Stygian spoke up, his voice lowered as he talked directly to Obsidian. “The sooner we locate them, the better off we’ll be.”
Penelope couldn’t do anything more than stare at the three warriors, waiting for them to come to a decision. It seemed the rest of the occupants of the table were doing the same.
Obsidian finally nodded. “But I want Acadia to remain back. With Ziana. Asmia and Elina can go out in the field.”
“May I ask why?” Taayin prompted, speaking up for the first time.
“Asmia’s aware of what Perfidious looks like. She can remain in the vicinity.”
“Then I’d prefer to go out as well,” Taayin said, pushing to his feet.
Penelope could feel the tension ratchet up in the room though she wasn’t sure what prompted it.
“No,” Obsidian stated firmly. “You’ll remain here.”
Based on the look on his face, Penelope expected Taayin to argue, but the man simply took a seat.
“Why don’t we reconvene in a few hours?” Eclipse suggested. “I’ll call Cimmerian and Shadow, get an update from them.”
“I’ll call Piceous,” Stygian added. “You can call Aphotic. Then we’ll chat.”
Obsidian nodded.
As everyone else dispersed, Penelope glanced down at her plate. She hadn’t eaten a single thing, but then again, neither had Obsidian.
“I’ll have something brought to our room,” Obsidian said, taking her hand and helping her to her feet.
She felt as though she needed to say something, but Penelope wasn’t sure what, so for now, she opted to keep her lips shut.
No sense in making the situation any worse.
Chapter Sixteen
Monday, July 29, 2019
NO ONE EVER MENTIONED THE PAIN THAT came with loving someone. For Obsidian, the ache came from the fear, the uncertainty of what was around the corner.
In this case, it was the demons out to take Penelope away from him. He had no idea what they were doing, where they were, or when they would strike, and the not knowing was causing this uncomfortable anger to build within him, a rage that wouldn’t subside as he tried to come up with a plan to take Perfidious and his minions apart at the seams. Thanks to Oliver’s idiot move, the chances of that happening sooner rather than later had increased tenfold.
After taking his amsouelot back to their private quarters, Obsidian told Penelope he needed to take care of a few things. She’d seemed somewhat grateful for the reprieve, and he couldn’t very well blame her after the disaster that had been disguised as the evening meal. What should’ve been a getting-to-know-her gathering with his family turned into a bitch fest choreographed by none other than her brother.
And now Obsidian needed an outlet for the frustration and anger that were continuing to intensify within him, so he sent a telepathic message to Stygian: Meet me in the sparring chamber. Ten minutes.
I think you’re reading my mind.
His brother’s acceptance eased some of the tension in his shoulders as he took the time to change into athletic shorts, stripping off the rest of his clothes and leaving them in the closet for his return.
Once Jeffrey delivered her meal, Obsidian kissed Penelope, then slipped out. He took the stairs down to the second floor, peeked into the library to find Gryffyth, Alden, Mordecai, and Magnar with their heads together, laptops open. That was a good sign, at least, even if Kid Rock was blasting through the speakers hidden in the bookcases.
He heard the sound of pool balls clacking, so he checked to see who it was. When he saw Oliver, he turned and walked away. Speaking to the human right now would not be in the male’s best interest.
Another flight of steps down and he encountered Phillip and Jeffrey in the kitchen, going over the planning for the next meal.
All was getting back to normal, but still the restless energy didn’t subside, so Obsidian navigated down another flight of stairs, deep underground.
Though the house had all the latest technology to protect them from the sun as well as intruders, back when they’d been designing the compound, Obsidian and his brothers had opted for a backup plan that included a wealth of rooms underneath the mansion. Everything down here ran on separate water, gas, electrical, and HVAC systems, which were all supplied by a solar backup generator. Should the mansion come under attack, it would require tremendous effort for their enemies to gain access to them, allowing them protection from the deadly rays of the sun and opportunity to plan their offensive should it be necessary.
Currently, the various rooms had been set up as recreation—a full-sized, fully stocked bar complete with half a dozen bar-height four-tops. A Wurlitzer Zodiak 3500 jukebox circa 1970 fully restored to its original condition and loaded with 45s, maintained by none other than Gryffyth, their resident music guru, sat proudly in the corner. At the back of the room were two grand pianos brought in by Aphotic and Eclipse when they had the idea of a dueling piano bar, along with a plethora of leather seating scattered throughout. Needless to say, this space saw a lot of action when everyone was in residence.
Aside from that, there were a dozen or so rooms used mostly for storage, along with a twenty-by-twenty room utilized as a weapons locker. But Obsidian’s favorite, and one he and his brothers utilized frequently, was what they referred to as the sparring gym. The nine-hundred-square-foot room was constructed with limestone on all four walls and the floor, lit by four gas torchlights, one on each of the walls, and sealed by a thick stone door. There was nothing inside, no furniture, no equipment, nothing to distract, which made it perfect for sparring.
Two seconds after Obsidian stepped inside the room, Stygian materialized. He’d changed as well, his attire similar to Obsidian’s, shorts, no shirt, feet bare.
As he moved deeper into the room, Obsidian willed the heavy door to close. Once it was in place, he sealed the room with his mind, prohibiting anyone from materializing within. He couldn’t risk Taayin trying to put a stop to what was about to go down. If he knew what was best for him, the male would keep his distance. Especially right now considering he’d willfully overstepped earlier.
“You sure you’re up for this?” Stygian taunted, a grin pulling at his lips. “I assume you’re not at full strength with your amsouelot keeping you busy.”
Stygian was the closest in age to him, though there was nearly a century between them. They’d trained together once Stygian was old enough, learning everything Michael had been willing to bestow on his warriors. And while their brothers were as competent as they were, their younger brothers’ training had been left to them.
“I can hold my own,” Obsidian assured the male.
“So you say.” Stygian bared his fangs. “But I accept your challenge.”
“Do not hold back,” he ordered.
“Of course not, brother.”
Obsidian squared off with the male, clearing his mind of everything, focusing solely on the rage that was a byproduct of his own fear for his amsouelot. Like boxers in a ring, they circled one another, gauging, plotting as they moved closer.
“She’s safe here,” Stygian said, clearly reading him correctly.
“I know.” And he did, but that didn’t assuage the concern for her safety.
Obsidian let the anger take over, his eyes glowing brighter as emotion built. Here and now, he didn’t have to worry that Penelope would pick up on his insecurities or question his abilities. He was free to let it all out.
So he did.
As though invisible tethers had been clipped, their bodies collided. Neither held back. Fists flew, knuckles pounded on flesh, knees and elbows cracked against bone. Each landing blows left and right, strategy taking a backseat to the need to punish.
Years of training had honed them both into killing machines, designed with one intention. To take out the enemy.
From the moment of his creation, Obsidian had been bred for this. Going toe-to-toe with an opponent, pummeling anything put in his path. Throughout his existence, he’d never ba
cked down, made certain he was the strongest, the fastest, the most cunning. Fists, blade, or bullet, he had mastered them all. Alongside his brothers, they had continued their training over the centuries, never quite content with their abilities, despite the fact they were a force to be reckoned with.
Obsidian didn’t hold back, nor did Stygian. Wounds would heal, for both of them. However, he’d learned there was only one way to rid the body of the rage. Knuckles, elbows, knees. Nothing was off-limits as they fought for dominance.
Stygian stumbled back, then countered with a roundhouse kick, making contact with Obsidian’s chest. He grunted as he regrouped, nailing Stygian with an uppercut to the jaw. His brother’s head snapped back, but he didn’t fall. Baring his teeth, Stygian charged again.
Minutes ticked by as blood trickled from open wounds, muscles flexed. The only sounds were the reverberation of impact, grunts as pain bloomed from contact, breaths rasping from exertion.
He could feel the push against the magic holding the others at bay. Taayin would no doubt attempt to make entry, but his efforts were no match for Obsidian’s. The lieterra could try for a century and never chip away at the force field he’d put in place. Obsidian actually found it amusing that he would try.
Stygian caught him off guard with a series of kicks that sent him stumbling. His body slammed into the chipped stone floor before Stygian was over him. Obsidian took two blows to the face, managed to dodge the last, then caught Stygian in the chin, sending him flying backward. Their positions reversed as Obsidian pummeled him in return, but the male didn’t stay down for long.
Grunts and groans ricocheted off concrete as pure will fought against brute strength. Stygian’s silver eyes tracked Obsidian, assessing, attempting to predict his next move. Obsidian’s fear for his amsouelot had a stranglehold and the rage flowed, sending power through his limbs. Unable to hold back, Obsidian overpowered the male, driving him into the wall with a violence that rattled the mansion’s foundation.
Realizing he was seconds from annihilating him, Obsidian dropped to his knees, weak from exertion, then let himself fall to the ground. Stygian stumbled back against the wall, the stone holding him upright.
Obsidian’s breaths sawed through exhausted lungs, his eyes locked on the ceiling above. He felt better. He would for a bit.
Glancing over, he smiled as Stygian slammed his shoulder into the wall, successfully driving it back in its socket.
“Thank you,” Obsidian told him.
“For what?” Stygian hissed, rolling his shoulder as he bent at the waist. “Kicking your ass?”
Obsidian grinned, looked back up at the ceiling. “Yes.”
“You’re welcome.” He chuckled, his gaze sliding to the door. “If you don’t let him in, you’re going to give the male a heart attack.”
With a heavy sigh, Obsidian willed the door to release.
As expected, it flew open, Taayin marching in with Miklós and Søren flanking him. The lieterras glowered down at them, evidently not impressed.
“We don’t need a referee,” Obsidian informed them, sitting up.
Stygian appeared before him, holding out his hand to help him to his feet. Obsidian accepted. Already, the wounds were healing on his body and Stygian’s. They would all be gone before they made it to the third floor. One of the benefits of being an all-powerful angel of God. Rapid mending.
Taayin glared at the two of them, as though he had any say in what Obsidian did or didn’t do. The truth was, he held the ultimate power, even above his brothers, though he maintained an even keel between them. He had no need for power or dominance where they were concerned and they knew it. But every faction had a leader, and somewhere along the way, they’d all looked to Obsidian.
“One of these days, you’re not going to get back up,” Taayin grumbled.
“It would take tremendous effort,” Obsidian remarked as he started back through the tunnels.
“Maybe. But that doesn’t make it smart,” Taayin countered.
Evidently the male had never had to deal with the terror that came along with wanting to protect the one thing that meant more than anything else.
“Obsidian…”
“Let it go, Taayin,” he told him.
“We need to talk,” the male countered. “About—”
Spinning around, Obsidian got up in his face.
Though he had eight inches on him and probably a hundred pounds of solid muscle, Taayin didn’t back down.
“I said let it go,” Obsidian snarled.
Stygian’s hand squeezed his arm. “Let’s walk, brother.”
With a grunt, he backed off, took a deep breath.
“We need to figure out our next steps,” Stygian said. “We’re all on edge, and rightfully so.”
Before he could say anything, Obsidian was slammed with a tremendous heat. It moved through him, had him stumbling back against the wall.
“You all right?” Stygian asked, the concern on his face evident.
Obsidian shook his head. “Penelope. I have to get to her.”
It took two tries before he managed to dematerialize, but he finally did, resuming his physical form on the third floor.
WHILE OBSIDIAN WAS OFF DOING HIS OWN thing, Penelope was left to explore his private quarters, her thoughts racing a mile a minute after the conversation with the others earlier. It wasn’t like she had any idea how to handle a situation of this magnitude. How did you deal with demons who were out to kill you?
Hell, a week ago, she’d been oblivious to the fact there were demons. Or angels, for that matter.
In fact, a week ago, she’d been living her normal, mundane life, traipsing across the floor of Caesar’s offering free drinks and accepting whatever measly tips they were willing to offer.
A week.
Seven days.
Now she didn’t even have a job because waitresses were easily replaceable, especially in Vegas. Since she hadn’t called in to work, no doubt there was another woman taking her place. She had an apartment, but based on what had happened, she figured it was only a matter of time before a new set of demons paid a visit, destroying it all once again.
Penelope sighed.
And here she was, smack in the middle of Angel Central, trying to wrap her head around it all.
Her thoughts drifted to Acadia. More specifically, her abrupt request to go out in the field. From what she’d gathered from Obsidian, the Fae had relinquished their battle garb in favor of manning operations and providing assistance in other ways. So why would Acadia want to go out there? To face the demons head on?
Well, duh. Penelope knew Acadia had made the suggestion for her benefit. More specifically to put distance between them. There was no denying Penelope had reacted badly this morning. Acadia was simply offering Obsidian what he needed, and Penelope’d become some possessive girlfriend, not wanting the man she loved to feed from anyone else. Certainly not a female. Not wanting—
Before she could finish the thought, desire unlike anything she’d ever known hit her, banishing everything from her mind. It was a sudden jolt that had her muscles tightening. She pressed her knees together as a fierce sexual need exploded in her core, had her sex softening, clenching.
Holy crap. What the hell?
She’d gotten somewhat acclimated to how turned on Obsidian made her, how easily she could go from simmer to boil in his arms, but this … this was not lust. It was powerful, driving the air from her lungs. It was as though her blood was boiling. Her skin became ultrasensitive, the bra she wore damn near painful where it brushed against her tender nipples. Though she was tempted to shove her hand between her legs and quell the urge, she refrained. It wasn’t that she was opposed to masturbation, but her body wasn’t seeking her own touch. It wanted Obsidian. More so than it ever had before.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, her nipples scraping against the lace of her bra as she got to her feet.
In a mad rush, she tore at her T-shirt, needing to get it off. As she tugge
d it over her head, she stumbled a few steps, fighting to draw air into her lungs. Her sex pulsed with an ache that overwhelmed her.
She needed to find Obsidian.
Now.
Before she could get her legs to listen to reason, the door opened and Obsidian strolled in. Behind him, the door closed, even as he was marching toward her. He was shirtless, his chest glistening with perspiration, and in that moment, she’d never seen a more beautiful specimen.
Penelope stared in awe. All that powerful muscle, the heat in his eyes directed her way.
“I’m not sure what’s happening,” she told him, the words coming out in a gravelly rasp.
Without a word, he stripped her first, then himself, then dragged her onto the bed with him, his lips a soothing balm to her overheated body.
“I need—” She didn’t get the words out before he was pushing into her, filling her so perfectly.
Clutching his shoulders, Penelope stared up into those swirling silver eyes, unable to fight the tears forming. How he knew she’d needed him, she wasn’t sure, but here he was, taking care of her as he had from the moment she’d met him.
“Touch me,” she groaned. “Everywhere.”
He hugged her to him, the simple feel of his skin soothing hers.
“God, you feel good,” she said on a moan as he pushed in deeper.
“Let me love you, ayreme,” he whispered in that dark, rich baritone.
Oh, God. Those words were a balm to her soul, calming the storm while at the same time igniting her desire for him.
“Love me,” she pleaded, burying her face in his neck and inhaling deeply.
He smelled amazing, the scent sending her arousal into hyperspace even as he impaled her, her body rocking with every exquisite thrust of his hips. The pain that had bloomed within her morphed into a delicious pleasure that made her hum. She held on, her arms ringing his neck, his big, hard body covering hers, pressing her deeper into the mattress.
Penelope never wanted it to end. She wanted to stay just like this, wrapped in his arms, filled to overflowing not only physically but emotionally as well.
Protected in Darkness (Misplaced Halos, 1) Page 24