Glory of the Nephilim

Chapter 3

August 11, 2009

Emmett had just gotten out of the shower and his hair was still wet as he walked back into the bedroom. The black long-sleeve shirt and jeans were snug, but they would loosen when his skin dried. He smelled fresh and clean, but like no soap we owned. It was as if the shower water itself had no way of knowing how to react to him.

"Good morning, angel," he whispered, kneeling next to the bed. He leaned in and kissed me, just a feather touch of his lips against mine. "How are you feeling?"

"You mean for it being my second day of captivity or in general?"

"In general," he said, trying to hide the smirk.

"My head doesn't feel like someone took a sledgehammer to it. Is that good?"

"That's a significant improvement, yes." Finally, the smile "You just need to remain calm and don't let anything excite you."

"Calm is my middle name," I joked.

"I've seen your calm. It needs work," he retorted, before kissing my forehead. "I will be gone for a few hours. Rory and Triljon are out in the living room."

"Where are you going?"

"I have a meeting I need to go to."

"Is it one of Argus' meetings?"

"Yeah, I figured with you out of commission I should go to at least one."

"You're in a surprisingly chipper mood for having to go to a meeting today. Did Triljon make you a strawberry mango smoothie?" He smiled. "He did," I huffed, feigning disgust. "That traitor." I sat up, shaking my head. "I knew from the first day I met him, he couldn't be trusted."

"You knew that before you were born, huh?" he asked, chuckling.

"I was very intuitive, even in utero."

My phone dinged in my purse on the other side of the room. My skin felt colder the further away he got. I wanted to beg him to climb back into bed with me as he returned to hand me the phone. As he did, his other hand rested on my cheek and he leaned down, pressing his lips to mine. The kiss was more solid than the first and had me aching for more, but he pulled away. The phone dinged a few more times, but all I wanted to do was revel in the abyss that was Emmett Hunter.

"I love you, angel."

"I love you too, Em."

He gave me another peck before walking to the closet. Instead of doing what I wanted to – follow him into the closet for a few hours of pure distraction that we both desperately needed – I flipped my phone open to read the four text messages. They were all from Michael Allred, PR extraordinaire of the supe community and father of Jacob, member of the 25.

NTSB in Crystal Lake this afternoon. An official human investigation now. Human pilot dead, killed. Tread lightly, little one. Any concerns, call Cosmo.

"What's wrong?" Emmett asked, rushing out of the closet after hearing my spew of curses.

"They found the pilot. Someone killed him. Now it's a full-blown human investigation."

"Humans have no business in this," he growled.

"Hey," I said, pointing my finger at him. "I'm supposed to be the one who hates humans, remember? You're the level-headed one who keeps me from killing people. That's your job."

I managed to get a smile out of him. "You may be rubbing off on me."

"Hopefully not too much. We're practically the same person already. As much as I love you, I don't want to become you."