Craved: A Chosen Ones Novel Read online

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One - Fucking Daemons

  Chapter Two - Checkmate

  Chapter Three - This Is How I Die

  Chapter Four - Hot Guys With Killer Biceps

  Chapter Five - I Don't Do Partners

  Chapter Six - Effective Immediately

  Chapter Seven - I Needed Answers

  Chapter Eight - Well Shit

  Chapter Nine - Grade A

  Chapter Ten - Strike Me Down

  Chapter Eleven - Zippers & Shots

  Chapter Twelve - Decisions, Decisions

  Chapter Thirteen - Brutal Reminders

  Chapter Fourteen - Hideout

  Chapter Fifteen - Insanity

  Chapter Sixteen - Revelations

  Chapter Seventeen - Power

  Chapter Eighteen - Fusion

  Chapter Nineteen - Explosion

  Chapter Twenty - Ancient History

  Chapter Twenty-One - Broken Seals

  Chapter Twenty-Two - Grief

  Chapter Twenty-Three - Confessions

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Genesis

  Other Works

  About the Author

  Craved

  A Chosen Ones Novel

  Nia Davenport

  Copyright © 2015 by Nia Davenport

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:1514767422

  ISBN-13: 978-1514767429

  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.”

  “Fine,” she muttered in the same resigned tone as I had.

  Thirty minutes later we sat in a booth on the second level of The Varsity. Whitney ripped into a hotdog slathered with chili, cheese, onions, and ketchup. She scarfed it down like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She finished the first one in front of her then started in on the second.

  “Where does it all go?” I gestured wildly over her lean frame then sighed exaggeratedly. “Some people get all the luck.”

  When it came to Whitney the sentiment was true in more ways than one. The fact that she looked as good as she did made it clear that the world was cruel and unfair. With a deep mocha complexion, a thick mass of dark, shiny curls, hazel-almost-green eyes, and the long, lean legs of a runner, she looked like she belonged on somebody’s runway.

  I dipped a fry into my chocolate milkshake, very much aware of the total lack of nutritional value of my meal. However, they were the only two items on The Varsity’s menu that I could digest.

  Whitney’s eyes followed my movement. “Look who’s talking.”

  “Yeah but I have to work for my figure. If my Society duties didn’t require that I train on a regular basis to stay in shape, I would not be able to eat whatever the hell I want and not look like I do too.”

  “And I’m a runner remember. I burn a lot of calories during track practice,” she said over a mouth full of greasy hotdog.

  “Speaking of which when is your next meet?”

  “Saturday against Georgia State. You coming?”

  “I can’t promise something won’t come up, but it’s my off day so I should be there. It starts at twelve right?”

  “Yup. But come half an hour early during our warm-up if you can. There’s a hot guy on State’s team I want you to meet.”

  “I’ll be there at twelve,” I respond dryly.

  “Come, on Alex. Live a little. He’s six four with killer abs you could bounce a quarter off of. And you know the boy is fine because the first time I saw him at a meet last month the first thing that popped into my head is ‘I wonder how he fucks.’ You know I only think dirty thoughts about extremely hot guys.”

  I snorted. “Really? Because I thought you think dirty thoughts about anything with two legs and a third appendage dangling between it.”

  Whitney pressed her hand to her heart as if I’d wounded her. “That hurts. You know I only think nasty things about Grade A Fuckable guys. And believe me Alex, this one is Grade A with a capital A.”

  “Whitney, like I tell you every time you try to set me up, the answer is NO.”

  She eyed me over her orange cream soda. “Are you sure? Last chance. Because if you don’t want him, I’m sure as hell going to give him a go.”

  “Be my guest.”

  “Ooh, that reminds me,” she squealed like a thirteen year old at a Justin Bieber concert. “Beauty and the Beast is coming on T.V at six. I was thinking we can watch it before you go out on a patrol.”

  “Did you seriously just go from talking about fuckable guys to a disney movie?!”

  “What? You know it’s my favorite.”

  “Sure Whitney, Let’s watch the movie about the girl who develops Stockholm syndrome for her
captor.”

  She glowered at me from across the table. “Says the person whose favorite is the movie about the girl with bitch tendencies that lets her stepmother take her shit and make her a servant in her own father’s house.”

  And the gauntlet had been thrown.

  “Don’t talk about Cinderella that way.”

  “Don’t talk about Belle that way.”

  We stared at each other for a full minute then dissolved into a fit of giggles exactly how we’d done as thirteen year olds when we’d had this argument for the first time. It never got old, it always ended the same and we would never stop having it.

  My cell phone rang in the middle of our cackling. As hard as I tried to curb it, I was still laughing when I picked it up.

  “I am glad that you are enjoying yourself so much Alexandria while I am waiting for my granddaughter to show up to a dress fitting appointment that she is thirty minutes late to.”

  Shit. I’d forgotten about that. “I’m on my way. I will be there in fifteen minutes,” I told my grandmother then hurried off the phone before she could say any other words too loudly that I didn’t want Whitney to hear.

  I didn’t usually keep things from her, but even though I was meeting my grandmother to be fitted for a dress to wear to her charity ball, I was still very much intending to come up with an excuse that would get me out of actually having to go to the damn thing.

  “Dress fitting huh?” Whitney probed after I hung up.

  I was about to tell her yes, but I did not intend to actually go when her phone vibrated on the table. I winced when I saw the caller ID knowing I was about to be harassed into it.

  “Hello Mrs. Sinclair,” Whitney said into the phone confused as to why my grandmother would be calling her.

  “I’m sorry… Oh yes, the dress fitting… Yes, Alex told me…I am actually with her… Our class ran late but we will be right there… Okay… Goodbye Mrs. Sinclair.”