House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1) novel Chapter 5

This is the end, she cringed, I’m going to die and my mother wouldn’t even know where to find the body.

His mouth was moving, but she caught only the last part of what he said, “…it’s a sin to break into a church at the Tempters hour.”

Clare gave the guy a scattering look who she presumed was Alonso by the sound of his voice, “I have no idea of what you said, put me down.”

She skimmed her eyes down his body. The long-sleeved Henley was a shade lighter than the brown leather pants straining his muscular thighs. Spotting the heavy army boots, that looked as if they had been through a bloody carnival of dead bodies was very intimidating. Now focused back on his face, she gulped at the serious angry gaze that marred his features. Whoever said looks can be deceiving had certainly got the wrong memo. Alonso's spoke volumes of a guy with lots of darkness around him and it scared her, shitless.

Kicking her legs out, she realized how tall he was. Clare always thought she was tall herself but nothing compared to Alonso the giant. He made her height seem like an adolescents. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he shouted, “How in the realms name did you even get in. It’s after midnight.” He looked at his watch to stress his point, and the movement made her flinch because he still kept a tight grip on her waist with one hand, “I stand corrected, it’s one in the morning. You know, now I’ll have to call the cops. They’ll probably arrest you for trespassing on holy grounds or, if you lucky, which is highly unlikely, call your mother.”

Clare didn’t want to seem scared but her face gave her away when she grimaced at the mention of her mother. She struggled in his hold but only made it worse, the man didn’t let her go. Instead he put both hands on either side of her waist and held her mid-air with his arms stretched out; similar to how one would hold a wailing baby. Which in her case wasn’t far off as she yelled, “Get your hands off me, you freak, I came through the door just like YOU.”

Whatever he saw in her face as she frowned worked because the giant bastard let her go like she was made of fire. Which in his mind she probably was after listening to the crap they spewed. Finally, her feet touched the ground, but she knew this wasn’t over.

It didn't take long before she was manhandled, yet again, when another guy grabbed her left arm and tugged with a firm grip that was close to painful. She was pulled up towards the end of the aisle.

“Do your parents know where you are?” His voice strained, “What if you got raped or mugged, and eavesdropping on other's conversations is rude, what were you thinking?” He asked, more like demanded through clenched teeth, barely holding in his anger.

His name was Nathan, the guy with the strong voice that now sounded extremely angry, great, just great.

This guy had a light olive tan from standing in the sun for long periods. His hand that pulled her was darker from driving than his neck proving her theory further.

His muscular built was more pronounced than Alonso by the splay of broad shoulders, and the veins visible on his forearms. Judging by his height which put him at least four inches shorter than Alonso, hopefully, he was the more saner one. Clare was going with her assessment knowing full well it was bullshit. But if she could convince her teacher lime green is yellow, she could make herself believe her theory that a shorter guy equalled a saner one. After all she was technically a genius. One in hiding, as she always remembered to write a few incorrect answers in her papers. She was already considered a freak and a ‘nasty insensitive bitch’ she didn't need another reason for the female population to despise her.

When Clare looked into Nathan’s eyes to say something, the gravity left her as her knees buckled at his reflection. Luckily he held her steady, she was too transfixed on his eyes to worry about falling. They were Green, dark green, the same as hers, ‘devilish’ she thought. That was what they called it at school, Devils eyes.

Never had she seen another person with eyes like hers, that was dark yet so visible. Her friend once said it was freakishly unreal. Her mind raced with possibilities at him being her relative, he looked familiar, yet not so much. The hairstyle of shaven off sides and long black hair kept in the middle, was too modern to ring any bells.

But those eyes, though harsher than hers, colder, they were still hers.

Capturing the knowledge from her brain of anything familiar was like trying to solve a puzzle without the border pieces, pointless. Without the foundation you couldn't do anything, you were just simply stuck. And as memory went, it was harder to know what you sought if you couldn’t remember, and even more to capture it, when you didn’t even know what it is you were searching for.