Alan Price and the Statue of Zeus (The Nephilim Chronicles Book 3) by Jonathan Yanez Read Free Book Online Page B

wanted to build trust yet at the same time he was worried for her safety. “Okay, stay in eyesight.”
    If Kassidy heard him she showed no sign as she walked across the peninsula of rocks Raphael’s house sat on and towards the beach.
     
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    Kassidy walked up and down the length of the coast remaining within eyesight. Alan tried not to stare however he knew he couldn’t allow her to fall into danger again. An hour passed before Kassidy chose a spot far down the beach with her back towards Alan. She sat starring out into the ocean.
    The sun was making its descent down past the frothing waves. Seagulls spoke to each other in their tongue. The smell of salt rode the soft breeze. Alan could only imagine what was going through Kassidy’s mind. If he was blindsided with the truth like she was, he could only hope he would handle it half as well as Kassidy. If all she asked was for a few hours alone, he could afford her that much.
    While Alan was wrestling with his own behavior during the confrontation with the two demons who had been chasing Kassidy, he heard a rush of wind at the door.
    Adrenaline and the possibility of another physical confrontation quickened his heart rate. Excitement gripped his stomach as he felt the urge to fight rise within him. The door to Raphael’s home opened without a sound. Alan crouched behind the door and held his breath. If it was another demon, he was ready.
    Instead of someone walking into the room, a familiar voice filled the air around him. “I can hear your heartbeat even over the sound of the waves and gulls, Horseman.”
    Alan recognized the voice; it was Seraphim. He was surprised at himself as a feeling of disappointment at the lack of a battle fought his happiness at seeing the Death Angel.
    Seraphim walked into the room. Her wings were folded on her back, her red hair wild and windblown. Alan thought not for the first time how beautiful she was. Physically strong with a strong character to match, the Death Angel looked at him with a stone gaze.
    “Good thing you told me it was you,” Alan teased. He remembered the first time they met while he was searching for the Celestial Weapons, the blades forged in heaven which at one time were the only means to destroy a creature of supernatural origin. Memories of their confrontation and his victory were too sweet not to mention. “I was about to tackle you and we both know how that would have ended.”
    Alan wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or if the stoic Death Angel cracked the slightest grin. As fast as it showed on her lips and eyes, the look of amusement was gone. “Please, we both know I was caught off guard. If events were to present themselves again, I would teach you a lesson in the art of combat.”
    Instead of disagreeing with Seraphim, Alan decided to change the topic of conversation. He looked at her scar and then past her right shoulder to the steel wing that rested on her back. Neither of these things diminished her beauty in his eyes. If anything, they boosted her allure. Seraphim was mentally stronger than anyone he had ever met, it was one of the many reasons Alan found himself attracted to her. “How is the wing holding up?”
    Anger flashed across the Death Angel’s face. As if it was a cue, she lifted a hand and tousled her hair. It was a move that placed one of her red locks over the scar on the right side of her face.
    Immediately, Alan realized her insecurity. It baffled him how someone like her could feel anything except comfortable, still he felt compelled to apologize. “Oh, I didn’t mean—I was just asking how it feels and if anything needs to be adjusted. You know, I think you’re fine,” Alan kicked himself mentally as Seraphim crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean, you know? I don’t think the wing or scar changes anything. You’re just as stunning as you were before. How could I feel any other way? You saved me, Seraphim.”
    Alan stopped with his mouth open. He hadn’t meant to