descendants,” he grumbles, walking with long strides that require me to scurry to keep up. “The last one I went to was right after my family was murdered, and I was handed off to Keziah and Ray. It was a whole fucking thing that a light nephilim family was taking in a dark nephilim child. They had to prove they could train me properly.”
“I’m guessing it wasn’t an oral quiz of some kind,” I comment, holding onto the strap of my backpack to keep it from sliding down my arm.
He snorts with derision. “They had to fight the three most powerful dark nephilim in attendance to first blood. If either of them got a single scratch deep enough to bleed, I would have been shipped off to a dark nephilim orphanage.”
“That seems extreme,” I observe while wishing my legs were longer. Having boyfriends all around or above six feet tall means every time they get distracted when they walk, I’m practically jogging to keep from being dragged behind them. Trying not to sound breathless, I add, “I didn’t know there were orphanages specifically for dark nephilim.”
“Dark nephilim tend to have a high volume of orphans. Have to train them somehow,” Donovan answers, his voice flat in a way that hints of deeper feelings on the subject.
“So you’re not looking forward to this retreat because it will bring up bad memories?” I ask, trying to get to the root of what’s clearly bothering him.
Donovan stops to hold the front door open for me. “It sucks, but I’ll get over it.” He releases a breath that seems to be lodged in his chest. “I’m eighteen now. If they decide that they need me out there fighting, then that’s it. I’ll get my GED, and no more senior year.”
“What? No!” I yell, gripping his hand like someone is trying to yank him from me. “You said Kaleb’s parents made sure you had to finish high school first.”
“That was before two demons walked up to our front door, and I proved I could handle myself.” He stares out at the empty lawn with a rueful smile on his face. “Keziah and Ray did too good of a job.”
It’s my turn to drag him, because the buzzing panic inside me needs me to keep moving. “I don’t understand. Who is making these decisions? Do angels pop in from heaven and decree you fight well, so fuck whatever plans you had for your last year of freedom?”
“It’s hot when you curse,” he murmurs, apparently entertained by my freak-out.
“Donovan!” I screech, stomping toward the parking lot where his black truck is parked. “This is serious.”
“As far as I’m aware, angels haven’t come to the mortal realm in thousands of years,” he supplies unhelpfully, while easily keeping pace with me. When I give him a hard look, he sighs and continues, “Nephilim operate in a web of different networks, each led by a council of six—three light and three dark—known as a concilium. The various concilia decide how best to utilize and distribute resources, including us.”
“Resources? You’re a person, not some bag of flour to be handed over to make bread,” I complain, outraged that these councils would see their people as nothing more than pawns to be pushed around.
He shrugs as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Nephilim’s whole fucking bag is all about serving the greater good, divine calling, and all that crap. Personal preference doesn’t really play a huge role in their decision-making.”
When we reach the truck, I release his hand, unsure if the sweat on my palm is his or mine. “What happens if you don’t do what they tell you to? Do nephilim enforcers come in and put you in supernatural jail or something?”
“I don’t know,” he admits while he opens the passenger door. “I never planned to resist.”
“What?” I squawk, looking up at him like he’s suddenly transformed into someone I don’t know. “But you’re literally the embodiment of fuck the system.”
Donovan takes my backpack off my shoulder, and I’m too stunned to do anything more than blink at him. He tosses it into the back seat. “Do I believe the whole ‘I have no choice in my future, because of which angel my ancestors fucked’ is messed up? Yes, but they aren’t wrong that someone has to do it.” He reaches around my waist and lifts me into the truck, like I weigh little more than air. “Besides, I have demons literally hunting down my bloodline, and I’m the end of that particular road. Regardless of the concilium, one way or another, I’m going to have to fight.”
I reach for him before he can close the door. “You’re not still planning to go after the demons that killed your family, are you?”
There’s a tic in his jaw as he grits his teeth, but to my great relief, he shakes his head. “I’m not going to ignore them, but I’m not going to go looking for them.” His vibrant, aqua eyes that mark him as part of the Morningstar line stare into mine with a fierce sincerity that makes my heart flutter. “I have reasons to stick around as long as possible.”
“I love you,” I murmur, unable to keep the sentiment to myself.
He gives me one of his cocky smirks. “I know.”
My brows furrow as an amused smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “Did you just make a Star Wars reference?”
“No,” he answers with a snort. “All that geeky shit is between you and Felix.”
I chuckle to myself as he closes the door and moves over to the driver’s side. It’d figure that the only way Donovan would reference a sci-fi movie would be by accident, but it amuses me that he quoted Han Solo of all characters. There are definitely some similarities between him and the rogue smuggler.
He tosses his backpack next to mine and easily hoists himself into the truck. Turning the engine over, he asks, “Are we practicing at your place or mine? K is over at Nolan’s, but I can’t guarantee Keziah and Ray aren’t at the house.”
Logically, I know I need all the help I can get, but I’m embarrassed that Donovan will witness just how bad I am. In hopes of distracting him, I lick my lips and flash him my doe eyes. “Are you sure cooking is how you want to spend our time alone together?”
