Ruined (The Seraphim Series Book 1) Read online

  She giggled at his use of the word “dick.” It didn't sound right coming out of his mouth. “You are still a dick sometimes.” She smiled, her cheek pressed tightly against his bare chest. He smelt smoky. Breathing in deeply, she realised, no, not smoky—manly.

  “I like keeping you on your toes,” he joked, and to Lilliah's dismay, pulled back. “Come on. You need to get warm and dressed.”

  He walked Lilliah all the way to her room, keeping a tight hold of her hand.

  “Good night.” She could feel him lean in, his lips on the top of her head.

  “Sweet dreams, Lilliah,” he said into her hair before walking away down the hall.

  Behind the safety of her door, Lilliah squealed like a schoolgirl, jumping on the floor and doing a silly little dance. She couldn’t contain her excitement. She could feel a shift in their relationship. It felt stronger now, like she hadn’t just dreamt it all up.

  “He's really amazing.” She sighed, getting ready for the shower. How was it possible that someone so perfect actually existed? Getting into the warm shower, she couldn’t help but smile. His smile was all she could think about, as well as his perfect teeth and the gleam in his eye when he was relaxed and enjoying himself. She liked that she got to see him like that, all relaxed.

  Did Dena ever see that? The thought went as quickly as it came. She didn’t want to spend her time obsessing about Dena. She could tell they had history, but she wasn’t at the house. She didn’t live here like Benedict did, which meant it didn’t matter how close they once were. They weren’t now.

  Chapter 12

  “Now, punch, punch, punch!” the man yelled. “Do you feel the burn? But don’t forget. Don’t stand too close. You don’t want to hurt your wrists.”

  Lilliah took a step back, wiping her brow with her arm as she tried to catch her breath.

  Note to self, she thought as she grabbed her water bottle and gulped as much as she could, being thin does not make you fit. She hadn’t realised how out of shape she was until now. She stared down at the laptop, waiting for her online instructor to demonstrate the next move. Fighting had never been her thing; she had always been more of a stay-at-home-and-read kind of girl. But she had been attacked twice now, and she refused to be the victim anymore. She wanted to be able to defend herself. So when she decided she actually did need to learn how to fight, she did what any other eighteen-year-old girl would do: she Googled it. To her amazement, there were tons of videos that taught, step-by-step, how to defend yourself and how to attack. She was actually getting pretty good at it too. Getting back into her position, she didn’t see Azrael walk in.

  “Your stance is wrong.”

  She turned her head slightly. “Why is it?” She was standing just the way the guy was in the video!

  “To fight, you need balance. The way you’re standing, I could easily knock you off yours,” he explained.

  She looked down at her feet before looking up at him.

  “What do you mean?”

  Azrael ran towards her, knocking her over, but catching her again just before she hit the ground.

  “You need to keep your balance.” He smiled down at her, only inches away from her face. “If you’re fighting someone, especially if they’re bigger than you, it’s all about balance.”

  “Right,” she breathed, staring up at him.

  “As I said, fighting is about balance. Keep yours and knock them off theirs.” He brought her up so they were now standing next to each other.

  “Okay, how do I do that?” She walked over to her laptop, stopping the video.

  “Well, first off, you probably shouldn’t be learning from a guy on YouTube.” He frowned, looking past her at the frozen screen.

  “It’s all I had to work from. Benedict won't help me train.”

  “I asked Benedict not to train you,” Azrael shared. “If you're in trouble, I want you to run, not stand and fight.”

  “I'll still fight, whether I know how to or not.”

  “I see that now.” He walked up to her, grabbing her waist and turning her towards the punching bag, placing her in front of him.

  “So let's train.” She shivered as his breath ran down her neck. He was so close she could feel the hardness of his muscles. He was like a wall behind her.

  “Turn so your body is like this.” He twisted her torso. “Bring your arms up.”

  She did as he said, her heart going wild in her chest. It was getting so loud she was a little worried he’d be able to hear it. Even after all the time they'd spent together, she still wasn't used to it—to him.

  “Remember that the key to beating anyone is throwing them off balance. Sometimes whatever you’re fighting will have a balance that you can’t beat, so aim for the legs first.”

  She nodded as a shiver ran down her spine. “Even if it’s a vampire or a werewolf?”

  “Even vampires and werewolves,” he confirmed. “They still fight like humans. They’re just faster and stronger, so knock them down as quickly as you can. It’ll give you more time to get away.” His hand slid down her thigh and tapped it lightly. “With this leg, kick the shin.”

  She did as he’d said, kicking the punching bag, guessing where a shin would be.

  “Do that as hard as you can. This will give you a few seconds to run. Either punch or kick. If you kick, aim for the legs; if you punch, aim for the face or throat. It won’t stop them completely, but it’ll give you more time to escape.”

  “Aim for the face,” she repeated, punching the bag.

  “Harder,” he commanded. “Hit as hard as you can.”

  The first punch wasn’t great, so she hit again, and again, getting better and hitting harder every time.

  “That’s good.” He stepped back, folding his arms over his broad chest. “Good form.”

  “I’m getting better.” She smiled proudly.

  A small smile twitched his lips. “You’ve never fought.”

  “No. I was more of a ballet girl.”

  “No, I mean in any of your lives. You’ve never been a fighter. Not once have I ever seen you fight or hit anything.”

  “Was I ever chased by vampires or werewolves in my other lives?”

  He shook his head, now openly smirking at her.

  “Well.” She shrugged her shoulder. “Needs must and all. I’ve never had to learn how to fight. Now I honestly think it’s a must.”

  “I agree. It would be helpful if you at least knew the basics.”

  She stared at him, a little shocked; she hadn’t expected him to agree so easily.

  “If there is ever a moment that I can’t be there, you need to know how to defend yourself so you can get away.”

  “So you’ll teach me? YouTube is great, but it really does only go so far,” she joked.

  “I’ll teach you everything I know,” he vowed.

  “You’ll teach me to kick ass?” She raised her eyebrow.

  “No. I’ll teach you self-defence; you won’t be able to beat a vampire or a werewolf. Not as a human.”

  “You never know. I could be a real Buffy.”

  “What’s a Buffy?” he asked, perplexed.

  “You know, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She’s an awesome teenage girl who can kill demons, vampires, and stuff.”

  “Right,” he drawled out sceptically.

  “You’ve never heard of Buffy? Oh, my friend, you have seriously missed out. That was a great show.”

  “But it was just a show. This is real life.”

  “I know. But I’m not a human,” she pointed out a little smugly.

  “You are an angel,” he agreed, amused by her childish behaviour. “But you haven’t got angel powers yet. Will they come in time? I don’t know.” He lifted his broad shoulders in a simple shrug. “So as far as your abilities go, you might as well be a human.”

  “So humans can’t kill vampires or werewolves at all? So they’re just sitting ducks? Waiting to be killed? That’s a little unfair.” Humans really had got the hars
h end of the deal.

  “Well, they might be able to.” He didn’t look convinced. “I guess if the right human had a stake, and the vampire was poorly trained, then I suppose they could get the upper hand and kill them. But it’s very doubtful.”

  “Stakes? Do vampires actually die from a stake to the heart?” She had presumed that this had just been fiction.

  “Stakes to the heart, sunlight, and chopping their heads off also works. But the stake is the easiest.”

  Just how many vampires has Azrael killed in his lifetime? Lilliah was about to ask when another question popped in her head. “Can I have a stake? For just in case.”

  “I don’t have stakes. I don’t need them.”

  She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “You don’t need them because you’re so awesome?” she joked, sarcasm dripping from her words.

  “Yes,” he replied, completely straight-faced. “I have many weapons all over the house. I don’t need them, but I like having them around.”

  “Can I have a look?” she asked, almost jumping on the spot with excitement.

  “Okay, but you can’t touch anything. Not until you’ve learnt how to properly use them.”

  He’s like a parent warning a child, she thought, following him down the hall and into another room. She hadn’t commented on the fact that he’d said, “Until you’re trained,” as if he were going to train her!

  “These are just a small selection.” He held the door open.

  “Wow.” She gasped, her eyes darting around the room. Every wall was covered with weapons. It looked like a torture chamber more than anything else. “This is intense.”

  “The ones in here are older, but they still work.” His eyes followed Lilliah as she walked farther in. “What do you think?”

  Azrael is a serious collector, she thought, walking up to a crossbow hanging on the wall. “How old are these?”

  “All the ones in here are at least three hundred years old. Probably older.” He came up beside her. “This is one of my favourites.” He smiled, indicating the crossbow. “You see the carvings in the wood? It’s a work of art.”

  “It is beautiful,” she agreed. She could never have imagined a weapon made for killing to look like this. “Why do you have these, but you don’t have any stakes?” The weapons in the room were all beautiful, but she couldn’t really imagine actually using any of them. They’d be almost impossible to hide. They just weren’t practical.

  “Stakes are ugly. Why would I want one hanging on my wall?” he asked, pulling a face.

  “Yeah, I guess,” she agreed awkwardly. He had made her question sound stupid. “Well, could I still have one . . . maybe?”

  “I’ll get you one. But I’ll have to teach you how to use it first. Otherwise, it’s useless. And they’re not easy to use.”

  “I could learn how.” She nodded ecstatically, finally feeling like she was getting somewhere.

  “I know you can.” He smiled down at her. “But until you learn, you’re not touching a weapon.” He motioned with his head towards the door. “Come on. I have somewhere to be.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked, waiting for him to lock the door again.

  “Into London. I want to pay a man a visit.”

  “What man?” she pressed.

  “His name’s Damon Blake. He’s a human, but he knows of the magical world. I want to question him about your mother.”

  “Why do you think he knows something?” She stopped walking, the news startling her.

  “He might. Damon knows a lot of things about a lot of people. He might be able to give me a name or point me in the right direction.”

  “Are you and Benedict going?” They might get news about her mother soon. Excitement began to buzz in her heart.

  “No. He’s staying here to do another tracking spell. We’re doing them daily now. She will show up eventually.” Sympathy flashed in his eyes. But sympathy wasn’t what Lilliah wanted. She wanted to help.

  “I want to come,” she rushed out.

  “To see Damon?” he clarified, looking down at her. He looked puzzled for a second.

  “Yes.” She nodded her head once, gearing herself up, ready for an argument.

  He turned to look down the empty hall, a slow smile creeping on his lips. “Okay, you can come. Meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes.” He looked back at her. “And you might want to change.”

  Lilliah opened her mouth to argue, but then shut it when she’d actually processed what he’d said. She just stood there for a second, a little dumbfounded; she really hadn’t expected him to agree so easily.

  “Fifteen minutes, Lilliah,” Azrael called over his shoulder as he walked away.

  She ran to her room, kicking her shoes off as she went.

  “This is it?” Lilliah asked, standing on the busy London sidewalk, looking up at the huge, glass skyscraper.

  “This is where he works,” Azrael confirmed, moving to stand beside her.

  “Not what I expected,” she muttered, following him into the marble reception area.

  “Oh, sir,” the pretty receptionist called out as they walked past. “You need an appointment before you can enter.” Her eyes flicked over Lilliah before they settled on Azrael.

  “I’m here to see Damon Blake.” Azrael stared at her, clearly unimpressed. “He’ll be expecting us.”

  “Well.” She smiled again, nervously tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I don’t have Mr. Blake down for any appointments.” Her cheeks started to burn red. “But I’m sure if you have an appointment he wouldn’t . . .”

  Azrael was already walking to the elevator before she could finish.

  “Well, she wasn’t very good at her job,” Lilliah stated once they had both entered the elevator. “You hardly said anything to her and she just let us go up!”

  “Humans are easy to manipulate.” He pressed the button in the elevator, not the least bit interested in the receptionist.

  “What? Can you . . . can you like hypnotise humans or something?” She whispered the last few words as she leant closer to him.

  He bent his head so he was closer to hers. “Come closer,” he whispered.

  Lilliah leant her head forward.

  “No, I can’t,” he said, leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss on her lips.

  “I thought you were being serious!” She laughed, shaking her head, a little embarrassed.

  “It was too hard to resist.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him. “Sorry to disappoint you, though.” His smile was playful and light. She liked him like this.

  The doors pinged open and they both walked out, Azrael’s arm still hanging over Lilliah’s shoulders.

  “Do you have an appointment, sir?” an elderly woman stood to greet them.

  Azrael didn’t even stop to acknowledge her, swiftly walking past to the double doors and swinging them open. He still kept Lilliah close.

  “Sir, you need an appointment,” she shouted behind them.

  The man sitting behind the desk shot up when he saw Azrael.

  “It’s okay, Judith,” he assured her, nervously running a hand down his tie. “I was expecting them,” he lied, trying to hide his fear with a smile.

  “Hello, Damon.” All traces of humour had left Azrael’s face. His features were now hard.

  “Azrael.” Damon walked around the desk, his hand outstretched for Azrael to shake. “I wasn’t expecting you; otherwise I would have—”

  “Run away?” Azrael took his arm from around Lilliah and stepped forward, ignoring Damon’s outstretched hand.

  “Run away? No, of course not.” Damon shook his head. “Why? Should I run?” He laughed nervously, his eyes finally landing on Lilliah.

  Lilliah had been expecting Damon to be an older gentleman, not the stylish thirty-something who stood in front of her now.

  “Where are my manners?” He walked towards her. “I’m Damon Blake.”

  Lilliah extended her h
and, ready for him to shake it. Instead, he brought it to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles.

  “Lilliah Daniels.” She pried her hand away, getting the creeps.

  “Of course, Lilliah.” He didn’t move from in front of her; he just casually put his hands in his trouser pockets. “With a face like that you couldn’t be anything else apart from an angel.”

  She wanted to gag at his corny response, but Azrael was already in front of her, standing between them.

  “I’ve not come here for small talk. Where is her mother?”

  “Her mother?” he repeated, completely aghast. “Azrael, I swear I have no idea—”

  Azrael grabbed him by the throat, dragging him closer. “I’d think very carefully about what I would say next if I were you,” he warned. “I’m not in the mood to play games.”

  “I don’t . . . I don’t know what . . .” he tried to stutter out.

  Finally, Azrael released him, letting him drop to the floor. Lilliah watched Azrael kneel so he was looking Damon in the eyes.

  “You don’t know anything?” he asked, to which Damon quickly nodded. “Now you must see why I find that so hard to believe.”

  “Lilliah.” Damon looked past Azrael and up at her. “I swear I don’t know who took your mother. I have no idea.”

  Azrael roughly grabbed his face. “I didn’t say you could speak to her,” he warned before throwing him back on the floor.

  Azrael turned to Lilliah, trying to gauge how she was feeling. She smiled back, trying to get across that she was okay. She wasn’t afraid.

  She watched him for a moment as he slowly stood and then walked around the office, completely ignoring the fully grown man on the floor, on the verge of tears. Everything Azrael did screamed power and raw, uncontrolled energy. Even when he stood still with his arms casually folded, the energy just rolled off him. It was a beacon, flashing to everyone that he was dangerous and to stay away. But he didn’t have that effect on her; he drew her in.

  She stared at the man on the floor. “All we want is a name,” she said softly, trying to play good cop/bad cop. “I swear, we’ll both walk right out of here if you give it. No one will get hurt.”

  His eyes widened. “But I don’t have a name,” he sobbed out. “I’m not lying. I don’t know anything. But I’ll ask around, see if I can find out.” He looked hopeful, his eyes darting from her to Azrael, who was now leaning on his desk, smirking.