Page 11 of Semi-Fallen

Her mother eyed Lucien with a pissed off, maternal gleam in her eye that would’ve terrified a lesser man. “I could rip his heart out,” she said. “I doubt he’d be ready to hunt anyone after that.”

“We don’t know that more wouldn’t just come to take his place,” her father said.

Haven’s hands moved furiously as she translated everything that was being said. Lane could’ve kissed her. It was exhausting trying to read everyone’s lips when there were this many people in the room.

And she didn’t want to miss a word of any of it.

“Beheading would work, too,” Seven said, then held up her sword. “I just sharpened the blade. He probably wouldn’t even feel a thing.”

Riddick frowned. “Are we supposed to care if he feels it?”

Harper looked horrified. “We can’t behead an angel! I can’t go into confession all, ‘Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I killed a fucking angel of the Lord!’”

Seven blinked at her. “You probably shouldn’t say fucking in confession.”

“Yes, because my cussing is what would get me sent directly to hell in that scenario.”

Riddick gave them both a what the hell, palms-up gesture. “I’ll behead him. I’m probably going to hell already anyway, and I’ve never been to confession. Done and done.”

Seven tossed him the sword as he moved toward Lucien and he caught it smoothly, lifting it high, ready to swing.

Something akin to panic seized Lane’s heart as she saw that blade headed toward Lucien’s neck. She couldn’t explain it, but in that moment, she knew losing him would be devastating.

A sound must’ve escaped her throat, because everyone in the room doubled over, wincing, clutching their ears.

Everyone but Lucien, that is.

Riddick dropped the sword, and her father must have lost his grip on Lucien, because the angel snapped his cuffs and collar, and shot forward so quickly he was nothing but a blur. He grabbed her by the arms and hauled her up against his chest.

“We need to talk,” he said through obviously gritted teeth.

And then…nothing. Blackness swallowed them whole.

* * *

Instead of killing the Nephilim, he’d just kidnapped her from her heavily fortified home filled with powerful supernatural creatures who wanted him dead.

This day was indeed a curious one.

But while Lucien might not be sure why he kidnapped Lane, he knew exactly where to take her.

As soon as their feet hit the warm, moonlight-gilded sand of the Hawaiian beach that was, so far, Lucien’s favorite place in this Earth dimension, he let go of her. Touching her only served to confuse him more than he already was. Her sweet scent, the strength hidden in her diminutive frame, the raw power that thrummed through her veins…it was all pleasing to him. Alluring.

It shouldn’t be. He had no business actually liking anything about her. Sparing her would mean the end of the only existence he’d ever known.

But what if she’s more important than your comfortable existence?

That little voice in his head—the one that had kept him from smiting Lane when he had the chance—was really starting to annoy him.

She stumbled back a few steps when he released her, a frown line knitting her smooth brow as she looked behind him at the ocean.

Her gaze shot back to his and he shrugged. “I like it here. The water calms me. Helps me think clearly.”

One of her brows arched as she signed, It helps you think clearly about how you plan to kill me?

What a puzzle she was. No tears? No begging for mercy? Her defiance—much like everything else about her—fascinated him. “It helps me consider why I haven’t killed you already.”

There was that defiant look again. And?

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