House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

Chapter 27 (Clare)

He shrugged, as he walked further and tilted his head, “Beats me, when you find out I would love to know.” Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

Slapping away the mosquito bitting her leg, she caught the worry crease on Caidrians forehead. Following the direction of his gaze, she peeped down. It took everything in her not to scream, she hadn’t noticed that they were walking up a spiral, heading toward a mountains peak. So lost in conversation, not paying much attention to her surroundings. Or lack of…

It wasn’t long after, she caught the blurred movement of white hair, unfortunately, that was no rabbits, but hair attached to the skin, which meant one thing, “Caidrian, what’s going on?”,

Not sparing her a glance, he answered, “I’m not sure, they’re Asguardians.”

Ok, “Are they good or bad?”

“THEY are the Angel's offspring.” She relaxed at that, and muttered: “Good then.”

“I can’t change it, let’s move.” She didn't argue as they hurried back on the path making tracks.

Frozen mid-step when a pack of wolves appeared in the front of her, four, to be exact, she stuttered, “Ah, Caidrian, w..what are we gonna do.”

By his confused furrow, it was obvious Caidrian was at a loss for words but those thoughts were quickly dispelled into a rage when the wolves jumped forward circling him.

Lips peeled back, snapping teeth, there was no mistaking the wolf's hunger for flesh. Clare shuddered to knock her head on the tall thin tree, she skittered across the pathway. The plastic and contents of clothes scattering on the ground. A quick glance over her shoulder, she watched Caidrian fighting the wolves. Some of them howled as he flung them across the pathway like they were nothing more than stray dogs, he wasn’t fighting with all his strength as he maintained his human form.

She yelled, “Caidrian,” when she saw the Asguardians approaching faster.

His back bent, slightly over the edge of the high drop as he beheaded the wolf with one quick glide of his sword.

She was almost convinced that she was having a concussion when she saw the body turn into a headless woman, naked. Across from her the head rolled, resembling a ball wrapped in blue hair, and red liquid.

Mouth open, and eyes wide Clare swiveled to the howl of another wolf. Spine ramrod her body turned instinctively toward a third howl. Caidrian pierced the sword through its heart at the same time the wolf transformed into a man with dark blue hair, and darkish skin.

Further down the Asguardians were almost in her line of sight. Raking her brain for some contingent plan or delay tactic she drew herself away from the fight, careful not to gain unwanted attention to herself. Once a few meters away she turned her back on the fight and lifted her hands to flag the Asguardians attention.

When a hooded figure jumped down from the nearest tree blocking her from the Angels spawn Clare squeaked before losing balance. Expecting to hit the hard ground, she gasped as a huge male arm surrounded her waist, holding her in place.

The hooded males eyes glowing like the gleam of a predator, giving only the faintest semblance of his features. Instinctive, and compelled like an invisible magnet, her hand shot out to caress his face. He let her go so quickly, positive she would have fallen this time for real if some invisible force didn't keep her in place. Disappointment stark when she looked up only to be greeted by the hooded males back. Which meticulously blocked her from the Asguardians he now held in assembly. Brushing away the thought as another howl filled the air. Clare could only hope for the stranger dressed in an old robe like those you use in a monarchy, was a friend and not foe.

There was something so potent about his demeanor, that Kalbreal who she would have described as a strong powerful male didn't even niche the raw strength from this hooded man. From his broad- shouldered back to his stance as he shielded her, he screamed leader. She thought of Kalbreal, the way he always looked down on people, his head always held high, but this man wasn’t like that, he didn't need to command anything.

Frowning at the pull she had to him. This stranger to her eyes was intoxication, compulsion and intimidation. It made her want to drop to her knees and make vows of her loyalty, before she stroked his back. The message was obvious,

He bowed to no man. And Clare feared him.

She watched as the Asguardians conversed softly with this man who made the monarchy robe, look like a warrior’s suit. Eventually with curt nods they turned around and walked back down. As though just awakened from an induced haze, Clare turned to see Caidrian still fighting the last wolf. Giving him silent due that he was holding his own, unsurprised, she returned her attention back to the man in the robe.

He was gone, vanished, or was never even there. She spun around as a grey wolf bit into Caidrians arm, blood oozed out, “Go Clare, NOW,” before fear or dread even touched her mind the strange man appeared like a wind blew his presence.

Those strong hands that had held her up with such intimacy now gripped the wolf in a pair of very manly hands, ‘the big knuckles and thick fingers kind of hands’, long, alluring.

She watched as those fingers dug into the fur of the wolf and heard rather than saw the shattered ribs. Flinching at the cry of the wolf, she meant to turn her head but didn't do it fast enough as she bared witness to the brutal force of this powerful being as he twisted the wolf's spine, the snapping sound unmistakable.

Watching in part horror and the other part bewilderment as to who he might be, as the dead wolf transformed into a blue-haired man, she couldn't move. The tingle in her veins, the shiver that ran down her spine, familiar to her, only now it was more intense.

The pinpricks she felt behind her neck, and the invisible magnet attracting her to this man were something she felt at times in the last four months. There were times when these feelings became more palpable, but nothing like this.

Having had only a glimpse of his face she couldn't be sure of who he was or whether she’d seen him before this. Though a man in monks clothing, he was a stone-cold killer who she knew with the surest certainty would see again, it was inevitable and that thought sparked something in her. Clare brushed the feeling away, not ready for its intensity.

He's a killer, your mother just died, you should not be thinking about a man, she chastised herself. Walking toward her, she watched his lithe form, his confidence stark in the field of dead bodies, it should have scared her.

“Because where there is strength there's darkness.” His voice- so intense, deep, hypnotic, it left her spellbound. Clare had never heard a stronger, yet sensual voice that appealed to her as much.

It took her almost a minute to comprehend what he’d said, and why. Her eyes widened when she finally did. He had answered what her mind was still going to conclude. He had invaded her thoughts. Heat flushed her cheeks Crimson when she recalled the way she eyed him a few moments ago.