House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1) novel Chapter 29

Clare watched Caidrian walk leisurely beside her, at first glance he was the epitome of an underdog warrior, long torso, solid statue, not too broad shoulders. One would think he looked very young to be her father, but not to her, she could see the wisdom hidden in his eyes. The pain and loss which hardened his features and emotions could only have come from years of horror.

“Stop staring at me Clare, you do that to the wrong descendant they'll see it as a challenge of dominance.”

She was tired and her feet ached, applying unwanted pressure on the blisters forming underneath her feet wasn't helping. Nor was Caidrian who carried on talking, expecting her to keep up, “The mark on your stomach is a seal, most Lightwatchers have many of those if the demon dies the mark goes away eventually, but a Tempters mark, never fully heals, so it’s not wise to stare, some are marked on their faces.

Also, I must warn you, over the years our kind have mixed with other species, they called Fuized, but our ANGELIC blood remains strong, no matter how different some may seem. Unfortunately, some Lightwatchers don’t feel that way, so keep your mouth shut if you hear anything, or see one of them.”

She half-smiled, “Am I going to freak out, just tell me now, this place is sounding more and more like a refugee camp.” Her throat was parched, which was totally understandable considering that she had been walking for hours with nothing to drink. She looked at her packets, her eyes widening a fraction in the hope of remembering the muffins she’d gotten, but she’d forgotten it in the car. And even if she didn't they wouldn't have survived the treatment the clothes had gotten when they were discarded on the floor earlier.

Thoughts back on the water, she welcomed the set of blue eyes that clouded her mind, as the strangers words played in her head, “That princess is for you to decide.” What did it mean, was it really all up to her, did he feel the connection as she did when he held her in his arms and kissed her head with such tenderness. A contrast to the lethally cold killer that lived within him.

“Clare walks on, you’re wasting time.”