And if I fail to find the answers I need to save Phoebe, more than just my wife will die. Wren is Tigard, a rare mix of white tiger and snow leopard, and for his entire life he has been treated as an abomination by both sides of his family. He has lived at Sanctuary since the viscous murder of his parents when he was a child but although the Peltier family have allowed him into their This is where Kenyon's Dark-Hunter series jumps the shark, in my opinion.
This is NOT a romance novel, instead, is a book that expands on and expounds Kenyon's world and Kenyon's mythos. Boring, and not what I wanted Alexion real name: Ias is a Dark-Hunter Wulf has an aggravating power. People can never remember him five minutes after they leave his presence, unless they are born from his. Upon meeting Cassandra, Wulf realises that he wants more from life than a series of one-night stands. The last thing he remembered was Kody holding on to his leg in the ambulance while she talked to the attending EMT.
Everything else was a total blur. Where would a dead Catholic Malachai spend eternity, anyway? That was a scary and sobering thought. In fact, Nick would turn his attacker into a human or demon Popsicle with it. Smelling something rancid in the thick opaque air, he grimaced and held the back of his hand to his nose to try and block it. Gah, what was that? Oh yeah, that was definitely worse than this. No wonder Stone had perpetual PMS. He jumped at the unexpected voice coming from something that was within touching distance.
Shouldn't he burst into flames when holy water touched him? Feel a burning sensation or something when he took communion? For that matter, he'd been an altar boy for years. But he'd never once experienced the slightest bit of discomfort from any of that. The worst thing that had ever happened to him in church was when the priest had fallen asleep during his last confession—which said it all about how boring his life had been prior to all of this.
Yeah, okay, and then there was the time when he'd tripped going down the center aisle and spilled incense all over the place. But that hadn't been a result of his birthright, unless you counted clumsiness and the fact his thrift store shoes had been too big for his feet.
Ambrose shifted his weight to one leg as his dark scowl intensified. We're evil. We were bred to be soldiers for the darkest of powers. Look, the neighbor's dog is in your trash again. Dude, you're wearing one ugly shirt. Ambrose snorted.
Part of me wants to tell you to just embrace your birthright and go with it. To let the evil have its way and carry you to the Nether Realm for your enemies to use as they see fit. God knows, fighting it never gave me any peace or comfort. Not once. Just a giant sized ulcer. You want the honest truth? Caring about others has made my entire life suck from beginning to end. When you don't care about anyone or anything, nothing can hurt you.
When you do Ambrose sighed. Contrary to what you think, we're all mice lost in a maze. No one really knows what they're doing. You go left for whatever reason, but you don't know if it's the right direction or not until you're either electrocuted or you get the cheese. By the time you find out which it is, it's too late to turn back. You're either dead or you're fed. There's no third option. Ambrose laughed bitterly. Some days, anyway. I'll tell you the truth. All of it. For better or worse.
Let's put the cards on the table and see how we screw things up this time, shall we? Nick wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. But either way, he wanted to know exactly what was going on and what he was up against. Ambrose faced him. You, Nick, are the only hope I have of getting it right.
I've tried three times before this and each one was worse on the outcome than the last. When I started tampering with our lives, I had more humanity in me. I've all but lost it now. My last attempt burned out something inside me, and I'll be honest, it scares me. And I don't scare. Not after everything I've been through. But the degree to which I don't care anymore—about anything—is a frightful thing. At times, I want it all to end.
Because when it does, my pain will stop and I'll have some degree of peace. It'll seriously suck for everyone else. But like I said, I'm to the point where I really don't care anymore. I'm holding on to my humanity by the thinnest thread imaginable, and any day now, I expect it to break. God help us all when it does.
While he was jaded and suspicious by nature, there was still a part of him that honestly believed people were good and decent. Most of them, anyway. He glared at Ambrose as he absorbed those words. Four if you count my original childhood. Did that mean. Ambrose let out a bitter laugh. Not much. Little things. I did. Then he turned back to Nick. It was a total disaster. Because of our father, she thought it was a mental defect—schizophrenia to be precise.
That first Nick ended up medicated in an asylum with no one to protect him from our enemies. Worse, without us living at home, Mom never stopped working at her club and she was shot dead during a robbery. Ambrose nodded. I now understand why Savitar sits on his island, away from everything. Who could blame her for that? Hey, hon, guess what? Your son that you nurtured in your body for nine months and then sacrificed your life and dignity to raise is destined to end the world.
There were times when he felt like his mother was looking for a reason to have him committed or institutionalized. Like she feared him becoming his father so much that she was itching for some sign to confirm that he was every bit as violent and awful, and lock him up for it before it was too late and he hurt someone. Whatever you do, avoid creatures named Azura and Noir.
Only slavery waits for you there. And it would give even Quentin Tarantino nightmares. Ambrose gave him an arch stare. There are some memories no one needs to have. There were plenty more questions he had. And he dreaded the next one, but he had to know. You met Simi at fourteen. In my original past, I met her just before I became a Dark-Hunter. Thoughts whirled through his mind. Dark-Hunters were immortal warriors who protected mankind from the preternatural evil that preyed on them.
While each DH came from a vastly different culture and time, the one thing that united them all was that something horrific had happened to them. Something so bad that they sold their souls to the goddess Artemis for an Act of Vengeance against the one who hurt them. Ambrose hesitated. It played out for you basically the same way it played out for me and the others. For some reason that is lynchpin event and it never alters. Nick let that rattle around in his head.
What would be worse than being shot by a friend? Possible, he supposed. Talon became a Dark-Hunter after his wife died and his sister was killed. Not wanting to think about that right now, he returned to quizzing Ambrose. But the change that concerns us most is that my father died when I was ten. Damned if I know why. He should be dead by now.
The one who reaches ten and lives. No wonder he hated him so. Ambrose sarcastically touched his nose to let Nick know that he was correct. One of the beautiful things about us. Until we use our powers, we are invisible to almost all other gods and preternatural creatures. If they try to see our future, they see one that looks human. Kids, grandkids, the whole package. They have no way of knowing who and what we are until we evolve and flex our powers.
But the one thing that has always held true—there can only be one Malachai demon with full powers at a time. Both sides were required to put their soldiers down.
One Malachai. One Sephiroth. They exist in balance and so long as the truce holds, there can be no more than the one. Whatever the cause, something is out of synch here, and no one knows what it is. No one, except you, can kill Adarian, so no one will try for him. There are many things a lot worse, and those things are after you right now. No one is, except you. Our mutual survival, and saving the people we both love more than ourselves. Nick was aghast at his simple answer.
He needed a teammate, not a water boy. If I use my powers here to fight, that will be three Malachais using power in a single location. Even you know what that means. Most of all, it meant he had a giant target on his back.
Ambrose grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him up from the stoop. You understand? I hate you with a passion that burns brighter than the hottest star in the universe. But the one thing I know is if we die, something a lot worse than us will take our place and the tiny handful of people I still love will suffer unimaginable agony. That I cannot allow to happen.
Even if it means stomaching you for a little longer. We, who were born to end the world, are the only hope there is for saving it. Ambrose shoved him back. I can guide you and advise you. Ambrose laughed. But this particular one that allows me to come back to the past and talk to you, I borrowed. And I had to bargain hard for it. The demon gave me three chances to set the past right. When I failed and he came for me, I killed him and took his blood. Whatever you do will be my final memory and the rest will be gone forever.
Ambrose cursed. Now that was just rude and it thoroughly riled him. Talk about a letdown. You know, I had plans. I was going to be a lawyer. Do some good in the world. His expression turned even colder. Deep inside you knew who and what they were. What you were in for when you threw in with them. What to expect. Ambrose narrowed his gaze on him. The kind that tackles you to the ground and kicks your teeth in, and forever ruins your life. A bad feeling went through Nick as everything came together in his mind.
As another realization groin kicked him. Probably not even as old as his friend Mark, and definitely not as old as his mother, who was only twenty-eight. There was only one thing he could think of that would make him do something so drastic in that amount of time. The wind blew his long coat out from his legs and swept his hair back from his face. A double bow and arrow—the mark of a Dark-Hunter—appeared on his cheek and his fangs flashed in the fading daylight.
How was he able to hide his Dark-Hunter traits? For all of us. If banging your head against a brick wall burned a hundred and fifty calories an hour as they said it did, then Nick should be emaciated.
Since when was fifteen too young to date? Heck, for that matter, Kyrian was more open-minded and he really was from the Stone Age, or Iron Age, or one of those boring ages that they tried to force feed him in school. Nick had to stop himself from rolling his eyes—that was like throwing gas on a roaring fire while wearing kerosene soaked clothing when his mom was in this mood.
He sighed irritably. You see what kind of trouble you could get into? Are you ready to be a father at fifteen? Which, for your information, is the amount of times a day a child demands food. Better not mention that. So he went in to attack her first argument. Pulling her blond hair back into a ponytail, she glared at him.
How dare you make a joke about this. I am not amused. And that was with no help whatsoever. She put her hands on her hips and glared furiously. Nick growled low in his throat. He gave her a sullen pout. She smiled proudly before she turned around to get her shoes from her bedroom. Nick gave her his most charming grin. Everyone else in my class is dating. Even Madaug. She jerked her shoes on. But if you do that again, you will be.
Nick snorted. Just what I want to do. Wet my pants in front of my classmates and scream like a girl. In the end, she lost the fight and laughed. Until his mother stepped back, laughing. Grim, you scared at least ten years off my life. Grim shut the door behind her. To Nick, he looked like any other young man in his late teens, early twenties, with tousled dark blond hair and gray eyes, dressed in a black hoodie that had a skull and crossbones on the back.
Laughing, Grim turned to face Nick. I just love that about her. But not your mom. She honestly believes me to be human. She lacked any kind of ability to sense the preternatural. Death curled his lip.
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