Breaking Fate (12 page)

She’d just agreed to change her life for a man she’d met over a week ago, who’d cracked through the walls of her heart and had taken root there. A man not of this world.

“You seem a little out of sorts there, Celt,” Týr drawled as they strode down the sidewalk in Chinatown, avoiding some of the stragglers scurrying to get home at the late hour. “You okay?”

“Darci moved into the castle,” Blaéz said, absently. He’d gone and locked up her brownstone, but there was something else he should have done… then it struck him. Of course. Darci would need clothes.

As he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, he met Týr’s incredulous stare. “What?”

Týr shook his head, a smirk riding his face. “No wonder you acted like the Empyrean does around Echo and went all annihilator on Darci’s attackers. I should have known.”

Blaéz ignored him, slid through the contact numbers on his phone, found what he wanted and made his call.

“Yes, Mr. Blaéz?” the store manager for Armani asked politely, despite the late hour. “How can I be of assistance? Do you require more leathers and t-shirts?”

“No, not me. I need clothes for a female.”

“What would she require?”

What would Darci need? He liked her in those short skirts. She had great legs. “Skirts. Tight ones.”

“Mini or pencil?”

Blaéz frowned.
Pencil?
With no idea what that was, safe was better, he decided. “Yes, both of those. And a couple of tops… er, everything a woman needs. I’ll send someone to pick them up.”

“Size?” the manager asked quickly.

Size? She was perfect — she felt perfect beneath his hands, his mouth — that’s probably not what the human meant. “Five-nine height and about a hundred and forty-five pounds. Shoe size… eight or nine — send both.” He ended the call and texted Hedori to pick up the purchase, then met Týr’s amused gaze. “What?”

“Did you just throw her over your shoulder and cart her to the castle sans clothes? Amazing, and you still breathe? You do realize humans have progressed past the caveman era, right?”

Blaéz cut him a cool stare. “Why are we still having this conversation?”

Týr grinned. “It’s good to see you fuck up for once like a normal person. Well, whatever the hell’s normal for you—” The taunt he would have tacked on died. His gaze narrowed on the two demon males farther down the sidewalk, rushing the human females along with them. “Those bastards are certainly in a hurry.”

With many of their ilk living in this realm, the Guardians had to abide by the tacit laws: can't kill them unless they hunt humans. However, no one said anything about not kicking their arses. But the acrid stench of sulfur drifting on the wet air stung Blaéz’s nostrils, triggering the cloying darkness inside his mind.

The duo cut into a dingy alley, shoving the women forward.

“Damn fuckers,” Týr muttered. “I got this. Go be with your female.”

“As soon as I take care of those scourges.”

Týr snorted. “Seriously, man. I know away from her you're back to being the pain in the ass we can't do without. Forget about the job tonight. Go. I’ll take your turn at the rift, too. Maybe I’ll get lucky and kick some demonii ass before morning.” He took off after the demons.

Denied a fight, Blaéz stopped on the sidewalk as the oily whisper filtered through his mental shields.
You can't escape me… you want what I have…

It was hard to shut off the voices as his ties to the dark side yanked at him. He could go to the cages, but he didn't want to return to the castle battered and broken. Darci waited for him. She’d give him the anchor he so desperately needed.

Ducking into a gloomy doorway, Blaéz dematerialized and took form on the front terrace a few minutes later. As he made his way to the enormous doors, amidst the scent of briny sea breeze, a familiar one of clover and mint drifted to him.

Eyes narrowed, he spotted the raven perched on the branch of a potted shrub on the terrace. As if it were an invite, The Morrigan telepathed into his mind,
Blaéz, you must hear me out.

Not in this lifetime. He headed for the door.

It’s about the female you have. She’s the key.

At the mention of Darci, he pivoted. “Stay away from her. Or those feathers you’re so proud of will be stuffing a pillow.”

With a furious flutter of wings, she swooped in front of him before he could move, shimmered and took form wearing a dark green hooded cape.

“You want a reason?” she asked him, her blue gaze fierce. “Why I gave you away as a child? I foresaw your destiny. Had you remained with me, you would have died. You were my youngest. I refused to let death win. I did the only thing I could—”

“Indeed. You denied me, took the easy path and gave me away. You, the great queen, Goddess of War and Death, couldn’t protect a child.”

She lifted agitated hands to him. He stepped back. She sighed. “If I had a choice, I would have never let you go. You have the gift of foresight, is it really that simple to ignore it when you know the ones you hold dear will die?”

He didn't care if there was a grain of truth in her words. He’d already paid for her decree with blood. With his soul. “You should have left me as a servant. I was better off.”

“Blaéz, you became
my
Hand, the most skilled warrior ever born.”

“I was your slayer,” he cut her off. “Your assassin — say it. That’s why you chose me as Inara's protector.”

“No…” She pushed off her hood and held his gaze with determined blue ones. “Blaéz, I
saw
that your destiny would still follow you into the battlefields, I couldn’t ignore that, so I had you reassigned to the Sumerian pantheon.”

Blaéz stared at her. She — his own mother had sentenced him to a worse hell — to Tartarus. A place where he’d wished for death many times over. And she could see nothing wrong with that.

“Then you failed.”
Death did win.
Blaéz walked away. He really wished she would leave him alone, go back to her wars. Why would she start haunting his life now? The fact she’d drawn Darci into this — no. He would stop whatever plans The Morrigan had. No one was coming near his female. Ever.

Blaéz pushed open the massive front door and walked into the foyer. Soft light warmed the place, highlighting the floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows. As he made his way upstairs, he halted. An eerie sensation slid through him. He scanned the castle but all was quiet… no, not evil. Unable to make sense of it, he headed to the second level. Fear punched him in his gut —
Darci!

He flashed to their bedroom, yanked open the door, and a body slammed into his, knocking him back several step.

“Darci!” He grabbed her.

“No-no—” she cried, hitting at him. “Let me go!” Her terror a thick cloud, suffocating him. Dammit, was she dreaming about her attack again?

“Shh,
a leannan.
” He swept her off her feet. “No one will ever hurt you. I have you.” He carried her back to bed and sat down, keeping her cradled on his lap. She shuddered, curled into him as if seeking his warmth. He pressed his lips to her head. “It’s okay.”

Her eyelids flickered open, irises a searing yellow of confusion, edged with pain. His chest constricted at the distress she was emitting.

“Blaéz?”

“Yes, it’s me. What’s wrong? A nightmare?”

Lurching upright, she stroked his face with frantic hands. “You were hurt—”

Hurt?
This was about him? She scrambled off him, crawled to his back and yanked up his shirt before he figured out what she’d planned to do.

A horrified cry escaped her.

Shit. It’s not like he hid his scars — damn hard to do that, but he wished he’d spared her this. Maloch, the bastard had left his mark. Blaéz froze as her warm fingers covered his flesh, covered the ugly reminders of a past that could never be banished.

“Oh, God—”

He frowned. She wasn’t covering his scars, but tenderly wiping at them as if to take them off. He angled around to her and found her lovely eyes misty with tears. “Darci, that’s from a long time ago. See? I'm whole. Unharmed. Look at me,
a leannan.
”

Blaéz took hold of her wrist and brought her back on his lap, he doubted if she heard him.

Her breathing erratic, she grasped his face in her palms, her gaze darting all over him. Then she kissed him. He drew her close but the kiss, unfortunately, wasn’t one of seduction leading to the long, hot carnal playtime he’d waited a lifetime for, but one of utter fear. It seeped out of her and into her fervent kisses, the need to reassure herself he was unhurt clear in her actions.

She cared about him. None ever had before. The thought warmed him right through his ice-encrusted heart, melting more of his defenses.

As long as her mouth was on him, he was okay with that. He returned her kisses and gently stroked her back… Shit, this was pure torture. His rigid cock throbbed painfully trapped in his leathers. He didn't dare move his hands even an inch lower than her waist, or he feared he’d have her flat on her back, stripped, and be buried deep inside of her.

He squeezed his eyes tight and forced himself to focus. To find out what the hell had terrified her.

Blaéz slowed the frantic kisses and eased back then he cupped her far too pale face. The few freckles he adored scattered across the bridge of her nose appeared like bruise marks. “Tell me.”

“I-I had a headache so I laid down to rest. Then th-that horrible dream started again…” She squeezed her eyes tight as if to ward off the images. “It was so real… a man trapped in a dark place being whipped with fire—” She inhaled a deep shuddering breath.

Whipped with fire?
Blaéz froze. His lungs burned as if all the air had been sucked out from the room. How — just how the hell had Darci dreamed about his past — his torture?

With a tiny moan, she rubbed her temples.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He had no idea if he was reassuring her or himself.

Without pain pills to ease her, he did the only thing he could, he willed her to sleep. Breathing hard like he’d run several miles, Blaéz laid her on the bed, drew the covers over her. He stalked to the sideboard in the turret living room, his skin the only thing holding him together. Poured a shot of whiskey and downed the liquid in one gulp. But the burning sensation didn't give him ease.
Christ.
He sat on the coffee table and stared at the empty glass in his hand. Of all the things he’d imagined, he’d never expected this. Somehow, Darci had tapped into his past through her dreams.

What the hell had he done to affect her in this manner?

Guilt clamored through him, ones he had no way of shutting out. He rubbed his face, wishing for the millionth time that liquor could give him oblivion.

He had to get out of there, be back in that emotionless void so he could sort through his chaotic thoughts. Yet he didn't move, remained glued to the table, his gaze on the bed.

At Darci’s low moan, he dropped the glass, shot to his feet and was at her side in a flash. “I'm here,
a leannan.
” He stroked her arm, and she stilled.

Blaéz shed his clothes, slid in beside her and drew her close as he struggled to put up his fragmented shields. He could live with his own personal demons, had done so for centuries. But he never wanted her tormented or to know his hell.

Once in his arms, she seemed to settle, her body curved into his and her arm slid over his waist. He pressed his lips to her head. Her pajama-clad leg moved between his thighs, pressing against his erection.

Blaéz groaned, his body pulling his mind to another need.

After millennia of feeling nothing, a carnal hunger burned deeply. Since he could do nothing about it, he moved her knee away. With her soft breath like a thousand taunting strokes on his chest, it was indeed going to be a damn long few hours until morning.

The next morning, Darci tightened the sliding towel around her body and winced at her wan reflection in the mirror.

God, what a disaster her first night at the castle had been. Her stomach still felt a little shaky from her horrible nightmare. Thank God, she hadn't freaked Blaéz out. It had ruined what should have been a perfect moment of finally being with a man she was drawn to both physically
and
emotionally. She really wished Blaéz had stayed, but the bed had been empty when she’d awakened.

Exhaling a frustrated breath, she scraped back her damp, tangled hair. She had no clothes. Blaéz had brought her here in just her jammies. And she had to be at work in an hour! Darn it, now what did she do?

About to go claim one of Blaéz’s t-shirts to wear, she spied a pile of shopping bags on the wooden chest. Inside them, she found skirts and several tops. How was it possible to get clothes — and name brands, too, that late at night? Ugh, the man was immortal. He could probably do anything he wanted.

Her brow rose at the short charcoal gray skirt she pulled out. After the horrendous night she’d had, now seeing this — something so normal, it made her smile. Being a man, naturally, shorter was better. She found underwear — scraps of sexy, lacy things that made her face heat. Instinctively, she knew he expected to see her wearing them for him.

Pulling on the gray skirt and a black, sleeveless top, she hunted around for a hair tie but found a pencil in the bureau instead that she used to anchor her strands in a topknot. In another bag she found shoes, grabbed a pair of gray pumps in her size, and dashed downstairs barefoot, almost mowing Echo down.

“Whoa!” The younger woman grabbed her, a husky laugh escaping. She smelled of chlorine, and her normally spiky hair was flat from her swim.

“Sorry,” Darci breathed, stepping back. “I didn't see you.”

“That’s okay.” She didn't seem surprised that Darci was here. “Where are you off to so early?”

“Work. I'm going to be late, and Lester will sulk — he’s my boss,” she explained, slipping on the pumps. “The demon spawn will make me work late to cover the time, and I’ll probably end up dusting shelves on both floors.” She straightened and met Echo’s amused gaze.

“He can't be that bad.”

“Oh, he is,” she said with a wry smile. “You haven’t seen Blaéz around, have you?”

Echo frowned. “Their meeting ended a while ago. Try the gym. If the nights have been quiet, they train sometimes, probably to get rid of all that pent-up energy. Better yet, call him.”

Damn. Both her phone and tote were back at her home. “I don’t have my cell.”

“Here, use mine.” Echo handed her iPhone over. “Star four.”

Darci called Blaéz. Several rings and it went to voicemail. “He’s not answering.” Dammit. “Any way I can get into the city?”

“There are more than enough cars in the garage. Ask Hedori where the keys are.” At Darci’s skeptical look, Echo grinned. “Good therapy when you're mad at your man. I took Aethan’s Reventón when I was pissed at him.”

A while later, and a bit disappointed that Blaéz had left her on her own, Darci left the island with the purring black Veyron under her control after Hedori had showed her how to work the unfamiliar vehicle.

A cool breeze flowed through the open car window, ruffling her hair. She pulled in a long, shaky breath and hunched over the steering wheel, her fragmented dream haunting her. Was it because Blaéz had said he’d been imprisoned in Tartarus? It had to be.

Heck, Blaéz was from the Celtic pantheon — a god! Hell, she worked in a library, granted she hadn’t read much about the gods and their pantheons before, but now she had a lot invested in them. And to think she’d always thought them a myth.

Darci drove down the quiet, tree-lined road toward Northern Boulevard when a dark figure suddenly appeared in the middle of the deserted road.

Slamming on the brakes, the tires squealed on the tarmac as the car came to a shuddering halt. Her heart crashing against her ribs, Darci sat there frozen in shock. Then fury exploded. She jumped out of the car and stormed up to the man striding toward her, looking all sorts of dangerous even in jeans and t-shirt.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She thumped Blaéz hard on his chest. Her fear at how close she’d come to hurting him wouldn’t leave. “I could have knocked you — hurt you badly — and don’t you dare tell me you can heal fast!”

He frowned as he searched her face. “I had to stop you. It seemed the quickest way. Why did you leave?”

“Work,” she snapped. “I have work! Did you forget?”

“Darci, did you not understand anything I said when I brought you to the castle? The dangers that come after me will be after you, too, now!”

“Yes, but that’s at night. Demoniis only roam the streets at night since the sun’s hazardous to them. You said so yourself.”

“I know I did. But you had a horrific nightmare, you should be in bed, resting,” he pointed out.

“Blaéz—” She sighed. “I'm fine. I called to tell you, but you didn't answer. Where were you anyway?”

“I went for a swim. You should have waited for me.”

“
You
should have wakened me or left a note,” she retorted. “Post-it. Great invention.
Darci, wait for me.
Simple, see?”

Shaking his head in exasperation, a hand on her back, he ushered her toward the car. “My mistake. I thought you needed to rest, I didn't realize you’d be this energetic and ready to tackle the day after last night.”

Wrinkling her nose, she glanced at him as he opened the car door, and found him scanning the area. She looked around too, but couldn’t see anything.

“Let’s get out of here—” he broke off and hauled her to him, as if shielding her with his body. Just as a gust of wind swirled around them, tearing at their clothes.

Darci clutched onto him, buried her head in chest against the debris flying around them. And when the squall died, she looked past him, her eyes widening. “Blaéz—”

“I know.”

***

Aware of the threat, Blaéz kept Darci behind him and turned. The moment he laid eyes on the tall, rangy male with a sword strapped to his back, Blaéz knew what this was.

The irony didn't escape him. When he’d longed for death, no one bothered, now that he finally had something to live for, they appeared like a damn rash. As if he’d be that easy to get rid of.

“Get inside the car,” he told Darci his gaze pinned on the dark-haired law-keeper.

Once she shut the door and was safely out of danger’s way, he hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets. Waited.

“You know why I'm here.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Don’t play games, Fallen.” The law-keeper drew out the gleaming, black-edged, silver blade from his scabbard. “It’s been a while since I’ve used the Mating Sword.” He stroked the blade’s edge. “So, I’d really hate to be starting with you. This is a warning. I'm sure you wouldn’t like to see that little mortal dead?”

At the mockery of the sword’s name, and more for threatening Darci, Blaéz punched him in the face. The satisfying sound of bones crunching filled the morning air.

The law-keeper roared in pain. “For that alone, I’ll make it hurt before I kill you!”

“You can try.”

Swiping the blood from his face and with a guttural growl, the law-keeper vanished in a flash of blue light.

Before he came back with reinforcements, Blaéz stalked back to the driver’s side and got into the car. Making a U-turn, he peeled back toward the castle, trying to clamp down on the fear that wouldn’t leave. Darci could have been alone, and the bastard would have thought nothing at threatening her.

“Obviously, he’s not a friend. You hit him. Why?”

At her worried tone, anger renewed, consuming him like a flame. It took a moment to speak. “Because it was either that or kill him.”

“What did he do?”

How did he explain about his old world’s archaic law, one that still bound him? They may not be in immediate danger, but those bastards from the pantheons worked fast. If Darci were just some one-night stand, no one would bother about them. But a mortal female taken as a mate was a definite transgression. Once mated, they would immediately blip on the pantheon’s radar because only mated couples bore children. And mortals were never meant to have the powers of gods or angels.

He couldn’t mate Darci. One needed a soul for that bonding to occur. Still, she had to know the risks.

“Besides the danger from demons and demoniis, there’s another. It comes from my old world. There are those from the pantheons who would hunt us.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because of their fucked-up laws. Mortals and immortals cannot form a liaison — cannot mate. What happened just now was supposed to be a warning,” he said, tone grim. “They want us dead. They won't win. I will kill every one of them.”

“Oh, dear God.” Her whispered prayer made his jaw harden. He parked in the large underground garage that housed their cars, SUVs, and bikes and turned to her.

She released her seat belt. Her beautiful eyes crowded with anxiety. “Blaéz, what do we do?”

“You? Nothing.” He picked up her ice-cold hand and pressed it to his lips. “I’ll keep you safe, but I need you to do something for me.”

She eyed him warily. “What?”

“I would never curtail your activities, but with this threat looming, we have to be careful.” She tensed as if she knew what was coming. “Darci, about your job—”

“You want me to leave.”

“Yes.”

***

Assassin gods from the pantheons wanted them dead? Darci struggled to get her mind wrapped around what had just happened as she got out of the car. Locking the vehicle, Blaéz grasped her hand and headed for the entrance, punched in a code, and the thick wooden panel opened. She stepped into a silent, rather utilitarian corridor. It flowed out into a canal of white walls and gray tiled floors with doors on either side.

“You haven’t been down here yet, right?” he asked. He probably wanted to take her mind off that near disaster, but she doubted anything ever could.

“No.”

“This is the basement. The door on your right is the arena — well, it’s what we call it. We train with swords and other weapons. Just be careful when you enter this zone, our powers can sometimes bleed out when we fight. It’s okay if we get hurt, but not you. So always check through the view window first—” he broke off. “No, scrap that. Just don’t enter when there’s a training session here. On the left is the weights room. A gym if you want to use it.”

She nodded, barely paying attention.

A moment later, he stopped and pressed the elevator button on the wall. The door swished open. Once they stepped inside, he watched her with those pale eyes that never seem to miss a thing.

Reaching out, he removed the pencil she’d used to anchor her hair. “It will be all right.”

Right.
Darci inhaled a shaky breath and pushed back her tumbling mane. Blaéz wasn’t kidding when he said he had dangerous enemies. A few weeks ago, she’d just wanted to meet a guy she had more than a physical attraction to, get married, and have a family. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected this — drawn into a deadly, supernatural world.

She paced to the elevator door in two steps then veered back to him. “It’s not only downright scary that someone can just pop up anywhere, at any place, and kill me, but extremely overwhelming.”

“No one will touch you.”

“Yes, as long as I don’t leave the castle.” What was she supposed to do? She chewed her lip. “Blaéz, if I leave work, I’ll go mad with inactivity.”

He frowned as the elevator stopped and the door slid open. “If work is what you want, come on. There is something.”

Her brow rose in skepticism. But deeper, hope took hold. “A job for me? Here?”

He nodded. With a hand on her back, he led her down the long corridor, through another lengthy passage and past several armored statues.

“Where exactly are we going?” she asked. Then added in a drawl to lighten his somber mood, “Does Hedori need someone to mop the floors, and you're showing me just how many hallways there are?”

His mouth quirked, the hint of a smile chasing away his brooding expression. He turned into another part of the castle. At the end of a short corridor, he pushed open an enormous arched, double door and waved her inside.

Curious, Darci entered. The smell of ancient parchment, old pages, and leather filled her nose. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom. Her mouth dropped open. She spun around in awe. “You have your own library.”

The looming bookshelves, some cloaked in shadows, stood like erect sentinels guarding the library’s ancient secrets. A slant of morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows, emphasizing dancing dust motes. Above, on the domed ceiling was a stunning mural of knights, angels, and ladies set in a bygone era.

A light flicked on, brightening everything and revealing the impossible beauty surrounding her. Two floors. The top level had a gallery with a spiral staircase in the corner connecting them. Ladders leaned against the shelves. Books from leather-bound ones to hardcovers and paperbacks stacked the shelves, beckoning her to explore them.