I run my tongue over my lips nervously, his eyes track the movement. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“There it is,” the Nephilim coos.
I fall silent, despair washing over me as the Nephilim cross the room towards a small table I hadn’t noticed before. He rummages through the drawers, humming to himself. His casual demeanor makes me even more frightened. He isn’t worried that someone will find him—even though he must know kidnapping a guest from the King’s party won’t go unnoticed. Or perhaps it would. Perhaps he’s counting on the revelry to make everyone forget I was even there. Kane included. I strain against my bonds, biting my lip, but they hold fast.
“Don’t worry,” the Nephilim says, striding back towards me with a slim dagger in hand. I writhe, stretching my body to the side to get away from him. “It will be over soon.”
“Please, don’t,” I whimper as he looms over me, knife glistening. “Please, I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t hurt me.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, darling.” He looks at me sympathetically.
“Let me go!” I scream wildly.
“Shh,” he murmurs, stroking my forehead with a cool hand. I scream again, the shrill sound bouncing off the chamber walls. Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my cheek and blood in my mouth. My head aches. The Nephilim glowers down at me, palm pink from the force of his slap. I stare at him mutely, blood filling my mouth.
He paces, eyes narrowed, and brandishes the dagger. “Look what you made me do,” he hisses. “If you would just be quiet, quiet, I wouldn’t have to hurt you.”
He mutters to himself, pacing the room. I feel numb, even my fear has ebbed somewhat as grim acceptance fills me. I’m going to die here, I realize. There’s nothing I can do to stop it from happening. I’m bound too tightly to move, trapped in a tiny room with a man more dangerous than anyone I encountered in the mortal realm, and no one knows I’m missing. I watch him, blinking stupidly, as he comes to a halt at my side.
“Will you promise to be quiet?” He asks. “If you are, I won’t cut out your tongue.”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Very good,” The Nephilim says, sighing with relief. He tosses the blade back onto the table with a giddy smile. “Then we won’t be needing that, will we?”
I shake my head.
The Nephilim bends over me, brushing my hair away from my face as gently as a lover might. His breath wafts over my face. It’s sweet, like oranges. I don’t pull away from him, knowing that if I do, he may hit me again. I would rather die peacefully than in pain. Fear hums through my blood as he gazes down at me hungrily.
“Do you know how many Nephilim have ever managed to taste the delicious soul of a mortal?” He asks. “Come on, take a guess.”
I swallow thickly. “Fifty.”
“Even less.” He leans closer, smiling. He waves a hand, encouraging me to take another gamble.
“Thirteen,” I whisper.
“Eight,” he breathes. He says the number reverently, almost closing his eyes.
I inhale sharply, heart beating quickly and lightly. Kane’s words echo in my mind. You, alive and with a soul, would become nothing but a shell if you fell victim to a Nephilim. You would be theirs to command, an empty husk. You would be nothing. I’m not going to die, I realize. I’m going to cease to exist. I won’t even be able to make a home with my mother in the afterlife if this Nephilim leeches my soul. Tears prick at my eyes at the realization and I clench my hands into fists. Fear pounds through me, like raw power and energy.
“I want to savor this. I want to savor you.” The Nephilim strokes my cheek.
He moves quickly and a shrill shriek rips from my throat. It’s cut short when I realize his hands are at the restraints, loosening them. He works quickly, undoing the leather bonds with ease. He looks at me while he works, grinning. The Nephilim isn’t worried that I’ll bolt. He’s completely confident. I wonder just how many times he’s done this and I feel sick.
“There, sit up,” he says, watching with bright eyes.
I swing my legs over the granite slab, eyes darting towards the door. I judge the distance, no more than five strides. But he would catch me before I even make it to the door. I need a weapon, something to slow him down with. I glance at the dagger on the table. I can’t reach it with him in here, watching me. I can’t reach it without leaving the slab, and that he would never let me do.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask, voice trembling. I know Kane was trying to hide me from the Nephilim, but apparently, he failed.
“Oh, I have my ways.” The Nephilim joins me on the slab, like we’re two new lovers enjoying a quiet evening together. “It would bore you.”
“Have you always been rogue?” I blurt as his lips move towards mine. I’m desperate to distract him, to delay the inevitable.
The Nephilim scowls. “I am not a rogue. I am simply behaving as Nephilims were created to behave. We are not dogs to be trained or corralled. Soon, Kane will know this.”
“What do you mean?” My eyes widen at his cryptic words.
“It doesn’t matter,” he snaps. He licks his lips hungrily. “Close your eyes, I just want a little taste.”
I don’t have time to protest before his lips are on mine. I freeze, my entire body stiff with shock. Cold sweeps over me like the wind of a frozen tundra. The Nephilim’s lips are soft, and it might have even been a pleasant kiss. But my body is seizing, fingers curling and twitching unnaturally. I feel a deep tug in my core and then a soft pop, like he’s uncorked a bottle of
