Page 4

Danny tried to loosen the cotton from his brain, but it wasn’t working all that well. He was in a comfy bed in a room he’d never seen before. The opulent space was nothing like he’d ever witnessed, other than maybe Bridgerton.

I’ve totally been roofied.

How else could he explain that one minute some weirdo was creeping up on him, then a big nothingness until now? He blinked several times at the muscle hunk staring at him from a fancy chair next to the bed.

Oof.

Hardcore hottie. But then a disturbing thought filled him. What if he and the weirdo were buddies and had been passing him around?

Eww.

His nerves kicked up a notch, and he fought to keep his panic in check. He was a reasonably intelligent person. Surely he could devise a way to get out of this situation.

If only my brain wasn’t a big pile of mush.

“You’re safe now.”

Hot guy’s deep voice washed over Danny like warm honey. “I promise.”

Danny squinted, trying to focus on the man’s face. Chiseled jaw, plump kiss-worthy lips, intense green eyes, wavy chestnut hair. Definitely not the creep from outside the Silver Fox.

“Where am I?”

Danny managed, his voice scratchy. “And who the hell are you?”

The man moved closer, perching carefully on the edge of the bed as if afraid Danny might bolt. “My name is Malachi. You can call me Mal.”

He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. “You're in a safe house outside of Aspen. We rescued you from…”

He cleared his throat. “A very dangerous situation.”

“Rescued?”

Danny attempted to sit up, wincing as his head throbbed in protest and a jolt of pain shot through his side. He touched his throat where a spot was stinging, and realized there was a small wound. “Like, superhero rescued?”

A ghost of a smile touched Mal’s lips. “Something like that. How much do you remember?”

“Not much.”

Danny gingerly touched his side where the pain had flared. “I was outside the Silver Fox with some guy named Simon, then this creepy dude approached me...”

He trailed off, fragments of memories flickering through his mind like a broken film reel. “There were shadows that moved wrong. And eyes...”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Red eyes in the dark surrounding me. I couldn’t move, like those nightmares where you’re trying to run away, but it feels like you’re slogging through quicksand. Then something…”

His stomach roiled. “Something foul touched me and…”

He shook his head frantically, immediately regretting it when a stabbing pain crashed through him. “It must’ve been whatever I was drugged with, making me imagine things. No way any of that was real.”

Mal regarded him with a grave expression. “That wasn't a hallucination, Danny.”

Danny swallowed hard. “Awesome. So I'm not crazy, just in the middle of some supernatural horror movie.”

He winced. “Those things weren't human, were they?”

“No.”

Mal’s voice was gentle but firm. “They weren’t.”

Danny's gaze darted around the room, taking in more of the ornate furniture, the massive four-poster bed, and the heavy velvet curtains. This was no ordinary safe house. This was the kind of place billionaires stayed when they wanted to ‘rough it’ in the mountains.

He should know. Definitely the type of place his snooty, entitled parents would insist on.

“Right. And I'm supposed to believe you’re merely some Good Samaritan who happened to be in the right place at the right time?”

His voice held more bravado than he felt. His side also wouldn’t stop throbbing like something fierce, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something monumental had shifted in his reality.

Malachi sighed, running a hand through his thick hair. “Not exactly. I was sent specifically to find you.”

“Cool. Thankfully, that’s not at all creepy.”

Danny pulled the plush duvet tighter around himself.

“Fair enough.”

Malachi nodded. “You have no reason to trust me. But I swear to you, Danny, I mean you no harm.”

The way this Malachi guy said his name sent an unexpected shiver down Danny’s spine. There was something in his tone—reverence, maybe?—that struck him as oddly intimate.

“How do you know my name?”

Danny glanced around for potential escape routes. The bedroom door seemed miles away in his current state.

“It’s complicated.”

Malachi sighed. “More complicated than you can imagine. But you deserve the truth.”

He hesitated, then met Danny’s eyes with an intensity that made his breath catch. “You're special, Danny. Those creatures wanted you because of what you are.”

"What I am?" Danny let out a nervous laugh. “I’m a ski instructor who pisses off his parents by being gay. Not exactly prized treasure material.”

Malachi locked eyes with him. “You're Nephilim.”

Malachi had announced it simply, as if that explained everything.

Danny blinked. “I'm...”

He tilted his head. “What now?"

“Nephilim. Half-human, half-angel. Your bloodline traces back to one of the most powerful celestial beings formed by the Divine Spark’s hands.”

Danny stared at him for a beat before bursting into laughter, immediately regretting it when both his head, his side, and now his back protested. “Ow. Okay, now I know I’m still drugged. Or maybe I’m in a coma. Either way, this is much too weird to be real.”

He pressed his palm against his forehead.

“Half-angel? Please. If you’d met my family, you’d know there’s nothing remotely angelic about the Rutherfords.”

Malachi’s expression remained serious, those penetrating eyes never wavering. “Your human lineage is irrelevant. The angelic blood comes from generations back, diluted but still potent. It's why they wanted you for their ritual.”

Danny’s mouth went dry. “Ritual?”

The word sparked another flash of memory. Black candles, chanting in a language that made his skin crawl, the cold stone beneath his back. “They were going to...”

His breath hitched. “…sacrifice me?”

"Yes.”

Malachi’s voice had softened. “They believe your blood will give them power over all shadow gargoyles."

“Shadow gargoyles.”

Danny pinched his eyebrows together. Fucking ridiculous. “And I’m supposed to believe this because...?”

“Because deep down, you’ve always felt different.”

Malachi leaned forward, resting his folded hands on his knees. “As though you were meant for something more. Like there was an emptiness inside you that nothing could fill.”

The words slammed into Danny, forcing him to consider that the story Mal was trying to sell him might be true. Because how else could this stranger know the exact feeling that had haunted him his entire life?

“Lucky guess.”

Danny laughed shakily.

“It's not a guess.”

Malachi smiled. “It’s who you are, Danny. The emptiness you’ve felt is your dormant powers, your true nature trying to break through.”

Danny’s heart raced as he tried to process everything he was being told. Half-angel. Nephilim. Shadow gargoyles. It was too much, like someone had dropped him into a fantasy novel without giving him the first few chapters.

“So you’re what? My guardian angel?”

He tried for sarcasm, but his voice came out more whiny than anything.

Malachi’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Not exactly. Michael and his cohorts would be insulted to have me referred to as an angel.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “No, I'm a Shadow Slayer. One of the original gargoyles chosen by Archangel Michael to fight all the rogues and protect beings like you.”

Danny held up his palm. “Whoa, wait a hot second. Let me get this straight. I'm part angel, you're a gargoyle slayer, and those things that kidnapped me were shadow gargoyles. And an archangel…”

He rolled his eyes. “As in an actual biblical archangel sent you to rescue me?”

He crossed his arms. “Prove it.”

Malachi hesitated. “You've been through a traumatic experience. I’m not sure if—”

“Are you kidding me?”

Danny scoffed, wincing as he shifted his weight. “If I’m supposed to believe all this supernatural horse shit, I need to see something concrete. Don’t get all squeamish on menow. Show me the goods.”

The muscles in Malachi’s jaw ticked, a flash of amber flickering in his green eyes before it vanished. “It’s not squeamishness. The shift can be frightening for humans when they witness it for the first time.”

“Try me.”

Danny lifted an eyebrow. “I've watched every season of True Blood. Twice.”

Malachi let out a long sigh. “Television doesn't quite capture the reality.”

Danny snapped his fingers repeatedly “Quit stalling, big boy. If I’m supposedly some angel-human hybrid, I think I can handle seeing whatever you really are.”

Malachi let out another sigh and stood, taking several steps back from the bed. “If time weren’t of the essence, I wouldn’t give in to you so quickly. But unfortunately, the recent traitorous actions of a fellow Slayer is forcing my hand.”

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “Traitorous? I can hardly wait to hear the rest of this dumpster fire I’ve tumbled into.”

He waved a hand in Mal’s direction. “Carry on.”

“Don’t be afraid.”

Malachi’s voice deepened an octave. “I would never harm you.”

Danny’s snarky retort died in his throat as the air around Malachi started to shimmer like heat waves rising from asphalt. His skin rippled, hardening before Danny’s eyes into what looked like stone—a deep gray with hints of green that matched his eyes. His shoulders broadened impossibly, clothing ripping away before vanishing, his spine elongating as massive wings unfurled from his back, leathery and terrifying.

His face transformed, the features becoming more angular, eyes glowing amber now rather than green. Sharp talons extended from what had been hands, and a thick, muscular tail with a spiked club at the end completed the metamorphosis.

“Holy shitballs.”

Danny pressed himself against the headboard. His heart thundered, his body trembled, but strangely, he felt no fear. What filled him was awe. “You’re beautiful,”

Danny breathed, the words escaping before he could stop them.

The creature, Malachi, tilted his head, clearly surprised by Danny's reaction. His amber eyes glowed with an inner light as he regarded Danny with what seemed like curiosity.

“Most humans scream.”

Malachi’s deep voice resonated in this form, yet was somehow still recognizable. “Or faint.”

Danny let out another shaky laugh. “Yeah, well, I've never been accused of being predictable.”

He leaned forward, fascinated. “Can I touch you?”

Malachi hesitated, then stepped closer to the bed, extending one clawed hand. Danny reached out slowly, fingers trembling as they made contact with the stone-like skin. It was warm, not cold, as he'd expected, with a faint vibration beneath the surface, like energy pulsing through living stone. The sensation sent a jolt up Danny's arm, a strange warmth spreading through his chest and deep into his core.

"Wow.”

Danny traced the ridges of Malachi’s forearm with his fingertips. “You're like warm granite, but you’re alive.”

He explored further, moving up to where the skin texture changed near Malachi’s elbow. “This is freaky. Unbelievable.”

He frowned, a flash of memory slamming into him. The sound of wings, a battle cry, someone lifting him from cold stone. The memory was fragmented, but unmistakable.

“You saved me,”

Danny murmured, his eyes widening. “I remember your wings. You fought them to protect me.”

Malachi’s amber eyes softened. “With my fellow Slayers, yes.”

Danny gasped as a jolt of electricity sparked where his fingers met Malachi's skin. “What the fuck?”

The sensation traveled up his arm and spread through his chest, warm and tingling, like nothing he’d ever experienced. Something inside him responded, a dormant part awakening to the touch.

Malachi’s eyes widened. “You feel it too.”

Danny nodded, unable to form words as the connection between them intensified. It was as if a circuit had been completed, energy flowing freely between them. The pain in his head and side momentarily faded, replaced by a rush of heat and... He frowned again.

Belonging.

Abruptly, Malachi stepped back, his form shimmering again as he returned to his human appearance. The torn clothing reappeared intact, and those piercing green eyes studied Danny with a mixture of curiosity and what seemed suspiciously like longing.

Danny still tingled from the contact. “That was rather interesting. Shocking, but definitely interesting.”

“Our connection runs deeper than you can imagine.”

Malachi’s voice turned husky. “I look forward to us exploring it together.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Danny ran his hands through his hair, trying to process everything. His brain felt clearer now, the fog from earlier dissipating. “So what exactly happened when I touched you? Because it’s seriously got me all twisted up inside.”

Malachi sat on the edge of the bed, seemingly careful to maintain a small distance between them. “There's more to our bond than rescuer and rescued.”

“Yeah, I’m sensing that.”

Danny scraped his teeth along his bottom lip, almost too afraid to ask his next question. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“In my world, we have what are called Fated Mates.”

Malachi’s eyes never left Danny’s. “A blessed connection between two souls, predetermined by the Divine Spark.”

Danny arched his eyebrows. His human half was going to need copious amounts of alcohol to deal with the flurry of startling revelations.

“You mean as in God?”

Mal lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Many religions refer to them as such.”

Danny’s mouth went dry. “And the Fated Mate part. You think that’s us?”

He gestured between them. “You and me?”

“I don't think. I know.”

Mal gave him a soft smile. “From the moment Michael mentioned your name, I was consumed by my need to protect you. The crystal I was given to lead me to your location only reinforced my certainty. An etheric tether binds us together.”

Danny’s breath caught in his throat. “A crystal, huh? Etheric tethers?”

He placed a hand to his forehead, desperate to deny the truth of Mal’s words, but somehow knowing he wouldn’t be able to. “You’re hot and everything, but we just met. You could at least buy me dinner first.”

He let out a feeble laugh in an attempt to relieve some of his tension. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.

The corner of Mal's lips twitched. “Dinner can be arranged.”

“Oh my god, I was joking.”

Danny’s stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. “Okay, maybe not entirely joking.”

“I’ll have food brought up.”

Malachi gave a sharp nod. “You need to regain your strength.”

Danny sank back against the pillows, the enormity of everything crashing down on him. “This is completely insane. You know that, right? Like, certifiably bonkers.”

He rubbed his temples. “So what happens now? We're magically destined to be together because some Divine Spark said so? What if I don't want that?”

Malachi’s expression remained calm, but something flickered in his eyes—vulnerability, perhaps. “The connection can't be forced, Danny.”

He paused, pressing his lips together before continuing. “I know this is overwhelming. Finding out you’re Nephilim, being kidnapped, learning about Slayers and Fated Mates. I understand that what’s typical for me is unusual for you.”

Danny let out a long breath. “Ya think?”

He shifted, wincing as pain flared in his side again. “Not to mention that whatever they did to me hurts like a bitch.”

Mal frowned. “Zeke verified you weren’t gravely injured when Cassiel brought you here, but now that you’re awake, he can perform a healing ritual. He didn’t know what you’d been drugged with and didn’t want to chance you being poisoned, so he was waiting for you to awake naturally.”

“Oh.”

He picked at the duvet. “And you sat here with me the whole time?”

For whatever reason, it no longer struck him as creepy.

“I did. I didn’t dare leave you alone for a second. I was never more frightened in my existence as when I saw you being threatened.”

Danny winced. “Do I want to know the details?”

Mal shook his head. “Not for now. I’ll summon Zeke. He’s one of our healers.”

“And Cassiel?”

“A fellow Slayer. While I finished off the traitor who stole you, she brought you to safety.”

Danny’s lips rounded in a small ‘o’. “Ooh, finished off. How Game of Thrones of you.”

Mal’s brow wrinkled. “Another show on television?”

“Oh my God. We should totally watch it together. You’d love it.”

“I don’t really…”

He cleared his throat. “Of course. I can see how much the television means to you, so I’ll try.”

Danny grinned. “Aww, that’s so adorable. Thanks for not making this all about you.”

Mal gave him a lopsided smile. “I prefer it to be all about you.”

Danny’s grin widened. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

If Mal was for real, then maybe this Fated Mate thing wasn’t so bad.