Absolute Surrender (19 page)

His blood firing in his veins, he went after her.

***

Stupid man! Was that what he thought?

First, he rushed out of the bedroom like she’d jumped him—okay, maybe she did. But that didn’t mean she did that with everyone, nor did it give him the right to treat her as if she did.

She stomped up the stairs.

Aethan caught her arm and spun her around to face him. “Don’t walk away from me.”

“Let go of me,” she said in a taut voice.

He yanked her closer. “That’s not the impression I got earlier in my room.”

The jerk! A flush of heat flooded her face in humiliation that he would mention how she’d clung to him. Echo wanted to run, but she dredged up the remnants of her pride and raised her chin. “So what if I touched him? I don’t need your permission to do so—”

“Don’t even go there,” he growled. “And stay away from him!”

“Yeah?” She shoved at him, her chest constricting at his accusatory attitude. “You don’t tell me what to do. I didn’t want to come here, but you insisted. I’d rather take my chances out there with the
demoniis
.”

She broke free of his hold, shot him a cold look, and headed up the stairs. A hollow pit formed in her stomach that he thought so little of her. He didn’t trust her.

“
Hedori
!”

She didn’t bother turning around at the roar that almost deafened her. What did she expect? That he would come chasing after her and beg for her forgiveness? Yeah, right. Things like that didn’t happen to her. She bit down on her pain, her feelings of inadequacy. She didn’t need to get her heart broken. Again.

Philip had walked away because he couldn’t handle her strength, her strange abilities, or her nighttime activities.

Aethan simply didn’t want her. He couldn’t have made it more obvious when he’d walked away from her in his bedroom.

***

Aethan waited for Blaéz on Canal Street, adjacent to the Buddhist temple, after hours of aimless trolling for
demoniis
. His grim expression had most people giving him a wide berth. And the stink from the road grills and the over-flowing dumpsters made even
his
cast-iron stomach rebel.

He scrubbed a weary hand over his jaw. How could he lose his temper with her? It was Týr’s way to get his licks in. Why the hell couldn’t she have just told him the truth? Instinct made him want to apologize, to rectify the situation. But reality was a cold shower. If he put things right between them, then what? Give her false hope?

Something hurt inside him. He rubbed at his chest.

No, it was better this way.

She already thought him a bastard. At least now he’d be able to keep his distance and she would live. He’d asked Hedori to keep an eye on her, so she wouldn’t take it in her head to leave while he was gone.

The tattoo on his arm itched in warning. Finally. The bastards were on the prowl. He shoved his troubles aside and forced himself to focus.

Blaéz approached from down the street, seconds later. They followed the
demonii
vibration. The trail led them to a dingy alley off Canal Street and a Taekwondo studio’s back entrance. Icy, insidious sensations crept over him as they drew closer.

Glass from a broken light fixture near the door crunched under their feet as they stepped into the building. The large, open room with a mirrored wall was empty. The scent of death permeated the air and, beneath it, clung the stench of
demoniis.

Adrenalin flowed. The tattoo on his biceps shifted. But Aethan didn’t summon his sword. On silent feet, he approached a closed door, opened it, and found four hulking humans, lounging about in the empty hallway that connected the large studio to other workout rooms.

When they saw Aethan and Blaéz, the humans leapt to their feet. The sound echoed off the walls as they thudded forward. The glazed look in their eyes made it clear the males, better suited to WWE, had been reduced to demon minions.

Itching for a good fight, Aethan charged. A taller male, with yellow hair and a broken nose, rushed him. Aethan evaded the ham-sized fist. The human came at him again like a tanker. He dodged. The tanker dove and landed a solid blow to Aethan’s stomach. A thick arm clamped around his neck like a vice and squeezed. Growling, Aethan elbowed the male in the sternum. Then he swung around and, lashing out, heard a satisfying crunch as the appendage broke again.

“My nose!” the male howled.

“Thank your deity that’s all I’m gonna break, human.” Aethan evaded another flying fist. A roundhouse kick sent the male slamming into a wall where he collapsed in a crumpled heap. Pivoting, he found the three remaining humans on Blaéz.

Those stupid dumbasses had no idea the Celt could kill them with a single thought. Like ants, they crawled all over him, because the apathetic bastard was letting them get their licks in.

And that was why only one idiot engaged Aethan in a fight.

For fuck’s sake
!

Blaéz’s proclivity for being used as a punching bag rubbed him raw right then. Aethan grabbed the shorter human with longish, spiky black hair. His heart missed a beat. The hair, so like Echo’s—

Stars exploded in his head as the ugly-ass bastard punched him in the face. That yanked his ass back into the game. Aethan shook his head clear and growled, clamping down the urge to rip the human’s head off. A fist to his temple and the bastard was out cold.

Inhaling roughly, Aethan swung around. “Blaéz, dammit! This isn’t time for play. Send the fuckers to sleep and let’s get rid of this infestation.”

Blaéz grunted. “Hand-to-hand combat should be fun, right?”

“That’s not fun-fucking anything. You should be kicking their dumb asses—” Aethan dragged another human off Blaéz and pounded him into oblivion. “Instead, you stand around and let them kick yours.”

Blaéz made short work of knocking out the last male on him. A knee in the groin, an upper-right cut, and the bastard joined his cohorts in Slumberland.

“You want to know the sensation riding me right now?” Blaéz asked him as he straightened his leather coat. “Nothing. Same shit as before.” He glanced at his torn tee. “Another shirt ruined and we still have to clean house.”

They headed for the closed door farther down the hallway. The stench of death grew stronger.

“They must know we’re here. What the hell are they waiting for?”

Blaéz fingered the rip in his shirt. “A personal invite?”

Aethan pushed the door open with his booted foot. The tattoo on his arm hummed relentlessly. The
demoniis
had to be concealed somewhere, watching them.

The small square office reeked of death. It contained a desk and a filing cabinet. And in the chair pushed against the wall was the body of a female, her terror-filled eyes wide in death. Her throat was torn, as if savaged by animals. Blood soaked her pink sweater and matted her long blonde hair.

‘
Let’s deal with this and the four outside before we track the bastards,
’
he shot to Blaéz through their mind-link.

“We have another.”

Aethan turned to find Blaéz peering under the desk. He strode around to him, and there under the desk, a young female, about ten, lay curled. She whimpered when she saw them, her hand clutching her ravaged throat. Tears rolled down her face.

She cringed farther away when Blaéz reached for her, her whimper more of a gasping gurgle. “Listen, female, if you want to live, come out from under there.”

The male had all the sensitivity of a damn rock.

Aethan pushed him aside and stopped. He had no idea what the hell he should do, so he willed her to look at him and held out his hand. Soon enough, she placed her small bloodied one in his. Gently, he drew her out, sent her to sleep and laid her on the floor. Holding his hand over the wounds on her neck, he let the healing light flow out of him. The light tingle of her psychic power brushed against his mind. His anger fired up again at the atrocity done to this defenseless little girl. The horror she must have lived through.

His tattoo stirred sharply against his skin.

Glancing up, he saw Blaéz tackling two
demoniis
through the open door. Good to see the male didn’t play when it came to those shitheads.

Aethan concentrated on healing the girl.
Almost done
. He watched as the skin slowly sealed from the inside, knitting together. He jerked forward as something pierced into his shoulder. Pain crashed through his body in waves.

Shit! The same freaking shoulder, every fucking time! He rose and stumbled, weakness taking him over from the dark power of the cursed
demonii
-bolt.

“Somethin’ wrong, Guardian?”

He wheeled around and saw the fucker who’d nailed him.

The
demonii
smirked, revealing stained fangs. “We know you have the psychic mortal. She can’t get away with killing us—I’m so going to enjoy taking her soul. Then we’ll come after you.” Another red bolt sparked in his hand.

With preternatural speed Aethan moved, grabbed the
demonii
by the shirt, and gave the asshole no chance to release the bolt. His power flaring, trapped beneath his skin, Aethan punched through the
demonii’s
chest, pulverizing bone and flesh.

“Don’t threaten what you can’t kill.” He seized the heart and let loose his powers. This way, Blaéz and the girl wouldn’t get caught in that deadly light.

Red eyes widened in horror
as the flame of Whitefire consumed him. The
demonii
disintegrated into ash seconds later.

The other
demoniis’
dusty remains lay scattered around Blaéz’s feet
.
Aethan pulled out his cell phone. “Damn, phone’s fried again. Call 911. I’ll deal with the dead female.”

Aethan went over and held out his hand to obliterate her. He couldn’t leave this killing for human authorities to find.

“It’s quite strange,” Blaéz murmured, “that they didn’t abduct these females, considering they were both psychic.”

“This has nothing to do with the prophecy. These gluttonous fuck-heads only care for the rush consuming a psychic’s soul would give them.”

And Echo was damn well staying put even if he had to ask Blaéz to take over her protection.

CHAPTER 14

Aethan arrived back at the castle in the early hours of the morning. After the incident at the Taekwondo studio, weakness was overtaking him. With his pain-in-the-ass injury fast deteriorating, he wasn’t fit to fight a damn roach.

He stood on the portico and let the quietness, the briny air seep into him. Exhaling roughly, he scanned the perimeters of the boundary. Satisfied all was quiet, he pushed open the front door and stopped in the foyer.

Aethan tried not to look upstairs or let his mind wander to Echo. He shrugged off his leather coat and cursed. Pain raced through his shoulder and spread to his neck. Ripping off his skin, layer by excruciating layer, would have been far better. Dizziness plagued him. Unsteady, he braced a hand against the wall, shut his eyes and inhaled a ragged breath. The acrid stench of burnt hair drifted to him.

He pulled the strands to the front. Wonderful! Not only did the fuckers destroy another coat of his, but they’d ruined his hair too! Cursing, he cut through the kitchen and made his way to the butler’s quarters.

Aethan left Hedori’s room ten minutes later, his hair shorter, and a little steadier on his feet.

Echo was right, Lila’s potion tasted like shit but it counteracted the weakness from the
demonii
-bolts. He rolled his taut shoulder. Damn thing hurt like a bitch, but he had something else to do before he treated his wound with the potions and salves Lila left for them. The only way he’d accept the oracle’s help was if one of the others tied him down, and made the call.

He detoured through the kitchen and found Blaéz and Týr there, chowing down on humongous roast beef sandwiches. Týr reached out for the mustard, slathered it on his bread, and added several more slices of meat, before he slapped the thing back together and took a bite.