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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Nephilim War: Book 2

  Copyright ã 2005 Adrienne Kama

  ISBN: 1-55410-241-3

  Cover art and design by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2005

  Look for us online at:

  www.zumayapublications.com

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  Dedication:

  For Mrs. Rogan, the best writing teacher in the world, and all of my writing pals at Rogan’s Writers. You’ve seen me at my creative worst and you still like me!

  Prologue

  He brought his mouth down hard, claiming Smenkhare with a kiss so fierce her head swam. She moaned into his mouth, responding to his claiming of her. She laced her arms around his neck and pulled him closer as he did the most mind-numbing things to her with his tongue.

  She had fought him with every bit of strength within her. Swore she’d never give in to him. Even told him that while he could claim her body, he would never have the satisfaction of claiming her passion. She thought her years in bondage under her Roman captor, Marcus Ennius, had taught her enough about separating mind and body from the act of sex. But what Alaric did to her now was unlike anything she’d ever experienced with Marcus.

  Alaric tightened his hold around her waist and lifted her off her feet, taking her up in his arms and cradling her as though she were a child. He always made her feel so small, so very light. She could feel his biceps flex beneath her, feel power emanating from him. She ached with need. Sensation flooded her senses, made her feel as though hundreds of tiny wings were fluttering across her body, searing every inch of her skin with heat. She could feel desire building in her, taking control of her and pooling deep in her core where her need of him was a persistent throb.

  Holding her firm in one arm, he brought his free hand up and closed it over one naked breast. Her nipple hardened under his touch; the tiny bud was so sensitive right now, the slightest stroke would have her in a near swoon. She was desperate for him to touch it, to squeeze the bud between his fingers, then take it in his mouth and run his tongue over it.

  When he finally closed his fingers over the pert tip, she threw back her head and squirmed in his arms, pleasure filling every inch of her body.

  “Please.”

  The word broke forth before she could stop herself.

  An arrogant smile spread slowly across his face as he narrowed his eyes. His was a look of triumph, and though she knew it should bother her, she didn’t care. She was beyond caring. From that first moment the night he rode into the tiny village, spatha in hand as he cut down Romans by twos, she knew somehow her destiny was bound to his. His beautiful face was a beacon amongst the horde of Visigoths he rode alongside, and his skin seemed impossibly pale. Scantily dressed as he was in a loincloth with skins set about his thighs and legs, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. The Romans called him Alaric the Cruel. He was a Visigoth, a barbarian, but from that first moment she desired him.

  The moment he saw her, she felt a quickening in her heart. And though she tried to escape him, she knew he would prevail. He was too powerful a man to ever allow himself to be denied anything.

  Now, secure in his domination of her, he carried her to his pallet, kissing her deeply. His wild scent filled the air around her and she took in great lungfuls, happy to lose herself in him.

  He loosed her mouth and ran his tongue over her swollen lips. Gently he nipped at the pink flesh with his teeth, teasing it, driving her crazy.

  By the stars, he knew precisely where to touch her! He knew every sensitive place on her body and was merciless in exploiting his knowledge of her.

  He kneaded her breasts gently, making her writhe in his arms. He brushed his lips across her ear, then made languorous circles over her skin with his tongue. Her whole body tingled. She’d go mad if he kept this up.

  “Please,” she repeated.

  “Has my proud Keme princess been reduced to begging?” he teased.

  “My special place, please.”

  “Would you like me to touch it?”

  “Yes.”

  Instead, he lowered her to the pallet and gently spread her across its length. In seconds he was covering her, pressing into her so she could feel his erection, insistent and hot, against her thigh. He ground his hips into her and licked a hot trail from the top of her breast to her throat. She writhed, felt her nipples pucker and harden to tiny pebbles as he continued his erotic assault. He scraped his teeth over her throat, lingering and making tiny circles with his tongue. As always, she tensed, preparing herself for the pain she knew was to come.

  “Hush, Smenkhare,” he soothed, “you know the pain is temporary.”

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  “You know it will feel good after.”

  “Kiss me first.”

  He rose above her. The long strands of his hair tickled the moist skin of her neck, still wet from his tongue. Chills ran through her body and her loins felt hot and wet. Moisture seeped from between her legs, dampening her thighs.

  He stared down at her, his lips full and succulent. Then he fell on her, pinning her beneath him. He claimed her mouth with such force she thought her lips would bruise. She twined her arms around his neck, meeting his kiss, twirling her tongue with his and tasting his sweetness.

  He edged her thighs open wide with the press of his knee. The thin material of her loincloth ripped as he dragged the flimsy covering from her body with one fierce tug. When he closed his hand over that most special part of her body, she moaned deep in the back of her throat.

  “This what you want?”

  He found her clitoris, closed his fingers over it, and squeezed.

  She arched her back, lifting them both off the pallet, then collapsed. She rocked her head back and forth as he set his thumb against it and stroked her. When she squeezed her eyes shut, she saw stars.

  Then he eased two fingers into her and her world stopped. She screamed with pleasure. He sank his fingers deep inside her, then slowly pulled them free; all the while stroking her, making small circles over her sensitive nub.

  “Oh, that feels so good,” she said, raking his back with her nails.

  He claimed her mouth again, his kiss nearly pushing her over the edge.

  She panted into his mouth, beyond control. All she cared for was his body, his presence, and his touch; all else was nothing.

  When he pulled free of her, she clung desperately to him, not wanting to lose this intimate contact.

  He raised himself above her and rested his weight on his elbows. The hardness of his erection pressed at the juncture of her legs. She strained against it, desperate to impale herself on its hard, smooth length, but he pulled back enough to prevent her.

  When she looked up, the change in him had already begun. She remembered how that first time she’d seen it happen, she’d been terrified. She was still terrified, but the pleasure wa
s too strong, too powerful. It blotted out all else.

  His chest heaved with his excitement. He rotated his hips and brought his cock to rest against her cleft again. When he opened his mouth to speak, no words came from him; instead, he let loose a low growl. As she watched, his canines lengthened; his eyes, already a light shade of gray, lightened until they were nearly translucent. The most shocking change was always his skin. Slowly, the color changed, blanched, until at last he was nearly as pale a hue as the finest Roman marble.

  His cock throbbed between her legs, growing still harder. Chills ran up and down her spine and a low, uneven sigh escaped her.

  He smiled down at her, a feral smile that had her skin prickling. “You’re so wet,” he said.

  “Take me,” she pleaded. “Now. Please.”

  As she watched, his tongue snaked from between his lips and he brought one canine down on it. A spray of blood spilled from his mouth, but she didn’t have time to consider this. In that second, he drove himself deep inside of her.

  “Ooo,” she gasped.

  He threw his head back and roared.

  Then, he was moving within her, thrusting his hips hard against hers.

  Pleasure rocked her body. She wrapped her legs about his waist and moved with him.

  He eased back, pulling his thick length loose until he was almost free of her body. The movement was so slow. It was a torture she wasn’t sure she could bear much longer. Then he drove himself in so deeply, she thought she’d split in two. Over and over he rocked his hips, slid his cock in and out, until the whole of her body was nothing but sensation.

  His muscles flexed against her and she marveled at his strength. Marveled at the intense pleasure his body was able to deliver time and time again.

  She ran her hands over the silky skin of his back and cupped his buttocks in her palms, urging him deeper and deeper still.

  “Harder,” she begged. “Do it harder.”

  In response, he clasped her hands in his and pinned them over her head. He held them firmly to the pallet and watched her.

  “Look at me,” he demanded. “I want to see your face while I take you.”

  She felt her climax building, drawing nearer as she met his gaze.

  His eyes were clear, his mouth open so the fangs were clearly visible. Desire had blushed his skin a soft pink. Blood lust grew, his eyes fluttered each time he sank deep inside her.

  She met his every thrust with a thrust of her own, gloried in the feel of him filling her, marveled that his body could feel so good.

  “Smenkhare,” he groaned. “So beautiful, my little princess.”

  He brought his mouth down, tangled his tongue with hers, letting the hot blood fill her mouth.

  She nearly screamed. The taste of it, of his life’s force filling her, it was ecstasy. She sucked his tongue into her mouth hungrily, fighting the near swoon that came over her as she swallowed the sweet elixir. It scorched her and burned a hot path down her throat, but it was too good to refuse. Every thrust was magnified, every pleasure tripled until she thought she’d explode.

  When he pulled away from her, she struggled to pull him back, but he was too strong. Still moving inside her, he trailed kisses over her chin, down her cheek, and over her throat. He ran his tongue across the skin, pausing only when he felt the bulging throb of her artery beneath his seeking tongue.

  She stiffened beneath him, knowing well what was next.

  The consummation.

  She stifled a scream as he drew back, spread his lips wide so his fangs were clearly visible, then brought them down on her throat.

  Sharp pain rocketed through her body. She felt his lips against her skin, heard the sweet sound of him suckling her, drawing from her what he needed to live.

  Slowly the pain dulled, lessened, then metamorphosed into something quite different. She did scream then, grinding her hips against him. Pleasure, like bright streaks of lightning, shot through her body.

  He took her harder, holding her steady beneath him as he sucked. She felt the darkness drawing near, felt the orgasm as it bore down on her, and she knew this would be the best one yet. And as he drew her blood from her body, expertly rotating his hips, she knew every time with Alaric would be better than the last. If she had to spend all of her nights like this, she would be the happiest of women.

  “I love you, Alaric,” she said as bright light exploded from behind her eyes and an orgasm took hold of her body. “Love you so much,” she said again, as the ecstasy coursed through her.

  She knew by the slowing rhythm of his hips that he’d had his pleasure, too. When he finally stilled atop her, he collapsed. For a while they lay joined, content just to be near each other. She knew from experience that before too long, she’d feel him stiffen inside of her and be ready for another go.

  He rose on his elbows to gaze down at her.

  “So you love me,” he said with a mischievous smile. “Or is it my cock you love?”

  “Now that you mention it…” She smiled innocently up at him, noting he looked himself again. The beast within had come, feasted, and gone.

  “I thought as much. Well, even if it’s my cock and not me, I love you, Smenkhare.” His expression grew serious. “Even after the stars have fled the heavens and the clouds have fled the sky, I will love you.”

  “Even when I’m old? When the sun has wrinkled my flesh and I can no longer…” Her voice caught. It was too painful even to contemplate. “You’ll always be beautiful and young, Alaric. But not me. If you would give me the blood…really give it to me…” When she saw him frown, she let the sentence trail off, deciding to let the old argument go for now. “Will you love me even when I’m gone, then? When I’m ash and bone and nothing but a memory?”

  Gently, he set his finger over her lips. “Hush, Smenkhare. I give you my pledge this day. As long as there’s life in my body, I will love you. Nothing will ever stop me from loving you.”

  Tears fell from her eyes at the thought that some day, death would come to claim her, ripping her from Alaric forever.

  He gathered her up in his arms and held her close.

  “And I you, Alaric. Not even death will stop me from loving you.”

  Chapter One

  Present day

  “A brood of cowards, all of you. Is there no one amongst you willing to take on this assignment?”

  People crossed and re-crossed their legs, shifted in their seats, and glanced around the room, careful to look anywhere save the low podium in the center of the Great Hall where Galen, the Warlord, sat with The Council. No one said a word.

  Galen leaned against the oak table and glared; his drawn lips and narrowed blue eyes formed an angry mask. “Never have I felt the shame that fills me today. That I have trained each of you…I rue the day…”

  Gerald, one of the guardians, shoved back from his table among the men and got to his feet. Fists clenched at his sides, he spoke with barely controlled rage. “That isn’t fair and you know it. You ask the impossible.”

  “I demand you do your job.”

  “No. You want our warriors to walk to their deaths because you demand it. I will not support this!”

  Gasps sounded around the room as Gerald’s last words echoed off the walls. The Ikarius shield, its gleaming metal emblazoned with the Ikari crest, quivered on its hooks. The Ikari warriors and guardians stared at Gerald, a mix of horror, shock, and admiration on their faces.

  Father Caleb, seated to Galen’s left, frowned. He had never liked the young upstart, had always feared that despite Gerald’s training, he would one day prove uncontrollable. The boy drank too much. No amount of skill could overcome so much drink, no matter if he had the Warlord’s blood flowing through his veins.

  Father Caleb gave Galen a quick shake of his head, an action that made his dreadlocks fall over his shoulders and across his chest.

  “It’s what all of you were thinking,” Gerald continued. “I’m the only one brave enough to say it.”

  �
��Or stupid enough,” Father Caleb murmured.

  Galen got to his feet. His long auburn hair seemed to come alive with his growing anger. “You dare speak to me thus?” he asked. “You dare raise your voice to me?”

  “It isn’t right,” Gerald managed, losing just a bit of his steam.

  “Right. You speak to me of what is right. What do you know of right and wrong, save what I tell you? You dare take so much upon yourself. We must act, I tell you.” He slammed a large fist on the table, making The Council jump like puppets on a string. “You speak to me of right and wrong when the Nephilim are free. You tell me what’s fair when everything around you is gone. Tell me my demands are too high when those you love, immortal man and mortal alike, are dead. We make our stand now, we make our allegiances now, before it’s too late.”

  “But what of the woman, Warlord?” John, an Ikari warrior captain, got to his feet and bowed low to the floor.

  “Yes,” Gerald concurred. “Our warriors need not enter the lion’s den to prevent this travesty. Find the female, dispatch her if we must…”

  Galen shook his head.

  Father Caleb sighed. “We don’t kill humans, Gerald. And even if we did, we couldn’t kill her. She’s under the protection of Myrddin. He has set a cloaking spell about her too strong for any of our sorcerers to breach. And the Watcher, Raven, guards her from Azriel.”

  “If she’s so protected, what’s this imminent danger our Warlord speaks of?” Gerald asked.

  “Azriel will succeed,” Galen said with a simplicity that belied his emotions. “He will succeed and the Nephilim will be freed. The Seer has told me as much. I cannot say how, but it will be done.”

  “We cannot forget the white angel’s power,” Father Caleb added. “He’s the source of magic, the father of the black arts. He’s too powerful a foe for anyone.”

  “And how can we be so sure the Alliance isn’t going to take his side?” someone asked.