The Redemption Series

by Melynda Price

  “If you haven’t come here to swear fealty to me and fix this fucking mess, I swear to God, I’ll kill you myself!”

  Liam held that amethyst glower with one of his own that said “Remember who the fuck you’re talking to.” He may be shocked and heart-sickened to see the devastation befalling Landaketa in his absence, but it was repairable—a hell of a lot more reparable than a broken friendship and Niall would do well to remember that.

  Already, since entering the supernatural plane, he could feel his energy sparking back to life. Were he not shaking off the effects of Niall’s right hook, he suspected he’d be feeling even better. Damn, that bastard was a heavy hitter. “Get your hands off me,” he demanded with a low-warning growl.

  Niall released him with a shove of disgust, and dragged his fingers through his midnight hair, pushing it out of his face. “Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be here weeks ago.”

  He began pacing, and seeing the unflappable warrior so pissed off and visibly shaken prickled Liam’s senses. Niall wasn’t one to overreact; that he was this rattled about Liam’s tardy arrival sat ill with him. He leaned against the door, needing a bit more support to stay on his feet than he cared to admit. “I didn’t know Landaketa was weakening with me. I couldn’t comeback right away and leave Olivia unprotected.”

  “She has a guardian for that, Liam. Olivia’s guardianship is no longer your job. What is your job, however, is keeping these damn walls up.”

  He spit the mouthful of copper on the ground and tongued the split in his bottom lip. “I’m well aware of my responsibilities,” he growled, reaching up to rub the side of his face as he stretched his mouth and popped his jaw back into place. “And Olivia’s guardian was a bit busy trying not to die in Sheol, so you’ll just have to forgive the fucking delay.”

  Niall stopped his pacing and did an about-face. “What in the hell was Olivia’s guardian doing in Sheol? You know as well as I do, that realm is forbidden.”

  “Perhaps to the angelic it is, but not to Nephilim. Guess that’s a perk of being a half-breed. You get to live wherever the hell you want.”

  Niall cocked his brow, a spark of wry amusement flashing in his eyes. “It’s not like you to sound so bitter, my friend.”

  Friend now, was it? “Yeah, well it’s not like you to bust a ‘friend’ in the mouth, either, so I guess we’re both just full of surprises.”

  “Which brings me back to my first question. What’s Olivia’s guardian doing leaving her unprotected and taking off to Sheol?”

  If Liam didn’t know better, he’d swear he heard a hint of protectiveness in the angel’s voice. Perhaps Olivia had melted through Niall’s icy exterior during their stay here, after all. “Trying to find Gahn.”

  At the mention of the demon’s name, Niall’s violet gaze flashed to amethyst. The reaction was as instinctive as breathing. True, there was no love lost between those two, and Niall had his own reasons for wanting Gahn dead—damn good reasons. And it ate at Niall like a slow rotting cancer that the bastard hid in Sheol, rather than face him.

  “Why’s the Neph hunting him? Has he done something to Olivia?”

  “Besides abducting her and staking her to the floor like some pagan sacrifice?”

  “Mother fucker…” Niall growled under his breath.

  “Right? I would have gone after him myself, but the chances of getting inside the Dark Court and out in one piece weren’t exactly odds in my favor. Not to mention, Haden grew up there. He knows that place better than anyone, and he has his own score to settle with the demon, so there was no way in hell he was going to let me steal that kill from him—not without a fight, anyway, and that would only end up hurting Olivia.”

  “Did he find him?” Niall’s hands clenched into fists held tightly to his side. “Is the bastard dead?”

  Liam shook his head. “No, he wasn’t there. But Haden learned some information that isn’t going to bode well for any of us if he isn’t stopped soon.”

  “Such as?”

  “That depends, am I speaking to you as a friend or my commanding officer?”

  “As a friend, of course.”

  Liam acquiesced with a hesitant nod. “Olivia is pregnant. And the Dark Court knows it.”

  Alarm flashed in Niall’s violet eyes as a snarled oath flew from his mouth. “Do you have any idea how much danger she’s in? Can you imagine the damage they could do if they got their hands on a Nephilim baby, and a sighted one at that?”

  “Oh, I’ve got a pretty good idea,” Liam grumbled, thinking of all the damage Haden had wrought upon the earth once he’d been unleashed by the Dark Court. That bastard had almost single-handedly brought the Sighted into extinction.

  “There’s a reason the Creator chose to abolish the Nephilim race. Their humanity makes them corruptible—.”

  “Fuck, we’re all corruptible to one degree or another. Their humanity is what saves them from eternal hell-fire.”

  “Liam, you know as well as I do what powerful weapons they can become when in the wrong hands. Nephilim cannot be allowed to roam the Earth. The way I see it, you only have one choice to make here—one chance to have Olivia and raise your child without interference from either court, and that’s to move them here to Landaketa.”

  He knew Niall was going to say that, because his heart had been telling him the same damn thing ever since he’d discovered Olivia was pregnant. Exhaling a troubled sigh, he dragged his hand through his overgrown hair and turned to his friend. “It’s not as easy as it sounds, Niall. Because of the stasis here, I can’t know how that’s going to affect the pregnancy. I’m not sure I can take the risk of bringing her here before the baby is born.”

  “Liam, you don’t have a choice. If you don’t bring that baby into seclusion, you know as well as I do that we will be forced to hunt it, as will the Dark Court. She’s not safe on Earth, Nephilim are too damn dangerous to be allowed to roam free.”

  For a moment, Liam considered pointing out to his friend that they’d missed one, and indeed a Nephilim had been walking the earth—for a good number of years. Although a tempting thought, putting Olivia’s guardian on Niall’s hit-list seemed rather underhanded. If anyone was going to kill that bastard, it was going to be him.

  “Listen, Liam, as your friend, I’ve done all I can to get you out from under the watchful eyes of the High Court. You’ll answer to me, retain your angelic status, and in return, I expect you to live here, in Landaketa, and ensure these walls never come down. As much as I like you, I love Rebecca, and if she dies because of your indiscretion, I will rain holy fire upon your ass of the like you’ve never seen before. I promise you, you do not want me for an enemy. Please do not test me on this.”

  The feeling was mutual. “I respond about as favorably to threats as you do, Niall. Do not presume to insult me by suggesting I would allow anything to happen to Rebecca. She is one of my closest friends. I will take care of her just as I always have.”

  Niall’s scowl darkened another degree. “Then you’d better get busy because she’s sick.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Liam entered the plantation house, his steps brisk and determined as he rounded the stairs, taking them three at a time. The regal beauty of this timeless home now bore the distinct stamp of age. The wallpaper was cracked and peeling, stress fissures ran across the high ceiling, and the lustrous ornamental rugs were now dull and worn thin. The floor squeaked beneath his weight, protesting each hurried step to reach Rebecca’s sickbed.

  Faced with the aftermath of his neglect, guilt wrung an ear-blistering curse from his lips. “You should have come and gotten me,” he growled, his steps quickening to Rebecca’s bedroom.

  Before he could enter, Niall grabbed his arm with a vice-like grip and jerked him around. “Oh, hell no,” he snarled, his amethyst glare flashing brightly. “You’re not going to assuage your guilt by blaming this on me! This is all on you! You knew damn well what was going to happen if you failed to come, and s
till you tarried until the last possible fucking second. Besides, even if I’d wanted to, I was forbidden to retrieve you or get involved. Your decision to come here had to solely be yours. It was part of Sephat’s terms when he agreed to put you under my command. Had I interfered, the deal would have been off and we all would have been fucked.”

  Guilt pressed down on Liam like a crushing weight. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, Niall. I didn’t know Landaketa was suffering, that Rebecca was getting sick. I thought as long as I got here before my energy ran out, everything would be fine.”

  “Well, you can see it’s anything but.” Niall released his arm to clasp his shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters. Unfortunately, you’re going to have your work cutout for you in setting everything back to rights.”

  That was an understatement. Landaketa was a mess, and he wasn’t going to be able to return for Olivia until it was repaired. The thought of leaving her in Haden’s questioningly-capable hands was less than comforting.

  Three days had passed since Liam left for Landaketa. Other than the occasional grunt of acknowledgement, or in response to a question, Haden pretty much ignored her. Unfortunately, try as she might, she was having a damn difficult time returning the favor. He’d become a silent fixture in her living room. She wasn’t sure what he was hoping to accomplish by the be-seen-not-heard routine, but his intentional distance was annoying. Most of the time he stayed across dimensions, for all the good that seemed to do. They both knew she could clearly see him. It seemed to be his silent way of saying fuck you, don’t talk to me.

  Which was kinda hard to do, because who in the hell could ignore a surly six and a half foot, two-hundred-twenty-five pound block of muscle taking up over half of her couch.

  They hadn’t spoken since the kissing incident, and Olivia could see that pretending it hadn’t happened was a mistake. The tension growing between them was only mounting by the minute, and she swore if she had to spend one more day cooped up in this house with the broody Nephilim, she’d go bat-shit crazy.

  Other than the necessary outings she had planned with Ashley, preparing for the wedding, she’d promised Liam she’d stay close to home while he was gone. They didn’t know if anyone from the Dark Court, other than the Correan Liam had killed, knew where she was. And the lower profile she kept for the time being, the safer she and the baby would be. Olivia prayed he’d come back soon, because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take sitting around here and pretending Haden wasn’t scowling at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  “You do realize I can see you perfectly fine,” she quipped, snatching the remote off the couch and dropping into the loveseat kitty-corner from his roost on the couch. She turned off a rerun of the St. Pierre vs. Penn UFC title fight and said, “St. Pierre wins.” Clicking to the Netflix on demand, she turned on an old season of Gilmore Girls because, yeah, she was feeling just pissy enough to torture Haden with a little mamma-drama.

  “Thanks for the spoiler,” he grumbled, propping his feet up on her coffee table like a pouting child. He laced his hands behind his head, stretching out in a negligent sprawl, and closed his eyes.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, are you talking to me?” she snarked with saccharin sweetness, shooting him a sideways glare. He didn’t respond. Apparently he was going to do his damnedest to ignore her for the remainder of time—or at least until Liam got home and he could return to his.

  Well, she had enough of his silent treatment, and it was a good thing, too, because she had a feeling it was about to come to an abrupt end. She’d been delaying in telling Haden her news, wanting to wait for the right time, and it was becoming glaringly obvious that time was never going to come. She had plans with Ashley tomorrow, and knew better than to wait until the last second to spring it on him. So, taking a deep breath, she blurted, “Liam asked me to marry him.”

  It wasn’t how she’d envisioned telling him, but she was just so damn tired of his avoidant, apathetic treatment of her, that she’d just thrown it out there, wanting some kind of response—any kind of response from this emotional iceberg.

  He gave no reaction other than the muscle twitching in his tightly-clenched jaw. Then again, this was Haden she was talking to, so what the hell did she expect?

  “Did he, now?” His voice was soft, controlled, and for some reason, that scared her more than if he would have yelled. He didn’t open his eyes to even grace her with so much as a glance.

  “Yes, he did,” she snapped indignantly.

  Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned his head to fix her with an emotionless pale green stare.

  This was ridiculous. Why was she even wasting her breath? Olivia surged to her feet and turned to storm out of the room when his words froze her in her steps. “And you’re telling me this why?”

  That hurt. When she would have snapped back a retort, words failed her. Why was she telling him? What did she expect to happen? Did she actually think he’d be happy for her? No, she knew better than that. “Because…” she stuttered, searching her mind for an answer and coming up blank.

  He cocked his brow as if to say, well…? and stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to release her from the bondage of his stare.

  “Because…you’re my…friend. And well…I wanted you to know. That’s what friends do. They tell each other stuff.”

  Haden nodded, bullshit, bracketing the hard lines of his mouth. “Do they, then?”

  “Yes. They do,” she stated indignantly. Why did he always have to make everything so damn hard? Could nothing ever be easy with him?

  Coldly, as if he were stating nothing more than the weather, he said, “I’m not your friend, Olivia.”

  That couldn’t have hurt more if he’d reached out and slapped her across the face. Olivia’s eyes burned as she fought valiantly to hold back her tears. “Why would you say that?” she whispered, for fear he’d hear her voice crack if she spoke any louder. “You know it isn’t true.”

  “If I am truly your friend, and they ‘tell each other stuff’ as you claim, then I want to hear you admit the truth.”

  “What do you mean? I am telling you the truth—.”

  He leapt up so fast, she took a stumbling step back, the back of her legs bumping into the loveseat, knocking her off balance. Haden’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm, steadying her. “Bullshit! I want to hear you say it, Olivia! Just once! Say it!”

  “Say what?” she cried, her own voice rising with mounting hysteria.

  “That you love me! I want to hear you admit it to me, and for the love of God, admit it to yourself!”

  “But I don’t!” she denied adamantly, shaking her head.

  “Liar!”

  She gasped indignantly and pinned him with her most hateful glare. “How dare you? How dare you be so arrogant as to presume to know my feelings! And when the answer isn’t what you want to hear, you call me a liar?”

  “Because you are!”

  “Oh really? You think you know me so well, do you? Can you feel my emotions, Haden? Huh? Can you?”

  “Yes, dammit! I fucking can! And I’m sick as hell of it, if you want to know the truth! I’m your guardian, Olivia, officially bonded by the High Court and everything! And we all know that would be impossible unless you loved me because the elders can’t circumvent your free will.”

  Her stomach seized. Oh God, she was going to be sick. Clamping her hand over her mouth, she dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Dropping to her knees before the toilet, she heaved, wishing she could expel the truth as easily as her breakfast. She didn’t want to love him. And, what’s more, she certainly didn’t want him to know it. Once her stomach settled, she draped her arm across the seat and rested her sweat-dampened brow against her forearm. Her mind was spinning. Was Haden telling her the truth? Sure, she’d had those weird dreams and odd surge of foreign emotion, but that didn’t mean she was in love with him—did it?

  Olivia reac
hed up and pressed the lever. As the whoosh filled the room, she heard the door open and softly close. She dare not lift her head. The room was spinning; her head felt faint. She needed…she needed… Oh Lord, she didn’t know what she needed.

  Footsteps crossed the room, and water rushed into the sink, only to be cut off a moment later. As he stepped closer, his black licorice scent touched her over-acute nose. There were no words spoken. No apologies, no comforting accolades, no endearments. He just silently knelt beside her and placed the cool, damp cloth to the exposed part of her forehead. She didn’t move, didn’t pickup her head. She just couldn’t bring herself to look at him, couldn’t bear to see that arrogant knowing on his smug, too-handsome face.

  It galled her that she took notice of the differences between him and Liam, not that one was better than the other—just different—as different as these two males could get. If Liam were here right now, his hand would gently be rubbing her back as he crooned loving, comforting words to her. He’d kiss the top of her head and slide a towel beneath her arm—loving, attentive, and nurturing.

  Haden said nothing as he held the cloth to her head. Well, nothing to her, anyway. He cursed under his breath at seeing her bent over the porcelain throne. She could feel his sea-green gaze boring into her as his thumb gently brushed her temple.

  “Does Liam know?” she could barely force the words past the lump in her throat. Of course, he’d suspected, he’d accused her of as much that night he’d come home drunk. But did he know?

  How was this possible? It couldn’t be happening. She loved Liam with all her heart. There was never any doubt of it in her mind. And she’d never do anything to hurt him, ever—including acting on her traitorous feelings for Haden. He was never supposed to know, never supposed to find out her secret. A secret she’d never told another living soul, and vowed to take to her grave. Oh Lord, she was going to throw up again.

  Before she could warn Haden and tell him to leave, her stomach heaved. Another ripe curse tore from his lips as he pulled the rag from her forehead and gathered her long hair into a fisted ponytail. He moved behind her, straddling her outstretched legs with his knees, and his hand slipped around her waist, forearm holding her tight against his rigid abs. The underside of her heavy breasts rested against his forearm, her nipples puckered with sinful awareness. He was close—too close. She could feel his heat radiating against her backside. Each inhaled gasp of air pulled his scent deeper into her lungs. She shouldn’t feel comforted by this, by him. And she hated herself all the more for it.