Breaking Fate

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  With that, she jumped out, banged the door behind her and ran up the stairs to her home as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. Blaéz didn't think, just reacted. He slammed out of the SUV, sprinted up the steps after her, and grabbed her just as she opened the front door.

  “Oomph! What the—” She scowled up at him. “What now? You want to physically lock me up, too?”

  “Shut up, Darci.” He pushed them inside. With his foot, he shut the door and trapped her against the wooden panel, slapping his palms beside her head. “You do this to me,” he growled. “When I'm away from you I get by, then I see you, and my mind’s in chaos — I cannot think straight—”

  “And that is my fault?”

  At her anger, his faded. With his body pinning hers to the door, he lowered his head to hers and groaned, “You torment me.”

  “Don’t you dare kiss me,” she smacked a hand on his chest, “I'm too mad with you.”

  As if that would stop him from taking what he craved. “I’m sure I can change your mind… I only know what I need right now…” Slow and deliberate, he ran his tongue across her compressed mouth. She refused to let him in. Stubborn woman. “And what I want is your tongue in my mouth, and you wrapped around me.” He bit her lower lip.

  A choppy breath escaped her. He struck and captured her mouth. With languorous strokes, he deepened the kiss, sucking on her tongue.

  A moment passed and she shuddered. Her body relaxed. She melted against him and kissed him back. Blaéz explored her mouth, tasting, licking, and claiming it as his own. This was what he needed, to touch her, to feel her again. His hands lowered to her hips, he pulled her closer. The V of her thighs hit his painfully hard groin. Ah fuck, he grunted, pure need garroting him.

  She freed her mouth from his, panted, “This is hardly an apology.”

  “Then I guess I’m not doing a very good job.” He nipped her jaw. “However, I learn… fast.”

  “I'm sure.” A smile tipped her mouth. “And I'm really, really glad I torment you.”

  “Sadist,” he murmured, trailing his lips down her neck.

  She laughed then whimpered when he grasped her silk-covered nipple with his lips and sucked on it. Still, he wanted more, needed skin-to-skin contact. With his teeth, he lowered the narrow straps of her loose, slinky top down her arms. The green fabric pooled around her waist, revealing more than a handful of perfect tanned breasts with dusky-rose tips.

  He stopped breathing. “My imagination fails me, a leannan… you are beautiful.”

  A blush colored her cheek.

  Compelled, he kissed the curves of her warm flesh in reverence and dragged his tongue over a stiff nipple. She tasted of warm lilacs, satin-smooth skin, and all female. She breathed a throaty sigh. Grabbing his head, she pulled him up again and latched her mouth to his.

  A low growl escaped him. He slipped his hand between her thighs and kneaded her through her pants with the heel of his palm. Craving more, he undid the zipper of her black slacks, slid his fingers beneath her panties and stroked her slick, wet, feminine flesh — his breath caught in sheer wonder. She was perfect.

  Who knew his expansive reading to satisfy his curiosity of carnal pleasure, would aid him now?

  A soft moan left her, her grip tightened on his shirt. He inhaled roughly, drew in the intoxicating scent of her arousal as he found her clit and in absolute fascination, he rolled the tiny nub with his thumb and finger, and watched her face tighten in pleasure. “I need you so damn bad.”

  Passion-glazed eyes met his. “I want you, too.”

  Ah hell, she was going to kill him. Then all lucid thought fled as she slid her arms around his neck, went on her toes, and fastened those luscious lips back to his. At the sensual heat of her naked breasts pressed against his chest, his fingers stroking her clit, lust rode him, hard—

  Yo, Celt — you plan on taking your shift?

  At Tyr’s telepathic intrusion, his dick protested brutally at the interruption. Damn the Norse’s timing. Close to telling him to fuck off, Blaéz inhaled deeply and managed to rein in his lust. Yeah. I’ll be there in a few.

  He broke off their kiss but couldn’t bear to let her go just yet.

  “What is it?” she asked, her eyes a slumberous green searched his.

  He stroked her silky, swollen nub, wanted more than anything to taste her between her legs. The urge to ignore his job took hold, but duty was too ingrained.

  “I don’t want our first time to be in the entrance to your home,” he lied. Christ, he’d take her anywhere she’d let him. Reluctantly, Blaéz removed his hand from between her thighs. At his fingers gleaming wet from her arousal, he licked them clean. Ah, fuck! Bad mistake. Her musky taste swamped his senses. He struggled not to tackle her to the floor and behave like the horny bastard he was.

  “You taste like honey and musk” — color flooded her cheeks — “next time, it will be my mouth here.” He stroked her over her damp panties. Before he lost all common sense, he zipped her pants, pulled up her straps to cover her lush breasts and kissed her on the mouth again. “I have to go. I'm on rift duty.”

  A frown marred her smooth brow. “Rift?”

  “Just patrolling jargon,” he evaded. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He had to get his shit together and get back on the job before Michael yanked him in for another of his little chats.

  As he opened the door, he turned back to her. Naturally, his body had other ideas faced with her arousal-flushed face and kiss-swollen lips. Begging was right at the top of the list to let him stay. The miracle of this female who’d entered his life and made it worth facing each day again absolutely floored him. “Tomorrow, then.”

  “You said that,” she said with a little smile.

  Of course, he did. An emotion he didn't quite recognize unfurled, as if lit from within, the glow spread.

  Is this what happiness felt like?

  About to leave, he remembered something he wanted ask her. “Darci, is anyone in your family psychic?”

  She frowned. “No, but then it’s just me and my brother. Oh, there is one other with terrifying abilities…” she said, her expression serious. Then her eyes filled with laughter, she reached up and kissed him. “You.”

  Yanking her close, he nipped her lower lip. “Behave. I have to go. Tomorrow then — yes, I said it before.” At her widening smile, he shook his head and shut the door quietly behind him.

  For a moment, he just stood there on her front porch and stared at the dark skies, rubbing the knot in his chest.

  No one had ever done that before; tease him. Not when he was young, and certainly not now. And Týr didn't count.

  Chapter 11

  The next morning, Blaéz cut through the rec room heading outside, his mind on his call to Darci. He didn't understand why she refused to let him take her to work, said something about him being tired after working the night. Tired? Not when it came her. Next time, he’d just do as he wanted.

  Týr looked up from a solo game of foosball. “You in?”

  Blaéz paused. Putting his scheduled time for a run on hold, he nodded.

  “Stakes?”

  “You really want to go there?” Blaéz asked as he picked up the small, checkered ball and tossed it back onto the playing fields. “Very well. Two straight goals wins.” Grasping the handle of the black men, he slammed the ball, hard. “No candy for a week.”

  “Bastard.” Týr snorted. “You’re on. I win, and the bike’s mine. So, when are you bringing Darci over?” he asked as he whacked the ball back.

  And have Michael on his back again? “I'm not. I'm moving in with her.”

  “Sure you are…” Týr laughed as he smashed the ball against the wooden edges and scored a goal. Blaéz didn't respond. Týr looked up. “Shit, Celt—” He broke off and stared at him, then nodded. “Right. Of course… You know the Arc’s going to flip about this?”

  Michael would. Blaéz shrugged. He blocked the ball coming at his goalie. As long a
s he did his job, he didn't see a problem with where he stayed. He needed to be with Darci. It had been too long since he’d seen her, touched her. He wished he could feel the gut-churning emotions he’d experienced, that heart-pounding need that had tore through him. But the images in his mind played out like watching a movie on mute.

  Týr smashed the ball and scored again. “And the Harley is back!” he crowed.

  Blaéz brought his attention back to the game. Imagine that, he’d lost. He cocked a brow. “Is that why you brought Darci up?”

  “No, but hell, I had no idea she was so effective—”

  “You only get one shot at that. Enjoy your win.” Blaéz headed for the wet bar. He poured a shot of whiskey. Leaning against the counter, he switched on the flat screen. Taking a sip of his sensation-giving liquor, he watched a taped Mets game. With his mind elsewhere these days, he barely got time to watch his team play.

  Thunder cracked over the estate, pulling his gaze outside. Rain-swollen clouds rolled in from the sea.

  “We’re in for another storm,” Týr said, making his way to the bar. He snagged a Red Bull and headed back to play a solo game of pool.

  The darkening skies reminded Blaéz too much of what was happening to him.

  He wanted to pretend all was normal in his life, instead of one so messed up. Sometimes it was a struggle to see straight. Truth was, his thoughts grew darker, and him harder as the days passed. Without Darci, he realized it would only be a matter of time before he took that path of no return.

  Raindrops fell onto the paved pathway in a light scatter. Setting his glass on the counter, he took off in a run — cut through the gardens and headed towards the cliff, stopping moments later, precariously close to the edge. The rocks below beckoned him… so easy to jump, to ease the chaos in his head, to feel again. Any other time he would have, but he needed to be whole when he saw Darci later.

  He removed himself from temptation, stopping some distance away. He pulled off his tee, kicked off his sneakers, and dove into the roiling Atlantic. As he powered through the furious waves, his mind drifted back to his first time on this realm. It had rained then, too…

  After Maloch had stolen his soul, the cavern had rumbled again as if struck by a quake. A dark swirl of air formed and they’d all been sucked in and spewed out into the mortal realm — somewhere deep in the forest surrounding the Tatra Mountains in Eastern Europe.

  Trekking through the jungle, they’d stumbled into a human settlement, and into absolute carnage…

  Impassively, Blaéz took in the bodies on the ground, drained. Several demoniis turned toward them, eyes glowing red in the night

  At the massacre surrounding him, only one thought filled his mind: retribution.

  Grabbing a broken branch, Blaéz used it as a stake and rammed it in the demonii’s stomach.

  A malevolent grin spread across the scourge’s face — fangs extended from his mouth smeared with blood. He held out his hand to the earth, a fiery hellfire bolt forming in his hand. “Now you die.”

  He didn't escape Tartarus to be killed by this shithead. Blaéz swiped a human’s fallen dagger, spun back and slit the fucker across the carotid. Black blood sprayed. With a shocked gurgle, the demonii fell to his knees, deflating and turning to ash when everything around them stilled.

  Prepared to annihilate whoever or whatever it was, Blaéz wheeled around.

  A female unlike any he’d seen before emerged from the trees. Tall as him, she had hair like sunlight; rich, brown skin, and deep green eyes — the color reflected in the glowing markings that swirled along her eyebrow and down her cheeks. She reminded him of this place, the trees, earth, and sun.

  Her sheer power had him and the others lowering to a knee in reverence to the ancient goddess not many immortals saw.

  Mother Earth. Gaia.

  She glanced at Michael. “You have no need to linger, archangel.”

  “I will remain.”

  A slight incline of her head, she accepted Michael’s edict. “Very well. Arise, fallen warriors from the godly realm.”

  Blaéz and the others pushed to their feet.

  “You’ve encountered evil that has taken to destroying my realm and, in your almost mortal state, you have defeated them.” Those glowing green eyes embraced them. “Become the realm’s Guardians and I will give you purpose. You will recover all powers and never lack again. In time, you will find what you seek…”

  A crack of thunder pulled Blaéz back to the present, made him aware he’d swam out too far. The island coastline had long disappeared from sight. His arm muscles burning at the strain of powering against the tide, he headed back for shore.

  Gaia had drafted him and took his allegiance as a Guardian, committing him to the task of annihilating those bastards. She’d then gifted them back their original god powers, along with telepathy and an irreplaceable weapon inked on their body, as well as an obsidian dagger that could never be stolen. Unfortunately, she couldn’t give him back the one thing he needed.

  His soul.

  ***

  Rain drummed on the asphalt as Blaéz headed toward Dante’s bar later that night.

  Harleys backed up the narrow alley. Soaked to the skin, he pushed open the door into the noisy joint. The acrid stench of tobacco smoke, stale sweat, and burgers slapped him in welcome. Ignoring the leather-clad humans glancing his way, he made his way through the bar, thankful his usual table in the shadowy back corner near the pockmarked mirror was unoccupied. He dropped into the seat and swiped the wetness from his face with the back of his hand.

  This night sucked. Pissing rain. No demoniis trawling.

  “What canna get ya?” a breathy female asked, appearing at his side.

  “Whiskey, neat.” He pulled his cell from his pocket and frowned again at the quiet display.

  Darci had called earlier to tell him she was having dinner at her brother’s house and she’d be home late. Blaéz didn't like that. Naturally, his first reaction had been to go over and prevent the visit. He didn't trust her kin not to secure another male as a mate to his female.

  Darci was his. He would make that clear to her brother.

  The waitress plunked his whiskey before him. “Ya need anythin’ else?”

  “No.” He picked up his glass. At the sudden quiet in the bar, Blaéz glanced up.

  Seemed about right. Michael had finally caught up with him.

  He took a sip of his liquor, savoring the burning trail sliding down his throat and watched the archangel stalk over, his mean-as-a-snake expression obvious, despite the shaded eyes. Michael dragged a chair across the linoleum, flipped it around, and straddled the thing, arms folded on the backrest.

  Blaéz didn't need precog to know the Arc’s presence here was to drive in the thumbtacks. It wasn't like he’d hid his visits to Darci.

  “Was the understanding not clear when I said she’s human and had to leave the castle?”

  Blaéz considered the remaining liquid in his glass. “And so she did.”

  Michael looked ready to plow his fist into something. “Dammit, Celt, you know what I meant.”

  Indeed. Blaéz downed the rest of his whiskey, set the glass on the table with a twenty, and strode out of the bar. He’d been prepared to walk away from Darci, but that hadn’t worked out. He’d be damned if he allowed another to dictate whether he could or couldn’t see her.

  The rain had eased. Moonlight peered out from behind the black clouds, highlighting the deteriorating buildings as he prowled down the wet alley, sidestepped a sleeping drunk breathing out alcoholic fumes. Michael hard on his tail. “Explain to me what is it about this female, when we’ve rescued thousands, that’s gained your attention?”

  Týr had asked him the same question, but he couldn’t fob Michael off with silence. Blaéz stopped near a pitted parking spot, cordoned by chains rattling in the light winds. A stray feline sidled alongside the wall and away from him. “She makes me feel.”

  “Damn.” Hands on his hips, Mic
hael glared skyward. Could only be for heavenly direction. “This changes things.”

  Blaéz was prepared for a fight. “The times I see her mess with no one’s schedule but my own. I won't give her up.”

  “What I mean, Celt, is with you visiting her, do you really think our enemies would not be aware of your tie to her and use it as leverage? And what about the Absolute Laws?”

  An archaic law that still bit arse. One an entire race of angels and their human consorts had been annihilated for. The one the pantheons still clung to and made absolute. Immortals and mortals couldn’t mate. It meant death for the couple. More, it would upset the balance of power if mortal offspring were born with formidable abilities.

  He’d already factored that in. “I’m moving in with her. Besides, I can't mate her, so she’ll be safe from the Absolute Laws.”

  Michael shoved his shades up, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dammit. We are a small group, I refuse to lose any more of you. I need you at the castle.”

  His cell vibrated in his pocket, Blaéz ignored it. “Her life would span mere decades. Mine is eternal. In our existence, my moments with her amounts to seconds. You would deny us that?”

  At his blunt words, a low growl rumbled deep in Michael’s throat as if pissed. “Our enemies prowl this city. What happens when you're on the job? You cannot be with her twenty-four seven. Nor can she mind-link with you if she’s in danger.”

  The Arc was right. No matter what protection he put in place, he’d leave Darci alone and vulnerable while out on patrol. With this sudden upswing of Maloch’s minions, they would sniff her out within a matter of time. And that he refused to let happen. “I want her safe. I'm bringing her to the castle.”

  “Celt, you do this, there is no going back for her.”

  At the warning, Blaéz shrugged. “I don’t see a problem. I'm never letting her go.”

  “So be it.” As Michael’s form shimmered and vanished, Blaéz pulled out his cell and saw Darci’s missed call. It was time to go bring his female home.

  ***

  Darci took shelter on her porch from the drizzle and watched the taillights of Declan’s Pajero disappear down her street. She entered her home, locked the door, and tossed her tote down on the couch.