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)
Either way, this is no fable. It’s real life, and I have to learn to fight, really fight, and protect myself. That requires rest, which I haven’t had in far too long. I shut my eyes and will myself to sleep, but the minute the darkness consumes me, the darkness is him—the serpent.
Jeremy.
I jolt to a sitting position, stand up, and march to the door, opening it and heading straight for the couch where Micah is lying down. I tiptoe to the edge to lean over and spy him on his back, eyes shut. I sit down on the floor beside him, just beyond where his head rests, curling my knees to my chest.
“Why are you not sleeping?” Micah asks without moving, his deep voice vibrating through the quiet of the room.
“Every time I close my eyes, he’s there. He won’t go away.” I laugh a humorless laugh. “So much for me slaying werewolves, demons, and monsters, right? I can’t even sleep alone.”
He throws his legs over the side of the couch and stands up, stepping in front of me and offering me his hand. Craving the calm he creates in me, I don’t even consider where this might lead, eagerly pressing my palm to his. It’s as if silk strokes the sandpaper of my nerve endings, a colorful rainbow of calm overtaking me. He guides me to my feet and then motions to the couch. “Let’s trade spots.”
“I can’t put you on the floor, Your Overlord Grace.”
He smirks and corrects, “Your Overseer Grace. And lucky for you, my graceful ass can sleep anywhere in any position. I’ve had lots of practice. Lie down.”
He’s arrogant but quite gentlemanly. After all, the man did kill a few dozen demons for me. I claim the couch, stretching out with my back to the cushion, my eyes on the room. Micah lowers himself to the floor where I’d been moments before and tilts his head to rest it on the arm of the couch. “That’s not very comfortable for you to sleep.”
He glances up at me. “It’s a perfect bodyguard position. I got you. Go to sleep.”
He’s got me.
It’s a calming idea in the moment, but it’s a notion riddled with cuts and holes. Deep inside, I recognize the need to fight and become my own hero. “I believe you,” I say. “A Crystal Seer can sense the intent of another Crystal Seer.”
“Exactly.”
“You healed my hand.”
“I did,” he confirms, “and before you ask me how, you already know the answer.”
“Magic. Magic is always the answer.”
“You’re learning.”
“I’m trying,” I assure him. “Can all Nephilim heal others?”
“No.”
“Can all Crystal Seers heal?”
“No.”
My brows furrow. “Why can you?”
“Ask me tomorrow. We need to rest. Goodnight, Ember.”
About ten questions dance on my tongue, but I swallow them and whisper, “Goodnight, Micah.”
I shut my eyes, and this time, instead of a snake and yellow-eyed demons, my mind conjures a beautiful man with the most incredible red wings.
The Sacred Book of Nephilim
It is the nature of the Nephilim to be surrounded by the darkness of lies hidden in beauty as striking as the light of the crystal dawn.
Chapter twenty-one
Iwake staring into the most gorgeous blue eyes—eyes the color of a mesmerizing crystal blue ocean. “Now I know what everyone sees when they look at me,” I whisper, my hand lifting and brushing over the stubble on his jaw.
“And what is that, Ember?” His voice is a gentle wind, the kind one might expect to deliver a hint of salt and sea.
I blink and blink again, jolting to a sitting position, my heart thundering in my chest. “How did the doctors actually think my eyes were a birth defect? There’s nothing normal about those eyes.”
“A birth defect?” He chuckles low and deep from his fairly impressive chest, but I assume beauty and perfection are most assuredly requirements for an angelic Overseer. I’m not certain honesty is, though. I mean, Nephilim are fallen angels. I think. I’m not fully confident in anything at present, most certainly what he is and what I am. His eyes, those damnable eyes that look just like mine, dance with amusement. “Is that what they told you? And you believed it?”
Yes, I think. Yes, that is what they told me and what I told everyone else, but at this point, admitting that out loud will likely sound stupider than it does in my head right now. I push to my feet, shaking off the haze of sleep and noting his dark hair lies in wet tendrils at his temple, and he’s now dressed in a fresh black tee and jeans that he’s paired with combat boots. It’s his color combo of choice frequently, a uniform of sorts it seems, and I wonder if it’s about hiding the blood of battle or blending in with the darkness of Hell if he’s ever dragged there by the likes of Jeremy.