Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Her entity watched him warily, searching for any sign of abhorrence or rejection, but it couldn’t get a read on him. Neither could she. He was too self-contained, too good at concealing his true thoughts and feelings.
Since he had no reason to be here, she could only assume that Konstantin had called on him. Before her car had exploded, she’d telepathed the bodyguard to insist that he get out of his own vehicle just in case her suspicions were correct.
Luckily, he’d listened.
She’d pyroported to him, found him unconscious—likely having been thrown by the force of the explosion—but otherwise fine, and propped him up against a nearby lamp post.
Then she’d gone hunting.
The moment she had spotted the clerics, she’d called out to Tobe, who’d swiftly appeared with Ciaran. The two had helped her dispatch them. They’d needed to do it quickly and cleanly so as not to attract attention. She’d thought she could have the whole thing over and done with before Konstantin woke.
She’d been wrong.
And now Luka knew her biggest secret. Whatever he was thinking right now, well, it couldn’t be anything good.
Materializing at her side with Ciaran, Tobe cursed at the sight of the now-dead cleric. “I thought we were gonna take him alive,” he said to Naomi.
They had telepathically agreed that they would let this one Elioud live so they could question him, but . . . “Luka wasn’t aware of that.”
Tobe glanced from her to the legion, his gaze turning both hard and wary. He stepped closer to her, evidently feeling protective. “If you’re standing there judging her for something she has no control over, you can fuck right off.”
Ignoring that outburst, Luka looked down at the dead male, his eyes narrowing on the emblem. His gaze locked with hers once more. “A cleric, I’m guessing. Why would he come for you?” he asked, his voice ice-cold.
Not a good sign.
Naomi’s stomach plummeted. He was going to walk now, wasn’t he? He couldn’t look at her the same way anymore, just as she’d feared. “Does it matter?” she threw out, disheartened.
His eyes flared. “Yeah, it fucking matters.”
Could’ve fooled me.
“This isn’t the time or place to talk about this,” Tobe stated.
Luka pressed his lips together. “You’re right. It isn’t.”
Daniil materialized; he’d presumably been telepathically summoned.
“I need to go to my place,” said Naomi, flicking a hand at her ruined clothing. “We can talk there.”
“Alone,” Luka specified.
Tobe stiffened. “Nome . . .”
“I’ll be okay,” she assured her anchor. “This conversation needs to be had in private.” If Luka said even one thing remotely hurtful to her, Tobe would flip and launch himself at him. The legion wouldn’t exactly stand there and take it, so the end result would be bad.
“Me and Tobe will get rid of the bodies,” Ciaran told her.
Luka stiffened. “Bodies plural? The cleric wasn’t alone?”
“I’ll explain everything when we get out of here,” Naomi said.
A muscle in Tobe’s cheek ticked. “If you need me, Nome, reach out.”
“I will.” Moments later, her surroundings briefly blurred, and then she, Luka, and Daniil were standing in her living area. After a quick look at his Prime, the teleporter disappeared.
Luka raked his unreadable gaze over her. “Are you all right?” A stiffly spoken question.
Surprised he’d bothered to ask, she cleared her throat. “Fine. No wounds. Konstantin telepathed you?”
“Yes, he did,” Luka verified. “The question is: why didn’t you?”
She blinked. Her car had been blown up. A bunch of clerics had come for her. He’d witnessed her feed from one of them. And . . . “That’s your question?”
“Oh, I have others.” The words were low. Clipped. Curt. “Many others.”
I’ll bet.
“Tell me about the clerics.”
Why should she, considering it was extremely probable that he had every intention of breezing out of her house never to come back? Then again, Konstantin could have died tonight. She hadn’t thought she was putting him in danger by leaving him ignorant of the monkhood’s existence; hadn’t thought they would target him. That miscalculation could have resulted in the bodyguard losing his life. At the very least, she could explain the situation.
“The clerics are part of an order known as the Lemures,” she explained.
“They were responsible for the car bombs?”
She nodded. “I heard them speak of it while Tobe, Ciaran, and I picked them off.”
“Why did they target you?”
She hesitated, licking her lips. “They came upon an old-ass prophecy that was probably written by one of the Nephilim’s first descendants. They translated it; believe it says that a specific woman will birth the Antichrist, who—with some demonic help—will destroy the order and the person pulling their strings.”
Luka’s brow furrowed. “What does that have to do with you?”
Naomi scratched the back of her head, grimacing. “They believe I’m the woman in the prophecy. We’re quite sure that their puppeteer is a dark practitioner. He obviously puts stock in the foretelling, because he seems to think it necessary for his survival that I die.”