Breaking Fate (19 page)

“After centuries in Tartarus, I remember little else, except mind-numbing pain. My first jailor was a sadistic son-of-a-bitch who inflicted pain any way he could. Maloch came across me in the last century of my incarceration. Changed places. He’d usually come to me with suggestions to join him… At first I thought it was for the armies he controlled. As young as I was, I was the Hand, the most dangerous in The Morrigan’s army. When I rejected his offer, he strung me up and whipped me.” Blaéz’s expression became stone. “Then I realized, he wanted more, he wanted
me
…”

“Blaéz, no,” she whispered, distraught.

The nerve on his jaw pulsed harder. “It didn't go that far, but I was tied down and played with. For some reason, he wanted my “yes” more. I wanted to kill the bastard many times over. When Michael’s first attempt to free us fell flat, I was punished. Maloch was furious. I was his fucking plaything, one he refused to let go. I got strung up and paid the price. No healing this time. Those scars remained. Soon after, we did escape. Then the first red lunar appeared quarter ways into the year, and I realized the truth.”

“Red lunar?”

“It’s a demon’s blood moon, one that I can see being tied to Hell. I cannot fight the compulsion. I can hold it off for a while, but in the end, I am still drawn back because of my soul…” He took the t-shirt from her limp fingers and pulled it on. His movement’s jerky, nothing like the suave man she knew. He picked up another pair of boots from his closet.

Darci rubbed her shaky hands down her skirt. “What happens then?”

“When I'm yanked back there?”

“Yes.”

“He likes to see me break my Guardian’s oath, torture the damned. He can’t touch me now, the way he used to, so he found other ways to try and break me.” He stared at the boots he held. “At first it just used to be torturing the damned — they mattered little to me — then he took to capturing humans. He’d brutalize them to get me to do what he wanted. I may be a cold, soulless bastard, but I couldn’t leave the innocent in that hellish place…”

“To set them free, you killed them,” she said in understanding. Her heart ached for him, for the indignities he’d suffered, and continued to suffer because of a perverse, narcissistic demon. So she simply slid her arms around his waist and hugged him.

He stiffened for a second, then the boots he held hit the floor in a thud and his arms wrapped around her. He buried his face in her neck, a shudder wracking his big body. She could barely breathe at his tight hold. Didn't care.

“It’s all a fucking game to him. A sick joke he indulges in.”

“I'm so sorry,” she whispered. God, she wanted to go down to Hell, find the demon bastard, and kill him herself. No more, she’d never allow Blaéz to suffer such humiliations again. Ever.

***

She was sorry?
It floored Blaéz that Darci would comfort him after what he’d revealed. She was mortal, she should run from him, but she didn’t. A tenderness grew, took hold of him.

After basking in her warmth a moment longer, he eased back and sat on the scarred, wooden chest. As he pulled on his boots, he worried about the danger she’d be in now. “Darci, I hurt him this time, Maloch won't forget that. Being with me will only put you in the crosshairs—”

“Don’t.” She scowled in annoyance. “I didn't walk when I found out you didn't possess a soul, or when I knew I couldn’t have children with you. If you think I'm leaving you because of some demon, think again.”

It still awed him that she would put up with all of his shit. Hell, if he were her, he’d walk and never look back. He wasn’t worth it. A rough sigh left him. “I'm trying to do the right thing—”

“Well, it sucks.”

By those useless fucking gods, soul or no, she made him smile.

She paced to the door and back again, like some militant soldier, her gorgeous eyes burning with purpose. “We need to find and kill that demon.”

“I am going to end him, make no mistake. But not
we
, Darci, just me. You should be prepared, once the others find out about my transgressions, I will be branded a traitor. I can’t get away from that.”

She gave him a sharp look. “Why?”

“I broke my oath. I tortured the damned
and
I killed the innocent.”

“It’s not your fault. And those were dead, horrible humans — rapists, pedophiles, murderers, and God knows what else already cast into Hell. As for the others, it was a mercy you did, killing them.”

Blaéz shook his head at her misplaced faith. “That’s not how it will be seen.”

Hazel eyes darkened. Anger edged her voice. “You just want to give up, then? Tell the Guardians and accept your punishment?
Die?
”

“You think I want this?” He rose, ire sliding through him. “For the first time ever, I have a reason to exist. Death is not my choice, you are. But it matters little. I cannot change what is—”

“Yes, you can,” she snapped. “Destiny may weave our paths, but fate can be changed, broken. I don’t care what anyone says. You have precognition, are you telling me all of your visions stay true, the paths don’t change?”

“Sometimes.” He reached for her. “Come here.”

“No.” She flung out a hand, holding him off. “Not until you tell me that you won't say a word about this. I won't lose you. I never had a fulfilling relationship with any man I dated. They thought me cold. I thought I was, too, until I met you. And now… now you would tell the others the truth, and could die—”

“Darci.”

At his quiet tone, her furious outburst faltered. She glared at him instead. Her cell rang. She ignored it.

Christ, but she was stubborn.

Her phone stopped and started up again. He arched a brow. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

He stepped closer, slipped his hand into her skirt pocket and pulled out her cell. He glanced at the caller’s name. Answered. “Hello, Grace.”

A slight hesitation on the other end, “Blaéz?”

“Yes. You are well?”

“Much better, thank you. I er-I got discharged earlier today. Darci was supposed to come over at noon, but I haven’t heard from her.”

“I see.” He pinned Darci a steady stare. “She’ll be there.” He ended the call.

Glowering at him, Darci threw her hands into the air and stomped away from him. “It’s so easy for you to make decisions for me. But you won’t do as I ask.”

He followed, slipped the cell back into her pocket, and hooked his fingers in her waistband, keeping her there. “I imagine then you have no plans to see Grace since she’s been discharged?”

Her eyes widened, then she scowled. “Are you going to tell the Guardians?”

Persistent female. “I will not say anything… for now.”

“Promise?”

At her anxious expression, he pulled her to him and held her tightly. To see her stand there and fight for him — no one had ever done that. If he could, he’d take her and disappear from this life, but he could never escape his past. Or Maloch.

Moreover, he didn't want to make a promise he had no idea if he’d be able to keep. Instead, he lowered his head and kissed her. At the glide of her soft lips on his, warmth flowed back into him, the long, impossibly dark days receding.

By the Heavens, it had been far too long since he’d touched her, made love to her. Needing her with a desperation of a starving man, he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom…

***

Blaéz dematerialized with Darci to her brother's home in the leafy suburb of Westwood later that evening. Assured she was safe, he walked back to the shadowy grove of trees past the children’s playground. With dusk approaching, he scanned the silent place. He didn't like Darci being away from him, it made him uneasy. But she had family and he couldn’t keep her at the castle, no matter how he felt about her brother. As long as Declan refrained from pushing more men at Darci, all would be well.

Hands in his pocket, Blaéz stopped near the trees. Alone again, emptiness snaked through him. Michael sure tightened the noose when he’d taken him off patrol. With no demoniis to take off the edge, his need for a fight — a brutal one so pain would override the lengthening void inside him — grew.

His cell rang. He retrieved it from his pocket. Answered. “Yeah?”

“Sire, we have a problem,” Hedori said. “I'm at the brownstone.”

“I’ll be there.”

Blaéz dematerialized and reformed in a narrow thoroughfare a short distance from Darci’s former home. The front door opened as he ran up the few stairs. Hedori hung back, remained silent, but his orangey-green eyes were hard.

Blaéz identified the reason why before he’d even scanned.

The protection wards were damaged. The tear in the mystical weaves felt like a thousand needles pricking his psyche when he walked into the house.

Eyes narrowed, Blaéz stopped at the threshold and picked up a faint reek. Sulfur and another smell he was quite familiar with. Fish. The wards would have kept demons out but not humans. Methodically, he separated each scent and marked it. A demon and two humans.

“Nothing’s taken from what I could sense,” Hedori said.

Blaéz walked into the living room. Good thing he’d asked Hedori to ward the brownstone just as a precaution, something the Empyreans were ace at. He looked around while Hedori went to work putting up new wards.

Darci’s light scent still lingered and embraced him like an emotionless hug as he wandered around the kitchen and back to the living room. He sat at the wooden trunk she used as a coffee table and let the vibrations in the house flow through him… finding the sense of touch strongest on the couch. The humans had sat here while their demon pal waited outside.

Finally, he’d get his need for pain slaked when he force-fed those three their balls.

Blaéz left the brownstone and headed back to the thoroughfare. The Arc could curtail his duties, but when it came to his woman, nothing and no one stood in his way.

“Come on, love, rest time.” Declan helped Grace back into bed.

Though he smiled, Declan still looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. His green eyes dark with anxiety. It made Darci feel utterly helpless.

She left them and made her way downstairs to the kitchen, rubbing at her face.

And then there was Blaéz. Tied to that horrid demon who’d trapped his soul. She couldn’t breathe as fear constricted her throat at what could happen the next time Blaéz was pulled back to Hell. They couldn’t seek anyone’s help because Blaéz had inadvertently broken a Guardian law. God, what a damn mess.

Darci doubted the other Guardians or even Michael knew the truth, or they would have done something ages ago to help Blaéz. She hoped. But she couldn’t risk his life on “hope.” Once mortality claimed her in a few decades, he’d be alone again — she couldn’t bear the thought of him living this kind of life for eternity.

She had to do something, find a way out of this.

Declan’s cell vibrated on the coffee table, drawing her out of her desolate thoughts as she walked into the kitchen. She put the kettle on and pulled down mugs for tea. The phone stopped only to start up again. The incessant sound would disturb Grace.

Darci hurried back to the living room, picked it up, and answered. “Hello—”

A flood of cold, Spanish-accented words filled her ears. “Enough stalling. Ten grand by midnight, my friend, or we’ll start with your knee caps first.”

The line went dead.

Too shocked to move, to do anything, the phone dropped from her stiff fingers to the coffee table in a thud. Declan walked into the living room, looking more exhausted than ever. “Who was that?”

“I don’t know,” Darci said in a hoarse croak, “but they want ten thousand dollars by midnight.”

He stilled.

Her heart tripped. “Dec, who are they?”

Tired green eyes met hers. He tunneled his fingers through disheveled brown hair. “Dan made a bet on some damn fight. They want the money now.”

“What are you going to do?” Her brother didn't have that kind of cash lying around, not with Grace’s escalating medical bills.

“Don’t worry, it will be all right.” Shoulders slumped, he trudged into the kitchen.

Sure, it would. Those fiends would come after her family. Hurt her brother, Daniel… even Grace. That feeling of hopelessness descended. God, she couldn’t bear this, not again. She grabbed her tote from the couch, pulled out her checkbook, and wrote in all of her savings: $6500,00.

She walked into the kitchen. Declan looked up from opening the tea canister. “Here,” she set the check on the pine table, “I can't cover it all. I’ll give you the rest at the end of the month.” The library still owed her her last paycheck.

Declan’s gaze lowered to the slip of paper, his expression hardened. “No. I’ll handle this.”

“How? By letting them break your legs? Oh, wait; let them go after Daniel and Grace. Darn it, Dec, just take it and pay off those people.”

He pulled out a chamomile teabag from the container and dropped it into a mug. “I won't take your money.”

Christ. Declan was so damn stubborn. She bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t start an argument, it would only upset Grace. “Let me do that. Go, have your shower.”

After he’d left, she prepared the tray. Hopefully, the quiet time would knock some sense into his rock-hard head and he’d be more prepared to see reason.

Darci carried the tray upstairs and set it on the bedside table. She handed Grace her tea then settled down on the chair near the bed with her own cup. Grace chattered on about Daniel, who seemed to be doing well with her folks, then switched topics to the baby. Darci listened with half an ear, her mind on her brother and Blaéz.

She had to find a way and bridge the animosity between them. The moment Declan had opened the front door at her arrival earlier, the aggression between the two had nearly choked her. Declan had barely been civil. And Blaéz, though nothing showed on his face, his entire demeanor held all the pleasantness of frost. He didn't like that Declan had tried to set her up with Alex.

“Hun?”

Darci looked up from her tea. “Yes?”

Grace smiled. Even that didn't brighten her ashy complexion. “Blaéz makes you happy. I see that… but he’s really intense, isn’t he? Watches you as if afraid you might just disappear.”

“Christ, Grace—” Darci’s laughter tangled in her throat. “Give me a break. Blaéz is too self-contained for something like that.”

But her usually easy-going sister-in-law didn't laugh. She set her cup on the tray, concern filling her gaze. “You don’t see what I do, hun. All the guys you dated, you seemed disconnected from them somehow. Yet with Blaéz, there’s something between you two. You move, he does, too… no, not just his body, it’s like this entire force field surrounds the both of you.”

Darci dropped her gaze to her cup. At times she felt it, too. No matter what Blaéz said about not having emotions, or using hers, it felt real to her, and the only thing she had to hang on to.

She glanced at the ensuite door. How long did Declan take to shower? It’d been over an hour. Maybe he’d used the other one?

“I’ll be right back, Grace.” She picked up the tray and left the room but the other bathroom door stood open. Unease prickled between her shoulder blades.

In the kitchen, she set the tray on the counter and saw the folded note propped near the microwave. No, no, no! With trembling fingers, she unfolded it:
I am going to talk to them. Watch Grace for me.

“Dammit, Declan!” She sprinted to the window. They wanted the money, not to talk.

Night had settled like a black cloak over the neighborhood. Darci stared helplessly at the empty driveway. She had no idea where these fights were held or she’d go there herself and give them the damn check. With nowhere else to turn, she did the only thing she could. She pulled her cell from her pocket and called Blaéz.

He answered on the first ring. “Darci?”

Why did just the sound of his voice ease her fears? She cleared the wedge in her throat. “Would you come over? Please?”

She ended the call before he could ask what was wrong. No way could she explain this over the phone. Blaéz would never agree to what she wanted. Her cell rang. She stared at his name, guilt squeezing her stomach at ignoring his call. Blaéz and her brother together were a disaster waiting to happen.

The doorbell rang.

Blaéz? Despite his impossibly fast mode of travel, it would still take him a few minutes, at least. She answered and found Grace’s friend and neighbor on the porch. “Hey, Karen.”

“Darci. How are you?” The older, bubbly blonde stepped inside. “Just popping in to see Grace. How is she?”

“Much better. She’s resting.” Darci shut the door and leaned against it as a thought took hold. “Karen, do you mind staying for a little while? I have a quick errand to run.”

“You go on ahead, honey.” Then Karen added with a grin, “Hubs can handle the twins for a few hours.”

Darci laughed. The five-year-olds were a handful. She jumped at the sudden sharp rap on the wood she leaned against. Yep, that sounded more like what she’d expected.

“Thanks, Karen.” She pivoted to answer. Now to cross the next hurdle. Blaéz turned on the threshold as she opened the door. Piercing pale eyes narrowed.

“It’s not me, I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Come inside.”

She stepped back. Blaéz snagged her wrist, pulling her along with him as he walked in and shut the door. He yanked her to him. “Don’t ever hang up on me without an explanation, we clear?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I know-I know, I'm sorry. But I needed to see you—” She broke off when she found that Karen had stopped on her way to the stairs to watch them — or at least watch Blaéz with a wide-eyed stare.

Right. How could she forget the power of this man? He wore jeans and a t-shirt since he wasn’t on patrol tonight, but nothing, she realized, could eliminate that dangerous air surrounding him. Or the fact he was so darn gorgeous. Darci introduced him. “Blaéz, that’s Karen. Grace’s friend.”

“Hello.” Karen smiled. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Blaéz nodded.

Karen then gave Darci a sly wink and headed upstairs. She probably thought she knew what that “urgent errand” was. If only.

Blaéz turned to her. “Before you turn my hair white — talk.”

“It’s Declan…” Darci quickly explained what had happened. The threatening phone call, the bet.

Not by a flicker did Blaéz reveal what he thought. He nodded then said, “There’s something you should know. That first night I found Daniel, he’d been in a cage fight. With a demon.”

“What?” Darci stopped cold. “That’s why he was hurt?”

“Yes. Michael healed him. I cleared his memories. I had no idea there was more to this. I just didn’t want the lad back there.”

Oh, dear God! If Michael had healed Daniel, then it must have been pretty serious. Blaéz could heal, but not severe wounds.

He grasped her fingers, stopping her from rubbing the skin off her arms. “The boy’s fine now. That’s all that matters. It will be okay. Trust me to take care of the rest?”

She nodded.

“All right, then. I’ll see you later.” He headed for the door.

“Oh, no!” She darted after him. “I'm coming, too.”

“No, you're not.”

She pushed herself between the door and his hard body. “Blaéz, you don’t take me, I’ll get a cab and come anyway.” His eyes narrowed at her threat. What could he do, lock her up? “You and Dec together — no, I'm not letting this tension between you two get worse. You both matter to me, dammit!”

A nerve pulsed in his jaw.

Without a word, he took her hand, and in the quiet living room, he dematerialized them. Darci shut her eyes. Christ on a crutch, she really hated that sensation. It was like all of her body parts were dissolving.

Several seconds later, they took form in the shadows of a building in a dank alley. She stumbled and he pulled her against his hard body. Anemic moonlight doused the place in an unhealthy glow. The stench of decaying fish and garbage nearly suffocated her.

“Good, God,” she muttered, struggling to breathe.

Blaéz glanced at her. A hint of amusement replaced his stony expression. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Never.” Inhaling his clean scent, she examined the looming warehouses. “Which building?”

“The entrance with the instructional artwork.” His tone held humor.

She peered at the dented metal door. Heat suffused her face at the lewd graffiti. His fingers slipped beneath her top and his thumb stroked her waist in little circles. Her breath caught, and she struggled to speak past that distracting movements. “Are we going inside?”

“No. We wait.”

Restlessness taking hold, she shifted against him, not understanding why he wanted to wait when he grasped her hips, holding her still. Her breath caught at the hard length of his erection pressing against her stomach.

“I guess we can amuse ourselves in other ways in the meantime…” His mouth slid over hers, his tongue slipped past the seams of her mouth. And he drew her into a deeply, carnal kiss. She moaned, pressing into him. Seconds later, he broke off the kiss and eased back, his eyes glittering in the dark… anger stroked with an edge of desire.
Damn.
She inhaled a shuddering breath.

Keeping her firmly against him, he calmly refocused his attention on the warehouse, leaving her in a mess of frustrated need. Some part of her understood he was still furious that she’d forced his hand and made him bring her here. It didn't matter — nothing did, except these two men who were too important to her.

With difficulty, she brought her gaze back to the door, to the dark figures coming out of the building and their rising voices. The air thickened with violence. A shiver raced through her.

“I hate this place,” she whispered as several men stepped out onto the moonlit asphalt. “There he is.”

“I know.”

The sinister figures surrounded Declan. She pressed a hand to her stomach, fear consuming her. “Aren’t you going to help?”

“No.”

“Blaéz—” She twisted to glare at him.

“I don’t imagine he’d appreciate me undermining him right now.” His arm tightened around her waist as if to prevent her from running headlong into danger.

“You lot need to be thrown in jail,” Declan snapped, pulling her gaze back. “Taking bets from a minor?”

“We’re sure takin’ somethin’,” a rough voice growled. “The money or your knees — your choice.”

“Don’t threaten me.” Declan lunged, evading the swinging baseball bat and slammed his fist into the fiend’s face. Curses flew. A tattooed skinhead jumped Declan, grabbing him in a chokehold. Another blow landed on her brother’s belly.

Darci squeezed Blaéz’s arm in fear. “Blaéz—”

“Stay here. Don’t move. Not even an inch, Darci.” As soft as the words were, the warning was encased in pure steel.

Ugh, she wasn’t an idiot, no way would she be jumping in there with those thugs. Yet, despite Blaéz being immortal, she bit her lip, fretting over him as he strolled toward them with that compelling saunter that was his alone. “Let him go.”