Devious Things (The In-Between Trilogy Book One)

11.

      Finding Jeremiah in the midst of this now bustling party turns out to be harder than I thought it would be. 

     He is probably off in one of these rooms with one of the many chicks I saw him chatting up earlier. Either that or hooking up with a random he met seconds before. 

      'Kind of like you were doing with that Son? Oh, the irony of it all! The DSA's former most wanted almost bedding their current most wanted.'

     I shake off my own taunting thoughts and try to focus on something other than Del. I try to focus on something that isn't the way he looked at me as he demanded that I say his name, his eyes darkening like I was some prize he had to claim.

       I almost let him. I was inches away from letting him have anything he wanted. 

      'You're a mess.'

      I let out a frustrated groan and slide my phone back into the small pocket on the side of my dress. 

     The peacefulness I was experiencing earlier has faded, now replaced by the all too familiar feeling of unfiltered fury. It has been twenty minutes since I texted 'S.O.S' to Jeremiah but he still hasn't responded. 

     He needs to hurry up and reply before Del slips away; again. 

     I would try and arrest him myself but I don't think I can do it on my own, not after what just happened. 

      My thoughts drift back to that bedroom, to the way that his lips had felt against my skin. I bite my lower lip, thinking of the way his hand had moved against me and forced those long-forgotten feelings to come racing back to me. 

     My body aches once again, begging for more. 

     What was I thinking? 

     Not only did I embarrass the hell out myself but I am nowhere closer to figuring out what he was doing in Salt Lake City. 

      Why did he show up shortly before Jeremiah and Peter did? How did he know they were coming? Why did he warn me? What was he doing at that club? Why did he bring me into that room in the first place?

     Lightning dances across the sky, thunder shaking the ground beneath my feet, and I look up in anticipation of the downpour but there is none; there is not a cloud in the sky. 

      The sir changes, thick with static, and the hairs on my arm stand at attention. 

      There is an Ayngel nearby and, seeing as there is also a Son here, this can only mean trouble is brewing. 

    The muffled sound of arguing draws my attenion away from the sky and off the porch and I follow the hushed voices, wandering to the side of the house where the commotion seems to be. 

     There are two men fighting next to the house where the party is being held and the neighboring one, long lines of cars parked between them. People pass by the two men but none pay them any mind, a sure sign that someone has thrown up one hell of a glamour to keep this little meeting away from the public eye. The air around them shimmers and it doesn't take me long to break through the glamour to get a better look at the two. 

       The taller of the men throws the shorter one against the side of the house, the glow from the street lights illuminating his face and I try to muffle back a gasp. 

      In all my years spent working the DSA, the closest I ever got the an Ayngel was by reading about them, their realm, and the static feeling that occurs when one if near. The Holy Realm has been cut off from us for some time and very few people have been lucky enough to see an Ayngel outside of their realm; until now.