6. The Tamer of Beasts #3
He’s all leather and iron weapons, and very much the mountain cloaked in shadow that he appeared to be when he dropped down into the alleyway back home in Industria.
His hair is dark, jet black, and falls in front of his face a little. His arms, hands and neck are covered in those faint silver-gray markings that branch out in every direction, not quite like scars but not veins either. Something new entirely.
His eyes are just as puzzling, not exactly gold but not completely gray. They swirl somewhere in between and are framed by eyelashes so obsidian it’s like he’s wearing mascara.
He’s every bit the monster I’ve been raised to despise, to fear. And yet, there’s no denying he’s handsome, traitorously so.
To deny it would be a lie, and I do not lie.
“This is a mistake, Little Nephilim,” he says when there are just a few feet between us. I have to crane my neck to meet his eyes, and the voice, low and irritated, confirms my suspicions.
It belongs to non-other than the man who has almost killed me not once, but twice today.
“Is it?” I reply, defensive. “Because the kitchen doesn’t seem like the best place to test my knife skills.”
He arches an eyebrow, and I immediately wish I could take back the words. “Interesting,” he says, then stares at me for the longest time, gray-gold eyes searching mine like they can see all the way to my soul, or worse, to that spark I work so hard to drown out.
Silently, I pray to the angels and the Gods that he can’t hear how my pulse is racing.
“I had you pegged as a woman who can handle a broom better than a blade,” he taunts and my nostrils flare at the insult.
He has no idea what I can or can’t handle.
My fingers curl into fists, but before I can do anything stupid, something shoves into me from behind.
Not something, someone.
The Overlord reaches out an arm, but it’s Az’s hand that comes down on my shoulder, pulling me back and stops me from crashing into Silver.
I mutter a thanks as I straighten and try not to think about the fact a demon had his hand so close to my neck.
When I look up, a demoness with blood-red hair fills the space between our group and the Overlord, looking like sin gift-wrapped.
The outfit leaves nothing to the imagination, and she’s grinning when she looks over her shoulder at me.
She’s beautiful in the same way fire is, meant to be watched from a distance.
Every movement she makes is deliberate. The arch of her back, the way her laugh slides through the air like smoke, curling toward the Overlord as Khali sends a wave of curses her way. And when she leans toward him, it’s like she’s trying to melt into his shadow.
“I’m Lilliana Valtren,” she says. “It’s so good to meet you.”
“Not now, Valtren,” Silver says. “But in training tomorrow, might I suggest you work on spatial awareness?”
Her face sours. It clearly isn’t the response she’s expecting.
He steps around her and brings his hand down on Az’s shoulder.
The two giants meet eyes.
“Do me a favor, mate,” he says. “Stay in the fucking line. You’re more qualified than most of the greenhorns here.” Then he turns to Khali. “See to it he doesn’t lose his bottle. I want him in my group too.”
“Will do, Silver,” Khali says with a nod before flushing. “Overlord Silver, I mean. Sorry. I need to get used to that,” she adds quietly.
He nods, then gives me an assessing look, like he’s weighing me up and finding me lacking in every sense of the word.
I step out of his way, wanting him out of my personal space as quickly as possible, but the hand that had grabbed Az’s shoulder closes around my bicep.
Pulling me closer, he leans down toward my ear. Sweat beads on my forehead but I force my eyes to meet his. “It’s almost too late to change your mind.”
Before I can reply, he leaves.
As soon as he’s out of ear shot, I can breathe again. Unfortunately so can Lilliana, who quickly finds her voice. “Sorry Halo-rat. I didn’t see you there.”
“Careful,” Khali warns. Black eyes flick to mine. “Ignore her.”
I don’t. “Halo-rat?” I repeat, my voice cool.
Lilliana smiles, all teeth. “You are nephilim, are you not? You can take the girl out of Virtus, but you can’t scrub the holy stink off of her.”
“That’s rich, coming from someone who’s half ego, half perfume,” Khali retorts.
I have no idea why she’s standing up for me, but I appreciate it all the same. My plan is to blend in, not get into a fight on the first day.
The recruits nearby snort, the nephilim included, and Az lets out a sharp laugh.
Lilliana’s glare could cut glass, but when her eyes lift to Az, something different flashes through them.
Lust.
“I’m Lilliana Valtren,” she says again, holding out her hand this time like she fully expects him to press his lips to it. Pathetic. “And who might you be, handsome?”
Khali exhales. “Satan, give me strength.”
“Next!” One of the officers behind the desk barks.
Khali nudges Az. “You’re up.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he says, then glances down at Lilliana’s still outstretched hand, before slowly pushing it back down to her side. “Or else this might have gotten awkward.”