Breaking Fate (14 page)

She pulled her mouth free, her eyes shut tight and whimpered.

“Look at me,
a leannan
.”

At his demand, those passion-glazed eyes flickered open as he drove his cock into her. Her muscles clamped him like a vise, and with a cry she crested and fell. Blaéz slammed harder into her and groaned. His own release rolled down his spine and exploded in a burst of light. He stiffened, spilling himself into her. Incredible pleasure flooded him. Brightness warmed him like rays of sunlight, filling the abyss in his chest. The connection so profound… it was almost as if their souls had connected.

Her head lolled on his shoulder, shaking him out of the strangeness he felt.

“Darci?”

She didn't respond. Her eyes closed, her face flushed from their bout of lovemaking.

Panic surged. Had he hurt her? He flashed to his bed and laid her down. Her arms fell away from him. He scanned her for injuries but found nothing. Dammit, he shouldn’t have been so rough with her. His saliva would heal whatever bruises he’d caused. He parted her thighs and licked her, worked her gently with his tongue, all his focus on her still face.

Come on, love, wake up.

Her legs tightened around his head. She breathed deeply. A dreamy smile touched her mouth. “That, was amazing — we forgot the condom.”

Amazing?
She damn near gave him a heart attack.

In retaliation, and because he wanted to see her come again, he grasped her clit with his lips and sucked hard. She jerked and squealed in protest, grabbing his head to pull him off.

Ah, still a little sensitive, was she? He smiled. Perfect. For the scare she’d given him, he trapped her hands at her sides, pushed her past her comfort level and drew out another orgasm from her.

As she fell again, he crawled up her body and said, “Don’t need a condom, love. I’m safe — can't pick up any diseases… can't give you
anything
.”

***

Blaéz brushed his lips over Darci’s hair, inhaling her scent merged with the musky smell of their love-making. She lay curled at his side, eyes closed, legs tangled with his. He’d tired her out with his demands. But he couldn’t get enough of her. Only because she needed a break, he let her be.

Absently, he stroked her arm she’d slung over his waist. And like a cunning snake, reality slithered into him after the most transcendent moment of his long life. He may have taken Darci as his, but he could never claim her in the elemental way of his kind. There would be no bonding of souls. At the thought of just who had his, his euphoria dimmed and faded. His fingers clenched.

“Blaéz!”

At her sharp cry of pain, he shot upright. Even in the gloom, he saw the red welt on her upper arm. Her shock. What had he done? Anger and self-disgust pulsing through him, he pushed off the bed and crossed to the dressing room. With jerky movements he changed, had no idea what the hell he pulled on, and walked out.

“Blaéz, wait-wait.” She got out of bed, naked.

As if his eyes had a mind of their own, his gaze slid down her body, and need corked him hard, like he hadn’t just spent hours with her, licking, tasting and touching every inch of her.

Cunning laughter erupted inside his mind.
She will never be yours, try all you like to convince yourself of it.

His mouth compressed at the truth.

She’d yanked the sheet from the bed and covered herself, embarrassment reddening her face.

He’d made her uncomfortable. His self-loathing increased, as did his urge to put his fist through the wall. He wanted to tell her she was perfect, that
he
was the fucked-up one. All that came out was, “I'm… sorry.”

“You didn't hurt me — I'm fine.”

“Fine? Don’t sugarcoat my fuck-ups, Darci. I hurt you and
that
should never have happened.”

“I don’t understand — ”

“No, you wouldn’t.”
I'm trapped by a bastard who controls me, who’s ruining this incredible moment.
Christ, he was a fucking fool, with a fool’s dream. An abomination who’d tapped into her emotions, pretending he was normal —
normal?
What a goddamn joke.

Unable to say it, or look at her again and see the hurt eclipsing her happiness, he walked out. How could he explain this powerless feeling surging through him? This helplessness. No matter that he’d claimed her physically, she wasn't truly his, would never be. And he wanted her with every fiber of his being. He wanted her tied to him in the elemental way of their kind — with a soul bonding.

He jogged down the stairs to the foyer. Outside, he dematerialized, and moments later, he took form near the fighting pit downtown. The stench of fish hit him square in the face. Shoving open the heavy metal door, he headed down the dimly lit passageway into the glaringly bright arena and straight to the cage.

He willed the skinny opponent to leave. Pulled off his tee and flung it aside. A human built like a Mack truck rushed him, fists the size of a huge boulder crashed into his ribs and stole his breath. Blaéz went flying back into the rigid bars. Agony flooded him as a rib cracked. This pain he relished. It was all his, not drawn from others. He needed to hurt.

“Is that all you got?” he taunted Mack man.

Another punch in the jaw and blood ran warm down his chin. He licked away the coppery flavor. It took away the taste of Darci from his mouth.

As his lingering emotions faded, nothing remained but pain…

Darci opened the tall French windows in the library and breathed in the fresh forest air. It did little to ease her growing concern. In an hour or so it would be dusk, and she hadn't seen Blaéz since he’d left her that morning. At the thought, she rubbed a hand over her face. He hadn't hurt her, not really. She wished he’d talked to her instead of closing up.

He’d answered her call, but said he was busy and he’d see her later. What was so important for him to be gone the entire day?

A black bird flew onto the sun-drenched windowsill and settled on the ledge, distracting her from her thoughts.

“At least one of us is having a good day,” she murmured to her feathered companion, rubbing her temples. But the achy wooly sensation inside her skull wouldn’t ease, and worrying only made her head hurt worse. With hunger gnawing her stomach at missing lunch, Darci left the silent, book-lined room and made her way to the kitchen. As she opened the door, Hedori turned and smiled. “M’lady, what can I get you?”

The shock of what he’d called her struck her silent for a second — right, she was with Blaéz. He called Echo the same, didn't he? Darci scrambled to find her voice. “I wanted a sandwich.”

“Any preference?”

“No—no. I’ll get it.” She wasn’t used to people doing things for her. With a slight incline of his head, Hedori went back to slicing vegetables.

From the fridge, she pulled out a Tupperware of sliced roast chicken and a jar of mayo. She set about making her sandwich then asked Hedori, “Can I help with anything?”

His odd orange-green eyes came back to her. He might be older than the warriors, but he was just as good-looking, and his eyes were very pretty, she realized.

“No. It’s all under control. I like working in the kitchen.”

Really? She usually put things off and cooked when she couldn’t stomach any more take-out. “This is such a huge place. How do you see to everything?”

Hedori scooped the sliced cucumbers into a salad bowl. “I take care of the warriors’ quarters. With the rest, I have help.”

Darci paused from adding low-fat mayo to her chicken slices. “I thought people — humans — didn't come here?”

“They don’t. I have others who work here…” he paused. “Fae.”

Her mouth dropped open. “As in fairies?”

“No,” he said, smiling. “That’s fairy tales. Faes appear like you and I. These ones are from Exilum where most of the working folks live — they do this for Michael. They’re a reserved lot, don’t like to be seen by humans.”

It would explain why their rooms were always spotless and dust-free, despite her tidying up. Unable to wrap her head around that, Darci walked back to the fridge, took out the apple juice, and poured some into a glass. As she sipped her drink, she glanced at the kitchen door. Perhaps it was instinct that had her setting her glass down and walking out into the corridor.

Blaéz stepped out from a room she had yet to see and limped away from her down the hallway. He was hurt?

“Blaéz?” In a burst of speed, she sprinted after him. He stiffened. It would have thrown a spanner in her flight, but she was too worried to care. She rounded his side and faced him. Horror surged at his bruised face.
Oh, dear God — not again!

A split on his brow had scabbed over, and an ugly purple contusion marred his left jaw.

“What happened?”

He shrugged, his stiff movements hiking her worry. “A fight. I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

“A fight? With demoniis?” She really hated his job. He got hurt every time he went out. She reached for his arm. “Let me help you.”

He stepped back, jaw tightening. “I'm fine.”

“No, you're not. You can barely walk upright—”

“Chrissakes, leave it alone. I'm not a babe that needs tending to for every scratch.”

She stiffened at his curt words. This wasn’t the tender lover from last night. She knew he could be cold, just never expected him to be so with her. “So, what do you suggest?” she snapped. “Not care when I see you injured and just walk away?”

He slipped his hands into his pockets, head lowered, he stared at her. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then he just shook his head. “I'm okay.”

As he walked away, Darci stood there and inhaled a shaky breath, lost in a sea of confusion and hurt. She watched him limp toward the back stairs, disappearing into the stairwell. After the most incredible night with him, she hadn’t expected this.

The ache in her chest spread. Was that the kind of relationship he wanted? Sleep with her and nothing else? The thought stole the air from her lungs.

“Darci, wanna grab a bite?” Echo asked.

Wonderful, she had to have heard them. The younger woman came in her line of vision, her mismatched eyes dark with concern and sympathy. Darci couldn’t even force a smile, so she didn't try. “I'm not very hungry. I-I'm going to the library.”

She hurried down the corridor, but Echo was faster. She hooked her arm through Darci’s, steering her the opposite way. “Okay, we can eat later. Come on, I want to show you some of the estate. It’s beautiful, and you’ve been buried in that stuffy old library all day with books far too ancient for us to even understand.”

As they cut through a small living room and out the French doors, Echo didn't say anything else, for which Darci was grateful. They wandered through a trellised walkway, heavy with creeping ivy — the same flora covering most of the castle walls.

Late afternoon sunlight caressed Darci’s skin but did little to warm the chill in her veins or ease the numbness in her chest. As they walked through the rolling gardens, Echo let her go. “Darci, whatever it is, you and Blaéz will work it out.”

“Then why won't he talk to me?” The words burst free. She compressed her lips and fixed her burning gaze on the bee hovering over a honeysuckle shrub that grew along the paved pathway.

“Because they are all cut from the same cloth of stubborn, think they have to protect us,” Echo said on a sigh. “Just be patient. Remember, he chose you, brought you here. They're immortals with horrible rules binding them, so they don’t do things lightly.”

Darci recalled Blaéz’s warning about the assassins from his world. No, he wouldn’t have made a risky commitment if he weren’t serious about her. Hope that had been fast fading renewed. “I just want to understand — to help him.”

“Even rocks crack, don’t give up. I ought to know.” Echo rubbed her upper arms then stuck her hands in her pedal-pusher pockets. Stark pain briefly clouded her eyes. “I had the worst time with Aethan. Our relationship became so strained… I-I left him.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” A wry smile. “It’s a long story. It will keep for another day. But trust me, talk to Blaéz, get him to open up.”

Darci considered Echo’s words as they continued down the pathway. She liked things out in the open, it’s why she never prolonged any relationship where she didn't feel that spark.

As they emerged from the thick shrubs, Darci stopped, dumbstruck.

In front of her, a lake sparkled like fragmented diamonds. It surrounded a man-made island accessed only by a small wooden bridge that led to a timber and glass gazebo. Weeping willows trailed their droopy branches into the shimmering water, and lush trees edged the banks.

“This is so beautiful.”

“Yes… it is,” Echo said, staring at the gazebo. Her features appeared a little strained.

It pulled Darci out from her own worries. “You okay?” she asked.

“It’s nothing… I'm probably coming down with the flu or something.” She withdrew a white stone from her pocket and rolled it between her fingers. “Darci, what did Blaéz tell you about himself?”

At the sudden change in conversation, Darci rubbed her temples. The ache centered there upped sharply. “Not much. He explained he was a Guardian and from the Celtic pantheon, but because of some important goddess being abducted on the day he’d taken up his job, he, along with all of her protectors, were imprisoned in Tartarus.”

Echo nodded. “Inara. She was born into the Sumerian pantheon but represented all forms of life. She is the Goddess of Life. Of balance. That kind of power cannot be controlled by evil. It would cause destruction of earth-shattering proportion. The balance would shift — all plant life would die. Humans wouldn’t be able to survive on a barren earth. And without their prayers and worship, the gods’ powers would fade—”

At Darci’s staring, Echo laughed. “It’s true. Seems we all have a symbiotic relationship. Learned it all in my history lessons, how the realms intrinsically tie together. Anyway,” she continued as they walked toward the lake, “It’s why warrior gods from different pantheons were chosen as Inara’s protectors. All were invested in her safety. Millennia later, she’s still missing, and the pantheons are at loggerheads at her disappearance and blaming the other for what had occurred.”

“Shouldn’t they be looking for her?”

“They are, I suppose, but she has yet to be found.” Echo indicated a weathered wooden garden bench with a curved backrest near a weeping willow. “Let’s sit here.”

Darci lowered to the sun-warmed seat facing the lake. A stream of tiny, silver fish flashed in the sun-drenched waters. Insects buzzed a happy disharmonious chorus.

“Darci…” Echo turned on the bench and faced her. “I know it’s not my place to say anything, but there’s something I think you should know.”

At her grave expression, uneasiness crept through Darci. “Now you're scaring me.”

“I wouldn’t do that. It’s just that when I first came here, everything was overwhelming and I didn't always make the best decisions, but I want to help if I can.” Those serious mismatched eyes held hers. “From the way you're reacted to him just now, I’m guessing you don’t really know this. If Blaéz appears so remote and cold, it’s only because he doesn’t experience emotions like we do. It’s why he takes part in cage fights and lets himself get beaten up, it’s the only way he actually feels something.”

Darci shot up from her seat. “What are you talking about? How can he not feel?”

“Because he lost his emotions while imprisoned in Tartarus.”

“You’re wrong! He feels, I know he does—” She faltered at the compassion in Echo’s quiet gaze. Darci froze. And felt as if her very foundation had shifted when a thought more terrifying took hold. Ice formed in her veins. Blaéz felt
nothing
for her?

She stood there in the sunny garden, too cold to move. “He can't — he can't feel
any
thing, no emotions at all?”

“Usually,” Echo agreed.

Unable to take her pity, Darci wheeled away to face the lake, feeling as if this were happening to someone else. How could this be? The way he’d kissed her, touched her when they’d made love, that wasn’t something a man without emotions did.

“Not until you.” Echo’s voice reached her from far off.

Darci spun around, her heart pounding in her ears. “Wh-what did you say?”

“You are the only person to change that in three and a half millennia.”

She —
she
made him feel? “Then why does he let himself get beaten up if he can feel with me?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

Right. The man was about as forthcoming as a rock, but she didn't care. She needed answers. “I have to go — and thanks.”

Darci pivoted from the tranquil lake and sprinted back toward the castle. Taking the back entrance near the kitchen, she ran up the narrow, winding stairs then down the corridor and into their quarters. He wasn’t in the bedroom. She headed straight for the dressing room.

Wearing only jeans after his shower, Blaéz turned from his closet at her breathless entrance. The swelling around his left eye had faded a little, his body a map of battered and bruised flesh in horrid shades of yellow and purple that Pantone would envy.

She grabbed onto the bureau, panted, “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“You lost your emotions in Tartarus? And you didn't see fit to tell me something so important? Blaéz, how can we work if you keep things from me?”

He went dead still, then asked, “Would you have agreed to see me —
live
with me had you known?”

That threw her off her furious outburst. She stared blankly at him.

“Indeed, I thought not.” He took a t-shirt from the shelf and yanked it on with jerky movements.

He was angry? With her? She scowled. “Don’t you dare make this my fault. Look at you! You're so badly hurt, you're lucky you're immortal or you’d be dead!”

“Leave it alone, Darci.” He pulled out socks from a drawer and grabbed his boots.

Like hell she would. “If I'm not with you, do you feel anything?”

“No.” A tic worked his jaw. “I'm good at mimicking emotions. I can tease, taunt, laugh, and wince like any other. Is that what you want to hear? That I'm one big fucking lie? Ruins the image a little, doesn’t it?”

“So you’d rather fight and get the crap kicked out of you just to feel than be with me? I can understand your job is a violent one. But that? Is
that
what you really want?”

His expression closed off into unreadable lines.