Her pain from the Core blood muted to a dull ache as Liam’s mouth, his hands, took her to a place of pure ecstasy. Here, nothing mattered beyond his next touch, his next kiss, and the delicious pleasure he’d wring from her ready and willing body.
Olivia’s breaths quickened with panting expectancy as his massive, virile body crawled down hers with the stealth and fluid grace of a predator stalking its prey. A thrill of excitement shivered in her core, muscles tensing in heady anticipation as his breath teased across her stomach—then lower. A strangled gasp caught in her throat, her hips arching off the bed as her hands dove into the errant waves of his silky hair. His large hands scooped beneath her bottom, gripping tight, lifting her up as the sacrificial lamb of his erotic feast.
Moments she wished would last forever, passed in a fleeting heartbeat. Her body shattered into a million pieces as she swiftly came apart in his hands, undone by the rapture of his kiss. He took possession of her—mind, body, and soul. As the waves of ecstasy receded and she struggled to regain her presence of thought, Liam worked his way up her body, slid his hips between her parted thighs, and took her all over again.
Olivia’s release rode her hard; as did the male she’d given her all to—her guardian, her best friend…her lover. She was his in every way, and try as she might to rationalize her impudence, she couldn’t help but wonder if these last few days were just the first of many consequences to come.
As she lay sprawled across his sweat-dampened chest, still heaving from the workout of his own release, Olivia lifted her head to meet his brilliant sapphire gaze. “You know, you could have warned me that unlike the Energizer Bunny, you actually do wear out.”
His brow arched in question at her light scolding. Clearly feeling no worse for the wear, he bent his arm, tucking it behind his head. A roguish grin tugged at his top lip, promising his energy was far from depleted.
“I’ll have you know that Niall took great pleasure in informing me I’d broken you.”
Liam chuckled, his low rumbling chortle still wrought with unspent desire. “I assure you, you did not break me. But if you care to have another go at it, I’m more than game.”
“Liam, it’s not funny. Do you realize three days have passed?”
At her news, the playful grin on his seductive lips vanished and he scowled. “Three days? Are you serious?”
“Yes, quite. You mean you don’t know? How much time do you think has passed?”
“A few hours.”
“Well…times that by twenty and you’re getting close. I was really scared, Liam. Why didn’t you tell me that could happen to you?”
“Because it never has before.”
Rolling out from under her, he planted his feet on the floor, face in his hands. A familiar gesture she’d come to recognize when he was frustrated or upset. Dread turned the blood surging through her veins to ice. “Never?”
He shook his head.
“How can that be? It must happen sometimes. Niall said it was quite common.”
“Niall is a different kind of angel than I am. He’s Hititsu—they’re mercenaries who hunt demonic creatures like the one you saw with him the other day.”
Like the one that nearly killed me last night, she mentally amended.
“They are nomads, relentless hunters that protect your world from beasts who intend to harm the human race. Landaketa is the closest thing Hititsu have to a home. Their power source is different than mine, and they live by a different set of laws than I do. I am Ronnin. I come from a legion of angels created to war against other angels. I fight those who fall from grace, and I enforce Eternal Law—” Exhaling on a curse, he scrubbed his face with his hands and grumbled, “—when I’m not breaking it.”
Olivia didn’t know what to say, struck speechless with the realization of how little, after all this time, she actually knew about him.
“Ronnin are like the peacekeepers of the universe. My power comes directly from my Creator. We do not become unplugged.”
She rose up and walked on her knees across the mattress. Laying her un-bruised cheek against the wide expanse of his shoulders, she slipped her arms around his waist and held onto him. “Well, you did, and it really scared me,” she whispered. “How do you feel now?”
“No different. Strong as ever.”
“Perhaps you’re taking too long to return with Haden and the court is growing impatient.”
“No doubt that, but they don’t possess the power to sever my connection. Would that they could, a steeper penance could not be imposed.”
Sighing, she brushed a kiss against the nape of his neck and returned to her pillow, watching him grapple with a number of truths that gave cause for more questions than answers. “We have to go back, don’t we?”
He nodded. “In the morning.”
The morning? But already the darkened room was slowly growing brighter with the promise of a new day. The low drawl of Liam’s voice sounded no more eager over the prospect of leaving than she felt. Suddenly, an idea hit her. An impetuous thought, true, but she couldn’t resist voicing it. “What if we didn’t…go back, that is. Can’t we stay here? You and me?”
The muscles in his back rippled and flexed as he dragged his hand through his hair and exhaled a breath she didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Were it that easy... Olivia, if you lived here, you could never leave. The passage of time between your world and here is great. The aging would be too hard on your body. Already, we’ve tarried longer than I wanted to. I’m concerned for your health in returning as it is. No doubt you’ll feel the effects. If this were our home, you would have to walk away from your entire life as you know it. Your family, your friends…you’d never see them again, at least not in this lifetime. And that’s a sacrifice I fear you’d live to regret.”
A sacrifice no greater than the one he was willing to make for her, she wanted to point out. But the argument died on her lips as she considered the gravity of his words. Even as angry as she was with her parents for deceiving her, for keeping the truth from her, Olivia wasn’t ready to turn her back on them, on all her friends and loved ones.
He turned his head, looking over his shoulder to meet her gaze. Then, as if just now getting a clear glimpse of her face, he tensed. His expression vacillating somewhere between concern and barely controlled rage. “Bloody hell, Olivia, what happened to the side of your face?”
Truthfully, she’d forgotten all about it, her heartache over their situation dwarfing any physical pain that remained from the beast’s assault. Until this moment, he must not have gotten a good look at her. Her injuries had been concealed by the cover of night. Reaching up, she brushed her fingertips over the tender spot on her cheekbone and wondered just how bad it truly looked. Judging from the shock and anger on Liam’s face, it wasn’t good.
“It’s fine,” she answered dismissively, trying to reassure him.
“The hell it is!” he barked. “What happened to you?” His gaze dipped to her throat and he shoved her robe aside, baring her breasts to the scrutiny of his gaze. A snarled oath tore from his lips. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been touching you, kissing you—”
“Because you weren’t hurting me.” Feeling self-conscious, she pulled the robe from his grip and refastened the tie. “Rebecca gave me some salve for the burns. It’s much better now.”
“I’ll ask you one last time before I get the truth from Niall, and I can damn well promise you, he’ll give it to me. How did this happen, Olivia?”
She shivered at the amethyst glow in his piercing gaze, the room crackling with the energy of an impending electrical storm, making the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. “I went into the barn. I didn’t realize the Correan was in there…”
The foul oath that flew off his tongue would have, no doubt, scalded her ears had it been in a language she could understand.
“What are you going to do?” she demanded as he leapt from the bed and grabbed his pants off the floor. Jerking them on and past his h
ips, Liam was still fastening the button and yanking up the zipper as he stormed out the door.
“I’m going to save Niall a trip to Sheol,” echoed his snarled response down the hall. Liam’s heavy footfalls became a rapid staccato of pure male fury as he hit the stairs. A moment later, the front door slammed shut with a wall-rattling bang.
Had that beast not tried to kill her, she might have felt sorry for it. As it was, she couldn’t help but feel a small measure of self-satisfaction that it would soon reap the wrath of her warrior.
A night didn’t go by that the burnt orange Charger didn’t pass the home of Olivia’s parents. Not once or twice, but several times—as if the driver of the vehicle expected the result to be different each time he cased the place. Then again, Haden’s monotony was hardly any better, watching and waiting with a patience he thought himself incapable of. The only difference between him and the creeper was that Haden knew why he was here—knew that eventually Liam would have to bring Olivia back, and when he did, she’d undoubtedly want to see her parents.
He’d given up on tracking her a week ago when her trail went cold in Mississippi. Haden had no idea how Liam had managed to hide her, but he’d pulled a Houdini with the female. There was no question she was gone, and he was unwilling to consider the possibility that his skills as a hunter were lacking.
If that female was anywhere on God’s green earth, he’d have found her. So, herein lies the million dollar question: Where the fuck was she? He refused to believe she was dead, which was just about the only explanation he could come up with. Each and every time his mind went there, a knot formed in his gut and a crushing ache centered in his chest, robbing his lungs of air.
No. She wasn’t dead, he told himself—she couldn’t be. Liam wasn’t stupid, and this wasn’t that angel’s first rodeo. Liam would give his life for her. That, Haden was certain of, and that bastard was hard to kill, so despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, he was relatively certain the female still lived.
What he wasn’t certain of, however, was why the guy in the Charger was so damn interested in her. It was as if he, too, eagerly awaited Olivia’s return. After the first day of watching the guy make numerous passes by her home, Haden dismissed the notion that the guy was simply a concerned friend of hers. Were he that, he would have rang her parents’ doorbell, offered his condolences, and perhaps inquired as to if they’d heard word from her. No, this male was no friend, which only left one other option—foe.
Abandoning his post across the street, Haden pulled his purloined ride behind the guy and followed at a discrete distance. They drove through town, ambling down the pre-dawn streets without purpose. It was almost as if the guy had nowhere to go, or at least didn’t want to be there. Growing tired of this cat and mouse game, Haden was about to make his presence known when the guy took a turn down a residential street, home to blocks of rundown duplexes, and pulled into the driveway of a rather decrepit-looking shit box. Haden parked along the road a few houses back before cutting the lights. The guy climbed out of his car and stopped, looking up at the second story window. Following his gaze, Haden noted the flickering ambient light of a television. Still, Olivia’s stalker stood there, watching…waiting.
What the fuck was this guy doing? Haden’s hand shot to the door handle, about to exit the car and ask just that, when the shadow of a tall, lanky male shrouded in a hooded mantle crossed in front of the window. Haden froze, shock initially stopping him cold, his blood turning to ice as his instincts told him what his mind refused to accept.
Gahn was here.
Evil hung in the air, a palpable supernatural fog that stirred Haden’s own darkness to life. He couldn’t look at his father without seeing Anya’s beautiful face, without feeling her lifeless body in his arms, or smelling the heady copper tang of her spilt blood. The sharp knife of betrayal quickly gave way to rage stabbing through his heart. His pulse quickened, hatred burning like acid in his gut, turning his veins to ash. With every fiber of his being, he ached to claim the vengeance long due him—for Anya, for his sanity.
Damn Liam… If he had that stone, this could all be over. The chance to avenge his beloved was right here, right before his eyes, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. The impotence was nigh crippling. At present, he wasn’t even in possession of his dagger. If he’d had the blade, he might have said fuck it and pulled a Hail Mary. It mattered not if he walked away from Gahn, as long as that bastard went down with him. But he couldn’t be assured that would happen, not without Immanuel’s Stone, and Haden wasn’t willing to take that chance. Cursing Liam, he waited for the demon’s scout to enter the duplex before starting his car and returning to ground zero.
Chapter Thirty
Olivia scrambled off the bed and rushed to the closet, snagging one of the gowns Rebecca had left for her. After a moment of struggling into the billowy silk, she finagled the zipper closed in the back. Hitching up her skirts, she raced down the hall after Liam.
By the time her bare feet hit the landing, Rebecca and Niall were entering the foyer and the front door swung open. If she lived a hundred years, she swore she’d never forget the sight of Liam filling the entrance. Her hand flew up, muffling her startled gasp. The fire burning in Liam’s amethyst gaze was so preternaturally lethal, a shudder of alarm raced up her spine. The hard set of his rigid jaw was clenched with fury. His already dark hair was now streaked jet black, ink dripping from the tips, splattering on the floor as he stepped inside. The Correan’s blood covered his bare chest, his pants… Either he was immune to the acidic burn of the creature’s blood or did not care, because the angel made no haste to rid himself of the violence literally covering him head to toe.
Niall’s top lip curled in approval, his grin more a sardonic sneer as he gave Liam a chin nod of approval. “Figured you’d want me to leave him for ya.”
Pushing his hair out of his face, the long damp strands remained slicked back as he ambled past them. He wiped his palm against the thigh of his jeans and grunted an acknowledgement.
“You ask me, you missed your calling, my friend. You sure you aren’t part rogue?” Niall jeered, clearly enjoying the show.
“Had you asked me that three days ago, my answer would have been different,” he verily growled, marching down the hall toward the bathroom. A moment later, the door slammed and the water pipes running through the ceiling gave a shrill whine.
To Olivia’s ire, Niall appeared entirely too pleased by the whole scene. With an exasperated huff, she spun away and headed down the hall. The dark angel’s amused chuckle echoed at her back, grating against her nerves like broken glass. That was one angel she was not going to miss, she mused, halting at the bathroom door. Olivia lifted her hand to rap her knuckles against the wood panel and then hesitated. Maybe she should just walk in. Seeking admittance would only give him the opportunity to deny her.
Forgoing the courtesy knock, she cracked the door and slipped inside. Leaning against it, she stepped back until the latch softly clicked. She didn’t speak as she approached, thinking it was a miracle in itself that six and a half feet of muscle-bound warrior could even fit inside that small tub. Were it not so serious, were his mood not so snarly, it would have actually been funny seeing him try to finagle in that thing. As it was, he was having a hell of a time submerging his head in the pooling water.
He cast her the briefest glance before grabbing a rag, squeezing some soap on it, and proceeding to scrub his chest. The inky black liquid only smeared across his muscled pecks, an impatient curse ripe on his tongue.
Olivia reached up to the cabinet and withdrew the same jar of salve Rebecca had given her last night. Kneeling at the side of the tub, she twisted off the cap, scooped out a healthy amount, and smeared the rosemary degreaser across his chest.
“I don’t want you touching me like this. I’m covered in Correan blood.”
“Let me help you,” she insisted, pulling the rag from Liam’s reluctant grasp. “You can barely move in h
ere.” As she worked her hands over his stained flesh, the blood melted away. At her insistence, he didn’t resist her ministrations, nor did his body relax to her touch. Tension still thrummed in his corded muscles, the tight clench of his jaw hinting at his tolerance over her washing him.
“Can you scoot lower? Getting this out of your hair is going to be a nightmare.” His silent compliance brought a small smile to her lips. Dipping a pitcher between his parted knees, she filled it and then poured it over his head. As she worked the rosemary scrub into his hair, she teased, “I hope you’re not expecting another happy ending when this bath is done.”
A snort of suppressed laughter broke from his chest, and she thought perhaps a measure of tension eased from his taut muscles.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have a very inappropriate sense of humor?”
“Once or twice. Have I ever told you how hopelessly in love I am with you?”
He chuckled. The low throaty rumble brought a smile to her lips.
“Once or twice.”
Olivia grabbed the shampoo off the counter, added it to his hair, and worked it into a lather. As her fingers massaged his scalp, nails scratching lightly, his body finally began to relax. The wide set of his shoulders dropped, the rigid stiffness of his spine eased, allowing him to lean forward.
“You’re my hero, you know that? You always have been and you always will be. Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you for helping me get my memory back.”
The crackle of lathering suds filled the stretching silence between them. After a moment, he softly replied, “I love you, Olivia.”
The wearing of Haden’s patience had since gone thread bare. In light of his recent discovery, he abandoned his current stakeout for the hunt of another predator. As he sat recluse in the corner of Waterworks nursing a glass of his current drug of choice, tequila, his fixed gaze followed the arrogant cockstand across the room. The guy was over-average height and stature by human standards. Definitely big enough to impose his will on Olivia, whatever that may be. And given shitdick’s current roomie, “whatever” was definitely not good.
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