Page 9 of Semi-Fallen

And at the moment, Hunter seemed to be channeling every bit of power he had into holding Lucien immobile. Between the silver cuffs and collar and the vampire’s hold, Lucien wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

Well…fuck.

Hunter’s wife, Mischa, who was the second strongest vampire Lucien had ever seen, rushed in behind Hunter and launched herself at the Nephilim. After a hug that looked to crush the air out of the girl’s lungs, Mischa leaned back and spoke to her daughter in frantic sign language.

That was puzzling to Lucien. If this girl—Lane—was deaf, could she really be a Nephilim? He’d never heard of a Nephilim with any kind of disability. They were typically superhuman in all aspects. Could his search have led him astray? Was it possible he’d been stalking an innocent human all along?

Lucien took his temporary incapacitation to study Lane. (After all, what else was he going to do while he was cuffed, collared, and held immobile by the most powerful vampire in existence?)

She looked human. Small. Delicate. Fragile. But that was where the similarities ended. Other than her adoptive parents and Lucien himself, Lane was easily the most powerful being in the room. The dhampyres and the demon were strong…but she could crush them.

There was no way he was wrong about her.

So why couldn’t she hear?

He supposed that was a question for another time. For example, say, when he wasn’t cuffed, collared, and being held immobile by the most powerful vampire in existence.

Haven Hall skidded around the corner into the room and nearly toppled when she slipped on the small area rug next to Lane’s bed. Her father caught her seconds before she would’ve fallen face-down on the floor.

“Holy crap,” she muttered, glaring at the rug as if it had actively conspired to bring her down. “Thanks, Dad.”

He righted her and frowned. “I told you to stay home tonight.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen. Lane’s my best friend. There was no way I wasn’t going to get a look at the douchebag who’s been stalking her.”

Then her gaze shifted to Lucien and her jaw dropped. “Holy shit,” Haven muttered. “It’s you! I remember you. I knew your energy looked familiar!”

He remembered her, too. It had ultimately been young Haven’s impassioned words that had encouraged him to help rescue Gabriel from the hell dimension all those years ago. Gabriel, who had just helped capture him. Traitor.

The demon still looked shell-shocked. “What are you doing here, man? You left on some sort of mission from God and we never heard from you again. Now you’re here, stalking Lane? What the fuck?”

“I have my reasons.”

Reasons he’d rather not say aloud in a room of powerful beings who might get—what had Riddick said?—sword happy. Angels could survive practically any attack, but being beheaded was fatal to everything with a pulse.

“Release me,” Lucien added, “and I’ll explain everything.”

“Riiiggghhhttt,” Harper said. “’Cause you’re harmless as a kitten, I’m sure. That’s a no from me, sparky.”

He shrugged. Well, he shrugged as well as he could while still under Hunter’s power. “Then I’m in no hurry to speak to any of you.” He glanced Hunter’s way. “I can do this all day. Can you?”

There was not even a trace of humor in Hunter’s answering smile—a smile that put his deadly fangs on display in a big way. “Try me.”

Seven tilted her head to one side, studying him in a way that made him a little uncomfortable before saying, “We could try torture. That usually works.”

Riddick shrugged. “I like it. Simple. Straightforward. Effective.”

Harper rolled her eyes. “You guys always go right to torture. There are other methods of getting information out of people, you know.”

“They take too much time,” Seven said at the same time Riddick said, “They aren’t as fun.”

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “That won’t work anyway. I mean, no offense, Seven, I’ve seen you torture people and you’re an artist, but he’s been tortured by my father. He can take whatever you can dish out.”

That much was true, Lucien thought. He didn’t like to remember those days—the pain, the hopelessness, the praying for a swift death. Thinking about it always took him to a dark place, and there was little point in living like that. But that time had made him stronger than he’d ever imagined possible. He supposed he should be thankful for that.

He wasn’t, though.

If Gabriel’s father wasn’t already dead, Lucien would kill him. Slowly. Creatively. Painfully.

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