knowing the sight of his fangs and glowing eyes would look Walking Dead freaky to the POS.
Another flash of ice zipped through Lucas. Colder than the Artic. He spied his hand against the zakaar’s mouth and froze. His ungloved hand. He stood. Instantly his veins beginning to thaw.
After what happened with Emma, he should’ve known better. Did he want another overload?
The zakaar watched him, fear still evident in his wide eyes and stiff posture. Lucas glanced at his hand then the zakaar .
He wasn’t a Fallen, but he was as evil as any one of them.
Hand.
Zakaar .
His thoughts raced. Indecision, rage, wonder, and hope mixed with the male’s fear, worry, violence, and evil. The zakaar struggled to stand. One hand pulled up his pants.
Could he? Would it work? If it did, he’d no longer have to push the male’s emotions away. A thousand gnats against one overripe banana.
Hand.
Zakaar .
The male’s fear increased. Lucas didn’t want ice. He wanted equator heat rushing through him from his own rage. The waterfall roar in his ears. Wanted to get lost in it and show this asshole what it felt like to be the victim. Give him what he deserved.
Hand.
Zakaar .
If Lucas was consumed with the male’s emotions a part of him would hold back. The zakaar’s fear would stay his fist when all he wanted to do was punch him in the diaphragm.
But if Lucas touched him, absorbed the zakaar’s emotions completely—not the fear pouring off of the male right now, but instead the deep, down to his core, cruelty—Lucas wouldn’t have any problem. Nothing would stop him from dispensing the appropriate justice.
The male was on his feet. Pants buttoned at his waist. He slowly inched toward the door, hand on the wall for balance.
Lucas must have thrown him against the wall too hard. Oh, well. What’s a concussion compared to the nheqeba’s wounds? The male would heal. Can the same be said for the female?
The zakaar’s eyes darted from Lucas to the door.
Lucas glanced at his hands. Why was he hesitating? There’d be no interruptions. Gabe was still at the HQ.
The darkness inside this male wasn’t as severe as a Fallen’s. But only because a piece of Apollyon was in each Fallen, merging with the evil already inside. Strengthening it. And this zakaar was prime Fallen material. He’d be recruited in an instant. A Behn would be killing him as a Fallen within a month or two.
If Lucas let him go.
The zakaar was inches from the door now.
Would it make a difference if he took care of the problem now? Perhaps he could save the zakaar ? Extract the evil.
Footsteps hurried down the hallway.
Yes, it’d be a service to the zakaar . Drain his cruelty. His evil. Make him worthy of the Creator’s love and protection.
Decision made.
In the next second Lucas was between the zakaar and the door. The male managed a whimper before Lucas grabbed him by the throat and dragged him down the hall.
In the first office on the right, a desk sat in the middle of an otherwise empty room.
Perfect.
He picked up the male by the throat and not so gently set him on the desk. The zakaar swallowed gulps of air when Lucas let go. The iciness had returned in full swing. He grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and ripped it in two, letting the pieces fall to the floor.
“Ppplease,” the zakaar stuttered. “Don’t do this. I’m sorry. I won’t ever do it again.”
Lucas smiled, tips of his fangs showing. “I know you regret picking up that nheqeba .” He leaned down. “I can feel it. It’s giving me a headache. But you don’t regret your action, just who you chose. You don’t feel remorse. Or shame.” He tapped the zakaar on the cheek. “And as for doing it again.” Lucas shook his head. “You can’t help it. It’s an evil inside you. I can help you, though.” He met the zakaar’s eyes. “If it doesn’t kill you.”
The male whimpered, began scooting himself off the desk. Lucas slapped a hand on his bare chest to hold him
Another flash of ice zipped through Lucas. Colder than the Artic. He spied his hand against the zakaar’s mouth and froze. His ungloved hand. He stood. Instantly his veins beginning to thaw.
After what happened with Emma, he should’ve known better. Did he want another overload?
The zakaar watched him, fear still evident in his wide eyes and stiff posture. Lucas glanced at his hand then the zakaar .
He wasn’t a Fallen, but he was as evil as any one of them.
Hand.
Zakaar .
His thoughts raced. Indecision, rage, wonder, and hope mixed with the male’s fear, worry, violence, and evil. The zakaar struggled to stand. One hand pulled up his pants.
Could he? Would it work? If it did, he’d no longer have to push the male’s emotions away. A thousand gnats against one overripe banana.
Hand.
Zakaar .
The male’s fear increased. Lucas didn’t want ice. He wanted equator heat rushing through him from his own rage. The waterfall roar in his ears. Wanted to get lost in it and show this asshole what it felt like to be the victim. Give him what he deserved.
Hand.
Zakaar .
If Lucas was consumed with the male’s emotions a part of him would hold back. The zakaar’s fear would stay his fist when all he wanted to do was punch him in the diaphragm.
But if Lucas touched him, absorbed the zakaar’s emotions completely—not the fear pouring off of the male right now, but instead the deep, down to his core, cruelty—Lucas wouldn’t have any problem. Nothing would stop him from dispensing the appropriate justice.
The male was on his feet. Pants buttoned at his waist. He slowly inched toward the door, hand on the wall for balance.
Lucas must have thrown him against the wall too hard. Oh, well. What’s a concussion compared to the nheqeba’s wounds? The male would heal. Can the same be said for the female?
The zakaar’s eyes darted from Lucas to the door.
Lucas glanced at his hands. Why was he hesitating? There’d be no interruptions. Gabe was still at the HQ.
The darkness inside this male wasn’t as severe as a Fallen’s. But only because a piece of Apollyon was in each Fallen, merging with the evil already inside. Strengthening it. And this zakaar was prime Fallen material. He’d be recruited in an instant. A Behn would be killing him as a Fallen within a month or two.
If Lucas let him go.
The zakaar was inches from the door now.
Would it make a difference if he took care of the problem now? Perhaps he could save the zakaar ? Extract the evil.
Footsteps hurried down the hallway.
Yes, it’d be a service to the zakaar . Drain his cruelty. His evil. Make him worthy of the Creator’s love and protection.
Decision made.
In the next second Lucas was between the zakaar and the door. The male managed a whimper before Lucas grabbed him by the throat and dragged him down the hall.
In the first office on the right, a desk sat in the middle of an otherwise empty room.
Perfect.
He picked up the male by the throat and not so gently set him on the desk. The zakaar swallowed gulps of air when Lucas let go. The iciness had returned in full swing. He grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and ripped it in two, letting the pieces fall to the floor.
“Ppplease,” the zakaar stuttered. “Don’t do this. I’m sorry. I won’t ever do it again.”
Lucas smiled, tips of his fangs showing. “I know you regret picking up that nheqeba .” He leaned down. “I can feel it. It’s giving me a headache. But you don’t regret your action, just who you chose. You don’t feel remorse. Or shame.” He tapped the zakaar on the cheek. “And as for doing it again.” Lucas shook his head. “You can’t help it. It’s an evil inside you. I can help you, though.” He met the zakaar’s eyes. “If it doesn’t kill you.”
The male whimpered, began scooting himself off the desk. Lucas slapped a hand on his bare chest to hold him
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