This novel is dedicated to everyone who has ever had a dream. To those who never give up on and who continue to work towards their happily ever after. Without struggle there is no progress, and sometimes you have to walk through hell before you reach heaven. Just remember, what doesn’t kill you, always makes you stronger.

CHAPTER ONE
Fucking Daemons

Little Five Points nestled smack dab in the middle of Midtown Atlanta was never empty, but this particular night it boasted a much more diverse crowd than the posh hipsters and the nouveau riche who usually hang out in the area. I weaved in and out of the throngs of bodies, wondering why so many people had decided to flock to Little Five on a Tuesday night.

As I made my way past the giant skull head with swirling red eyes decorating the entrance of The Vortex, my stomach growled low and demanding, reminding me that I was hungry.

I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I ran straight from class to a tutorial session with my Stats T.A. Afterwards, I’d taken the train to The Society’s headquarters in East Lake.

After checking in with Bennett, The Society’s leader, I’d made my way back to Emory and barely skidded into a seat at the top of the lecture hall for my Organic Chem course before the doors were shut, indicating that you were late and would henceforth be barred entrance from the room. The professor was a dick like that. Dr. Tate used his class to weed out all of us he deemed would never cut it as pre-med majors, and he made it his personal mission in life for that number to be as high as possible. Did I mention he was a dickhead?

Ignoring the hunger pains poking at my abdomen, I continued walking past The Vortex. The bar and grill boasted world famous, orgasm-inducing, gargantuan burgers served with a side of service that was equally gargantuan in its snark. They literally had their “house rules” or what they more freely referred to as their “idiot barometer” hanging on posters throughout the restaurant and plastered on the back of their menu. It included warnings like “this is an idiot-free zone” and “don’t act like a jackass.”

I loved The Vortex. I ate there every chance I got. Unfortunately, I was on patrol tonight and didn’t have time to drop in for a bacon cheeseburger with a fried egg on top. The hunger pains in my stomach intensified at the mere thought of my favorite burger served by the bar. I picked up my pace from a slow stroll to a brisk walk, putting distance between me and the bacon cheeseburger before it tempted me to slack off on the job.

I continued down Moreland towards McLendon, crossed over to Seminole, spied exactly what I was on the hunt for and made a left behind it onto one of the little side streets that carried you farther away from the center of Little Five Points.

Eventually, the noise of the crowd of people faded behind me. Good. If onlookers witnessed what I was about to do, the cops would without a doubt be called. I didn’t have time to deal with the good officers of the Dekalb County Police force tonight and I was sure as hell they didn’t have the mental fortitude to deal with me tonight either. Given my general wise-ass nature and lack of respect for most authority, our run-ins are never pretty. I mouth off then they turn red in the face and threaten to book me and bring me up on charges. Bennett calls in a favor like he always does when our work lands one of us in the hot seat with the police and they’re forced to let me go, albeit grudgingly. I blow them a kiss as I waltz out of the station. Yup, that about summed up every interaction I’d had with Dekalb or Atlanta Police.

The man I stalked turned one corner and then another before finally realizing he was being followed. He stopped in his tracks turning to face me. I stepped out of the shadows of the two buildings I hid wedged between smiling. Finally, it was playtime.

He hissed the word “bitch” at me, dropping all pretenses of humanity. His pupils dilated until their blackness engulfed both the surrounding brown irises and the whites of his eyes. He moved towards me in jerky, quick spurts, like a puppet having his strings pulled by a puppeteer. I could have easily shot him in the heart with the glock 22 holstered at my back. But where is the fun in that? I left the gun tucked neatly beneath my leather jacket, and freed the silver-tipped stake from my boot instead.

The daemon’s hands moved out of view behind him and reappeared in front of his chest with a set of knives. He launched one at my head. I jerked it to the right. Narrowly missing it The knife sailed so close to my temple, it whistled into my ear as it flew past.

Before he could launch the other one at me, I closed the distance between us and delivered a hard roundhouse kick to his gut. He doubled over and I uppercutted him under his chin. The force of the blow made his body upright itself. He swung out with the knife, I jumped to the right but not quick enough. My left bicep screamed out in pain as the steel sliced into my flesh. He struck out again, but I caught his wrist this time and twisted it hard. Even though bones snapped beneath my grip he held on to the knife strong. He tried to overpower me, forcing my arm backwards at an angle that put the knife he still held on a trajectory path to my chest.

I’d underestimated him. He’d appeared weaker than he really is. It took all of the strength that I possessed to hold his arm back and delay the blade from sinking into my heart. I gripped the stake my other hand held harder and brought it between us. I shoved it into his heart before he could shove the knife into mine. The daemon went rigid. The dilated pupils pulsed once, twice, then shrank back to their normal size. As he collapsed onto the pavement his human form folded in on itself. A minute later a phenomenon that could only be described as an implosion of matter from the outside in occurred. Billowy dark smoke rose from the site where the daemon fell. It collected in the stale air around him then disappeared.

“Fucking daemons. Have fun in hell,” I muttered to nothing but air. All traces of him having disappeared.

A shiver of awareness ran the length of my spine as I stood in the middle of the alley. I completed a three hundred and sixty degree turn, scanning the shadows and darkened alcoves around me. I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched, but I didn’t see anything that could be doing the watching. I withdrew the gun from the holster at my back and held it low but ready to take aim as I made my way to my midtown apartment. The feeling that eyes were tracking me didn’t ease until I shut my apartment door behind me, securing the dead bolt lock and the chain that sat above it.

CHAPTER TWO
Checkmate

“You’re late,” I whispered to Whitney as she slid into the seat next to me.

“But I have a good reason,” my best friend and roommate whispered back.

The grin on her face was wide spread enough for the shallow dimples nestled in the hollows of her cheeks to make an appearance.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure you do. And I bet it has
everything
to do with the hot date you went on last night.”

Her grin morphed into a telling satisfied smile. “Oh, it most
definitely
does. The boy had skillz.”

“Shhhh!” The brunette sitting to the left of me said even louder than we were whispering.

Whitney cut her eyes at her but fortunately for her she held her peace. The brunette did not want to get her started. She was like a round of Black Cats. Once you ignited one, there was no stopping the resulting explosion until they’d all popped off.

My roommate eased into the empty seat I’d saved for her to my right. “I’ll tell you about it after class.”

“Please, don’t. I’d rather be spared the details of your sex life.”

“Ha!” She said a little too loudly. Several heads in our immediate vicinity turned to look at us. She, of course, paid them no mind. “Your sex life is non-existent so how else are you going to get off besides living vicariously through moi?”

“I think I’ll manage,” I drawled over my shoulder, turning my attention back to our Intro to Criminal Justice professor at the bottom of the lecture hall.

I didn’t need the class for my Biology major, but Whitney needed it for her Political Science one. We both had a few additional slots in our course load that could be filled with random electives. Freshman year, we decided to fill them by each taking one class a semester that the other wanted to take but we were not necessarily interested in. It was our weird way of forcing each other to broaden our horizons.

At least that is how we justified it. Really, we’d just been joined at the hip ever since we met in grade school. At eight, I’d gone to live with my grandparents after the death of my parents. They’d taken me out of public school and enrolled me in the very private and very prestigious Paces Ferry College Preparatory Academy. Whitney was the only one that wasn’t either a part of the group of spoiled, stuck-up, shallow brats that attended Paces Prep or aspiring to be a part of the group. Thus, she’d been the only one I’d taken a liking to, despite all of them taking a liking to me simply because of my last name. Sinclair. We became fast friends and have been inseparable ever since.

I didn’t think I would actually like the Intro to Criminal Justice class when Whitney forced me to enroll in it, but I guess the old adage that you shouldn’t knock something until you try it is true. I quickly found the lectures to be fascinating and the class held once a week for three hours on Wednesday mornings became one of my favorite ones to go to.

The three hours flew by before I knew it.

“Do you have time to grab lunch or do you have to check in at Society Headquarters?” Whitney asked me as we gathered our things to leave.

Regular humans were not supposed to know about The Society and most of them did not. We, like the daemons, operated within but a part from larger society, keeping our existence and theirs a secret. The larger public knowing about nephilim and daemons would cause mass panic— a splitting headache that The Society felt it’d be better off not experiencing. There wouldn’t a tylenol or ibuprofen dosage strong enough to assuage it.

Whitney, however, knew all about me being a nephilim and The Society. She was too intricately involved in my life for me not to tell her.

I slung my book bag over my right shoulder. “I have time. What are you in the mood for?”

When she said, “The Varsity,” I winced.

“What?” She asked too innocently.

She knew how much I hated that place. Still, it never stopped her from suckering me into going there. Just like I knew she hated burgers with a passion and I always suckered her into going with me to The Vortex.

“It’s nasty and greasy and always busy. And we have to fight downtown traffic during lunchtime to get there.”

“First of all, it is not nasty. Second of all, the grease is what makes it so delicious. And third of all, traffic is a non-factor. We can take the train instead of driving.”

I just looked at her, unconvinced and standing my ground.

“Come on please. With whipped cream and a cherry on top. I haven’t had it in like forever.”

I snorted. “You drug me there a week and a half ago.”

“Which is like forever in my book.”

I held steadfast a minute longer, letting her stew before I caved. “Fine. But you owe me lunch at The Vortex as payment.”

BOOK: Craved: A Chosen Ones Novel

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