Page 19 of Galen
“Uh.” I cleared my throat. “Not really.”
Galen’s eyes narrowed. “You find this funny?”
“Definitely not,” I answered with a short laugh. “Quite the opposite, actually. I find this insane. Demons aren’t real.”
“Those bite marks say otherwise.” He tipped his head to my bandaged arm.
Yeah, the pain of being bitten felt real.
“Why were they after me?”
“I don’t know for certain, but I believe the box has something to do with it. I’ll keep you safe while you’re here. You have my word.”
Maybe I was an idiot, but I believed him. “Why were you at my shop? You showed up at the perfect time.”
“We were hunting the shades and tracked them to your loft.”
“You hunt them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He sighed and hung his head forward, rubbing the back of his neck. Was I stressing him out? “Because killing demons is what we do. End of story.”
“The end? Oh no. I have many more questions. This is just the beginning of the story.” His words from earlier registered. “Wait. You said earlier that you healed my injuries? You mean doctored them, right?”
“No. Healed them. Mostly, anyway.” Galen looked down at his hand, frowning. “The one on your chest gave me trouble. It was deep. Too deep. I stopped the bleeding when I first found you, but my brothers had to help me close the wound.”
I touched the wrapping over my chest and shakily inhaled. Other than an uncomfortable ache and pressure, I felt fine considering something had tried ripping me apart. I was lucky to be alive. The details of the attack were a bit fuzzy, but I remembered lying on the floor at the foot of the staircase as something tore open my chest, its hot breath on my skin. There had been so much blood.
“T-Thank you,” I said through the sudden tightness in my throat. “For saving my life.”
His expression softened. “So many things you could say. Questions you could ask. And you thank me instead.”
“Oh, the questions will come later. You can count on it. I’m just in shock right now, I think. Being attacked by those shade demon things and hearing you say you healed me like you’re some kind of magical sexy elf or something. It’s a lot to process.”
Galen’s jaw clenched. “I’m not an elf. I’m a Nephilim.”
“A what?”
“Nephilim,” he repeated. “My father was an angel. My mother was human.”
I stared at him. Studied the size of his muscled arms, his wide chest, and broad shoulders. He was wearing a shirt now, but I vaguely remembered being pressed against his bare torso, one with rippling abs. With a sharp jawline and a hard set to his brow, he radiated raw masculinity, though there was a softness to the curve of his lips.
“You’re… an angel?”
“You seem more shocked by that than when I told you about demons.”
“Well, when I picture angels, I don’t exactly imagine—” I waved a hand up and down his large, muscled body. “—this.”
“Let me guess, you thought angels were cute little things that wore diapers and played harps?”
I breathed out a laugh. “Yeah? Kind of.”
“There are different classes of angels,” Galen explained. “Joy bringers are whimsical and spread happiness. But they wear a chiton instead of a diaper.” I smiled at that and listened as he kept going. All of this was crazy anyway. I was probably dreaming. Or dead. This could be my weird afterlife. “I belong to the warrior class. I fight demons. Protect the earth. However, as I said, I’m only half angel.”
“So what does being half an angel entail? Can you fly?”
