In The Crossfire

Chapter 1.5

This time, I boldly reached for his blade. If only I could get it from him. An angel blade made a big difference in the fight, providing me with at least a sliver of a chance of truly harming him. It was a desperate attempt on my part. Just as my fingers found the hilt, his hand landed on mine. Before I had a chance at him, he shoved and had me pinned so hard against the tree that I struggled to breathe.

​"What is your name?" He asked, his body unyielding as it trapped me between him and the redwood. The Seraph's grip was not painful, but it was powerful enough to be uncomfortable, allowing for no movement. His legs were flush against mine.

​Fuck. I am so fucked.

My teeth clenched tightly. I wasn't planning on giving him any details about myself. Grunting, I struggled, thrashing underneath his hold. It was all useless.

His body remained firm. His muscles may as well have been made of marble. It didn't seem at all difficult for him to keep me pinned. I was a mouse trapped between the claws of a cat.

​"I am Nathanial." The Seraph offered me his name in a soft voice. Deadly, he was deadly, and I would not make it back to meet with the others. I pushed that thought out of my mind, for it threatened to cripple me. I was not in shackles yet.

I struggled a bit more against him, furious at how easily he seemed to keep me pinned.

He just stood there, holding me, waiting for a response. This was all just a game for him.

​"How human of you," I finally spoke. It came out in a growl. I did not know why he was even talking to me. He should have dragged me away the way his kind always did to humans. They didn't have small talk. Nothing about this was normal.  

 I felt the threat of him in the heat his presence gave off. My mind threatened to go down a treacherous rabbit hole of dread at what the feel of him possibly meant for me. The danger of him prickled my skin, sending a shiver down my spine, and I fought to keep from outright shaking in his hold. I refused to let him feel me tremble.

​"It is of angelic origin," Nathanial said with what sounded to be a smile. He thought this was funny. Of course, poor little struggling human, so helpless in his grip. I hated him for taking pleasure in something like that.

So I stopped moving. Despite my urge to rip away from his grip, my body stilled completely. I wouldn't give him the pleasure of my struggle.

Nathanial's head tilted ever so slightly, clearly feeling the abrupt lack of struggle. Though the fight never truly left, and I was certain that he could see that in my eyes. A storm festered within me, unyielding. I would never give up, not until my last breath left my lungs. I was trained to fight until the very bloody end.

​"What is the point of these pleasantries, Seraph?" I snapped, my voice surprisingly steady.

​His brow crinkled. "I prefer Angel, but I suppose Seraph is the same thing."

​"You prefer to be what we humans once called little fat babes in diapers with feathered wings? Okay, Angel." The words were boldly mocking. I needed to stop talking. Just because Seraphs in hunting parties weren't known to savagely kill every human they came across didn't mean they weren't capable of it.

But it wasn't in me to tremble before them like so many others. I would not drop to my knees and beg for my life or their mercy. They were not gods I would bow to. They were not as immortal as everyone assumed them to be; my mother was proof of that. They were a plague of brutality and death, nothing more.

​"You are interesting, human." His eyes moved over me as if sizing me up. They pierced me and it was almost as if he could see through me, to my soul, to what I was. I endured his gaze with the stillness of a rock. "You can call me Nathan. And you are?"