Absolute Surrender (4 page)

With his mind back on the job, he went after her.

She spun around when he brushed up against her back, shot him a glare of exasperation, then stalked off, mumbling something about wretched pheromones being the bane of her life.

Aethan offered no apology for his actions. He got what he wanted. Her deadly blade was now in his possession. If this was the only way to get her to talk, so be it.

“Answer a few questions and I won’t bother you again.”

“Yeah, yeah. We all have dreams, doesn’t mean we get what we want—”

Her mouth dropped open as he flipped her dagger into the air. The shock on her face made his day.

He spun the dagger again. “Tell me about this.”

Her belligerent attitude was toast.

“You–you stole that!”

“Semantics. I’m waiting.”

That seductive mouth flattened, her gaze pinned on the blade. He knew better than to get too close and give her a chance to nab the thing from him.

“This is New York. I’m not stupid enough to traipse around unprotected,” she retorted. Her hand shot out and she snapped her fingers. “I want my dagger back.”

“This is sharp. You could hurt yourself.” He deliberately ran a finger over the blade’s edge and had the pleasure of witnessing her irritation increase. A furious glower flayed him, before she stomped off to the front of the cathedral.

He followed, amusement filling him. Slipping her blade into his coat pocket, he watched as she chased off a tabby cat pawing through her bag. Then just to see those eyes spark again, he deliberately moved closer. Hastily, she straightened and collided with him. A muffled gasp of pain escaped her.

Two things registered as he caught her. She was hurt and he had a raging hard-on.

Him and his dumbass ideas.

***

Echo struggled to breathe. The discomfort in her shoulder barely registered as a wave of pure need streamed through her heated body.

The man was like coiled steel beneath her hands. An invitation she couldn’t resist. She stroked him across his broad chest and bunched his shirt for good measure. He hauled her closer—he probably thought she was going to fall. His fault entirely, she decided, for being so damn hot and tempting. Every firm inch of his rock-hard body was aligned against hers, and she darn near melted.

He shifted and her lungs seized at the hardness pressing against her stomach.

Uh oh!
Her eyes flew to his.

“Are you hurt?” Concern crossed his face. But he didn’t seem in the least bit bothered by his body’s reaction to her. Or the fact she was aware of it.

“I’m fine.” It surprised her that she was still capable of speech. The molten intensity in his silver-flecked eyes disturbed her. Need twisted her insides, but reality smacked her upside the head. How could she be this stupid? Men followed her for one reason only.

Stupid, cursed pheromones.

She pushed away from him. His hard-on was just a reaction to her pheromones. Disappointment slid into her tummy like a lead ball. She’d drunk the foul-tasting suppressant potion Gran made for her without fail—so why the hell couldn’t she ever get an honest response from a man?

“Look, I don’t know who you are. Just be glad there’s one less of those things in the world.”

The heat in his gaze flickered out. Something dark and lethal slid into those gray depths. “What things?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “
Demoniis
, all right? Now give me back my blade.”

His expression changed to one full of menace. It made her wary. “You are
not
to hunt them.”

“Fine.” Whatever. She held out her hand for her weapon.

At her easy capitulation, he continued to stare at her, making no move to return her blade. Okay, so she’d lied. She simply didn’t care to get into an argument over a decision she made years ago. She’d find the fiend who killed her friend and no one would stop her. No matter how good-looking he was.

“How did you kill the
demonii?
They’re not easy to take down.”

“What are you?” she asked instead, searching his face as if she could find her answers there.

“Goth cop.”

“Ha, ha.” Damn man thought he was so funny. Mr. Invincible had to be a
demonii
hunter. They certainly were an arrogant lot. It was the only thing that made sense, considering his interest in how she killed the fiends.

“How did you kill the
demonii
?” he repeated.

She smirked. “What can I say? I’m that good.”

***

Gods, but she had a mouth on her. One, he desperately wanted to taste.

Aethan shoved his hands in his pockets and felt her blade. He had to get his head back on track and do his job. Hauling himself out of his lust-filled haze, he opened his mind to hers—what he should have done straight off from the get go. He waited a heartbeat. There. He picked up the slight vibrations of her psychic powers—then an odd sensation hummed through him. A light, sparkling touch of her essence brushed up against his. Stunned, he slammed his shields shut. His heart pounding hard against his ribs, he tried to forget the intimate, iridescent caress of her energy.

She wasn’t the female they searched for. Definitely no
pyre and rime
in her. An unexpected rush of relief filled him. “You’re psychic—though not a strong one.”

Her lush mouth dropped open at his words. But her surprise fast turned to sarcasm. “Jeez, thanks for the newsflash.”

She picked up her backpack and tried to walk around him.

“I’m not done.” He stepped in her path. “You
need to start explaining.”

“And you can bite me,” she shot back with all the sweetness of acid.

A hell of a provocation that set him off. He yanked her forward, ignoring her gasp of outrage and bit her. Coherent thoughts flew out of his head the moment his mouth clamped down on her neck. Her enticing warmth, the fragrant taste of her skin coated his tongue and scattered his senses.

For a moment, she remained utterly still. Probably from the shock, he decided, before she started struggling. He tightened his grip on her waist and a delicious friction built between them. Her heart pounded against his chest like a drum-roll. He licked her slowly over the bruised skin—

She shoved at him, color streaking her cheekbones. “Are you crazy?”

Probably
. “No. Just gave you what you asked for. Prepared to talk, or do we go for round two? I’m game. Are you?” He dropped his hands to her hips, keeping their lower bodies connected.

“All right.” She scowled. “I see them.”

He let her go, stepped back, and shoved his hands into his coat pockets—away from the temptation of her. As ideas went, this was a really bad one because he was so damn hard, his leathers chafed against his aroused groin.

“I can see auras. Demons are red—a pulsing red for the soul-eating fiends!” Then she snatched her fallen backpack and sped off for the cathedral entrance as if the hounds of hell were after her.

Aethan watched her go. Had he completely lost his fucking mind? Indulgence in a fantasy wasn’t something he could afford, especially not with a human. Gritting down on whatever the hell had gotten hold of him, he crushed the compelling need to go after her. He took off for the far side of the cathedral and dematerialized.

***

Echo stepped inside the cathedral for the first time since she’d lived in foster care. She leaned against the stone wall in the dim entrance, a hand pressed to the side of her neck. She could still feel the glide of his lips, the sharp sting of his teeth, and the lick of his tongue on her skin. Desire flared awake, as if his mouth on her neck had a direct link to everything that made her a woman.

This should’ve been a run-of-the-mill kill. Instead, she’d gotten entangled with a man unlike any she’d ever met.

Exhaling roughly, she slipped her hand into her jacket pocket, pulled out
his
obsidian dagger, and allowed satisfaction to spill through her. He’d soon find out that what he’d stolen from her, she’d now replaced. Taking his dagger had been too easy. When she fell against him, distracted as she’d been by his hot body, she’d made sure to nip his dagger off him. A quick sleight of her hand and she slipped it into her jacket pocket.

The smooth black metal of the hilt fitted her palm as if made for her. The etching on the guard formed a swirling pattern. She traced a finger over the design and the obsidian blade began to glow, a deep amber taking over the black. Warmth invaded her palm before the light faded.

How odd.

She examined the blade up close. No light. Nothing. Just the dull glint of cool obsidian. The sound of light footsteps hitting the tiled surface had her raising her head. Slipping the blade into her backpack, Echo smiled at the tall, curvy redhead hurrying toward her.

Kira Smith was one of the few people Echo called a friend. They’d been an unlikely pair ever since they met over ten years ago, Kira, Gran’s vivacious granddaughter, and Echo, a withdrawn street kid. But their relationship worked and had strengthened over the years.

“Echo? You came inside?” Kira’s shock gave way to a relieved grin, displaying two perfect dimples in her latte colored face. “I don’t care what made you change your mind, I’m just glad you did.” She gave Echo a quick hug.

“I thought about what you said, about letting go. Tamsyn’s gone.” The excuse came off the top of her head as she pushed aside her strange encounter with the sexy Goth.

“You’re gonna come to church now?”

Echo exhaled in resignation as guilt flooded her. The only reason she’d even entered a church again was because she ran from a man. Now, she was trapped by her friend’s happy expression in a place she’d avoided for over a decade. “Yeah, okay. But not to service, Ki. Only when you do the candle thing on Sundays.”

“Guess it’s better than nothing.” Kira’s smile turned sad. “Echo, Tamsyn was my friend, too, and I miss her as well.”

“She shouldn’t have died. I should never have left her alone in that alley.” Pain filled her at the memory.

“Then you would have died, too,” Kira said quietly. “You couldn’t predict those
demoniis
stalking you both. It’s fate, Echo.”

“Fate? If you believe in that crap, it’ll mess with your head.
We
pave our own path in life.
We
fight for what we want, and that’s not fate.”

“You’re far too melancholy.” Kira sighed. “Come on, let’s get out of here. What shall we watch tonight, an
LOTR
marathon?”

“Oh, God no!” Echo choked back a wry laugh, thinking of the
demonii
she killed earlier. “Please, something else. I’m quoting lines now.”

CHAPTER 3

Twilight crept over the Guardian’s island estate off Manhasset Bay on Long Island Sound. The wet scent of brine and green woodland caressed Aethan’s skin as he scanned the area around him. Sweat dripped down his face, the chilly air doing little to cool him. Mist floated around the tall dark trees and drifted into the clearing.

He studied the swirling miasma, tracking the shadowy movement within. The figure drew closer. Aethan knew better than to lose eye contact with the crafty warrior. Blaéz was another of the fallen gods, but unlike Týr, he was from the Celtic pantheon. His glowing eyes fixed on Aethan like a rabid wolf, his short, black hair plastered to his skull. He made no move to get back in the game but persisted to skirt around him.

Aethan clenched his fingers, his knuckles bruised to the bone. Weapon-free combat was a pain in the ass, but it eased some of his edginess. Good thing Blaéz preferred hands-on fighting. Like him, Blaéz wore a pair of loose black Gi pants and T-shirt.

Through the haze he saw the shimmer on the warrior’s thick biceps. Fuck! Blaéz had to go and do that. Use the one weapon none of the Guardians would summon without a reason. The sword of Gaia always remained in the form of a tattoo, unless they were on the hunt for
demoniis
.