Unchained

Chapter Twenty-two

The sharp slice of Nathaniel’s words haunted Lily long after she stormed out of the Sanctuary. She sucked in air sharply as she perched beside a stone gargoyle. Antsy and still energized by anger, she dropped to the ledge below and then to the alley. The first minion she came across she cut down without so much as a word. The second, she toyed with. The third minion had tried to run, but she had brought it down in cold malice.

She continued into the wee hours of the morning. Anger shifting into guilt, guilt back to fury, pity to self-righteousness, and finally by the last kill she decided that she might be bipolar.

No amount of flying from building to building assuaged the turmoil of emotions in her. At some point, she recognized the bulk of her anger was directed at herself. She had done wrong. No matter how much she saw the good in Julian, others would never see what she saw, and she shouldn’t expect them to.

When Julian met up with her, it wasn’t at their usual spot. She’d avoided the Hilton, unsure if she could face him right now. But he found her anyway, deep within Rock Creek Park.

He stalked toward her, head low. Strands of hair obscured most of his face, shielding his eyes.

Her insides tightened. Excitement and anxiety swirled. She raised an unsteady arm. “I…I can’t do this right now.”

“I told you I didn’t want you going back there.” He didn’t even miss a beat.

How had he known how badly it went? She wasn’t sure, but when he stopped in front of her, every muscle in her body locked up. Then she whirled, taking off. She couldn’t deal with him right now or what he made her feel. Hell, she couldn’t even deal with herself.

She didn’t make it very far.

Julian snagged her from behind and flipped her around, pressing her until her back hit rough tree bark. Catching her wrists in one hand, he pinned them above her head. “Why do you run from me?” he growled. “I’m not the enemy.”

If he wasn’t the enemy, then who was? The Sanctuary? Her?

As he stared down at her, a look of fierce possessiveness shot across his face. She shuddered. And when he pulled her against him, she expected him to take her right there.

But he didn’t.

Julian cradled her against him, wrapping one arm around her tightly and sinking his other deep into her hair. And she was desperate to be closer to him. She nuzzled against him, spreading her hands across his back. With him, she was just Lily—not tethered to the Sanctuary or to anything—and she could only be that with Julian.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Why are you apologizing?” He lowered his head, kissing where her neck met her shoulder. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Don’t apologize for them. I can’t—I won’t leave you.”

Lily squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t want you to.”

He was silent for a very long time, holding her to him. “You think to keep us both?”

Tipping her head back, she met his stare. “I do.”

A small smile pulled at his lips as he smoothed his hand over her head. “It won’t be easy, Lily.”

Nothing was easy, but that didn’t mean she was going to just give up. She could deal with this. And she would. There was no other choice, unless she wanted to lose everything—including Julian.

…

Michael landed hard on his back for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last hour. However, he was a bit smarter this time. He immediately blocked Rafe’s booted heel from connecting with his throat.

Remy chuckled from the other side of the mat. “He’s catching on.”

“Finally,” muttered Rafe, removing the pressure.

He wanted to tell them where they could shove it, but he had tried that already. And it had not ended well. He’d probably be pissing blood for the next week. Climbing slowly to his feet, he stretched the kink out of his back. “One more time.”

One more time—just one more time until Michael got it.

Rafe nodded, and pride shone in his eyes before he attacked. He moved with a series of fast jabs and leg swipes Michael was able to dodge and then kicks. The kicks were always what got him. No man should be able to kick that fast and hard.

“Slow it down. It’s not about how fast you can move, but how well you can anticipate his next move.”

Startled by the soft advice, Michael wasn’t able to block the crescent kick Rafe delivered, and on the floor he went.

Lily hadn’t spoken since she’d arrived this morning to watch him train. She came in, lifted her chin curtly at them, and then sat down on the mats. Every so often he had glanced over at her. She watched them intently, but he could never read her expression. The only thing he could tell was that she looked exhausted. Faint shadows blossomed under her green eyes, and there was a weary pull to her lips.

Remy bent down to her, several thick dreads obscuring whatever it was he whispered in her ear.

Michael picked himself up. “One more time,” he gritted.

Lily pushed herself up from the mat. Her long hair was pulled up in a messy knot, and she wore loose-fitting sweats. Even rumpled and exhausted, he knew he shouldn’t underestimate whatever she was up to.

Rafe turned to her. “Wanna give it a try?”

She nodded as he stepped aside. “You move too fast. In hand-to-hand combat, simply moving faster than your opponent is only a benefit when you’re the attacker.” Her hand snaked out, slamming into his chest. He staggered back with a scowl. “However, defending yourself is simply anticipating the next move. He will tell you where he strikes next without words.”

Michael rubbed his chest with the heel of his palm. “Was that necessary?”

She flashed a small grin. “Watch us.” Lily turned to Rafe with a small nod. He launched into attack with the same amount of ferocity that he held when he went after him.

Michael crossed his arms over his chest. Instead of Lily ending up on her ass, she dodged his blows. The entire time she kept her eyes on Rafe. Within seconds she pushed forward, and to Rafe’s irritation, she easily deflected each kick and jab he sent her way.

“Arm!” she called a split second before Rafe threw a punch. “Leg!” she yelled again. Over and over, she called out each method of attack right as Rafe delivered it. He moved faster, but she still managed to catch it a second before he did. “Watch his body! See how the area tenses before he uses it. The muscles will twitch or tremor.” She blocked a fierce sidekick that would have hurt like holy hell.

His eyes narrowed on Rafe, eventually seeing what she pointed out. It was a fine tremor. No matter how Rafe tried to change it up, his body gave away his next move. After he picked that up and grew a bit more confident, his attention wandered over to Lily.

She was rather amazing to watch. Quick-footed and strong, she moved like a skilled dancer. She really got into it, too. Maybe a little too much. There was an air of violence to her. Part of her must thrive on it because eventually her lips curved into a delighted smile as Rafe grew more agitated with her ability to outperform him.

The midget ninja was enjoying herself.

A smile pulled at his lips as his hand slid under his shirt, over the crucifix she had brought to him.

Lily backed off, and Michael took her place with Rafe. After a few minutes, he was able to anticipate the moves. Not as quickly as she had, but he didn’t end up on his back again. That was a hell of an improvement. Even Rafe seemed to think so. Instead of breaking for lunch with the usual routine of running the underground tunnels, he allowed Michael to go straight to the cafeteria. He felt like he’d moved up a grade.

Lily disappeared while they headed to lunch, but returned a few minutes later looking…off. Michael watched her curiously as she grabbed some food. The whole time she kept her head down as she surveyed the piles of lunch meat.

“What’s up with her?” he asked around a mouthful of roast-beef sub.

Remy’s gaze flickered to Rafe. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“If you think you’re brave enough to broach that question with her, please let me know ahead of time,” said Rafe. “I would like to be out of swinging range.”

Michael snorted but didn’t respond. Lily sat beside him with a plate full of meat but no bread. She picked at the food listlessly, and no amount of effort Remy or Rafe made to draw her into conversation seemed to work.

He nudged her arm when Rafe and Remy left to dump their plates. “You okay?”

She glanced up, her expression unfathomable. “Yeppers.”

“You don’t seem so. Did something happen yesterday when you were gone?”

The cool exterior cracked a bit, but it wasn’t anger that poked through. It was agitation. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes shuttered. “No, nothing happened yesterday.”

His gaze dropped to the hand that rested next to her untouched plate. It trembled for a few seconds before it stilled. Lily seemed unaware of the movement. “Hey, if you need anyone to talk to?” he offered. “Though I don’t know how much help I’d be. I’m bat-shit crazy since I’ve been here.”

Lily laughed softly. She opened her mouth but caught a glimpse of the door and froze. He followed her gaze. Two Nephilim walked in. He recognized one of them as Micah, and he wasn’t a fan of the cocky son of a bitch. 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.

She continued blithely. “After her death, you were sent into foster care. Anyway, you excelled in sports. Played football and basketball—you were better at football. You dated the high school prom queen. May I add that is totally cliché?”

“Yeah,” he said. It was a little unnerving to hear someone tick away his life.

“You went to college and obtained a degree in finance. Boring. Then you got your master’s. Even more boring. Went off to work for some firm that paid you beaucoup bucks. Had some life-changing epiphany that made you decide to be a police officer.”

“You know, that is really creepy.”

Lily winked. “Did I miss anything? Oh, yes. You were busted for fighting when you were in college. Your drunk-off-his-ass friend decided to take on an entire bar. You got caught in the middle. Sucks being sober, doesn’t it? By the way, Nephilim can’t get drunk.”

He blinked. “Well that explains that mystery.”

She continued. “But there is this plant that is totally the equivalent of ten tequila shots, but that is neither here nor there. You’ve never been engaged. You did come close to some pretty little blonde in college, but she totally slept with your roommate.”

He dropped the blade. “How in the hell do you know this stuff?”

Lily flashed a smile. “I’m all knowing—omnificent.”

He stared for a minute. “You mean omniscient.”

“Whatever.” Her grin remained.

He shook his head, picking up the blade. “Anything else you want to tell me about my life? Step up that creep factor a little more?”

She looked straight into his eyes, and as casually as if she’d been asking him to pass the salt, said, “Your mom didn’t kill herself.”