House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)

Chapter 7 (Clare)

His attention altered, sending the men in the car staggering with one look. Purposely he left the guy on the floor for last as his calm façade diminished. Only to be replaced by a hunting predator with precision and swift movement, because he now stood right in front of the guy Clare had kicked. Her mind told her that he was standing right by her, how was that possible.

The savior's hand grabbed the bald man in a chokehold and lifted the screaming guy effortlessly into mid-air, throwing him away like a piece of trash in the middle of the road. The guy's body twisting in the air before it landed on the road made Clare grimace. A loud screeching sound left the man, anguish and regret clear as he screamed, “Sorry lady, I didn’t mean it..I..I m sorry.”

The words from his lips playing in her head over and over were strained, and she knew it was because of the blood pooling from his mouth.

The amazing stranger then kicked the headlight of the car the men still sat in. Their shock and horror confirmed by their silence were not enough for the extraordinary man. Proving it, he flipped the car over effortlessly, landing it, upside down.

He bent over and asked the guys struggling to get out of the car in an almost bored voice, “Anyone dead, or about to die in let's say 10 seconds from now?” In shock, they just nodded.

He stood up and clapped his hands together, “Perfect, guess I’m all good to go.”

She was kneeling on the pavement. Her heart feeling like going into cardiac arrest. How could a guy be so strong, move so fast? What was happening to her? This shit was not real, it only happened in movies or books.

Frozen in place, she didn't lift her hands to her face. Clare didn't blink. She wasn't even certain she was breathing. This was too much for her, she couldn't keep up with this. The trio in the church was enough to raise her shackles. This, was just too messed up, but why wasn’t she screaming for help.This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

Why was she kneeling on the hard rough stone? And why the hell was she staring at him in awe instead of terror? he did just flip a car like he was turning a bucket over.

The tall stranger looked at her again. Not sure of what she expected to find on his face. She wouldn't have guessed it’d be the annoyed frown marring his brows,

okay, then she huffed inwardly.

His voice was gruff, extremely deep, “Try to use a little of your brains next time you have an epiphany.” So much power emanating from just a voice, making her ears ache, “South Africa is no place for loafing in the dark, ALONE.”

The details of what she saw still played in her head. A scene she’d only seen in a movie, but this was way better, it was so real. In a little tone barely audible and foreign to her own ears, she stammered, “thank y..y..you for your help, I’ll just be leaving now.”

She looked at him waiting for him to laugh at her stunned expression. When he didn’t, she saw his jaw tick. And something told her that was bad, very bad. Strangely enough, however, there was no fear in her emotions. Awe, yes, amazement, undoubtedly. But fear, nope, there was none.

Logic told her to be frightened, she should've pissed her pants in fear of this super-strong man, but she wasn’t scared. As reality soaked in, at how cool it was that she had seen all that, she sighed, giving him a lopsided grin. When he didn’t return it, she shook her head, “Too soon I suppose. Are these guys going to be okay?”

He just stared at her like she asked the stupidest question. Which she probably did, because these men that seemed silent to the world wouldn't have shown her the same courtesy. She exhaled with a huff, “Can you please quit staring at me, it’s freaky.”

The guy arched his brow, as he shook his head. She caught the quick smile before he muttered “London’s left its mark.”

“Still American, mostly.” She replied.

“You sound like both, get up, I’ll walk you back.” He didn’t help as she struggled, even with the pain noises leaving her lips as she held her bruised shoulder. Limping and not hiding her annoyance of his lack of remorse to her pain, Clare was determined to keep pace behind him.

A thought struck her as she watched him walking upfront. This male was somehow connected to those guys at the church, so maybe they weren't as crazy as she first accused. Which meant they were like him, but no, she didn’t know what they were, but she was certain no one was like her savior.

His voice was otherworldly. His lithe predatory walk, unseen. And that hair that resembled fire couldn’t possibly come from a box, the perfect blend of fire was too distinguishable. But the connection was there. Perhaps they were all different species or some lab experiment of the special ops team. She recalled the word-for-word article she read a year earlier on genetic mutation. One had to wonder about all possibilities when faced with cold hard evidence. In her case really hot evidence.

This particular guy was supernatural somehow, she couldn’t quite put a finger on what he might be, not yet anyway. But knowing herself she’d figure it out.

He was almost as tall as Alonso, a little too Gothic to be human. Though, now that she observed him, there was this light that came from him, too weird to wrap her mind around. Her first thought was Angel, but Angels had wings, so that was out. She huffed and swung her arms cringing as her left shoulder protested the movement.

Legs tired and body aching with whiplash, Clare slowed her pace, even more, still expecting help from the guy. Cursing when he continued ahead she gave up on his help.

The man didn't turn to see if she was following him, not once. They reached the apartment where she stayed thirty minutes later.

Leaning on the green fencing gate of the entrance to the building he crossed his legs. Hip to the gate, and hands shoved into the pocket of his grey leather pants, which she could see clearly under the spotlight, as he waited for her limping form.

She stopped three feet short from him before lifting her leg to get the keys from her boot. Keys in hand Clare looked up at him. Instantly losing her balance, she stumbled barely managing to catch herself as the air escaped her. Gosh, his eyes, she was sure she stopped breathing because it certainly felt like it.

She moved closer, uncaring that he grew completely still with the two steps she took to close the gap. Too entranced by what held her captive.