Balen knew Mitch meant ‘you’ as plural. What he really wanted to know was why Olivia had fallen in love with Liam. “You really want the answer to that question, Mitch? Because I can guarantee you aren’t going to want to hear what I have to say.”
“Tell me,” he persisted. “Please…”
“It’s because we love completely and unconditionally. Our only desire is for our ward’s safety and happiness. We were created warriors, so it’s ingrained in every fiber of our being to serve and protect—even unto death. You are incapable of such a love. Your selfishness and pride prevent you from loving a woman as God created them to be loved. You do not love Olivia as she deserves to be loved, as Liam loves her. And you are not worthy of her love in return.”
“Don’t you sit here and talk to me as if Liam is some saint!” Mitch hissed. “He took her from me! On our wedding day! Minutes before we were to declare that love you claim to be so nonexistent, before God and all our witnesses!”
“Listen to yourself!” Balen growled. “He took her from me…” Balen taunted. “I hate to break it to you, but she was never yours. Liam loved her enough to step aside and he let you have her, because he thought that’s what she wanted. I told him it was a mistake—”
“I love her!” Mitch yelled defiantly.
“You love yourself!” Balen sneered with disgust.
“So this is how it’s going to be?—you and me? You know, for an angel, you’re not a very nice one.”
“It’s not my job to be nice. And it’s not my job to be your friend. Hell, it isn’t even my job to keep you alive. Ashley is my only concern. You, Mitch, are a very distant afterthought.” Balen looked straight ahead again and stretched back out in the chair, cuing Mitch that this conversation was over. He folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.
The chair scraped against the concrete as Mitch got up and turned right instead of left. “What do you think you’re doing?” Balen demanded.
“I need to talk to Ashley,” Mitch grumbled sullenly.
“No, you most certainly do not. See, there you go again with the ‘I need.’ Believe it or not, Mitch, it’s not all about you. It’s late, Ashley’s asleep, and you’re not bothering her anymore tonight. Go to sleep, Mitch. You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”
Marching past Balen, he grumbled, “Self-righteous son of a—”
“What was that?” he interrupted. “Did you say something to me?”
“No,” Mitch bit out, slamming the door closed behind him.
Balen laced his fingers behind his head again, tipped back in his chair, and closed his eyes. “I didn’t think so...”
***
Haden entered the House of Night and numbly placed one heavy foot in front of the other, climbing the stairs to his room. He reached up to rub the side of his jaw. Damn, that warrior had a nasty right hook. His teeth didn’t line up straight anymore—no doubt his jaw was broken. He didn’t relish the idea of resetting it, but it had to be done, or the bones would quickly knit back together wrong.
Plodding down the hall, he popped his jaw and jerked it back into place. That shit hurt, but not nearly as much as the heart-shaped burn in the center of his palm. The flesh was open and raw, oozing sero-sanguineous fluid that dripped off his fingertips. It showed no sign of healing anytime soon. The fire still burned through the center of his hand as if the stone were still pressed against his palm. When he’d set this plan into action—watching, waiting, scheming to get close enough to Olivia to reach the stone, not once had it ever occurred to him that he may not be able to possess it. Of course, he should have known Liam would never bring something as powerful as Immanuel’s Stone to Earth without warding it to its owner first.
Little did that clever bastard realize, he’d just painted a big target on that female’s back, and Olivia’s stock had just risen—significantly. If it took his last dying breath, he’d stop at nothing to possess that stone. And if it meant possessing Olivia as well, then so be it. No female waif would stand in the way of his revenge. She would surrender the stone to him, or else…
Rage fueled the heat flooding his veins at the thought of how close he’d come to getting the stone. The memory of his hand fisted in Olivia’s silky black hair, his tight grip on her throat—squeezing just enough to spark that heightened sense of fear in her vibrant emerald green eyes… The bittersweet tang of almonds had teased his nostrils as her “fight or flight” instinct kicked in a few seconds too late, awakening something dark and forbidden deep inside him.
Entering his room, he crossed to the bed and plopped down at the foot. Bending forward to unlace his boots, he noticed his jeans were suddenly fitting uncomfortably tight. Kicking off his boots, he laid back on the bed, easing the pressure off an unexpected involuntary reaction—to thoughts of Olivia? No, he quickly dismissed the idea—purely coincidence. It must have been a knee-jerk response to the echoing sounds of lust filtering down the hall as he’d passed the rooms on the way to his own.
He contemplated calling the main desk to have a whore sent up to relieve this sudden ache, but thought better of it, considering he’d almost killed one last night. He didn’t need the added complication of a dead whore to deal with. Haden lay there trying to decide if he had the energy to shower and take care of this little problem himself, but ultimately, he was too exhausted to make the effort.
He’d tangled with the warrior twice today and his body was suffering the ill effects. His only consolation was in knowing he wasn’t the only one in pain right now. He’d nailed that angel good, and Liam hadn’t been in pristine condition to start with. Hopefully, that meant Rowen was dead.
He stretched his seventh sense, trying to pick up on any vibe from the demon—he wasn’t here. Although Haden had known the warrior could kill Rowen, it still filled him with an odd chill to realize how quickly and efficiently the job had been done. He’d have to make a “note to self” not to forget it, either, less history tried to repeat itself.
His heartbeat throbbed in the center of his palm. It was odd the burn wasn’t healing. Already, his jaw was starting to mend, now that it was in line again. Rest—maybe he just needed to rest. Once he was recharged, it would heal. Haden closed his eyes, willing his body to relax, and tried to ignore the throbbing pain as he drifted off to sleep.
“Nooo!” The protest that ripped from Haden’s throat was so agonized, the arrogant smirk on Gahn’s face momentarily faltered.
Haden spun around and ran for the doors. His heart drummed so loudly in his ears, he barely heard Gahn yell after him,“Don’t bother going back, Haden. There’s nothing left there for you now.”
The hounds of Hell snapped at his heels as he ran past them. The dim light from the candles ensconced on the wall flickered and extinguished as he tore down the hall, leaving him in total darkness. But he knew the way—all the twists and turns. How many times had he run these halls as a child, playing Hide and Seek with some demon he’d persuaded to indulge him? Many had, not because they liked him or enjoyed the game, but because they sought favor with Gahn, and anyone who could keep an active Nephilim child occupied and out of Gahn’s hair was surely to be favored.
If he’d heard it once, he’d heard it a thousand times… “Someday, you will be worth all this trouble you’ve caused me.” At the time, Haden hadn’t understood, but as he grew older and matured into an of-age Nephilim, he’d come to know what Gahn meant by those words. And an immortal lifetime of indentured service wasn’t worth twenty-five mortal years. As Haden ran from the Dark Court to race back to Anya, he swore the next time he set foot in these halls would be to kill his “father.”
When Haden crossed over, his feet landed on the dry, hard-packed earth in a dead run. The sun was high in the afternoon sky, blistering hot and suffocating. As he approached the small village, cries of mourning rent the humid air, and he knew he was too late. Bursting through the front door, he was assaulted with the bitter tang of almonds, suffused with briny copper, and his sto
mach lurched, he knees buckled, and he stumbled to a halt.
Anya’s kin sat huddled together in the living quarters, tears streaming down their cheeks as they clung to each other sobbing.
“Where’s Anya?” he demanded.
One of them pointed toward the back, and he raced to her room. “Aww, God!” he cried out to the Creator he now knew, without a doubt, had forsaken him. Clutching the wall to remain on his feet, he frantically searched the ruined room for his female. The wall, the floor, her mattress—all painted red with her blood. The table beside her bed was tipped and broken. Shards of shattered clay pots lay scattered throughout the small room. Deep claw marks rent her pallet to shreds. Blood splattered it in reckless patterns, confirming she had not died without a fight. And then he saw her—lying on the floor, crumpled at an unnatural angle.
“Anya!” He ran over to her and fell to his knees. Grief consumed him, sucking the life and his will to draw another breath right out of his lungs.
Gently, as if she wasn’t already broken, Haden gathered Anya into his arms—the blood seeping through his shirt and pants was still warm. And for the first time in Haden’s too long existence, he sobbed. It was that moment, kneeling in the crimson pool of his beloved, Haden died. Although his heart still insisted on beating, despite the countless times he tried to will it to stop, everything he was, everything he could have become, anything good inside him, died the moment Anya ceased to exist. The thread that tied him to humanity was forever broken.
He pulled Anya to his chest and clutched her lifeless body, rocking her back and forth as he cursed God, cursed Gahn, and swore Gahn would pay for what he’d done.
Staggering to his feet, Haden carried Anya’s body away, taking her back to the meadow—the only place he could remember ever being truly happy—Anya loved this place. He buried her beneath the tree he’d lounged under that one summer day that felt like a lifetime ago, tossing flowers into her hair as she’d gathered herbs. He could still hear her soft laughter as the breeze brushed past him. Haden turned to look, and for just a moment, he dared to believe this was all a terrible nightmare…
As Haden placed the last stones over Anya’s unmarked grave, he reached out and touched the mound of cold, hard rock. Immobilized by grief, he mourned the woman he loved and their unborn child who’d never get the chance to take his first breath. Had it not been for his promise of revenge, he would have taken his own life, right then and there, spilling his life’s blood over the rocks that now entombed his sole reason for living.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Olivia woke to the sound of Liam’s heart beating against her ear, his spicy scent deep in her lungs, and the languid sense of total peace surrounding her. Had she known that in a few short minutes, the best night of her life was going to usher in the beginning of the end, she would have closed her eyes and gone back to sleep, praying she’d only been dreaming.
Instead, she lifted her head from his chest and placed a kiss on the peck she’d used as a pillow. “Good morning. How are you feeling?” She leaned back to get a better look at his side and saw nothing but smooth, tan skin. Amazing… “Does it hurt?” she asked, poking at his ribs.
He flinched, and she glanced up at him in surprise. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be healed by now.”
“I am.” His brows drew together. “That tickles.”
Ignoring his frown, she arched a brow and grinned. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”
“Neither did I.”
The seriousness of his tone and his weighted scowl were starting to unsettled her. Pushing aside the gnawing unease, she bent down and brushed her lips against his, not willing to consider the significance of his comment. “You want to know what I think?”
He threaded his fingers into her hair, holding her close. “What’s that?” he whispered against her lips.
“I think we should spend the morning trying to figure out where else you might be ticklish.” Slowly, she marched her fingers over his ribs and past his stomach. When they teased lower, he flinched. She could literally feel the energy humming beneath his skin. Heat flooded his veins, warming his touch that grew hotter the longer she continued this forbidden caress.
A tortured groan rumbled in his chest that she felt all the way to her bones. Reaching under the covers, he gently removed her hand from his person. “We can’t, Olivia. As much as I’d like to become a masochist so every night could be like this. As much as I want you, I can’t be this for you and still keep you safe. Last night was… There are no words for what last night was.”
The pain in his voice raked over her like broken glass. Cupping her cheek, he stared at her with eyes that were a kaleidoscope of raging emotions. “Your safety means everything to me, and I can’t protect you like this. How can I stay focused when all I think about is what you taste like, what you feel like in my arms? When all I want is to have you beneath me? I never understood it before now, but there was a reason you were forbidden to me. It’s your essence, Olivia, your mortality is addicting. You make me feel things I shouldn’t, crave things I shouldn’t, behave in ways that are unbecoming to my nature.”
Olivia tensed, dread boring down on her like a tempest. “What are you saying, Liam?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. His honesty was starting to sting with the sharp pain of rejection, and she had the sneaking suspicion the truth was going to hurt—bad.
“You’re turning me mortal, Olivia—”
She gasped.
“Not literally,” he quickly added. “Emotionally. It’s the jealousy, the anger, the lust—it’s raging inside me, and the more I take of you, the more it consumes me. This isn’t me. It undermines everything I am, everything I stand for. And I can’t allow that. I can’t give up being your guardian so that I can have you in my bed. It’s selfish, and I won’t allow another angel to become bound to you so that I can make you my wife. I’m in love with you, Olivia. I’m so in love with you that it makes me crazy sometimes, but I’d rather suffer the physical loss of you than share you with another warrior.”
Just talking about her becoming bound to another guardian darkened his eyes to jade. She knew by the ferocity of his conviction that trying to convince him otherwise was a moot point. But still, it didn’t stop her from asking, “So, don’t I get a say in any of this? Doesn’t what I want count for anything here?”
“Not where your guardianship is concerned. Not when your life is at stake.”
“You’re the only one who can do this job?” she challenged, not liking where this conversation was going. When it was all over, she knew she was going to lose him again, and it would be his choice to go, because she was not going to be selfless enough to let him go freely a second time.
He stiffened and his hand that had slid into her hair tangled into a fist, pulling just hard enough for her to know his grip on her had tightened. The possessive hold he had on her sent a rush of heat flooding her system as the unwavering intensity of his jade eyes locked on her intently, taking her breath away. Her lips parted in a barely audible gasp.
“Do you want another guardian?” he rasped, tension radiating from him in waves of energized heat as he waited for her answer. He shifted, reconnecting the majority of his unclothed body against hers.
Desire consumed her, stoking the fire he lit in her core. “Of course not,” she replied breathlessly. “Nor do I want to lose you again.”
“You know I can’t stay without giving up my wings. Eternity is a long damn time, Olivia.”
“So, this—”
“Cannot ever happen again,” he supplied before she could finish. Clearly, he’d had plenty of time to mull this over when she was sleeping blissfully and wonderfully sated in his arms. “Even now I can feel my energy burning out of control for you. I should be thinking about Haden right now, planning how I’m going to circumvent his humanity so I can kill him. I should be plotting to slay Rhen and Cale, but instead, I lay here with you in my arms last night and the only thoughts I have are of you—o
f us.”
“Rowen.”
“What?”
“You forgot to mention Rowen,” she added coolly. Hearing what he was saying, and knowing it was out of love that he did this, didn’t make it hurt any less. She didn’t really care about Rowen. It was just that there was nothing else to say. What could she do? Beg? Plead? Stomp her feet at the knowledge that last night was a one shot deal for them? What good would that do? Everything Liam said, everything he did, was for her. Because he loved her, above all else, he prized her safety. Fighting with him right now would only make things worse.
“Rowen’s dead,” he answered flatly.
“What?” She wasn’t sure if it was what he said as much as how he said it that shocked her more—cold and emotionless was not a side of him she often saw. “When?”
“Yesterday. That’s why I was gone so long. I went to see Haden, and then I paid Rowen a little visit. I’d just…finished with him when I felt your fear and came back to find that bastard in here with his hand on your throat,” he growled the last part.
“I know it sounds crazy, Liam, but if he would have been able to take the necklace, I don’t think he would have hurt me. When it burned his hand and he realized he wasn’t going to get it, that’s when he became furious. He was trying to force me to give it to him. What I don’t understand is why he wasn’t able to take it.”
Liam reached down and lifted the stone through her tangle of hair, examining it as he rubbed it slowly between his fingers. “Because I warded it to you. Only you can break the connection by giving it away. The stone is very powerful, especially against evil. That’s why I gave it you. It’s a warning to any demon who may think to harm you that you’re guarded and they should stay away.”
“So this wasn’t just a trinket of love, after all.” She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Above all things, she prized this necklace Liam had given her on her eighteenth birthday. To know it was a motivated gift somehow made it feel less…personal.
Shades of Darkness (Redemption Series) Page 22