House Of Legions (The Angel Descendants book 1)
Chapter 43 (Clare)

The Caster standing by Franchesca's body requested all the descendants excluding Clare and Nathan who wished to participate, to say specific words.

It was when she lifted her head replaceing her brother that a sharp pain jolted through her spine, rocketing straight to her brain. She screamed as thousands of needles poked through her whole body falling to the ground. Not one of them came to her aid. Endless time passed. What felt like forever, before it stopped, just stopped, and left her out of breath, covered in sweat. Her torso ached like she'd ran a marathon. Getting up off the floor she sat back on the old wooden chair.

The descendants were all in a trance, their feet lifted off the ground, as they slowly moved in a circular ring, creating a closed circumference around Nathan, her mother and herself.

They all held hands, some of them had blue and green neon lights coming from their eyes, chanting, "araeh mareal barah masah jibraeel amara," the words chanted over and over again.

Clare looked at Nathan, his eyes closed. His body a sight of peace whereas hers ached all over, something had to be wrong, her hands getting hotter, feeling sweaty, she stared at it. Veins protruding out through Clare's flesh, as a beam of light emanated from Franchesca's corpse, like a spirited blue electric wave. Splitting like a slower form of lightening, she watched as the beam struck her brother before it forcefully penetrated the tips of her own fingers.

The pain was death-defying, she screamed her lungs dry, the depth of which left her body shaken.

The pain rose from her hands to her arms, to her neck slowly draining itself through her veins up to her brain, and finally her heart.

The pain kicked at her, she fell onto the floor still screaming, as she scratched her chest, attempting to remove the robe, she couldn't breathe, still, nobody aided her.

Her brother's scream lowered, he was saying something, but her body fitted on the floor. Her thorax choked down, her stomach burned, like it was getting eaten, she pulled at her hair, as she kept hearing chanting.

Her body lifted off the ground, she wanted to panic and throw a tantrum, but instead, she shook in the air. Epileptic agonizing shivers passed through her nerves, her body electrified by the current as it penetrated flesh and bones. What was happening to her, she couldn't stop moving, spine twisting, neck pulling. The bright light bursting out her chest shocking her with electric volts.

Eyes dazed, tracking a shadow of something, somebody in front of her, a figure. A chill set of hands landed on her chest. Forcing her heavy lids open, a tall figure loomed over her. Just the knowledge of his presence made her pulse quicken. His hand cold to the touch placed flat underneath the crest of her breast, directly on her flesh.

The chill of his skin, so comforting, beautiful, peaceful, she wanted to cry with the relief it brought her, as his hand removed the light that had come into her so violently, and rapidly from her mother's body, raping her senses. His hand sucking it up like a vacuum as it stole out the wrong inside her.

The physical pain subsided with every second passed, but the emotional brainstorm which consumed her regarding this man was sending her dangerously close to the end of her rationality. How could she feel so strongly about a stranger that she had met just one time, yet let him embrace her, kiss her? The more he absorbed, the steadier her heart soared.

Not seeing his face, she knew who he was, he was the same one, who saved them that afternoon, the same one who she had asked, "Who are you."

And he had replied, the same mantra that had played in her mind, "That princess is for you to decide."

She looked down to where his hand settled. The light was gone, the pain a dull ache, but still his hand lingered just underneath the curve of her breast. He made to move it, but she put her hand on top of his, to halt it.

She was certain she heard the hiss of his breath, as her sex clenched with the pleasure it brought her. He was here, when nobody else helped her, he was here. She couldn't see his face, but she didn't need to, she just needed to touch him, so she lifted her hand to his hood, and moved it in slowly to touch his face.

When she did, a bolt of electricity drizzled on her fingers, how was that possible. The hair on his face poked at her fingertips, as they wandered shamelessly. It caressed his stubble, so inviting was he, when he tilted his head, slightly into the palm of her hand. She rubbed her thumb on his cheekbone, brushing it down until it skimmed on the indent of his lips. Hesitantly, she dropped her hand.

She didn't want to push, but as the thought brushed her mind, he brushed the side of her breast, luckily the robe managed to conceal it. She had completely forgotten about the people, she was utterly lost to this faceless man, who she had begun to trust without knowing anything about him, even his name.

She didn't need her brother's knowledge☐☐☐☐