Dark Fates (A Paranormal Anthology)(117)

“Sit down and be silent.” Command thrummed through Enoch’s order, but another item flew across the room—the teapot this time—and the nephilim had to deflect the fine china with his sword.

An expression akin to shock transformed Enoch’s hard face as more items followed the first, and Fox experienced the strangest sensation of amusement. Apparently he wasn’t the only one Jubilee refused to listen to. The crash of his lamp, severed in two, slamming into the wall jolted him from his reverie, however. Shifting to get between Jubilee and the nephilim, he held up his hand.

“Jubilee, he’s not going to kill me.”

“He has a great big freaking sword and wings,” Jubilee retorted, and then her hand came to rest against Fox’s back. The light caress of her palm against his skin eased the fist of anxiety around his heart. But it was the silver platter she held in her free hand that impressed him. She was ready to defend him.

“Be silent,” Enoch repeated. The crushing weight of his presence surrounded them, but, no matter how great the force, the vise on Fox did not quite close.

“I said no, dickweed. Are you deaf?” Outrage sparked in Jubilee’s voice, and the smile Fox had fought broke free. His Jubilee was a fighter, but how could she resist Enoch? Her struggle against Fox’s compulsion he could almost understand. Fox borrowed those gifts through the blood bond. But Enoch was a nephilim. A human’s will was nothing to him.

Enoch took a step toward them, and Fox caught the platter before Jubilee could fling it.

“What is she, Fox?” The righteous fury in Enoch’s expression dimmed. “I cannot read her, and that is impossible.”

Trusting his friend’s curiosity to keep his sword arm in check, Fox glanced sideways at the feisty woman who captivated him.

“I don’t know. She smells human.” Her dainty size, however, disguised an implacable will. “She fought against the compulsion to sleep.” And it hadn’t kept her asleep for all that long. Frankly, she should still be sleeping. The injuries which seemed so grave earlier had already improved despite the very little he had done for her.

Oh f*ck. The mark.

“What mark?” Enoch echoed the thought, and Fox tried to block the image of it, but it was too late. The nephilim withdrew a step and stared at Jubilee. “That’s impossible.”

“This whole nightmare is impossible.” She dug her fingers into Fox’s back. The scrape of her nails made him grateful that, despite her doubts, she trusted him. She might not even realize it, but she’d tried to defend him and stayed at his back so he could defend her and she’d reached for him.

That faith, however, didn’t prepare him for Enoch’s next words. “Fox, step aside. I give you my word I will not kill her. Not yet.”

Relying on that trust, Fox shifted sideways and lowered the silver platter with a push of his hand. Jubilee gave him a stunned look. “He’s got a sword, and you believe him?”

“I trust him,” he told her. “Trust me.” The betrayal in her eyes cut him, but he ran his knuckles down her uninjured cheek. “Jubilee, Enoch does not give his word lightly. He will not kill you. But you have a mark on your foot.”

“It’s a scar. I stepped on something as a baby.” So she knew what it was. Impatience creased her face, and she retreated from him with clenched fists. “This is insane.”

“Perhaps,” Enoch said. Though he still held his sword, the tip pointed toward the floor. Flexing his wings once, he pulled them in tight, and they retreated from view. The aggression in his posture subsided. It was a gift of the nephilim. They didn’t have to appear as the fierce warriors they were. Extending his free hand, Enoch curled his fingers in a beckoning gesture. “Come here, Jubilee.”

Mutiny solidified in her manner, and she folded her arms. “No.”

Wanting to avert trouble, Fox touched her arm lightly, and she flinched away another step.

“Trust me,” he urged her again, suppressing his aggravation at her withdrawal from him.

“I do trust you,” she said. “But something about him…” She gestured with her chin toward Enoch. “Everything in me says get away from him.”

“Really? How does it say that?” Enoch peered at her. “A voice inside you? Or a gut feeling?”

Jubilee shifted her attention, and Fox fought the curl of anger at the loss of her focus. She needed to answer Enoch, and that meant looking at him. “Instincts. I trust those. They’re always right about people and places. I trust Fox. I know he won’t hurt me, and it makes no logical sense. Not when you consider the crazy story he just told me or that fact that he killed those men and can turn into an animal.” A dazed look came into her eyes, and she shook her head.

“So your instincts tell you that I am not to be trusted?” Enoch’s neutral expression betrayed nothing and made a mockery of his soothing tone.

She didn’t seem to believe the nephilim either. “Does it matter?”

Instead of dismissing her question, Enoch seemed to give it consideration. “I believe it matters a great deal. May I see the mark on your foot?”

The politeness of the inquiry surprised Fox, and he threw the nephilim a questioning look.

“This is ridiculous.” But the protest in her tone faltered. She was considering the request.