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“Rin.”
Chapter fourteen
Erin
I turned around and a hulking beast of a man stood in the doorway to Seth’s bedroom. Darkness and all things that should send me screaming in the opposite direction—besides the fact that my stunned ass was currently propped on the floor, legs tucked under myself in the least intimidating position possible—shrouded the guy. Was that what people meant when they mentioned an ‘aura’ about someone? If so, I never wanted to see one again because the shit is fucking intimidating.
“Uh, hi. Can I help you?” Annoyance laced my voice.
Be polite, Erin. Play this right.
I cleared my throat. “Are you one of Seth’s friends? He’s out right now. I didn’t realize anyone was coming over.”
Shut up shut up shut up. Be polite, not give the guy a run down of the fact that you’re here all alone, dumbass.
The man smirked, revealing pointed teeth.
Shit. Well, that can’t be normal.
“Oh, he was not expecting a visit from me, dear, I assure you.” A chill snaked its way down my spine.
“Who are you?” My voice surprisingly steady. I moved to a crouched position and edged myself backward, reaching for anything sharp, heavy. I backed into one of the loungers in front of Seth’s bookcases and my fingers graced the spine of a book tucked underneath it. It was thick. And therefore—praying to whoever listened—heavy.
He inched closer, seeming to glide along the floor, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. “I’m an old friend of sorts. I’ve come to collect something important. Or rather, someone.” He chuckled, and a pair of onyx black wings tipped with spikes sprouted from behind him. My jaw fell open. He cocked his head to the side, his smirk widening. Spindles of his flame kissed hair fell over his shoulder. Yellow eyes now stared me down. As if he were a predator and I was his prey. “You may call me Erebus, Erin Snow.”
I chucked the hardbound book, landing it flat against his chest, then thudding to the ground. Irritation rippled through him and he lunged. He drew his arm back, claws ripping from his jeans. Aiming directly for my throat. He landed his mark, my neck clenched within his grasp. I struggled for breath, sucking in what I could as his grip tightened. He laughed, the sound reverberated along his arm and to where he held me in midair. My breath left me. I shut my eyes, scratching at his hand around my throat. I kicked outward, knocking him in the center of his chest. Nothing. No effect.
To all hell, what the fuck was the point of getting stronger with this whole Nephilim thing if kicking this dickwad in the chest isn’t going to do shit?
“Open your eyes for me, dearest. I want you to see me as you slowly fade.” I squeezed my eyes together harder.
I need to do something. Anything.
I thought back to the day before, when electricity jumped from my fingertips, then the dream I had.
There has to be a way for me to conjure it.
I dove deep. I sucked in what breath I could, then searched inward. Smoke flickered behind my lids.
There.
I imagined myself reaching for it. Grabbed it and tucked it into myself. My eyes snapped open, and I released it. But instead of my lightning, there were flames. I flicked my eyes to Erebus, cracking a strained cocky smirk of my own. I shot the flame outward, nailing him in the face. He yanked his claws back, dropping me to the ground. I landed square on my ass and scrambled back to my feet, slightly crouching into a defensive position. My flames danced in the palms of my hands, begging to be used. I shot them out again, hitting Erebus in one of his wings, then the other. He roared, shaking his head side to side, trying to dissipate the fire that engulfed his head, matching the hair that slowly burned. I took the distraction as my opportunity to dodge around him and sprint toward the living room and out the door.
I bolted out of the bedroom, throwing a look over my shoulder to see if my newfound flame still held, as well as another ball of fire, aimed directly for his ass for good measure. And ran right into solid rock. I stumbled back, my gaze trailed upward. Standing above me was another not-human-but-not-sure-what-the-hell-he-was seven-foot or more brute. Black hair shaved short on the sides, a raised, red, welted scar through his left eye, the corners of his mouth turned downward, in a scowl. He jutted his arm out toward me. I called my flame up and braced myself to fight. He stopped. Flexed his hand open, his claws extended.
A black smoke floated away from his hand. His mouth formed a loose ‘o’ and blew the thick vapor at me. My mind became foggy as a wave of confusion fell over me.
“Sleep.”
I’d woken up chained and dangling from some stone-clad ceiling. I took in the room around me. The walls followed the same theme as the ceiling, built entirely out of stone. Decorated with iron shields along the stone, marigold-stained fabric draped in between. Hues of purple accented each piece. Flails, morning stars, and a variety of other weapons dotted the spots in between. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a throne—a literal fucking throne—all decked out in the same yellows and purples that decorated the rest of the room. I huffed and rolled my eyes. Clearly someone spent too much time at the renaissance fair.
Where the hell am I? The thirteenth century?
Someone snapped their fingers, gaining my attention.
“Ah, Erin Snow, you’re finally awake. Here I began to worry that you might need some rousing. Well, maybeworriedisn’t the right word.” The rimy statement dug its claws into my flesh. My narrowed gaze found the man attached to the vomit-inducing voice. He ran a grayish-purple tongue along his thin lips. I racked my brain trying to recall where I recognized the spawn-from-hell looking guy. My memory felt hazed. “You’re probably still feeling the effects of Asier’stalents.”He spread his mouth into a bone chilling grin. Dread pooled in my stomach.
Oh no.
