Rise Of The Nephilim

Maxine pressed down firmly on the wound at her side to squelch the stabbing pain that had returned to haunt her. With her sword sheathed at her back, she pushed open the door.

A glow of light blinded her as she entered. Mathias walked out of that light, his expression serious.

“Mathias . . . am I dreaming? Maxine was confused as to why she had been able to see him while awake.

“No, my love.”

“Something is wrong.”

He inched closer toward her. “I felt an urgency to see you as if you were in danger.”

Maxine winced at the stab of pain at her side.

“You are suffering,” he said as he reached for her hands.

She felt the rush of desire press through her by the mere touch of his hands, warm and careful.

They embraced.

She clung to the rise of strength bound in his chest, never wanting to let go, for she knew that he would hold her up in her time of weakness.

“I’m so glad that you made it,” he whispered in her ear. “I was so afraid that I might lose you.”

Maxine winced, again, pressing her hand to her side.

He pulled her hand gently away from the wound. Then he gently removed her sword from its sheath and placed it on her bed, and unclasped the locks at the sides of her armor until it was loose enough for him to remove it. They searched each other’s eyes, both filled with fear and wanting. He pulled her even closer toward him and pressed his hand against the wound. She flinched.

“Shh,” he whispered as he continued to put more pressure on the wound. He saw the discomfort on her face when her lips quivered. He kissed her gently, as the pain subsided.

Knowing nothing about the Realm of Angels and the rules it had, Maxine had not realized that Mathias had broken one of its cardinal rules:never interfere with the fate of humanity. He’d also broken the most important rule:it was forbidden to fall in love with Humans and Nephilim alike or have physical contact with them.

“Thank you―” she said, barely able to finish her words before he kissed her with more intensity. But then he backed away, suddenly, his eyes wide, as though he’d been having second thoughts or contemplating the consequences.

She looked at him, not knowing what to say or even how to feel.

With his face, taut, as if he was about to plunge into the abyss, Mathias lunged toward her, holding her as though he would never let go. He felt the crush of her breasts against him and the rhythm of her heart pounding against her chest. “I love you,” he whispered.

Maxine felt the strength of his hands gently gliding against her back―each touch rising within her sensations she had never known possible.

There was no turning back now. He’d fallen in love with a Nephilim, half Human, daughter of the Fallen―a forbidden act that went against nature itself. And she had fallen in love with an Angel of the Realm. She brushed her lips against his and whispered, “I love you, Mathias.”

He cupped her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. She smiled.

This is it. I’m finally going to become a woman, she thought.

He slowly began to unzip her tightly fitted black shirt from the back, until he could slip it down her shoulders, exposing her breasts.

Her legs shuddered slightly. She felt an urge to fold her arms over her breasts, shielding them from his sight. Instead, she placed his hands in hers and kissed them gently. Then she slowly began to undo the buttons at the front of his poet’s shirt.

Fire burned between them as they kissed, intensifying as they disrobed each other, nearing the union that would soon change their lives forever.

“No, Mathias!” Maxine cried out. He’d disappeared before her eyes.

She stood staring at the empty space where he stood. Trembling. Having no explanation. No warning. Just a twisted, empty feeling of sudden loss.

Accepting that he would not return, she threw herself down onto her bed and lay there crying.