Absolute Surrender

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  “No. I use my pheromones to lure the fiends, then I kill them!”

  “You what?” The words exploded in the quiet room. He hauled her to him. “You ever pull that stunt again—” His nose touched hers. “—I will take you so far away, you won’t see the light of day. Understand?”

  Shocked, it took Echo several seconds to react. The cool, calm man had become a seething mass of magma. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea revealing that.

  She shoved at him, found his grip unbreakable. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

  “Everything about you is my business. But go ahead—try me.” There was grim resolve in his gaze.

  Echo snapped her mouth shut and dropped her eyes, hiding her irritation. Fine. She’d play the spineless damsel in distress, if it got him to back off.

  He let her go.

  Snatching the bottle from him, she tossed it in her backpack and dropped into the armchair, fuming. She hoped the demoniis came by the hordes and knocked him off his gorgeous ass.

  “If demoniis follow you here, I’ll take care of them,” he said taking the seat opposite hers. The fragrant scent of coffee drifted to her as he poured the dark liquid into a mug. Handing it to her, he sat back, as if all was right in the world. As if he hadn’t just behaved like a throwback from the Dark Ages who threatened to lock her up in some God-forsaken place.

  Gripping the mug’s handle, she did a slow count to ten and let the rich smell of coffee fill her lungs.

  “Is that what you meant by wanting to be ‘normal’?”

  Her gaze shot to him. He nodded to the suppressant in her bag. His question tugged the rug out from under her. A feeling she was becoming uncomfortably familiar with. She couldn’t keep her perspective around him. “Who told you?”

  “You did. In the subway.”

  And she’d thought it was all a dream. That meant she asked him to kiss her, too. Oh, crap!

  What was the matter with her? Could she humiliate herself any further with this man?

  Oh yeah, did that already!

  She bit her lip on the wound, and winced—

  “Let me see that.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  She might as well have spoken to the wall. He got up and parked himself on the coffee table, right in front of her. Trapping her with his spread knees, he took her mug and set it aside. Tilting her chin, he examined her lip then traced a finger over the bruise on her jaw.

  “Stupid demonii punched me in the face for throwing up on him,” she complained, clamping down on the arousal caused by his touch.

  Aethan’s gaze flickered to hers. His dark expression worried her. He held his hand an inch from the bruise and a blue light shimmered from his palm, startling her.

  “Easy...”

  His thumb stroked the shallow dent in her chin. “I healed you the same way in the tunnel.” His tone lowered. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

  Oh, damn, being this close to him wasn’t such a good idea. Out of pure self-defense, she shut her eyes. The warmth condensing on the aching spot on her jaw soon eased. Her lids flickered open and she found him watching her.

  Unsettled, she reached up to touch her jaw. He shook his head and pushed her hand aside. “I haven’t finished.”

  Then he leaned in and swept his tongue along her lip. Her breath seized and her heart exploded as desire broke down her protective barriers.

  Her shocked gaze rushed to his. “Why did you do that?”

  “Do you want the biology lesson now or shall I finish this first?” A heartbeat passed then he said, “My saliva heals, is what matters.”

  “Oh.”

  She deserved his sarcasm. Like he’d want to kiss her.

  He slid his tongue across her mouth again in a warm, gentle caress. A fever took hold of her. Arrows of heat shot straight to her dampening center.

  Oh Jesus, let him be finished already. This is torture of the worst kind!

  He licked her lip again. Her mouth parted and a puff of air escaped. The temptation of him being so close, licking her mouth was too much to endure. She didn’t think, just reacted, and touched his tongue with hers.

  He went absolutely still.

  She recoiled. Idiot. He wasn’t kissing you!

  Mortification flooded her. She tried to move away, but his parted thighs caged her. Why couldn’t a hole open up and suck her in? Then he hauled her back to him and captured her mouth in a kiss that knocked the breath right out of her. His tongue glided between the seams of her lips. He teased and tormented her mouth until she let him in, deepening the kiss.

  Drunk on the taste of him, she moaned in pleasure.

  No one—no one had kissed her like this. Ever. The man was making love to her mouth.

  He moved, sat down on the couch, and lifted her onto his lap.

  Echo twisted and straddled him. He dragged her closer. His erection nestled between her thighs. She pressed against his hardness as her desire skyrocketed.

  Finally. In her careful life she’d finally found a man she wanted to dance with.

  ***

  For the first time in thousands of years, Aethan had found the one person who could fulfill him. Her kiss was magical. Her warmth, her very essence seeped into the depths of his dark soul. Desire surged, made him greedy to know, to taste every part of her.

  His tongue tangled with hers in an erotic dance. His hand slid under her T-shirt to caress smooth warm skin. The scent of her arousal fueled his own. He pulled her hips over his erection, pressing into her heated center. Her gasp was like tinder to his flame.

  He raised her body up and bit her nipple through her tee. Damn thing was in his way. She wriggled back into his lap and rubbed herself against his rigid cock, making his body ache with a need so primal, he was seconds from laying her on the couch, stripping her bare, and sliding into her silky heat.

  Ever present, beneath his skin, power simmered molten-hot, looking for release. The air around him shifted. Too close—oh gods, he was so close to disaster.

  He had to get out. Slamming down his shields, he broke off the kiss.

  “No.” Her soft protest cleaved him in half as her grip tightened on his shirt. He closed himself off to her plea, dumped her on the couch, and shot to his feet. Grabbing his coat from the foot of the bed, he strode for the door, frustration vibrating off him in waves.

  Then he stopped and turned to her.

  A sword through his gut would have felt better than the look of hurt in her eyes, the confusion, as she wrapped her arms around her waist.

  “I’m heading out on patrol—go to bed, Echo.” He walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

  CHAPTER 13

  Her heart thudding painfully, Echo stared at the closed door. Confusion and embarrassment flooded her. She’d clung to him like some horny leech when he ended the kiss and begged him not to stop.

  The truth was she couldn’t regret the kiss. Raw and powerful, need pounded in her. She touched her swollen lips, tried to focus, to calm the desire flooding her veins, and failed.

  He’d reduced her to this quivering mess, just by kissing her.

  She groaned. She was in so much trouble. Already she felt too much. If she let this man get too close, she’d be the one left broken when he walked away. With shaky hands, she picked up her coffee and drank some of it. The strong brew slid down her throat, easing her, and taking away the taste of him.

  Finally, she managed to rein in the madness that gripped her to chase after him and demand he finish what he started. She glanced at the big bed once more. All she wanted was him with her in that bed, not being ordered to bed like a child.

  ‘Go to bed, Echo.’

  Yeah, right. She set her mug on the low table and took her usual dose of the suppressant. Pushing to her feet, she straightened her tee and left the bedroom.

  Wall sconces illuminated a corridor, filled with paintings that belonged in museums along with several marble statues. It led her to the grand stairw
ay. Holding onto the balustrade, she slowly made her way down, her gaze fixed on the stained-glass windows.

  “Whoa, hold it right there, little lady,” a laughing voice said.

  Startled, she turned and found herself staring into seductive, toffee-brown eyes.

  His beauty had to defy the laws of perfection. Hair, the color of ripened wheat, fell in wanton disarray around his wide shoulders. He wore black leathers and a T-shirt with a neon skeletal hand on it.

  “Hello there.” Masculine dimples dented his cheeks, adding more to his sexual allure. Like he needed the edge. “I’m Týr. And you are?”

  “Leaving,” she muttered, wariness filling her. She’d taken her pheromone suppressant but still, it had been three days. Echo stepped away, but he moved with her as if in a dance.

  “Aw, don’t be like that. It’s not often one as fair as you graces this dull place. Tell me who it is you’re with, and I’ll challenge him for you.”

  She almost smiled. He sounded like someone from a nineteenth-century novel.

  He angled his head closer to hers and sniffed. Her wariness turned to exasperation. “Do you mind?”

  A sudden gleam warmed his wicked brown eyes as he pulled back. He looked as if he’d discovered the eighth wonder of the world or whatever.

  Yep. Too handsome and, from the twinkle in his eyes, an undeniable flirt as well. For a fleeting second, Echo wondered why she felt...nothing.

  But how could she? When his kiss was imprinted on her? Aethan had knocked her for a loop when she first saw him. The man simply steamrolled through her defenses, into her thoughts, and was busy chipping down the walls around her heart.

  “So, where’s the blue-haired ass—I mean, charmer?” the hunk drawled.

  “Why would I know?” Did she have it tattooed on her forehead that she was here because of Aethan?

  The grin widened. “Good answer. A name then, gorgeous?” His gaze traveled over her face and down her body.

  Lord, why me? She’d barely recovered from what transpired with Aethan and now she had to deal with this.

  That’s what happens when you don’t take your suppressant.

  “I don’t have time for this. If you don’t mind?”

  He didn’t move.

  She sighed in annoyance. “I’ll hurt you.”

  His grin widened farther. Of course, he’d laugh. Compared to him she was probably the size of a gnat.

  “You’ve wounded my feelings,” he said. “I’ll have to take a kiss in compensation.”

  The moment he leaned in, Echo didn’t think, she just pulled back her fist and rammed it into his face. Ducking past the laughing man, shaking her sore fingers, she hurried down the stairs, but stopped as the staircase swayed and dizziness engulfed her. She grabbed the banister.

  Inhaling deeply, she shook her head free of the lightheadedness and glanced over her shoulder, only to find the stairs empty. The blond had disappeared.

  Dammit! How did he move so fast?

  ***

  Aethan stormed into the kitchen and flung his coat on a chair. He slammed his hands on the granite counter and stared out through the window. What the hell was he thinking? He should never have touched her and now he knew what she tasted like—

  “You okay there, man?”

  At the sound of Blaéz’s voice, Aethan’s jaw compressed. He thought they’d already left on patrol. Pushing away from the counter, he headed for the silver pot and filled a mug. Tea? What the hell? He didn’t want this horse-piss.

  “She settled in then?”

  He poured coffee in another mug, not surprised the Celt already knew Echo was here. The chair scraped on the tiled surface as Blaéz rose, folding the newspaper he’d been reading.

  Aethan took a drink of his coffee to steady himself before he answered. “Yeah. She’s good.”

  The kitchen door swung open and Týr sauntered in, a familiar smirk on his face. He looked like he was spoiling for a fight. Whatever.

  “At your own peril, Norse,” Blaéz cautioned him. “Or there won’t be anything left for a chalk tracing.”

  Týr ignored him. “Damn. She’s cute, feisty—can’t belong to you,” he told Blaéz. “So, who’s the spitfire?”

  “Stay for bloodshed or hunt demoniis?” Blaéz drawled. “Can’t believe the demonii fuckers won. Later.” He tossed the paper aside, hauled his leather coat off a chair, and strolled out.

  Aethan set his mug down on the counter, his teeth on edge. “Did you touch her?”

  Primal instincts, like a dam giving way, surged to the surface. The thought of the Norse making moves on his female wasn’t something he’d tolerate.

  Týr pinned him with cold eyes. “Why do you care? All you can do is look—”

  Aethan attacked, fist connecting with bone. Týr stumbled back and then charged at Aethan in an icy rage. Fists flew, punches landed as grunts filled the kitchen. Pain streaked through Aethan’s face from a blow to the jaw.

  “My lords! Please.”

  At Hedori’s bellow, Aethan shoved away from Týr, who tripped and went crashing into a chair to land on the floor.

  “She isn’t one of your damn whores!” Aethan snarled at the fallen male.

  Týr wiped the blood trickling from his nose. He glanced at his hand and then up at Aethan. A cool smile curled his lip. “She touched me first, if it makes you feel any—”

  He lunged for Týr.

  “Aethan!” Echo’s appalled voice broke through the red haze clouding his mind.

  His gaze zeroed in on her. He hauled himself off Týr and took in her skimpy green top and low siding sweats that revealed a handspan of tanned flesh. Unmitigated fury flared through him at the thought of her with Týr.

  He stalked over. “Did you touch him?”

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. The scent of her outrage, her shock, hit him hard. The worst fucking thing he could have said, but his brain had shut off.

  Her lips tightening, she pivoted on her sneakered feet and stalked out of the kitchen.

  His blood firing in his veins, he went after her.

  ***

  Stupid man! Was that what he thought?

  First, he rushed out of the bedroom like she’d jumped him—okay, maybe she did. But that didn’t mean she did that with everyone, nor did it give him the right to treat her as if she did.

  She stomped up the stairs.

  Aethan caught her arm and spun her around to face him. “Don’t walk away from me.”

  “Let go of me,” she said in a taut voice.

  He yanked her closer. “That’s not the impression I got earlier in my room.”

  The jerk! A flush of heat flooded her face in humiliation that he would mention how she’d clung to him. Echo wanted to run, but she dredged up the remnants of her pride and raised her chin. “So what if I touched him? I don’t need your permission to do so—”

  “Don’t even go there,” he growled. “And stay away from him!”

  “Yeah?” She shoved at him, her chest constricting at his accusatory attitude. “You don’t tell me what to do. I didn’t want to come here, but you insisted. I’d rather take my chances out there with the demoniis.”

  She broke free of his hold, shot him a cold look, and headed up the stairs. A hollow pit formed in her stomach that he thought so little of her. He didn’t trust her.

  “Hedori!”

  She didn’t bother turning around at the roar that almost deafened her. What did she expect? That he would come chasing after her and beg for her forgiveness? Yeah, right. Things like that didn’t happen to her. She bit down on her pain, her feelings of inadequacy. She didn’t need to get her heart broken. Again.

  Philip had walked away because he couldn’t handle her strength, her strange abilities, or her nighttime activities.

  Aethan simply didn’t want her. He couldn’t have made it more obvious when he’d walked away from her in his bedroom.

  ***

  Aethan waited for Blaéz on Canal Street, adj
acent to the Buddhist temple, after hours of aimless trolling for demoniis. His grim expression had most people giving him a wide berth. And the stink from the road grills and the over-flowing dumpsters made even his cast-iron stomach rebel.

  He scrubbed a weary hand over his jaw. How could he lose his temper with her? It was Týr’s way to get his licks in. Why the hell couldn’t she have just told him the truth? Instinct made him want to apologize, to rectify the situation. But reality was a cold shower. If he put things right between them, then what? Give her false hope?

  Something hurt inside him. He rubbed at his chest.

  No, it was better this way.

  She already thought him a bastard. At least now he’d be able to keep his distance and she would live. He’d asked Hedori to keep an eye on her, so she wouldn’t take it in her head to leave while he was gone.

  The tattoo on his arm itched in warning. Finally. The bastards were on the prowl. He shoved his troubles aside and forced himself to focus.

  Blaéz approached from down the street, seconds later. They followed the demonii vibration. The trail led them to a dingy alley off Canal Street and a Taekwondo studio’s back entrance. Icy, insidious sensations crept over him as they drew closer.

  Glass from a broken light fixture near the door crunched under their feet as they stepped into the building. The large, open room with a mirrored wall was empty. The scent of death permeated the air and, beneath it, clung the stench of demoniis.

  Adrenalin flowed. The tattoo on his biceps shifted. But Aethan didn’t summon his sword. On silent feet, he approached a closed door, opened it, and found four hulking humans, lounging about in the empty hallway that connected the large studio to other workout rooms.

  When they saw Aethan and Blaéz, the humans leapt to their feet. The sound echoed off the walls as they thudded forward. The glazed look in their eyes made it clear the males, better suited to WWE, had been reduced to demon minions.

  Itching for a good fight, Aethan charged. A taller male, with yellow hair and a broken nose, rushed him. Aethan evaded the ham-sized fist. The human came at him again like a tanker. He dodged. The tanker dove and landed a solid blow to Aethan’s stomach. A thick arm clamped around his neck like a vice and squeezed. Growling, Aethan elbowed the male in the sternum. Then he swung around and, lashing out, heard a satisfying crunch as the appendage broke again.