Infernal

Nina's POV

I was supposed to find sleep among these sheets. It was highly improbable, though. My mind kept going back to that conversation—to every single event that had gone down. Cameron was alive. Phillip was gone—presumably, in Hell.

This really didn't seem sane. A girl my age should be thinking what to get her boyfriend for Christmas; not wondering if her Ex was being strung and tortured in a parallel dimension. Normal girls didn't have premonitions or blasts from the past, though. They didn't see their families' burn, succumbing to death from lack of oxygen—I shut my eyes, head pounding.

I wasn't a typical girl-next-door. I was a Physic—a descendant from a Nephilim bloodline with humans—who, right now, had more on her plate than she could chew. The argument between Cameron and Raphael played swiftly over and over...

"Phillip... in Hell...?" I had asked.

Cameron hadn't graced me with an answer. He's taken a strange-looking key from one of the shelves—down in the basement—and freed Raph. It had been triangular and, like the chains, golden. Raphael's wrists had been red from the shackles—immediately, they'd healed.

But then Cameron had thrown a punch. It would've gotten messier if the Angel didn't have self-control.

"Hit me all you like, but it won't change what Phillip did." Raphael had tried to make him see.

Cameron hadn't cared, "You were supposed to go after him—stop him from doing a reckless thing! Instead, you let him get the jump on you with that!" Cameron had pointed outside the steel-covered room, to the crafting table.

I'd been perplexed by what the red dust or ash was. I hadn't dared asking... I hadn't talked.

Raphael had cooled himself, and walked past Cam, "Do I need to worry about you doing anything stupid, too?" he'd sounded quite menacing.

"You expect me to do nothing? My brother made a deal with a Fallen—they took him."

"I know that," Raph had barked. "He made a sacrifice. He handed himself over so you could live, are you going to throw that away?"

"Sacrifice? He's not dead!" Cameron had bellowed. "He's alive—taken—but alive. I'm not going to leave him there to rot. If you think that's going to happen you're sourly mistaking and don't know me at all." He'd stalked up to stand in front of the Archangel; a vicious don't-fuck-with-me face on. "You just try and keep me from getting Phillip back. I'll do anything—end anyone, for my brother. Don't doubt it."

Raphael had left afterwards, using his bright wings, transforming himself into a shot of light and disappearing. I'd seen spots for about fifteen minutes.

That had gone down about one hour ago. Cameron was barricaded in his bedroom—he hadn't spoken to me since, well... since he deduced what Phillip had done. I still didn't have a clue as to how he knew—the only thing I'd told Cam, was the cuts on his twin's wrists.

And why did they have a room with chains? And why hadn't Raphael broken out of them—what was the big deal?

Questions swirled and kept my mind off the hole in my chest—the grief that threatened to consume me if I gave it more than five minutes. My parents... my family—I couldn't let myself go there. It was so, so hard though...

Closing my eyes, I breathed, trying to relax so I could sleep. Countless minutes later, I was wide awake—and heard doors. I couldn't help but gaze at the storm rippling outside the windows. The rolls of thunder sounded like someone playing a thirty-piece drum set above me. The growling wind smacked into the windows of my guest room.

It was a big lightning storm. Too big for nature to pull alone.

I'd never been afraid of storms; I actually liked the color of lightning bolts, to see them sail across the sky like big Chinese dragons. It was pretty cool.

So, I wasn't afraid of the storm, I was afraid for the person who was causing it.

Sitting up, I slid out of bed reaching for the denim jacket V had bought me. It was freezing and I was wearing sweats with a Tee shirt. I saw his outline—standing beside the only tree on the clearing. It was tall, thick-trunked. An oak tree, maybe.

Tentatively, as if Cam would feel me, I put my hand against the freezing glass. His mood was unbelievably crappy—with reason. He was alive, but Phillip—his only family—had just handed himself over.

To save him.

I knew how the guilt was eating away at him. All Haven Hills knew—thunder rumbled all over.

Just an hour ago, I thought Cameron was going to die. I thought I was going to lose him and... That had felt suffocating—unbearable. My fingers curled; my heart was breaking—he said Power responded to the users' emotions... was that what this buffeting storm symbolized? How he felt inside?

Ceasing looking at his silhouette, I set course for the door. Faintly, I felt my bare feet touch the floor. Nice, expensive wood creaked under them as I walked, going down the hall and stairs. I blinked, what was I doing? A part of me wanted to remain inside—telling me I was nuts to exit with the raging weather. Another—a much bigger one—wanted me to ignore my instincts.

I twisted the knob in a fluid motion.

Going around, to the back of the house, my feet were tickled by luscious grass. My gaze was everywhere but at the ground, though. The tempest was blazing even worse since he'd come outside—everything was exploding out of him.

I stood petrified. This was... intense. Wild, frenzied, angry, sad—this was Cameron. He was creating a storm of high magnitude and we were in the eye of it.

Thunder crashed, sailed from here into the distance—bolts died meeting the ground. It was completely out of control. He was out of control—hurting and alone.

Cold.

Eyes ambulating from the sky, he saw me. Staring at him, lips apart, eyes wide. Cameron was heaving brutally like he was about to go into heart-failure.

"Go back inside, Nina." He ordered above the shattering energy crossing the sky.

That tiny, prudent, part of me, wanted to run—tuck itself under the covers, but it peeled away as soon as our eyes bonded. So much ire—torment. No, I couldn't just leave him; he helped me when my Power took over—showing me those masochists visions.

Cameron had been my life-line. Could I be his?

I couldn't explain it but... Well, I hated seeing him hurt.

And he'd hurt enough for one night.

I took a step forward, "No."

"Go inside the house where it's safe!" He yelled fists shaking like he was trying to draw something back—it wasn't working. "Nina—"

"Why aren't I safe out here?" Anyone who heard this would call me dumb. After all, I was in the epicenter of a massive storm. "You're causing this," I looked up. "As long as you don't decide to zap me, I'm fine."

Cameron rested his head on the oak tree, breaths deep and shallow.

"Go," he muttered icily. "I don't want you here. I want you to leave me alone."

He glared back at me with each step I took. My arms dropped and I reached a hand out—Cam slapped it away. I watched him lean forward, jaw set, ready to argue.

"Why can't you go? That's all I'm asking for, is it so hard to understand?" his words were meant to bruise my resolve, but I didn't retreat. "Leave." Cam heaved dangerously.

With a fire burning inside—one only he could lit—I made a last step to him.

"Why don't you stop the storm?" my voice was cutting. So much so, his eyes widened. Oh, I could be cold, too. "Why don't you just snap your fingers and make it stop? Don't you have control?"

I pushed his chest and I think he growled at me.

"Leave me alone." He bit out, eying me through thick lashes.

I walked closer, trapping him against the tree, "Stop the storm." It was causing him anger and fear—why didn't he stop it?

Suddenly, I recalled the extreme amount of guilt when that tree split and he rescued me. Cameron hadn't meant for it to happen, he hadn't been in control then.

"Go away—"

"Stop the storm!" I yelled, tugging my arm back when he ceased it. "Let me go, Cameron." The touch seared my skin; shots ran down and up—so nice.

His face came close and he hissed, "Go the fuck away—"

With the other hand I slapped him—there was a ricochet of thunder behind us. Oh boy. Cameron stood immobile, still grasping my arm strongly, stunned. A clash of thunder blew up causing the obsidian in Cam's gaze to stand out, apart from all else in the night, they shone with deep wildness.

"I'm tired of hearing you say that word today." I bristled sounding as pissed as he looked. "I'll stay if I want to stay, I'll go if—" I stiffened a yelp as he propelled me closer—crashing our chests together.

Our stares melted in a heated, crushing will of domination.

I had no idea who broke down first—or if we both did. I knew his lips were soft, lush.

Cameron crashed our mouths into one—built up desire erupted from me. Pushing into him, I trailed a hand up, catching a handful of dark, silky hair. He tasted so good—the kinda taste that made you forget you needed to breathe.

His hand ran up my arm, curving on my shoulder, cupping my nape—Cam wasn't shy. And I wanted him—his hands—all over. I did my best to shrug the jacket without breaking contact. There was a ferocious need and possession from him—my Prince of Darkness. Hmm, Cam's long fingers messaged my scalp—I dove another hand into his hair.

My soul purred in appreciation as Cam let out a half-groan, half-moan from his throat. This was for me. Fingers traced down the side of his face, and parted my lips. His tongue didn't throw itself inside—no. First, it teased my bottom lip. I wrapped Cameron's locks—tugging him closer, nibbling his upper lip—his tongue skimmed past my lips, then.

Cameron's muscles bulged, hard and tense, wanting me—my touch. A hand cupped my behind, I moaned finding release. Feeling an immense pressure leave, and quickly return. Oh God—what was this? This... this insatiable need and greed?

I'd never wanted anyone this bad!

While my hands ran over his sternum, Cameron flipped us—and Lord, it was hard. Rough. And I loved it. Pressing my back on the oak bark, I felt a leg between mine.

Closer, I thought in delirium.

I opened my eyes and his were there on cue. Burning, ardent passion painted them. My hands took two seconds brushing along his prickly, yet soft stubble; Cameron nuzzled my nose. I didn't get to catch my breath to its fullest. His hands went around my head, pulling me in. I was more than happy to comply—in fact, I'd never felt so... alive.

I relished in Cameron's arms, his undoing touch, and thought about all the time I spent avoiding him—this. He'd been right. No matter how much we stayed away, we came together. That felt like a revelation.

My legs hooked around his hips as he shoved me up the tree, bringing us to the same height. My thighs squeezed Cam's midsection, nothing felt close enough—the clothes were such a bother. Blindly and savoring Cameron's feathered kisses down my neck, I tugged the hem of his T-shirt. A sound of agreement made it out of my Dark Prince, and he broke apart only to toss it over his shoulder. I giggled as Cameron smirked drunkenly, looking at me with fervor.

My chest was kicking with thrill; it grew as I saw the kaleidoscope of emotions passing his eyes. So beautiful and untamed—I wanted more of him.

Much more.

My finger pads explored deeply, every dip and ripple of his stomach—I visited it. Cameron's shoulders... Oh, they drove me nuts. So strong and defined. I planted a chaste kiss where the bite wound had been—he whined, tipping my chin, stealing my lips.

"Beautiful..." he murmured between kisses. "A princess—an angel—" he moaned against my mouth. I rested my head against his, our eyes tracing each other's for a peaceful second. That's when Cam husked, "A Goddess..." my heart quivered at his sweetness, I caressed Cameron's spine—he arched into me. He dragged his mouth under my chin, before our lips merged into a big war of savage passion.

My body had never felt so light, liberated, as it did this moment. It was mystifying how the sliding of our skins was barely enough to sooth the greedy need we shared for one another.

Fighting off our closeness was like battling a tsunami.

Useless.

Cameron was moving his hips, in slow, rhythmic circles giving my inner thighs the awakening of their lives! I curled my arms behind his neck, battling the urge to throw my head back and scream his name, beg him for more.

He was so heated, melting my thoughts, worries—with Cam there was nothing. No outside world. It was scary. It was accelerating.

Everything was a damn rollercoaster ride, and just as I teased the button of his jeans—I lost hold of something.

My Power.

I stilled my lips on his—then gasped.

Images were hurling themselves. They were so intense, strong colored—like memories. Like watching a movie, only I could feel the exact emotions inside the memory.

Scary.

There was grass. Lots of it, a meadow—but then… there was something very wrong. A smell… a disgusting, enveloping smell burned down my lungs. I saw why. A body laid down—brunt. More the clothes then skin… but the head… oh, it was… it was…

I almost thanked the powers that be when my view changed. It became of a boy—a young one, younger than Henry. His clothes were smeared, torn in places and his face—my breath caught like I'd been run over.

His face was tanned, scratches lined up. Dark mop hair fell around his soft, angelic-like features. I couldn't see the eyes, I just saw where he was gazing. Right at the dead body.

A tidal wave wrecked me and I slumped against something hard—was it a wall? Mmm, it felt too warm and tingly for that.

"Nina…?" there were hands cupping my chin. "What's wrong…?"

Cam.

My body fought the urge of curling up to him—this was important, my libido had to wait.

Squinting my eyes, I could see a small lighting show, my gaze focused, piecing together the perfectness that was Cameron Leale.

I leaned on the oak, "I… I had a vision…" my breathy voice gave his a run for its money. "…so intense…" I murmured stunned, and couldn't tell if I meant our mind-blowing make out or the flash.

"A vision? What did you see?" Cam was on his knees… between my legs. Wow, now there was a sight—he gently tipped my head upward. Away from our legs and up to his labyrinthic eyes.

My cheeks flushed, "It… it was… a dead person and there was this boy?" he nodded. "I could smell brunt flesh! The boy was younger than Henry, maybe six, eight—whatever. He had raven hair just—" words died right outside my mouth. Just like you, I'd been about to say.

Cameron's expression had changed radically. It was the other reason why I hadn't said it—he looked… off. The tension rolled off in palpating waves, somehow I knew his heart quickened. His gaze turned smoky, lost and… frightened.

Oh, no. what had I said?

Cam fell on his heels when I attempted to stroke his face. I frowned, and my soul filled with dismay—it demanded our closeness once more.

"What's wrong, hey, it's me—Cam?" I asked gingerly, inching extra slowly. "Does it mean anything to you…? Is that why—"

Cameron sprung off the ground. I stared up. The emotions I'd felt in that vision, the ones from the little boy, had been just like these. Scared, lonely, guilty and loathing—not at the world—at himself. Cam was wearing them wholly.

My subconscious whispered it to me and I couldn't believe I was being so blind—I got the flashback while touching Cameron, the youth had had black hair, perfect angled features…

Cameron was the boy.

Holy cow.

How had I done that? All I'd wanted was to be closer, know him better—so my ability worked, I guessed. I saw something, something Cam didn't want me to see, by the looks of things.

"Cameron—" I moved off my spot too suddenly, and he retreated—taking off like a scared, wild animal.

He just left me outside. All alone.

Picking up our discarded clothes, I tried quashing my anger, disappointment and curiosity. What was so important about what I saw? Except that my Prince had seen a mutilated person at such a young age—was that it?

Another thing I pondered, as I made my way inside the huge house, was that the storm had ended.

Not a trace of it anywhere.