Rise of the Damned (Ruthless Claws #2) Read Online Elena Lawson

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Ruthless Claws Series by Elena Lawson

Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)

When there are enemies on all sides, knowing who to trust is paramount to survival.
We know who’s responsible for the deaths of Kincaid’s brothers now. Lucifer. The devil himself. My father. But he isn’t the only enemy. The angels are up to something, and tensions between the mortal and immortal cities are at an all-time high.
Kincaid wants to shield me from it all, but someone needs to be protecting him. With Lords of Hell still dropping like flies, I know I could lose him at any second. I can’t lose him. It’ll take both of us, and all the help we can find to put an end to the anarchy.
Ready or not, it’s time to become the monster I was always meant to be.



The sun filters in through the window of my small room in Kincaid’s house, a stark contrast to the haze of darkness settling over my mind. I thought I was stronger than this, but the things that have happened lately are proving me weak once again. I hug my knees to my chest, staring down at the pretty butterfly print on the fluffy white comforter spread over my bed, fighting the memories and the pain that haunt me.

Artemis healed my body, leaving me back in the shape I’d been in before, mostly. I still need some more time to get back to one hundred percent. More time, more rest, more space, and more patience from those around me. It isn’t just my body that needs to heal either. Being put at Carver’s mercy threw me back to the days in the dead house with Ford, and that is a mental cage I can’t seem to break loose of again. I’d been made a victim once again, and all the progress I’d made—all the strength I’d worked to gain and the efforts to build a tough shell around my mind and heart—had been blown away in the dreadful moments with Carver that seemed to drag on and on. Artemis can heal a great deal, but he can’t heal this. I’m not even sure that having Kincaid here will be enough, but I’m desperately hoping it will, because if a Nephilim isn’t enough, I don’t know what will be.

The door creaks open, and Kincaid is standing there as if my thoughts of him have summoned him to my side. He strolls in, looking as handsome and devilish as ever, but a frown mars his lovely features. I know it’s a sign of his concern and stress over my situation. My throat tightens, and I look away, tears pressing at the corners of my eyes. I mentally brush them aside and pull myself into an even tighter ball.

That concerned frown has been there since my return days ago, and I’m starting to wonder if it’ll ever go away. I swallow hard and clutch my legs more tightly to keep myself from reaching out, from holding out my arms to him like some needy toddler.

“How are you feeling, Na’vazēm?” His warm voice washes over me, soothing and soft.

I close my eyes but don’t answer him. The bed creaks as he sits next to me. Without a word, he wraps an arm around me, and I lean closer to him to lay my head on his chest. His nearness brings with it a sort of solidity. As his warm hickory and fire smoke scent fills my lungs, I can’t help but sigh, the panic that had been pressing on me all morning easing and giving way to a subtler sense of relief and gratitude.

The world around us seems to be in perpetual turmoil, a fucking hurricane gets stronger with each day, but as long as I have my anchor, as long as I have Kincaid, I feel like we can withstand the storm.

I feel like we could withstand everything in moments like this, but what happened with Carver proves neither of us is invincible. My current state proves even he can’t solve everything with a snap of those strong, nimble fingers.

“What do you need?” he murmurs.

He’s never been this sweet, this gentle. He’s demanding and pushy, and he takes. He takes, but he also gives, and lately, he’s been giving much more than I’ve been able to offer in return. He’s been acting more like an angel than Diablim. I guess that makes sense. He might not show it much, but he’s more than Diablim, whatever he likes to pretend. Tori said he was an angel a long time ago, that he fell from grace. I can believe it. He holds the attributes of an angel but also enough rebellion that I’m not surprised he was kicked out of Heaven.

“I’m fine,” I murmur. “I don’t need anything.”

It’s a lie, and we both know it. Art healed me, yes, but the pain remains. It lingers, and maybe it’ll always be there. We have no way of knowing right now, and I’m hitting such a low that I’m starting to think I’m meant to be in agony all the days of my life.