For You, I Will

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  “Nothing.”

  Nuh-uh. She didn’t trust his bland stare. “You aren’t winning this you know.”

  His mouth twitched. “Is that so?”

  “Oh, absolutely. I know of your need to conquer everything. I’ve seen it plenty of times. This time, my dearest mate, the win’s gonna be mine.”

  His dark eyebrows rose. Smiling, she sashayed back into the flower store with a little wiggle of her hips, so damn glad she wore a pencil skirt. He always liked her in those tight-fitting ones. Heck, she needed every advantage she could get if she wanted him to break first.

  Chapter 4

  Grunting, Blaéz lifted the heavy weights up off his chest and held them. His biceps burning like the devil, he slowly lowered them down again. He did the reps a few more times as the thudding on the nearby treadmill slackened.

  Sweat dripped down his brow, and his t-shirt stuck to him, but the tension tightening his body didn’t ease. Using every atom of strength he possessed, he lifted the four-hundred-pound weights again, the strain pulling on his shoulders, his neck—his damn facial muscles. An agonizing burn began. Perfect!

  “Not bad, Celt,” Týr drawled, leaning a heavily muscled arm on the weights stand, a towel in his hand. Perspiration gleamed on his bare chest. “Considering the pansy you’ve become since getting mated and shit.”

  Blaéz clamped down on his molars.

  “What?” he continued like Blaéz had spoken. “You agree? Man, never thought I’d hear that.”

  His frustration finding a new target, Blaéz set the weights on the bar. In a flash, leaped up, and took Týr down, both of them rolling across the floor between the heavy equipment.

  Týr grinned. “If you want me, just say so.”

  “You’re a damn dickhead—” Blaéz punched him in the face, and he lashed out again, Týr ducked and his fist crashed into the concrete—fuuuck! Skin spilt. Bones cracked. Pain exploded up his hand.

  Týr shoved him off and jumped up.

  Blaéz pushed to his feet, flexing his healing fingers. At the current rate he was going, either he or the Norse would end up like pulp. And judging from Týr’s evil grin, he appeared quite ecstatic to meet him head-on in a brutal fight.

  “Hell, you’re crazier than a mad coyote this morning,” Týr taunted. “What’s gotten up your ass?”

  “Is that a plea for mercy?” Blaéz mocked.

  “Rrright.” He snorted. “Let’s take this to the forest. If your mate comes looking for you, I’m in a shitload of trouble if she sees me kicking your sorry ass.”

  “If it makes you happy to think so—wait, what the hell time is it?”

  “No idea.” Týr crossed to a weight bench and picked up his cell. “Just past twelve.”

  Shit. “Raincheck on the fight. I have to take Darci to town.” He picked up his bottle of water from the floor near his work-out bench, chugged some down then swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He should apologize for his shitty mood, but why start now? He’d never done so before…well, except to Darci.

  Týr pushed his cell into his sweats pocket. “I haven’t seen you this insatiable to bash up someone since, well, before Darci came into your life. Back then, you had an excuse. Or...” His grin was all teeth, annoying the fuck out of Blaéz. “I’ll hazard a guess. Darci finally kicked you out of bed?”

  Reveal just how these wedding customs was screwing up his head and balls? The mornings were the worst when Darci slept sprawled over him, leaving him with a raging hard on.

  “What is it with this abstinence until the wedding night deal?” he asked instead.

  “What?” Týr’s brow pulled down in a frown, then his grin widened, those annoying dimples popping free. “Ah. So she figuratively kicked you out of bed.”

  “You’re a bloody dick,” Blaéz muttered. “Remember, your time comes.”

  “Ain’t happening.”

  “Not according to what I’ve seen.” Hell, Blaéz had no idea if his long-ago vision of seeing Týr entwined with a rainbow would pan out. Paths could sometimes deviate. Still, his precognition never failed him so far.

  He picked up his towel. “You do recall that the Rainbow is Darci’s other bridesmaid, right?”

  At Týr’s scowl, Blaéz smirked. “My problem will be solved in a week’s time. Yours is just starting—”

  Týr threw a punch that caught him on the underside of his chin. Blaéz’s head snapped back, his teeth almost crashing into his skull. Fuck! He rubbed his jaw and strolled out of the gym laughing. Hell, no matter his starving body’s need, this was bloody fun.

  Besides the fact that Kira could change her hair color with just a thought, her antagonism toward Týr was damn entertaining.

  After he’d showered and changed, Blaéz left his quarters and jogged down the narrow side stairs to the ground floor. He scanned the area and found Darci in the library, but she wasn’t alone.

  As he neared his mate’s beloved work place, he found the door opened. Blaéz leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and watched her for a second. Darci and Echo sat on the couch in front of the roaring fireplace.

  It warmed his heart to see the easy friendship that had sprung up between Darci and the other females here. After the debacle several months ago with her demoness friend, Nora, he’d worried that it would take her time to move past it.

  “This chocolate cake tastes absolutely divine,” Darci murmured, licking the frosting from her lips. Instantly, his gaze fixed on her mouth, and his body went into slow burn, recalling her tongue working his cock in the same way—shit. Only his formidable willpower had his control falling back into place.

  “Whatever you do, please don’t tell Kira,” Echo groaned, reaching for her coffee mug. “She’ll then attempt to replicate the cake and we’ll be forced to eat it.”

  Blaéz had heard of Kira’s atrocious cooking. Thankfully, he hadn’t had to sample her efforts. The possibilities of tormenting Týr just grew.

  Darci laughed, setting her plate on the coffee table. As if sensing him, she turned. A smile lit her beautiful face. “Blaéz,” she breathed.

  He straightened from the jamb. “Ready?”

  “Yes.” She rose, picked up her bag and coat from the couch, then glanced back at Echo. “Are you going for your bridesmaid dress fitting today? What about Kira?”

  “Yes, after lunch. Aethan’s taking me. We’ll stop off and see Gran. Hopefully, Kira will be back from wherever she disappears to these days,” Echo said, her brow furrowing. “We’ll meet you there.”

  “No,” Darci said, putting on her coat. “I’ve rescheduled my appointment. I have a few things to do today. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay, then. Have fun,” Echo called out as Darci made her way across the marbled floor to him.

  She stopped in front of him and slid her palm up his chest, her touch burning through his shirt and imprinting on his skin. She reached up and pressed her lips softly to his. Then she licked his lower lip—fuck!

  His rigid control almost snapped. It took everything in him not to devour her mouth. Besides, she did want to win, and he had to let her try.

  A soft smile on her lips, she drew back. Her eyebrow arched. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re up to something.”

  “A leannan, when it comes to you, I’m always up to something.” He clasped her hand, and as he traversed the long corridor in the direction of the basement garage and his car, he asked, “Why did you change your dress appointment?”

  She pulled out her gloves from her bag, her brow creasing. “There’s just so much to get done today. It’ll be fine.”

  Frowning, Blaéz opened the car door for her. True, there were still a few things left to do for the wedding. Yet, something didn’t feel right.

  An hour later, he dropped Darci off at the entrance to Fantasy Cakes in midtown and searched for a parking spot in the traffic-choked street. He glanced in the review mirror, his at
tention narrowing in on a man standing in front of the bank, wearing a gray sweatshirt with the hood on and faded jeans.

  A space cleared up in front of him. About to indicate and steer the Veyron in, some shithead in a sedan cut him off. Teeth mowing down, Blaéz took hold of the human’s mind and ordered him to back the fuck off and go sleep off his attitude.

  Car parked, Blaéz shot a telepathic warning to Darci to stay put while he jumped out and, in preternatural speed, took off in the direction where he’d seen the guy. But catching a familiar psychic vibration, he gave chase. In a quiet alley, he flashed and dove for the hurrying figure, slamming the man against the building. The hood fell off his head.

  Finnén.

  They looked so much alike; it was like staring in the mirror. Except, they were like night and day, and it wasn’t just their contrasting hair color. His brother was an egotistical shithead who thought the sun rose and shone out of his arse.

  More, he realized it had been Finnén he’d sensed that night at the club, and was why all his warning receptors had clanged so furiously.

  “You’ve been following me,” Blaéz snapped, anger twisting his gut. “Why?”

  “Follow you?” Cold, gray eyes stared back at him. “Full of yourself, aren’t you?”

  The human clothes he’d sported morphed to worn, brown leather pants and a vest over a dark tunic. The lethal, silver-edged, ebony Mating Sword was strapped to his back. He made no move to push Blaéz off. “I’m a law-keeper. There’s unfinished business on this realm.”

  At those cryptic words, Blaéz stilled. The bastard just never gave up, and his kind of trouble was a damn pain in the arse. Since The Morrigan had sent him packing from the castle on that fateful day several months ago after Blaéz had mated Darci, and he’d tried to slap the Absolute Laws on them, he was back probably to stir up shit again.

  “Come anywhere near us, and you will regret it.” His warning clear, Blaéz shoved him away.

  Those pale gray eyes flared briefly before he dematerialized.

  Blaéz didn’t follow, not with Darci alone—a terrifying thought hurtled through him. No! In preternatural speed, too fast for human eyes to track, he took off. Seconds later, he entered the elegant interior of the cake shop. The sharp squeaks and sudden intakes of breaths barely made an impact as he scanned and homed in on Darci, who stood near a tiny, bird-like woman with short, spiky, blond hair tipped in pink.

  Thank fuck! She was safe.

  At the tense air, he stilled. Darci kept shoving her hair back, appearing agitated as she spoke to the woman. The acrid scent of dejection rolled off her. Blaéz strode across and put his hand on her lower back. “What is it?”

  Dark, distressed hazel eyes flickered to him. “The person who canceled changed her mind. They can’t do the cake at such short notice, and she says they’re fully booked right into March of next year.”

  “I’ll take care of this.” He glanced at the woman staring blankly at him. “My ma—er, fiancée has set her heart on you doing the cake,” he said quietly, drawing Darci close. The woman’s mouth opened then shut. Used to females’ reactions to him, it scarcely registered. All he saw was the disappointment in his mate’s eyes. “We’ll double the payment—whatever you want—if you will do this for us.”

  The woman blinked as if in a daze, then nodded. “Yes, of course. We’ll find a way—make a plan,” she said hurriedly before smiling at Darci. “Let me take your details, my dear, and we can get down to the type of cake you want.”

  She hustled off like a busy little beaver into an office on the far side of the shop.

  Darci cut him a quick, grateful look, and just seeing the relief on her face, hell, it was worth whatever this would cost. However, instead of following the woman, those striking eyes examined his face. “You told me to stay here, what’s wrong?”

  Why ruin this moment for her? There’d be enough time later, and he would tell her about Finnén because she had to know of the probable threat.

  He ran his knuckles tenderly over her cheek. “Nothing that can’t wait. Go, get the cake order pinned down so we can leave.”

  After another search of his face, she nodded. “Okay.”

  As she walked away, Blaéz rubbed his chest and stared after her. It still felt as if he’d taken his very first breath every time he saw her.

  Inhaling roughly, the overly sweet aroma of spicy candy and baked goods crowding his nose, he pivoted for the storefront, and away from the humans and their gawking stares—and found himself face to cake with a seven-tiered, black-and-red monstrosity taking up space on a white-draped, circular table near the window. He skirted the thing, hoping like hell Darci chose something less ominous looking, and gazed out into the busy street.

  His shoulder muscles tensed again, his mind back on Finnén.

  His childhood had been a cursed one. Raised as a servant in the Celtic pantheon, Finnén had taken pleasure in ambushing and beating up the skinny boy Blaéz had been back then because The Morrigan had taken an interest in him. Years later, he’d joined The Morrigan’s army, and there’d been a ceasefire for a short while, before it started all over again. Not long after, Blaéz had been reassigned as a protector to the goddess of life in the Sumerian pantheon…

  Now, Finnén was back, still filled with the same hatred.

  Blaéz realized, he had to put an end to this feud.

  Chapter 5

  Winter’s sun cast an illusory warmth over the quiet suburb of Westwood as Blaéz brought the Veyron to a halt in the shadowy, tree-lined street.

  Darci studied the white, two-story house with its blue trim, where her brother and Grace lived, and where she’d spent her childhood until she turned twenty and moved into the brownstone in the Village—the house her godmother had gifted to her and Declan upon her death.

  She turned in her seat, studying Blaéz’s chiseled features. Dark shades concealed his eyes from the glare of the late-afternoon sun. Stubble shadowed his jaw, a look he’d worn for a few days now. Heck, he looked mouth-wateringly delicious, tempting her to crawl into his lap and shoot the bet to hell. “So?”

  Nothing showed on his face as he stared through the windshield at the playground a few houses away on the dead-end street—not even a hint of his emotion pinged through their shared-soul, but she knew.

  “Or do you need a little more time to admire the scenery?” she teased, hiding her smile. “Declan’s hardly going to be waiting with a shotgun, you know.”

  He removed his sunglasses and dropped them onto the dash. Cool, cobalt blue eyes found hers. He rested his arm on the steering wheel. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  Her smile burst free. “Immensely.”

  “Indeed. But know this, too, a leannan, you’re only adding up more…punishment.” His tone was low, soft, and all the more perilous for it.

  “Always with the punishment.” She wrinkled her nose. At his hooded stare, her blood heated, and her tummy dipped, knowing exactly what he could do in reprisal. Last time, he’d trapped her on a stepladder in the library.

  His point made, Blaéz got out and rounded the hood to her side while she sat glued to her seat, too warm, too needy—her body igniting like an explosion of burning Christmas candles.

  He opened the car door. “C’mon. Since you’re so eager to have me drawn and quartered, let’s get this done.”

  Fighting to calm her unruly body, she stepped out and slipped her hands around his waist, giving him a quick hug. “I’ll never let that happen.”

  His powerful arms tightened. He dropped a kiss on her crown. “I know.”

  The front door opened. Grace walked out, a wide smile on her attractive face, the light breeze stirring her fine, blond hair. Though she’d had her baby only two weeks ago, the baby bump had lessened quite a bit. “Blaéz, Darci, I’ve been waiting for you both.”

  Darci hurried over and hugged her sister-in-law, then eased back. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m well. It’s good to no longe
r worry about…anything.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Darci understood exactly what she meant. After everything she’d been through with several miscarriages, Grace deserved this peace.

  Her chest squeezed in gratitude. The Morrigan had kept her promise to bless her brother and Grace with a healthy child, but only after Darci had carried out her part of the deal…and had almost died in the process.

  “Dars!” A tall, fair-haired whirlwind dashed outside and snatched her from Grace’s hold in a rib-crushing hug and spun her around. Oh, crap! She grabbed hold of Daniel in surprise, feeling a little dizzy when he finally set her on her feet again. She expected to feel her nephew’s bony, teenage shoulders, but instead found firmer, bigger biceps under her palms.

  What the heck? She pushed back and gaped. Almost six months away from home and the changes in him had her jaw dropping. Muscles had bulked out his thin frame. No wonder he could pick her up.

  “Wow! Farm work must be good for you. Look at all this brawn.” She patted his upper arms.

  He grinned, sky-blue eyes sparkling. “And you’re finally getting married? Who would have guessed it when you sent Bim-Bob marching?”

  She rolled her eyes at his teasing and didn’t bother correcting Ben—her ex’s name. Not only muscles but cocky now, too. The girls didn’t stand a chance with him.

  Daniel glanced at Blaéz then stared expectantly at her. “Well?”

  Right. He wouldn’t know who her fiancé was since Blaéz had removed Daniel’s memories of him and that awful night from several months ago when Daniel had unknowingly gotten himself in trouble, taking part in a dangerous underground cage fight. A place where he could have died, unaware that it was a demon he fought.

  Darci cast Blaéz a cautious look as she introduced them. “Blaéz, my nephew, Daniel.”

  Her mate nodded.

  “Dude, awesome to meet you. You’d better be taking good care of my aunt.”