“Where’s Miranda? What’s happened to her?” His heart pounded hard against his ribs as he relaxed his death grip around Kyle’s biceps.
Kyle swung his head from side to side, muttering punch-drunk apologies to everyone and no one in particular. “Sal won’t really hurt her, would he?”
Rage colored his vision at the true depth of the naivety of Miranda’s brother.
“Where is she?” he snarled, his teeth bared in a vicious scowl. He reached out with his senses even as he knew the building at his back would thwart his attempts to contact his angel. The connection was weak, but joy was the only emotion he received. Whatever horrific fuck-up Kyle had perpetrated had yet to affect her.
A rapid tap on his shoulder yanked him out of attack mode and drew his eyes to the alley on his left. Miranda stepped out of the back door and into the overhead light. From the front of the building, he caught Sal’s booming voice through the walls, screaming her name. Bastian ground his teeth at the piss-poor timing of life tonight.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” With an angry growl, he jerked his head toward the parking lot. “Vik, you get the car. I’ll handle things on this end.” He tossed Kyle over his shoulder and rose to stand before hustling down the narrow alley. Miranda was deep in conversation with someone just beyond the exit’s threshold, a smile warming her lips as he approached swiftly. He caught the exchanged farewells as he swooped in. She turned, her radiant smile vanishing in a wave of confusion.
“I am sorry to do this, tesorina, but I need you to come with me now.” He tucked her under his arm but only after stealing a quick kiss to ease his soul. Her lips were petal soft against his mouth, and she tasted of summer rain and hot nights.
Panicked, she pushed away as she heard the moan from the ragdoll tossed over his shoulder. “Kyle? Oh my God, Kyle! What happened?”
He expected to see terror in her eyes, proof of his dangerous nature reflected back at him in her accusatory gaze. He wasn’t expecting the open concern on her face. Nor was he prepared for the gentle touch of her fingers on his cheek. “Are you OK?”
He stared incredulously at her, bewildered by her tenderness.
The familiar rumble of a V-8 at his back dragged him out of the moment and he guided Miranda toward his burgundy Chevelle as it slowed to a stop. Viktor reached over and unlocked the passenger door before flipping the seat down. “Did you kids have fun at the prom?”
Bastian narrowed his eyes as he laid Kyle down onto the bench seat in the back. He grumbled something less than complimentary in Viktor’s general direction as he gathered Miranda into his arms and placed her in his lap in the passenger seat before slamming the door. “Just drive.”
With one arm around her waist as a seat belt, Bastian wrenched the rearview mirror his direction. He gazed into the angled glass, his focus intent on the back door as it receded into distance at their backs. No lights spilled from the door as they rounded the corner and melted into the shadows. Blocks passed by and he kept his eyes trained on the road behind them.
“I know I don’t really need to ask this, but we got anyone back there, lillebror?”
“We’re good, Vik.” He righted the mirror as his angel stirred in his lap. He forced his muscles to give her enough room to wiggle around to check on her brother. While he was seriously enjoying her ass nestled in his crotch, the sight of her bundled curves at eye level had his mouth watering in anticipation. Her full breasts pressed against his shoulder as she reached out for the groaning heap in the backseat.
Gentlemanly manners he didn’t believe existed guided his hands to support her waist and not delve under the easily shredable layers that separated her bare skin from him. He clenched his jaw to hold back the pained growl, the metal zipper teeth biting into his throbbing cock. The scent of her skin filled the entire cab of his car, and only the realization that he had an audience curbed his raging need.
She had asked about his well-being. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind around that new little factoid. While his body was ready to pick up where they had last left off, his heart and his cynical mind had much different plans.
Viktor chuckled behind the wheel, his shoulders bouncing as he struggled to keep his composure and to keep Bastian’s car on the road. “Looks like you’re more than good from here, I would say.”
Bastian let his control slip, his left arm shooting out and he connected a satisfying punch in the meat of Viktor’s arm. When her knee drove into his ribs and found a tender spot, he shifted the squirming bundle currently using him as a jungle gym.
“Miranda, he will be fine. He needs some rest, as do you.”
She spun to face him, her sapphire eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Is he really going to be OK?”
He cupped her cheek and trailed his thumb across her full bottom lip. God, he wished he was better at talking, better at anything that related to relating to others. He should tell her not to worry, assure her that everything was going to be all right. Instead, he pulled her back into the seat, his arms once again becoming an impromptu safety belt while his mind spun in search of the right thing to say.
The awkward silence was cut by the engine’s powerful roar as Viktor navigated the slick streets. As they passed by Sisters of Hope Hospital, Miranda’s head swiveled around, following the receding lights.
“We’re not stopping here?”
Bastian shook his head and readjusted her in his lap. “That’s not safe.” He cringed as he realized the brutal honesty, not to mention the complete lack of tact, of his words. “Please, your brother will get care. I promise.”
No sooner had he finished his statement, Viktor swung the Chevelle into the red-bricked driveway beside a virtual castle in the middle of Hyde Park. “Besides, the doctors here don’t have as much paperwork. Nor do they answer to Slick Sal.”
The engine rumbled to a halt behind the two-level stone structure, and Bastian had his hand on the door handle before a gentle touch stopped him. Her hand looked like porcelain against his scratched and bloodied mitt. Swollen knuckles and scars from countless fights outlined the violence that was his life, and she deigned to let these instruments of torment caress her skin.
Self-loathing rose in his throat and kept his eyes averted from her angelic beauty. “We need to get you inside.” He waited until she pulled her hand back and he opened the door. The crisp air put a slight damper on his raging erection, his pent-up hatred of his own life lending a hand to deflate-gate as well.
“Bastian?”
Unwilling to face his demons yet, he guided her out of the front seat and retrieved her brother from the backseat. Kyle had regained some semblance of consciousness, which made getting him inside Viktor’s house that much easier. Together, the trio limped to the open door. He forced his attentions on the task of leading them toward the makeshift ER on the backend of the house.
Long ago, when he was still learning the ropes, he and Viktor had divided the duties. Viktor opted to hold down the medical fort while Bastian would house the arsenal. It made the most sense since prior to his friend’s recruitment, Viktor was a healer. How the healer and the assassin still managed to remain as a team for the past five hundred years was a mystery to him. Yet, today, he was not about to question the meaning of the universe.
Today, he had a more dangerous puzzle staring him in the face. One that by all rights should soothe his aching soul. Instead, the knowledge that his spiritmate stood inches away from him terrified him. His mind spun as he lifted Kyle onto the metal table. A Guardian was paired with one female and only Fate determined when she would cross his path. If he started the Claiming Ritual and she denied him, he would become what he had hunted since that night in the piazza.
And deny him she would. He knew in his black heart this angel was never truly meant to his. She had given him one night, a night that he would hold for all eternity as he continued to battle those who sought to destroy the light. Even now, her feigned kindness must be centered around worry fo
r her brother.
Viktor’s voice buzzed in his ears and he shook his head to clear the growing static. He narrowed his eyes as he refocused on his surroundings. Kyle groaned as Viktor made a quick scan of his wounds. He pulled a chair over for Miranda while she waited for the outcome. He wanted to hold her, tell her things would be all right, but dread froze his limbs. Instead, he rested his back against the wall, keeping a safe distance from the beauty who unknowingly held his soul in the palms of her hands. He turned his wandering attentions back to the current crisis. At first blush, Bastian figured the kid had a couple cracked ribs and lots of bruises, but nothing more serious.
After a long few minutes, Viktor leaned back, running his hand through his hair as he yawned.
“Well, he’s taken a beating that he won’t soon forget, but it doesn’t look like anything’s been permanently damaged. Just make sure he takes it easy for the next couple of days.”
Miranda lifted her blue eyes, gratitude warming her smile, and she swiveled her gaze between the two conscious men in the room before dipping her eyes to the now sleeping figure on the slab. “Thank you. Thank you both.” She jumped from her seat and wrapped her arms around Bastian.
The unexpected hug jostled the still-healing gash against the wood at his back and an involuntary hiss squeezed from his locked jaw. Viktor arched a brow his direction and motioned to the other exam table.
“All right, sweet cheeks. You’re next.”
Miranda pulled back, a sad frown creasing her forehead. Bastian growled at his friend. “I’m fine.”
Viktor scoffed, grinning like an idiot as Bastian groaned and reached for his throbbing head. “Wow. You really aren’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. Either that, or you truly are a masochist. Now, sit down and let me at least dig the glass out of your shoulder.”
The painful spike behind his eyes leveled off and he sat in the nearest chair. A set of hands moved to slip off his jacket and instinct took over, his hand shooting back to still the questing fingers. He expected the firm and challenging grip of his friend. Instead, he met with soft skin and slender digits and he yanked his hand away.
“I’m sorry. You should go.”
“I think,” Viktor chimed in, “what he’s trying to say, albeit tactlessly, is things might get a little messy. Maybe you’ll want to wait in the kitchen.”
Bastian kept his eyes averted. He didn’t dare look at her while he could feel the weight her confusion. She remained near, the scent of her sadness heavy in the air. Seconds ticked by and her sigh nearly broke his heart as her footsteps receding into the distance.
He shrugged out of the tattered jacket and pulled his shirt over his head without a word. The floor was incredibly interesting, as was the deep silence in the white tile and chromed room.
“Just get on with it,” he growled, bracing his forearms on his knees. He knew it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk, the wound starting to close thanks to the accelerated healing common to all Guardians. But he wasn’t quite prepared for the sudden shock of liquid fire as his shoulder exploded in pain.
“You know, asshole, part of me wants to tell you to dig the crap out yourself.” A dull throbbing settled in just as Viktor set down the bottle of alcohol and began to slice away the fresh skin. “But I’ve seen the mess you make of yourself when you do.” He tensed as sliver after sliver slipped free and clattered in the metal tray. His nails bit into his palms as sat ramrod still, the clenching and unclenching of his fists the only reaction to the burning ache.
The procedure continued in thick silence.
A soft square of gauze and four pieces of medical tape later, he was good to go. He studied the shiny linoleum at his feet for another moment before he started to rise from the examination table.
“Bastian, I—”
He shook his head. “Don’t.” He regained his feet as Viktor gripped onto his uninjured shoulder. Bastian slid his angry gaze from the hand to his friend’s face.
Viktor’s eyes were clear and focused. “Not this time, Bas. You know she’s the one. I will not stand by and let you piss this away because of some fucked up sense of honor.”
“She deserves—”
“Bullshit, Bas.” Viktor glared at him, the ocean blue depths swirling in dangerous spirals. “Don’t lay this at her feet. Not when it’s your own damned fear that’s making you doubt and taking the choice away from her. Free will, brother. Always remember that.”
His friend spoke honestly and freely, no controlling vibes forced his words to have a deeper meaning. “Look at us, Vik. Look at me. What kind of man would I be if I let her into this hellish world? What would an angel like her want with the likes of me?”
“Maybe you should let her make that decision.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Miranda looked around the massive house. The kitchen itself was the size of her entire apartment and the heat flowed without a sound. She paced around, spying door after door in the long central hallway. Her gaze scaled up a staircase leading to another level which led to another level. The balmy temperature finally got to her and she slipped out of her heavier layers. A coat rack stood in the corner near the front door, complete with several empty and welcoming hooks and she relinquished the unnecessary bulk and even kicked off her snow boots.
She trailed her fingers along the back of the huge leather sectional couch that faced a screen worthy of any movie theater. As she continued to scan the impeccable furnishings and understatedly posh decorations, a knot started to form in the pit of her stomach. Both of these men oozed power, and in this town, that could only mean one thing. And it definitely wasn’t good. Kyle had warned her that her new friend might be more dangerous than Slick Sal.
She flipped through her recent memories, his face looming large in each vision. In the handful of appearances he had made, he’d sported evidence of violence. A large bruise on his jaw or a wicked cut across his cheek. Nothing about him screamed soft and cuddly. He was a true and deadly predator. This knowledge should terrify her and have her running to the hills.
But none of the inherent violence was aimed in her direction. On the contrary, he seemed to do his hardest to keep the uglier parts of who he was away from her.
Even now, as he tried to send her away, his actions were noble and gentle toward her.
Resolved to face her fate, she strode back into the sterile room. As she reached the threshold, both men were standing toe to toe. It was truly an impressive sight. She imagined the pair of them standing on the bloody sands of the Coliseum, armed to the teeth, with bodies of their foes piled around their feet. They dwarfed the narrow space and she almost changed her mind.
Until she heard their words.
Were they talking about her?
Tired of living her life from the sidelines, she spoke up. Bastian dropped his head and the other man, Viktor, turned toward her. His pale blue eyes seemed sad and he released his grip on Bastian’s bare shoulder. She kept her gaze leveled at the men, fighting the urge to stare at the bare and chiseled flesh only a glance away.
“Please, Sebastian. I’m not a child and I’m done letting everyone else rule my life. I’ve been tossed around like a trinket and I’m not having it anymore.” She swiveled her gaze to the half-naked gladiator as he stared at the ground. Digging deep, she found inner strength she didn’t even know she had and she entered the room. The space inside shrunk as she approached them with hesitant steps.
She had glimpsed some of the scars in the faint starlight of her apartment, but in full view, the truth of his deadly path was laid out for her to see. And it was terrifying. Slashes, burns and even punctures or bullet wounds told of a life of violence and pain. She swallowed back her apprehension and continued toward her target. His friend moved aside as she stopped next to the hulking statue. Swallowing past the lump of fear and anticipation that clogged her throat, she reached out and laced her fingers around his. He jolted at her light touch, and she balked, but only for a heartbeat.
She held ont
o his hand, his arm vibrating with tension beneath her palms. Had she made a mistake? A moment passed and she was tempted to give up when he moved. The change from static to speed demon nearly yanked her arm out of its socket. She stumbled after him, her hand still captive in his tight grip. He led her past the kitchen and down a long hall, stopping at a room on her left. Without a word, he pulled her into the large room and slammed the door.
His actions were barely controlled, but if she would have dug in her heels, he would have released her instantly. The truth of this allowed her to let him take the lead, and she honestly was curious to know just where this was going. Her eyes widened like saucers as she took in the size of the bed that devoured the far wall. Images of the hours that could be passed with him on that huge king-size slice of paradise fogged her mind.
Instead of the blanketing softness, he pressed her back against the closed door. His whiskey eyes glowed with deep and dangerous currents as he crowded into her personal space. He leaned close, framing her head with each of his splayed hands.
“Do you truly want someone like me in your life?” His gravelly voice sent shivers down her skin, her shudders having nothing to do with the temperature. His gaze darted across her face, never settling on her eyes for longer than a breath. She raised a trembling hand to his cheek, her palm close enough to feel his heat. His frantic eyes reminded her of a caged lion, memories of running free hiding in the tawny shadows.
He stopped her hand, his long fingers encircling her wrist with ease. His grip wasn’t painful, nor was it solid. His question rattled around in her mind as they stood frozen in the moment. As she finally captured his gaze and looked into his pleading eyes, she knew the answer.
She blinked and decided. Tenderly, she closed the scant distance and caressed his cheek.
“No, Bastian. Not someone like you. I want you.”
His eyelids fluttered down as he leaned into her soft touch, his hands cradling hers.
“You cannot know what you ask, tesorina.” His voice cracked as it poured over her. She was moved at the sight of her protector overcome with emotion. “You don’t know what I am, what I’ve done.”
Spirit Song Page 18