“Olivia…?”
She peeked around the hood. Well, well…speak of the angel. As Tate approached, his dark violet gaze shot from her to Pat, then back to her. “You having car trouble, dove?” He came around to the front of the Camaro, placing himself between Olivia and her new student.
“It won’t start…” she replied, as Tate leaned over the engine. She glanced over his back at Pat, who looked none too pleased by the interruption.
After a few more seconds, Tate shut the hood firmly. “Give it a try now.”
“But—” Olivia was about to tell him there was no chance this car was going to start, when Tate interrupted her.
“Just start the car, dove.”
Had a term of endearment ever sounded less endearing? His tone left no measure for argument. Clearly, he expected her to comply without questioning him or the laws of physics.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Olivia heard Pat ask as she climbed into the car.
“Something like that,” he replied, which was so not true. From reading her journal, she’d learned that angels couldn’t lie, so how was he getting through that little loophole? Tate may be a number of things, but he was most definitely not “something like that.” Olivia turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. Well, now she could add miracle worker to the list.
Tate said something to Pat that she couldn’t quite catch over the hum of her engine. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been well received. The guy straightened to his full height, which still failed to meet Tate’s impressive six-six. His ice blue eyes narrowed on her guardian, whose own flashed a shade brighter. She knew Tate was getting angry, thanks to her journal which had been a crash course in angelology.
These heavenly beings may resemble men, but they were nothing like humans. Their physical characteristics alone exceeded perfection. As swift as a tide, their eyes changed color with their emotions. The stasis color, dark violet, turned to sapphire when aroused, green with jealousy, and amber with grief. And then there was the color she was witnessing now on Tate, and the amethyst glow made him appear otherworldly and wholly dangerous.
Angels could easily teleport dimensions and trace to various locations at will, which was no doubt, how Tate had instantly appeared a few minutes ago. Humans, however, could not transcend. If an angel or demon attempted to pull them across, their souls would separate from their body, instantly killing them.
Angels possessed light energy, which, when transferred to humans in small amounts, could actually heal them. But in higher quantities, or if their control slipped, say during a moment of passion, it could burn a human and possibly even result in death. Had Tate just juiced her car? Probably. The battery was reading full and this baby was purring a few spark plugs short.
More words were exchanged between Pat and Tate before they split in opposite directions. Her guardian came around and slid into the passenger seat. The sheer size of him consumed his side of the car and part of hers. His dark violet eyes still bore hued remnants of amethyst.
“What did you say to him?”
“Nothing that didn’t need saying,” Tate grouched. “Were you really going to leave with that tail chaser? Pray tell that was not a friend of yours.”
Olivia backed up, headlights panning the near empty lot as she pulled out and headed for home. “No. I don’t know him. He just joined my yoga class today.”
“Well, keep an eye out for that one. I don’t trust him. At best, he wants in your pants; at worst, he’ll kill you.”
“You know, you could try to sugarcoat it a little.”
“I don’t believe in mincing words, Olivia. Your car is damaged. The battery was drained and you’ve got spark plugs missing. Your security system has been disabled. Someone did that. I’m disinclined to think the assault was demonic in nature due to the archaic simplicity of it, but deviant nonetheless. I am here to keep you safe from the Dark Court, but clearly there’s a human who has ill will toward you. Any idea who that might be?”
Tate’s gaze locked on her, the intensity sending a chill up her spine. Perhaps she shouldn’t say anything. It wouldn’t be fair to wrongly accuse the guy and then throw him under the bus called Tate. “I can’t think of anyone who would do that. Except—”
“Except who, Olivia?”
Aw hell…maybe she should tell him, just in case she ever turned up missing. “Um…things haven’t been good between Mitch and me since my accident. He hasn’t taken the separation well. At times, he’s been aggressive in his pursuit to make things work between us. I feel nothing for him, and he’s had a hard time accepting that. I’ve tried to reason with him… Maybe he’s lashing out. He knows Liam gave me this car and he blames him for the breakup.”
Tate nodded. “I’ll handle Mitch. In the meantime, keep alert. Let me know if you see anyone or anything suspicious.”
Olivia was reluctant to admit it, but she was actually kinda glad Tate was staying with her. Perhaps having her guardian as a roomie wasn’t such a bad deal, all things considered.
Chapter Six
After dropping Olivia off, Tate took the Camaro up to NAPA and got her a new battery and spark plugs. Clearly, trouble seemed to find that female, and he began to wonder just how long he could maintain a court presence and continue keeping her safe. With any luck, this latest incident would spook her into accepting him. Once he could feel her emotions, he’d be able to sense her, making it so much easier to keep her safe.
He hadn’t seen Liam since the day of his sentencing. The thought had occurred to consult him on the best approach to handle the willful female. But rumor had it Liam wasn’t taking his incarceration well and all but refused visitors, save his best friend, Balen. The angel hadn’t taken the loss of Olivia well, his outburst throwing an unsuspecting High Court into utter chaos. Had they not incarcerated him, he would have most assuredly bailed. Liam had lost his perspective—his objectivity was for shit. And since meeting Olivia, after seeing and spending time with her, Tate had no doubt the rumors, although yet unfounded, were absolutely true—that female and his friend had been intimate. Since being summoned to court, the angel possessed a wildness, a lack of restraint fed by carnality that came only from sampling forbidden fruit.
Had the courts known the beauty Olivia would grow to become, Tate wondered if they’d been so eager to place her in a warrior’s hands—a primal male that lacked immunity to a mortal’s life source. Olivia was gorgeous. Truly stunning, actually—a temptation to any male, human or otherwise. Were she not Liam’s, admittedly, Tate would have found it difficult to bridle his own attraction to the female. An unwitting femme fatale that apparently had more than a few admirers Tate was going to have to do some damage control with. Next stop: Mitch Mathis.
Pulling into Mitch’s driveway, Tate cut the engine. The living room curtain shifted to the side and dropped back closed. Before he could climb out of the car, the front door flew open and the guy stepped onto the porch. His hopeful countenance fell as Tate stepped from Olivia’s car. Brows drawing tight into a foreboding scowl, he supposed this male could be considered intimidating to another man. Were he a mortal, he might have thought twice about approaching the surly human. Shoulders back, jaw locked tight in a defiant clench, the guy was throwing off a whole lot of turn-around-and-get-the-fuck-back-in-that-car.
Tate didn’t cow to anyone, least of all a mere mortal. Shouldering his own aggressive stance, he advanced on the arrogant prick who dared to hassle his ward.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Mitch demanded.
Short, sweet, and to the point. “I’m Olivia’s guardian.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Mitch cocked his head. “I’ve met Olivia’s guardian, and you ain’t him. Try again.”
Tate mounted the stairs, stopping in front of Mitch. “Well, I’m the new guy—”
“What happened to Liam?”
“He’s currently detained, so I’m filling in. Anyway, I’m here to tell you to lay off Olivia. She’s going thr
ough a tough time right now, and harassing her isn’t going to help your chances of getting her back. But it will, however, put you on my shit list.”
Mitch’s glare darkened—muscles tensed. His stance shifted, redistributing his weight to his back leg. That cocky bastard was getting ready to hit him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You hit me and all bets are off.” It was the only warning Tate would give him. Anything else he had to say would be with his fists.
“Get off my porch or it’s on. I don’t give a fuck where you hail from.”
The strong bite of whiskey stung Tate’s nostrils. “You wouldn’t be so cavalier about taking me on without that liquid courage saturating your common sense. Do yourself a favor and stay away from Olivia. You tamper with her car again and—”
“I haven’t done shit to her car! If someone’s fucking with it, it ain’t me. Perhaps you should go threaten some other sucker who’s had the misfortune of falling for that deceitful little bitch!”
With a surprising amount of agility, Mitch stepped forward and took a swing at Tate. Instinctively, his arm flew up, blocking the blow, and he countered with a right hook to Mitch’s jaw. At the last minute, Tate pulled his punch, but the hit still connected solidly. His knuckle tore open on Mitch’s tooth as his head snapped back. He fell against the front door, a livid curse flying from his split lip.
As he scrambled for his footing, Tate bore down on him. In two long strides, he reached Mitch and pressed his booted foot into the guy’s chest, pinning him to the porch floor. “Now that was just stupid.”
From his supine position, Mitch gave Tate a contemptuous glare, unbridled fury rolling off him like heat waves.
“Honestly, I don’t know what Olivia ever saw in you, but I’m starting to think her amnesia is the best thing that ever happened to her. I’m here to officially tell you, it’s over. You fuck with her again, and I won’t be so nice the next time I come back.” His warning was devoid of emotion, but ominous in his command. Leaving no measure for misunderstanding, Tate gave the arrogant prick a shove with his foot before he turned and strode back to the car.
“It ain’t over until I say it’s over!” Mitch called after him.
Before climbing inside, Tate shot him a dark glare over the roof of the car. “Then you’ll not find me so pleasant the next time we cross paths.”
Taking his pent-up aggression out on the accelerator, the Camaro shot backward onto the street, tires coming to a screaming halt. He threw the gear into drive and punched the pedal.
Olivia was in the kitchen when he entered from the garage service door. A worried frown pulled tight over her verdant eyes as she sat at the table, nervously clutching a steaming cup of tea. “You were gone a long time for just getting spark plugs.” Her gaze dropped to his hand.
A trickle of blood oozed down his finger. Had he not expended so much energy starting her car, the cut would have been healed by now. With a subtle turn of his wrist, he wiped the back of his hand against his jeans. Her brow arched questioningly. That female didn’t miss a beat.
“What happened to it?”
“I cut it.” Tate pushed the door closed and stepped into the kitchen.
“How?”
“Does it matter?” He pulled out a chair across from her and sat.
“You’re talking around me because you can’t lie and you don’t want to tell me the truth.”
Slipping low in his seat, legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest, he watched his ward with surprised amusement. “How do you know I can’t lie, Olivia?”
She shrugged and lifted the mug to her lips, taking a sip. “It was in my journal. Apparently, I’m quite the writer.”
“What else did you learn?” he asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.
“Not enough. Now quit changing the subject and tell me how you cut your hand, and why it isn’t healed yet.” She slid her chair back and walked over to the sink, wet a napkin, and grabbed an emergency medical kit from the cupboard below.
He didn’t respond, but watched her warily as she walked over to her seat, and held out her hand expectantly. What was she doing? Did she really expect him to give her his hand? The cut was nothing. It would heal—as soon as his energy built back up. He was here to take care of her, not the other way around. “What?” A ripple of tension shuddered through him.
“Just let me see it.” Olivia reached across the table and grabbed his arm. Taking his hand in hers, she inspected his knuckles. Her brows furrowed, her bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration. Grabbing the wet cloth, she dabbed at his knuckles, glancing up as if to make sure she wasn’t hurting him. “You saw Mitch, didn’t you?”
He dipped his head in acknowledgment, resisting the impulse to withdraw his hand from her grasp, not wholly comfortable with the physical contact. “Mitch is an ass,” he grumbled. “Honestly, I can’t see you with that guy, memories or not. From how Liam spoke of you—”
Olivia stilled. Her grip on his hand tightened and her emerald gaze shot up, locking on him intently. “He talked about me? What did he say?”
Aw hell... The hopeful expression on her face sent a pang of guilt piercing his heart. He was supposed to be encouraging her to let Liam go, not talking about him. But she looked so heartsick at the mere mention of his name. Heaving a sigh of resignation, he conceded, “Liam always spoke of you in the highest regard. He described you as intelligent, spirited, and compassionate. He worried your lack of life experience would make you vulnerable to others who would take advantage of your gentle nature. When Liam came back, the first time that is, it was clear he’d fallen in love with you. That concerned the elders. Still, he endeavored to let you go, as you must do for him now.”
She scowled at that, clearly finding the advice distasteful. He glanced down at his hand held tightly by hers in a pleading embrace. Blood continued to ooze from the laceration, slowly rolling toward her fingers. He pulled his hand from her grip and grabbed the moist cloth from the table, wiping it across his hand.
“I’m sorry—” she stammered, as if just now realizing she’d been in the process of tending his wound.
He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I said it’s fine.”
Propping her elbows on the table, she buried her face in her hands. “I can’t do it, Tate. And I know it makes no sense to you. I don’t even understand it myself, but I can’t let him go. My heart is clinging to someone I can’t even remember. But Olivia...the Olivia who wrote in that journal was so profoundly in love with him, that to read her memories makes me fall in love him all over again. I want him back in my life.”
He truly pitied the young woman sitting beside him. She looked so fragile, so...broken. If there was something he could have said, something he could have done to ease her suffering, he would have done it. As it was, he could be of no assistance when it came to matters of the heart.
“—And then there’s this part of me that’s so furious he did this to me. How could he just erase four years of my life like they never happened?”
Her head snapped up and those tear-filled eyes locked on him as if she expected him to answer her. If he was wise, he’d keep his mouth shut. Nothing was going to fix this. If he could lie, he’d be tempted to belay her with untruths that Liam didn’t want her. She’d been nothing but an assignment that he was tired of babysitting. It would have broken her heart, but truly, could the pain have been any worse than her suffering right now? At least with time she’d be able to move on. If you asked him, it would have been the merciful thing to do.
“—I mean how, if he really loved me, could he possibly do something like this?”
Tate sighed, cursing the truth and its adage, for it did not always set you free. “He didn’t have a choice, Olivia. He had to leave and he did what he thought was best—for you. Do not think, for one second, that any of this has been easy for him. He wanted to spare you the grief of letting him go.”
“Is that what he told you? Have you seen him?”
He was reluctant to answer any more of her questions. He’d already said more than enough. But perhaps this was what she needed to hear, to understand the finality of her situation. Maybe then she would attempt to let Liam go, and Tate could finally bond to his ward.
“I haven’t seen him since the day of his sentencing—when he lost his guardianship of you. You were right when you said I don’t understand. Because I don’t. And I won’t sit here and pretend that I do. I think only logically and am driven by duty, not emotion. If I seem crass to your plight, understand that my job is to protect you and keep you out of the hands of the Dark Court. If you truly want to get past this, then for the love of God, stop trying to remember him and quit reading that bloody journal.”
A certain resolve stiffened her spine, notching her up a little higher. The stubborn set of her jaw told him he was wasting his breath. Liam had said the female was tenacious. Man, he wasn’t kidding. Olivia was an intelligent woman. She knew what was at stake and the dangers of shutting him out. Perhaps she’d consider what he said—perhaps she’d accept him before it was too late.
Pushing his chair back, Tate stood and wordlessly exited the kitchen.
Pat entered the kitchen and stopped at the table long enough to empty his pockets—keys, some change, and two spark plugs clattered into the catch-all bowl. So close, and yet so fucking far… The woman had been seconds from recanting and accepting a ride, when out of nowhere her “something like that” had shown up and ruined everything. How in the hell did that asshole get her car started with a dead battery and a missing plug?
“Since you’re back so soon, I assume that means you failed.”
At the raspy growl, Pat’s heart leapt into his throat as he spun around. “Jesus! You scared the hell out of me.”
The sardonic chuckle sent a shiver of dread racing up his spine.
“Oh, I highly doubt that, my boy.”
He stepped into the living room to find his uninvited guest lounging in the recliner, a half-empty bottle of Absinthe in his hand.
The Redemption Series Page 75