He’d trained a few times with him, and the guy seemed to take great relish in any mistake Michael made.
He’d never seen the other Nephilim, but he seemed important. He walked with an air of authority. A swagger that begged someone to try to mess with him. His long, black hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and he had the same pale blue eyes all the male Nephilim seemed to share. He was taller than Micah and much broader.
The newcomer looked down expectantly at Lily as they passed, as if he thought she would say something. Micah, on the other hand, shoved his middle finger in her face and mouthed, “Whore.”
Lily started to rise, but Michael was faster. Without thinking of the consequences—like getting his ass handed to him—he snapped the offensive finger backward. Micah let out a howl of pain that made Michael quite happy. “Try to act like a goddamn gentleman.”
“Oh snap.” Lily giggled.
The other Nephilim simply stared at him. “Well hello, rookie.” He had a strange accent. Slavic or Russian— someplace where it was cold and Michael had no intent on ever visiting.
Once the shock wore off, Micah was clamoring to get to Michael. God must have been smiling down on him because Rafe and Remy appeared and restrained Micah.
“You broke my fucking finger!”
Michael’s lips twisted. “Maybe you should learn how to speak to a lady?”
“A lady?” he sputtered. “Who in the hell are you talking about?”
He started forward again, but Lily stopped him. “Come on. It’s not worth it.”
Micah tried to shrug off the grip the other two had on him. “Man, I’m going to break every bone in your body.” He laughed. “You can count on it, you little prick.”
“Dude, let it go.” Remy pushed Micah back. “It’s only your finger. It will heal in a few hours.”
Lily shuffled Michael past them. “Adrian,” she greeted the Nephilim who had entered with Micah.
“You and I will be talking soon,” he replied.
She gave him a curt nod before turning back to Michael. “Come on, Superman. He packs some kryptonite in his punch.”
Behind them, Micah shrugged off Remy and Rafe, still cursing up a storm. Michael snickered, feeling kind of badass. “You know, I didn’t like the ass before. Never had a real reason, but now I do.”
Lily didn’t respond as she led him back to the training room. He had to walk fast to keep up with her. “You know, a thank-you would be nice,” he said after a few moments.
She frowned at him. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I would have taken care of him.”
Okay, never mind then. “So what was his deal?” he asked once they entered the training room. They had some time to kill before Remy and Rafe returned.
Lily shrugged as she walked away. “He’s an ass. You said it yourself.”
He followed her. “Most men don’t call a woman a whore for no reason.”
Her expression soured. “Um, thanks.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He stepped around the dummies he practiced stabbing techniques on. “He’s obviously got a problem with you.”
She picked up a wicked-looking blade. “It’s really none of your business.” She shoved the blade at him, handle first. Thank God. “Get to ripping and tearing.”
He flipped the blade in his hand. “So…what you got going on later?”
She stopped midstep. “What?”
“I’m asking what you’re doing later. Hunting? Clubbing?” he asked. “Whatever it is you Nephilim do when I’m locked in my cell—oh, I mean bedroom.”
Sighing, she gave him a dismissive wave. “Practice.”
He made a face at her rigid back. “I’m trying to make chitchat.” He sliced at the dummy. The synthetic skin was disturbingly lifelike. It split like butter.
“Please stop.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to be nice,” he chided.
“It wouldn’t hurt you to shut up.”
“Jesus!” He threw the blade into the dummy. It sank deep into the fake flesh, the handle vibrating from the impact. “I’m trying to have a freaking conversation with you! You know, a normal one people have every day. Hey, how are you and all that shit. Is that so hard?”
She raised one delicate brow.
He now felt like flipping her off, but that would make him a hypocrite. With a disgruntled groan, he turned away. “You know, since I’ve been here I haven’t spoken to a single person outside. My cell doesn’t work here. Can’t get service anywhere I go in this damn place.”
“It won’t,” she answered.
He twisted around. She stood with her arms crossed. “Yeah, I figured that out.” He plucked the blade from the dummy. It made a gross sucking noise. He stabbed it again. “You know, I don’t even know if I will ever be allowed to leave here.”
“You will.”
“And if I do, will I have any friends? Will I even be able to have friends? How can I when I’m this… Nephilim?”
“You don’t need friends,” she responded bluntly. “You have us. That’s all you need.” Her face pinched.
“Yeah, you guys are my friends? I don’t think so.” He took another jab at the poor dummy. “You go and have drinks with friends. You actually hold conversations with them.”
“Did you have many friends?”
Michael stopped. Besides that being a very odd question to ask, he wasn’t sure how to answer it. He considered Cole a friend. There were a few guys on the force he considered buddies. A few women who were a little more than friends, but none he would call to just hang out with.
“I had friends,” he answered finally.
Lily shuffled closer. “I’ve never had a friend outside of the Sanctuary.” She held her palm out. He handed her the blade. “Everyone I know lives here…or has.” She twisted her wrist, showing him how to correctly hold the blade. “It will be hard for you to maintain your friendships.”
Afraid of responding and having her shut down or insult him, he remained quiet as she handed the blade back to him. He held it correctly this time.
“The minions are a tricky bunch. If they spot you with a human, they’ll use them against you. The humans we have here take a huge risk. I guess it’s the money and intrigue that keeps them here.” She shrugged. “Minions can’t come here or anywhere near here. The tunnels that run under half of Federal Triangle have been blessed and consecrated. It helps protect the humans coming and going. Holy ground and all—the minions hate it.”
He hadn’t known that, but it made sense. It also made him want to laugh, because all he could think was how utterly stereotypical.
“Anyway, you have to be careful with your friends, or you’ll probably see them die.”
Michael’s eyes widened. Nice. He made another swipe at the dummy. Holding the blade correctly seemed to make a more effective cut. Huh, go figure. “So you said I wouldn’t be forced to stay here. When will I get to leave?”
“You’ll begin hunting as soon as we think you’re more of an asset than a liability. At first you will hunt in pairs or more. From there, you decide if you want to stay here or risk it on your own.”
“You do that.”
She shrugged. “You know…I’ve checked into your past.”
His brows furrowed. “Why?”
“I’m nosy,” she admitted. “I couldn’t find anything remarkable about you.”
“Well, thanks.” He paused. “So you’ve been snooping?”
“Yes.” She didn’t look at all bothered by it.
“So what did you find out?”
“Your mom was a devout Christian who taught handicapped children. You went to church every Wednesday and Sunday. She taught Sunday school.”
Michael stilled. There was nothing to say.
