Absolute Surrender (28 page)

“She—” He blew out a breath. “My powers filled her, and her heart gave out. I couldn’t save her. I’ve never been with a mortal again. That’s why I must be careful with you. Every time I touch you, it gets riskier. I fear my need for you will push me over the edge. Make me lose control. It terrifies me of what could happen to you.”

Each heartbeat became more agonizing than the last. “What does this mean? You’re afraid you’ll hurt me, so you won’t touch me? Won’t make love to me?”

He captured her face in his hands before she could draw another pained breath, tenderness banishing the austerity of his gaze.

“Hell no.” He slid his mouth over hers. “I can’t
not
touch you. I might as well stop breathing. I will find a way out of this, I promise. But we have to be careful.”

Echo rested her forehead against his chest and squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to cry, wanted to yell at the unfairness of her life. Her pheromones played havoc and ruined relationships for her, and now this.

Aethan could kill her. Not something she wanted to hear, especially from the man she was in love with. But he wasn’t really a man, was he?

She pushed away from him and looked him over. Tall, muscular and heartbreakingly handsome, even with the grim expression he sported. His thick hair he’d tied back in a tail, revealed the gleam of silver earrings. He was perfect.

She tried to understand what he saw in her, and failed. “Why me, Aethan?”

“You haunt me,” he said simply. “From the first moment I saw you, there was no looking back for me. You are mine, Echo. My heart. My soul. My destiny. And I will never give you up.”

***

Echo walked into the bedroom wearing blue flannel bottoms and a darker blue T-shirt. She smoothed a shaky hand over her tee. She’d hoped a shower would calm her nerves, help her come to terms with what she’d learned about Aethan.

Being an angel with scary-ass powers didn’t matter to her. She fell in love with the man she thought him to be, from the moment she saw him in front of the stone angel statue. The irony of it brought a wry smile to her lips.

Running a hand through her damp hair, she turned and saw him come out of the dressing room. He’d changed, too, and wore jeans and a T-shirt now. Nothing remained of the deep wound she’s inflected on his biceps, just a thin red line across the tattoo.

“Can you use your sword if you’re wounded on the tattoo?” she asked, worried that she’d left him weaponless.

His gaze softened. A hand on her nape, he drew her close and laid his lips on hers in a tender kiss. “No. But I’m always prepared, so don’t worry about it. Here.” He held out the obsidian dagger.

“No. It’s yours—”

“No, it’s not. It never was. I inherited that along with my tattoo. It’s my mate’s dagger—yours.”

“You’re with me because of a
dagger
?”

“No.” He shook his head, amusement brightening his eyes at her snippy tone. “I’m with you because you are mine. I don’t need a mystical dagger to tell me how I feel. Besides, that’s no ordinary blade but a Gaian one. It can’t be stolen, ever.”

“But I did, from you.” She smirked because she loved besting him. Taking the blade from him, she trailed her finger over the design on the guard and said softly, “It glowed the first time I touched it.”

“I guess it would, since it recognized you. However, that blade will summon me if you’re in dire danger.”

“Like tonight?”

“No. I was faster,” he retorted. He took the dagger from her and tossed it on the table. “It can never be stolen, it will always return to you. And if you need it, will it to you. Why didn’t you tell me about your friend being killed by a
demonii
?”

The abrupt change in conversation froze her. He didn't look happy. Kira must have told him the truth.

A knock sounded on the door, and a gush of relief filled her at her momentary reprieve. Aethan crossed over and opened it. Hedori came into the room, carrying a tray which he set on the coffee table.

“My lady, I’m glad to see you unharmed,” he said.

She offered him a smile while embarrassment made her want to squirm.

Did they all know Aethan had found her in an alley where she’d attacked him? Of course, they did. Týr and Blaéz had helped him search for her, and Hedori had been oozing anxiety by the time they got back to the castle.

After Hedori left, Echo sank into the armchair, her stomach pitching. She didn’t dare tell Aethan she’d seen Lazaar again...she frowned, the confusing scent of the demon troubling her.

Avenging Tamsyn was too important to give it up. She just hoped Aethan would understand once she told him about those years on the street. He had a right to know why she couldn’t leave this alone. She poured herself coffee, hoping it would settle her nerves, and took a sip.

Aethan stopped a few feet in front of her and waited.

“My parents died in a mugging when I was four,” she said softly, staring into the black liquid in the cup. “I had no other family, so I ended up in foster care. I hated it there, really hated it. But I was too young to do anything about it. Not for lack of trying. Complaining to the social workers just made things worse.” The memories of long nights locked in the cold, dark basement sent a shiver over her skin. She turned the mug in her hands, seeking fresh warmth. “A few years later, I ran.”

She glanced up at him.
Not a flicker of emotion showed on his striking face, but those eyes swirled with sympathy, with knowledge.

“You already know, don’t you?” she whispered, her stomach cramping at the realization. Had he known from the beginning?

He nodded. There was no apology in his expression as he came closer. “The moment I found out you were my mate, I wanted to learn everything about you. I think Lila must have understood that. It’s probably the only reason she showed me.”

“Showed you?” The spasm worsened. She pressed down on her tummy. “Everything?”

“No. Just your time in foster care.” His expression hardened. “It makes me angry to know they got away with what they did to you. Gods help them if I ever find them.”

“Don’t, Aethan.” She set her mug down, understanding that his anger was for her, for the way she’d been abused by her foster family. “It happened a long time ago.”

“How old were you when you left?”

“Nine.” Echo rubbed her arms again, unable to stop her shivers, despite the heat from the fire. She remembered every terrifying minute of the night she’d snuck out of her foster family’s house in the dark hours with her meager possessions, never to return.

“It wasn’t easy living on the streets, but I got by. Then I t
urned thirteen, entered puberty, and my pheromones created worse problems. Pimps, hustlers, anything with a Y chromosome came after me. I didn’t know why back then and I lived in terror whenever I saw a man.
That’s when I met Tamsyn.”

She smiled, remembering her friend, how fast she’d whipped out her stiletto and nicked the pimp in the throat, forcing him to let Echo go. “Tamsyn had already acquired a badass reputation on the streets.
She was older, street savvy. She taught me how to defend myself. Of course, being so young, fighting wasn’t always a good idea. Running and hiding was better, but she never left me alone.” Echo pressed the scar on her forehead, easing the headache building behind it.

“One night Tamsyn went out. She had to. We hadn’t eaten in two days. I was ill so I remained behind. Then I saw him, the
demonii
standing in the basement where we slept. He stood there sniffing the air. The other kids scattered, hid, but he wasn’t interested in them. He came for me. He–he tore my clothes.” She squeezed her eyes closed at the horrific memory, her voice a whisper. “I’m just grateful Damon found me when he did.”

When warm hands covered hers, her eyes flickered open. Aethan sat on the coffee table, opposite her.

“Tell me the rest. What happened?”

She swallowed her tears and forged on. “After Damon adopted me, Tamsyn and I remained friends through the years. Five years ago I met Tamsyn in Chinatown, had dinner, and was heading for my car, when Tamsyn grabbed my arm and hauled me into an alley. She said we were being followed by
demoniis
, she’d handle them, and I had to get the hell out of there. She shoved me toward the back entrance of a bakery and ordered me to run because she couldn’t be bothered to worry about my ass in a fight. But I knew why. At eighteen, I still had no idea how to use a dagger or fight.”

Echo pushed to her feet unable to sit still. “I was half-way out of the bakery but I knew I couldn’t leave. I had to make sure she was all right. I hurried back. She’d already killed one of them. But the other, he was stronger. He’d disarmed her—his mouth on hers as he siphoned her soul, then–then he tore at her neck.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Aethan said quietly.

“You don’t understand. Tamsyn was wearing my sweater.” She choked on her words. “He didn’t want her. He wanted me, was drawn by the scent of my pheromones on my sweater. He said she smelled delicious.”

CHAPTER 19

Aethan stared out the kitchen window as he waited for the others to come in from the night patrol. He hoped Echo would rest and get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. The depth of her despair had him pacing the length of the kitchen. He understood her anger, her need for revenge, but he couldn’t let her put herself in danger again.

Gods
! He pulled out a chair and dropped into it. Shutting his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. What a mess.

Footfalls echoed in the corridor. The door pushed open and Blaéz came in, followed by Týr.

“Damn
demoniis
must be taking a break,” Týr complained, crashing into the chair opposite him. He looked at Aethan, his eyes sparking with his old amusement. “The highlight of this evening was watching Echo make you run around in circles. It damn sure made my night.”

Aethan let Týr’s near-friendly dig slide, grateful the male chose to speak to him again. Not that he deserved it. Besides, they’d dropped everything and came to his aid when Echo went missing and that meant a great deal more than the jabs from Týr.

“She’s okay, then?” Blaéz asked, as he shrugged off his trench coat. He tossed the garment on a chair and ran a hand through his hair.

“If you mean unharmed, yes.”

“Why did she leave the protection of the castle in the first place?” Týr asked. He pulled out his pack of M&M’s, ignoring the snacks on the table, and dumped several on his palm.

Aethan ignored the question. Like he was going to tell them the reason. That he couldn’t claim his mate. Unloading his crap wasn’t happening.

“Echo lived on the streets as a child.” Yes, that got their attention off why she left.

Týr paused in his selection of all things green. “You mean homeless?”

“What other kind is there?” Blaéz asked.

“She was too young and an older girl befriended her, watched out for her, especially when puberty hit. Kept her safe from the Y’s—”

“The what?” Týr asked, confused.

“It’s what she calls the males.”

“Damn, I like her,” Týr said, grinning. His shoulders lifted in a shrug at Aethan’s cold stare. “Don’t go getting all fired-up again. I know she’s your female.”

He dropped the rest of the candy into the package.

The Norse’s annoying habit of eating his sweets according to the Pantone Color Chart made Aethan growl,
“Why can’t you eat the damn things straight?”

“They’re all the same beneath the fancy colors.” Blaéz pointed out.

Týr glanced at them, his expression serious. “It’s art. Each spectrum has to be enjoyed, savored, especially green.”

And the shit-eating smirk was back. Made Aethan realize he’d missed the bastard. “After Echo was adopted,” he continued, bracing his arms on the table. “She kept up her friendship with Tamsyn, until five years ago when the
demonii
attacked them. Here’s the thing: the
demonii
said she smelled delicious. Tamsyn was wearing Echo’s sweater.”