“Tough luck, pal. I’m not leaving.” Aethan crossed his arms and eyed the feline, undaunted by the animal’s threat. “I’m her mate, get used to it.” For now.
The animal stilled. The hair on its back rose.
Aethan’s eyes narrowed. There was something about the feline that made his psychic senses twitch. He prowled closer.
A low rumble escaped the animal’s throat, before it went back to napping. His tail swished along Echo’s arm as if reassuring himself she was safe.
The stand-off over, Aethan shook his head. “I know how you feel,” he murmured.
A soft rap and the door opened.
“I’m sorry,” the brunette whispered, poking her head into the room. “Bob got away from me.” Her gaze shifted to the bed and she eyed the feline.
Then she turned to Aethan, hands planted on her hip. “Gran said you’re taking Echo with you when you leave and I’m to stay out of it. Normally, I wouldn’t question her. But for some reason she trusts you. However—” She gave him a gimlet look. “I am gonna say this: don’t let my friend anywhere near those horrible demoniis until Damon comes back. He’ll keep her safe.”
Damon. The name was starting to irritate the hell out of him. “You would trust this person with Echo’s safety?”
The answer shouldn’t matter to him. He’d made his decision to let her go once he’d turned the demon fucker after her to ash. But as if under a compulsion, he had to know.
“With my life,” she said, her tone sharp. “He is her guardian, after all.”
Relief flooded him, one he didn’t know he sought.
“Come on kitty-cat. You’re sleeping with me tonight. Echo needs her rest.” She scooped the growling, chubby animal off the bed and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Aethan turned back to Echo. He examined the bruises on her face that appeared to get worse as they darkened. He’d have to wait another day before he could attempt more healing.
Her fragile body had already taken on more than it could handle for one night. Demoniis using her as a stomping ground, him healing the severe internal injuries, mending her fractured ribs, and the added pain of dematerializing—shit! He shut off the thoughts, knowing he’d lose his mind, if he continued down the path of how close he came to losing her.
But through it all, he couldn’t stop thinking of the child weeping in a basement. He’d only promised Lila not to seek vengeance. But if he ever came across that human, he’d kill him.
He hunkered near the bed and skimmed her uninjured cheek with a gentle finger. She didn’t stir. Lila had taped white gauze over the wounds on her arm. A loose T-shirt replaced her ruined and bloodied clothes.
Why the hell had she been in that subway? Taking on demoniis by herself? He’d warned her—well, no more. He’d make sure of that.
He rose to his feet and a glint on the bedside table caught his eyes. The obsidian blade had returned. Not to him, but back to its rightful owner.
***
Echo woke, feeling like she was floating through molasses. She glanced around, trying to get her bearings. It took her several minutes to recognize the striped pink and green curtains and the pale green walls.
Gran’s.
She sighed in relief, only to gasp when a sharp pain pierced her chest. She tried to move her arm but her shoulder protested. Her throat was dry and achy, as if she’d swallowed sand. Water. She needed water.
Someone helped her up and held a glass to her lips. She gulped down the cool, soothing liquid and grabbed the hand when it tried to take away the glass.
“More.”
“No. A little at a time or you’ll be sick.”
Echo frowned and squinted, trying to focus on the man in the dim light of the bedside lamp. Her heart did a wild little flip when she saw him.
“Aethan?”
“Yes?”
She licked her dry lips and winced when she touched the swelling there. Everything came rushing back to her—the subway, demoniis, the demon trying to take her through the portal—and fear rushed through her, as did relief.
“Y–you saved me,” she croaked. “Thank you.”
“I don’t scare easily, but you managed to do just that.”
His tone was far too quiet. Nothing of the arrogance she was used too. He was worried about her, she realized. “I’m sorry.”
He brushed a hand over her hair. “Are you up to talking?”
“You want to know what happened.” She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the memory. Nothing much frightened her these days, due to all the crap she’d lived through, but what she saw through the dark portal, had her trembling in horror.
“They–he, the demon–Lazaar. He tried to take me to Hell,” she whispered.
“Lazaar?”
She nodded. “That’s what he said his name was. I could see that awful place through the portal.” The words were difficult to get out. “The torturing of humans, and demons, too—peeling off their skin, ripping their limbs—” Her breathing hitched.
The horror, the depravity caused a violent shudder to wrack her body. “I don’t want to go there. I don’t.”
The bed dipped and Aethan sat down, lifting her onto his lap. His arms wrapped around her, his warmth soothing her. She didn’t want to think. She wanted to forget. Inhaling a shuddering breath, she closed her eyes and tried to settle her fear.
“As long as I have breath left in me, I will keep you safe. I will find this demon and end him.”
“No–no, don’t! Please don’t! He’ll take you, too.”
“He can try.”
***
Aethan stroked his hand up her back, willing her to relax. The stiffness in her spine slowly eased and she leaned into his chest.
“He made me walk to the portal, like I was his puppet. How could he do that?”
“I’d say mind control, but that wasn’t the case. He only controlled your physical movements. His dark magic had no effect on your mind. He didn’t succeed in taking you through because you are strong. Stronger than he obviously gave you credit for.”
Her eyes lifted to his in confusion. He brushed the over-long bangs away from her face. Gave in to the impulse and skimmed his thumb over the irresistible dimple in her chin.
“Strong?”
“Unbelievably so.” Hell, she’d kept him out of her mind when he first tried to read her at the cathedral.
Her expression became skeptical.
“You have built shields like an armor around your mind—your thoughts,” he explained. He reached to the bedside table and picked up the liquid potion Lila had left for her and held the glass to her lips. “Here, drink this.”
The moment she got a whiff of the thick brown liquid, she wrinkled her nose and turned her head away. “I’m not drinking that.”
“Take it, Echo, or I’ll be forced to feed it to you. Trust me, you won’t like that.”
She scowled. “Gran makes awful potions. I ought to know.”
“Matters little. This will aid in easing the pain and speed up your healing.”
“I’ll heal the natural way then.”
“Echo.”
The hard edge in his voice had her sighing. She took the glass from him and with eyes squeezed shut, drank the brown sludge in one gulp. Then she clamped a hand to her mouth as if to prevent herself from gagging, her eyes reproachful.
Aethan drew her into his arms and found, despite the seriousness of her condition, he wanted to smile.
The pleasure of holding his mate, the feel of her in his arms—gods, nothing compared to this. Ever. He reveled in it for a bit longer then ran a hand down her back in a gentle caress.
“Echo?” he murmured.
“Hmmn?” She sounded sleepy.
“I’m taking you to my home.”
Her head jerked up so fast, she bashed him hard on his chin.
“No!” Her eyes went wild with panic as she rubbed the sore spot on her head. “I’m staying here with Gran.”
“Easy.” He settled her against him once more. Laid his humming jaw against her hair and inhaled her subtle scent, now combined with the faint stench of sulfur from the demoniis he’d turned to ash. “Want to tell me why?”
“I must keep an eye on Gran and Kira. Keep them safe.”
Of course, she would. Hell, she’d put her life at risk saving the dredge of humanity, the reason why she was in this situation.
“Echo, listen to me. Staying here is dangerous. Not only for you but for Lila and Kira, too. The demon after you will hurt them to get to you.”
Is that what you want? He didn’t say it but the question hung in the air.
“God, no! I don’t want those monsters hurting Gran and Kira.”
The anguish in her voice made him regret his words. But he needed her to understand. He brushed his lips against her hair. “You’ll be safe at my home. Demons cannot enter there and you will be well protected. If you refuse, I’ll be forced to live with you ’til this mess is over.”
A longer silence ensued, then a soft sigh escaped her. “Okay, I’ll go with you,” she whispered.
***
The headlights of the Range Rover brightened the dark roads, illuminating the woodlands they traveled through later that evening. Shifting in her seat, Echo straightened, careful of the aches in her body, and glanced through the window. She didn’t recognize the place. Her gaze followed the tall trees to their pinnacle and was rewarded by the sight of skies, painted with the golden streaks of sunset.
“How do you feel?”
Her heart kicked up at the sound of his voice. Turning to him, she sighed. “The cartwheels will have to wait a while. I’m achy and a little sore.”
He nodded. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. You can take more of the potion Lila sent and rest.”
Scrunching her face in distaste, Echo looked out the side window again.
The sounds of purring from the backseat, where Bob napped in his carrier, reached her. She glanced in the backseat and saw him flick his tail, no doubt dreaming of chasing the neighbor’s teacup poodle.
“Thanks for letting Bob come—he means a lot to me.”
“He gave me little choice. Hopped into the vehicle first.”
His dry tone made her smile.
Aethan drove past a park and turned left. Fog soon submerged the road. Echo didn’t like the sensation of being enclosed in the miasma, of being trapped, unable to see anything, except the white haze enclosing them. She gripped the edges of her seat. Then she caught glimpses of steel railings, skimming close to the side of the vehicle, like they drove across some sort of bridge.
She shifted her worried gaze to him. “Where are we?”
“Long Island Sound.” He reached for her hand digging into her seat. His thumb stroked her palm, distracting her. “Once we’re on the other side of the bridge, we’ll be home in ten minutes.”
Her eyes flew downward and stayed there even though she couldn’t see anything out of the window beyond the steel and fog. Only when the bridge met up with solid land, was she able to breathe easier.
Soon enough they came to a tall, heavily designed, wrought-iron gate, which automatically opened at their arrival. Tall maple trees rose majestically along the winding driveway, casting deeper shadows over the dark road. The fog thinned and disappeared. After a while, the trees gave way to rolling green lawns and elegant landscaped gardens that defied the onset of winter. Echo simply stared at the view in front of her, her pain forgotten.
He lives in a castle on an island.
Dark and gothic, it rose, disappearing into the mist suspended over it.
Aethan let go of her hand and drove the vehicle up the circular driveway, stopping at the front portico. She peered through the windshield at the imposing towers, castellated battlement, and terraces. It was pure fantasy. One she never dreamed would exist in her world. And now she would live here, for a while, at least.
Her gaze slid from the magnificent castle, covered in ivy, to Aethan as he circled the hood of the black Range Rover and came to her side.
This place resembles its owner, a lot, she thought. Dark, forbidding, and gorgeous.
He opened the door, unbuckled her seatbelt, and lifted her into his arms.
“I can walk,” she protested, her arms anchoring around his neck.
“When you’re better, you can do all the walking you like. But for now...” He carried her up the stairs to the colossal front door and it swung open at their approach.
Her eyes widening, she looked up at him. “Did you do that?”
He nodded and stepped into the foyer. The questions she wanted to ask evaporated like smoke. Her mouth dropped open as she stared around her in awe.
A grand mahogany staircase flowed from the upper levels down to the light gray marbled foyer. Fading sunlight seeped through stained-glass windows which ran parallel to the stairs, showering the place in a kaleidoscope of colors. Tall marble statues stood guard over lush green plants.
Echo sighed. “This is beautiful,” she whispered, her gaze going back to the intricate windows. Scenes of angels, massive sized warrior knights, and women in flowing gowns were depicted on the glass. In a place like this, it was only right to have knights and ladies. The angels fitted, too.
“I’ll show you the rest when you’re better,” Aethan said.
But movement drew her attention to a man who waited in the foyer, dressed in black pants and matching shirt. He looked to be in his fifties, wore his iron gray hair in a long braid, and had skin the color of teakwood.
“Hedori. This is Echo Carter,” Aethan said, introducing her. “Echo, my butler, Hedori.”
He looked nothing like her image of a stodgy butler in a penguin suit. He appeared too hard, too tough.
The butler bowed. “My lady.”
Aethan’s arms tensed at his servant’s greeting. His muscles were like coiled springs. Echo glanced at him but his expression revealed nothing. He merely stared at her. Hurriedly, she looked away, heat staining her cheeks.
“Hello.” Echo attempted to smile at Hedori, but her jaw hurt and weariness tugged at her. She gave up and rested her head against Aethan’s chest, wondering at the tension she sensed in him.
“Echo will be staying with us.”
“Of course, sire.” Pleasure lit Hedori’s odd, orange-green eyes. Then he addressed Aethan, his expression reverting to its impassive state once again. “Sire, the Arc—”
“I know.”
Echo frowned and glanced at Aethan. She could read nothing in his cool expression.
Why did he cut the butler off? And what was an arc?
***
Aethan headed downstairs after settling Echo in his bed. For once she hadn’t argued with him and gave in to sleep at the demands of her healing body. He’d left Bob on guard duty, the cat curling into a protective cocoon around her head.
Scanning, he found Michael in the study. A blast of heat hit him when he pushed open the door to the small room. Flames sputtered in the fireplace, casting a soft glow on the black leather recliners facing the hearth.
Michael sat behind a sleek mahogany desk adjacent to the fireplace.
“A moment,” he said, not looking up from whatever he was doing on the computer. But his hand reached for the open can of coke beside him. He sucked back on the soda like a life-sustaining liquid, draining it dry, then tossed it into the wastepaper basket.
This had to be the smallest room in the entire castle, yet, Michael chose to have his meetings here. The Archangel’s idiosyncrasies never failed to astound him.
Aethan crossed over to the french doors and opened them, inhaling the biting air. Night had settled over the estate. The pale, cool moonlight cast ominous shadows over the trellised walkway. He missed the dissonance of nocturnal insects that fall had scared away. Everything was too damn quiet.
He pulled away from the doors and dropped into the chair opposite Michael.
“What’s going on?” Michael asked moments later.<
br />
Aethan lifted his eyes from the crackling flames and met the Archangel’s intense stare.
“You look like you lost a bet with a bulldozer.”
A damn understatement! The Fates were probably laughing their asses off, giving him a mate who was mortal—one he couldn’t even claim. And Michael would already know about this. Aethan jerked up from the chair, unable to sit still.
“What are you going to do?” Michael pushed.
“Nothing. As soon as this crap’s over, she goes back to her life.”
A heavy silence fell over them, charged with dark emotions. The crackle from the fireplace resonated in the room. Gods. Aethan scrubbed a hand over his face. His nerves were on the verge of snapping. “What the hell am I supposed to do? You know why I can’t be with her.”
Michael’s shattered blues stared right into him. “When it comes to mates, no one can interfere, you know this.”
To claim one’s chosen mate was a journey traveled alone. And Michael had no intention of getting involved. Not that Aethan expected the Archangel to know a way out of his mess.
He changed the subject. “Did you find out anything else about the prophecy?”
Michael had other ideas. “Yes. The others will be here soon. We’ll get that out of the way then. What happened to her?”
Aethan didn’t want to talk about Echo. But no matter how he felt, he had a duty to perform and gave his report, pacing the small room. “Her name’s Echo Carter. I came across a demon with a demonii horde forcing her through a portal.”
The pen Michael had been flipping through his fingers stilled. The next second the wall sconces blazed brighter, highlighting the bookshelf behind him. “You stumbled upon demoniis forcing a mortal through a portal—how did this happen?”
He shot a hard look at the Archangel. Like he wanted to reveal the dagger’s capabilities. Better to keep that little detail to himself for now. And only then did he recall that Michael didn’t possess an obsidian dagger. His was plain old pewter.
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