For You, I Will

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  “How?” Her shoulders drooped in despair. “You heard her. She flat-out refuses to talk to anyone.”

  “Hey.” Dagan drew her closer and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s hard, I know. Give her a little time, perhaps then she’ll be more open to it?”

  “I really hope so,” her voice, muffled by his chest, drifted faintly to Darci. Her shoulders rose and lowered as if with a heavy sigh.

  Dagan looked up and nodded as Darci drew closer. She smiled in greeting.

  Shae pushed back her heavy fall of wavy hair. A faint smile curved her lips but it didn’t touch her shadowed gaze when she saw Darci. Before she left with her mate, Darci quickly said, “Shae, can I speak to you?”

  “I’ll be in my workshop,” Dagan said quietly. “Call if you need me, Shae-cat.” After she nodded, he pressed his lips to her temple and strode off toward the basement stairs.

  Shae watched him go, rubbing her brow as if trying to ease away a headache.

  “Are you okay?” Darci asked softly.

  “Yes…” She dropped her hand and shook her head. “No. It’s Mom I asked her if she’d talk to Lore about what happened, about her abduction. She refuses.”

  Lore was Echo’s tutor, but according to Blaéz, he also liked to dig into the Guardians’ heads to help them deal with their incarceration. She recalled Blaéz being as tight as a melded vault about his imprisonment until she’d slowly peeled away the layers and he finally spoke about his horrific past.

  Darci doubted that Jenna was ready for that just yet. “Just be there for her for now. Later, try again.”

  Shae wrapped her arms around her waist. “I hate seeing her like that.”

  Darci understood, she really did. At times, Blaéz would withdraw into himself after a nightmare, and use brutal activities—either going through a rigorous circuit training for long hours or swimming the treacherous ocean—to come out of it. At least he never asked her to whip him anymore.

  “You wanted to see me about something?” Shae asked her.

  “Yes.” Darci nodded, trying to shut off her pained thoughts. “Would you be able to take photos for the wedding? I’d appreciate it if you could.”

  Gray-gold eyes widened in surprise before a smile lit her striking face. “Of course. I’d be honored.”

  “Thank you. I was afraid I’d have to make do with my nephew’s cell phone shots,” Darci said wryly.

  “My pleasure. I’ll see you later. I have a few things to take care of, wrap up the last part of my freelancing job.” With a little wave, and appearing somewhat more in control of her emotions, Shae headed for the back stairs.

  Darci pushed the kitchen door open and entered. She found Jenna seated at the table, a euphoric Bob splayed over her lap, all four paws dangling down her thighs as she stroked his back.

  She adored Bob, and since Shae’s mother appeared far too fragile to be carrying a teacup, let alone a feline of Bob’s girth, Darci asked softly, “Shall I take him?”

  Jenna looked up, her dove-gray eyes warming in her pale face. “No. I like him...” She broke off as Hedori walked into the kitchen, looking nothing at all like his usual well-dressed self, wearing faded jeans, a long-sleeved sweatshirt, and he’d fastened his steel-gray hair into a loose braid.

  He looked really, really good. Yep, she and the other girls had commented on that. Not in front of their mates, of course. The only time he dressed this casually was when he took his sailboat out.

  Hedori slowed to a stop when he saw them. “Darci.” He inclined his head in greeting. “Can I get you something?”

  “Thank you, no.” She smiled. “You’re spending the afternoon at the boathouse?”

  “Not exactly. I’m taking Lady Divine out for a few hours,” he said, glancing at Jenna.

  Despite the fact that Jenna was his mate, Hedori treated her like he did all the women in the house. Courteously. After what she’d been through, being abducted by a psychotic rogue angel and held in the Dark Realm for six months until he, Dagan, and Aethan had rescued her, Darci understood why he kept his distance. Jenna was too traumatized. She didn’t speak much to anyone, and not at all to him.

  More, Jenna had no idea what she was to Hedori.

  “M’lady?” he said quietly to Jenna, his expression unfailingly polite, “is there anything I may get you before I leave?”

  She lowered her gaze back to Bob and shook her head. Still silent.

  “Hedori, wait,” Darci said quickly, stopping him before he left. “Do you know where Echo is?”

  “In the gym. With Aethan, I believe.”

  Disappointment took hold. Seemed like she’d have to work on her own again.

  With a smile of thanks, Darci walked out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs leading to the basement.

  In a storage room, she found the old corkboard she’d stashed there and headed outside for the ten-minute walk. Brisk, tangy air stole her breath and she shivered, hastily buttoning her jacket, but it didn’t deter her as she marched past the gazebo on the lake, across the rolling lawns and the bright maple trees, toward the small shrubs edging the looming forest.

  After she’d found the tall tree where she’d hammered a nail into two days ago, she put the board up then walked a short distance back and summoned her obsidian dagger.

  Determination to get it right riding her hard, she pulled back her hand and flung the blade. The dagger took off like a tipsy drunk, bounced off the wood and fell to the ground.

  Aww, man! Hands on her hips, she glowered at the fallen blade. Really?

  A half-hour later, Darci groaned in frustration. If she could wound Finnén when he first attacked them at the castle six months ago, why the hell couldn’t she hit the stupid darn corkboard now?

  “Problems?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and met Týr’s smiling, toffee-colored eyes. Sighing, she walked over and retrieved the dagger. “I’m trying to improve my throwing, but it’s just not happening.”

  He stopped beside her. “Pitch the blade again and let me see.”

  She got back to her starting point, grasped the black hilt, and flung it. As if it had memorized its last trip to the corkboard, it tapped the surface in a taunting hello and fell to the leaf-covered ground.

  “See?” she moaned, scrubbing her cold palms over her heated cheeks. “It’s hopeless.”

  Týr rubbed his mouth. She was well aware he was hiding his smile as he ambled to the fallen dagger, picked up the weapon, and strolled back to her.

  “Wield it like this.” He grasped the tip with his forefinger and thumb, pulled back his arm, and let it fly. Like black lightning, the blade winged through the air in a lethal hiss and embedded dead center in the corkboard.

  He removed the dagger, came back, and handed it to her. “Now, you try.”

  She held the blade like he had but before she could release it, he stopped her. “No, not so far from the tip. You need to control your weapon. Hold it like this.” He moved her fingers to the pointy end of the blade.

  She arched a brow, eyeing the dangling weapon suspiciously. “And this will work?”

  “Try. Pull back your arm and put force and your body weight behind it when you let go.”

  Okay. He was a fighter, he knew best. Grasping the deadly tip the way he’d shown her, she drew back her arm, and with everything in her, she let it go. It struck the edge of the corkboard but stayed embedded.

  “I did it—I did it!” she cried the air in elation. “Yes!”

  “Just practice. Put a little more power into your throws, and you’ll take out all those fuckers—I mean demoniis we slay every night.” He grinned unrepentantly, masculine dimples denting his cheeks as he moved to the side. “Again. This time keep your focus on the bull’s-eye. That’s your ultimate target.”

  Týr watched her throw a few more times.

  When the blade finally embedded halfway through and just off center, he whistled in praise. “Nicely done. Now, let’s try holding the hilt and—”
r />   “What exactly are you doing with my mate, alone in the forest, Norse?” A cool voice cut through her excitement like a whip.

  Aww, darn it! Not now.

  Chapter 7

  Darci spun around and smiled at Blaéz, her heart clopping like a teen with a severe case of infatuation. Ugh, there went her plans to surprise him.

  “Teaching her a few things you haven’t,” Týr taunted before she opened her mouth.

  At the innuendo, Blaéz’s eyes slit. “Lucky for you, I know you mean pitching the blade, or we’d be scraping you off the ground with a shovel. Or maybe I’d just leave you there to fertilize the soil. That hide should be useful for something.”

  Laughing, Týr flipped him off and glanced back at her. “Dars, great work. Keep practicing.” He strolled off through the trees, probably heading toward the beach.

  “Blaéz, look.” Darci spun to him, unable to contain her excitement. “I can finally throw my dagger.”

  She grasped the blade exactly how Týr had shown her and let it fly. It hit the cork surface and bounced off. Her grin faded. “But it worked,” she moaned. “It did.”

  “A leannan, you won’t always get it a hundred percent the first try—”

  “How can you say that?” She glowered at him. “I’ve been working on this for two days.”

  “You have?” His dark eyebrow rose in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Her shoulders sagged in dejection. “I wanted to surprise you with what I could do, but this blade hates me.”

  “It may be mystical, but it can’t hate you, sweetheart.” Blaéz cupped her face and pressed his warm lips to hers before he stepped back. “Come, let’s practice a bit more before we head into town.”

  A sigh escaped her at the too brief contact. She still had no idea what to make of his earlier kiss. “Okay. So, what do I do?”

  He showed her how to work the dagger again, and even with holding the hilt, one could apparently hit a target from a distance.

  “Now try.” He stepped back as she summoned the blade to her. Darci pulled back her arm and let it fly. The weapon hissed through the air and embedded just off dead center. “Yes!” She spun to him then narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t help me with your abilities, did you?”

  His lips twitched in amusement. “I want you to be able to pitch that weapon properly. So, no.”

  “Great.” She leaped into his arms, taking him back a few steps and kissed him. Just as fast, he took over, his tongue licking hers with fiery passion, his hands lowering to squeeze her backside. God. Darci moaned into his mouth. It had been too long.

  Then Blaéz broke the kiss.

  Panting hard, she blinked, as he set her back on her feet, and despite his taut expression, he quirked a dark brow. “You conceding?”

  It took her a moment before she could respond. “No way.”

  He laughed. And just like that, the tense sensual moment dissipated in the chilly air. Dark clouds gathered above, stealing some of the weak sunlight. “C’mon. You have a dress appointment at three, right?”

  She nodded. As they headed toward the castle, Blaéz reached for her hand and drew her closer.

  Seduce him?

  Right. She’d been so lost in him moments ago, and he could have easily won this bet. Yet, he did nothing. Echo was wrong. Seduction wouldn’t work, not in this situation—not when he was determined to give her a perfect wedding. Silly traditions and all.

  Darci cut him a furtive glance. But his attention appeared focused on the muddy, leaf-strewn path in front of them. Lines furrowed his brow. Instinctively, Darci knew what—or rather who—was on his mind, and probably why he’d sought her out when he discovered she’d gone outside. Finnén had a nasty habit of turning up where least expected.

  Refusing to let him cast a pall over their upcoming wedding, she put his brother out of her thoughts for now and concentrated on more important things. “Blaéz?”

  Those cobalt blue eyes shifted to her. With no idea how to ask him what she wanted, she simply said it, “Do you think we could have the wedding at the castle?”

  He slowed to a halt at the edge the forest where wild shrubs grew in abundance. A frown marred his brow. “What about your friends and family? They can’t come to the castle, Darci. You know the rules we live by.”

  “I do. But it’s okay, really. Most are acquaintances, so it’s not like I’d be hurt if they weren’t there…” When he remained silent, she hastily explained, “The wedding will be late in the afternoon. I know the Guardians will want to go back on patrol. Also, all of them in one place would definitely draw notice from my brother’s neighbors—they’re quite nosey. Besides, my family knows about you, and they’re the only people I absolutely want there on that day. I’d really like for them to see that you don’t have me living in some shack in the backwoods. And that I am truly happy with you…” Her long, drawn-out speech petered out. Her worried gaze searched his.

  That dark eyebrow popped up. “Shack?”

  Out of everything she’d said, he’d pick up on that one. She sighed, absently tracing her thumb over the swirling design on the hilt of her dagger. “You know what I mean.”

  “I know.” He gave her a slow, panty-wetting smile. Ugh, like she wasn’t already damp from their brief interlude, which he probably knew about with his heightened sense of smell. “All right, I’ll get Michael’s okay for it. Can’t have your brother thinking we inhabit a shack now, can we?” He laced their fingers and continued walking. “You need help with anything else?”

  “No, I have everything covered. And thank you.” Relieved, she rubbed her cheek against his sweater-covered bicep. “I only hope Dec can find someone to officiate our marriage, or we’ll have to continue living in sin—” Darci broke off and frowned, glancing around.

  Swoosh…swoosh. What is that sound?

  Blaéz cursed.

  Then she looked up. Her eyes widened, her fingers tightening around the dagger’s hilt.

  A mammoth wing-shape blotted the weak sunlight and gloomy clouds, drawing closer, the color darker than night.

  As the creature swooped in low, its enormous leathery extremities flapped once more, sending an icy gust of air sweeping through the young shrubs and over them.

  Darci grabbed her flying hair. Blaéz growled, pulling her protectively within the shelter of his arms. The dragon landed a short distance from them, ebony scales rippling in a wave over its massive body as it tucked in its wings. Two deadly horns swept out from each temple. A row of serrated, silvertip black spikes ran from its head and down its spine, but the small wild shrubs concealed the rest of him.

  “Who is that?” she whispered.

  “Guardian trouble.”

  Darci opened mouth then shut it, her questions forgotten, her gaze fixed on a creature most people believed a myth.

  The dragon’s massive head swiveled toward them, a sinister smirk stretching its reptilian-like face, revealing a mouthful of dangerously sharp teeth. It snorted, emitting a powerful exhalation of hot air through its nostrils. Slitted eyes, glowing an eerie red, slid to Darci, lingered, and then returned to Blaéz.

  Faster than a blink, his enormous form folded into itself and a tall male appeared. His hair gleamed like liquid silver against his bare, tan chest, the perfection broken only by an ebony streak near his forehead.

  Darci gasped. “Wait, is that—?”

  “Race. Indeed. Always with the dramatic entrance,” Blaéz muttered.

  Another snort reached her as the elusive dragon Guardian cut through the shrubs, stepped on the gravelly path, and strolled toward them. Naked.

  “For hellssake, put on some damn pants,” Blaéz snapped.

  The warrior cocked a dark brow. Then a shrug followed. A pair of black pants appeared in his hand. He stopped and pulled on the cotton slacks.

  At her mate’s annoyed expression, Darci bit her lower lip, struggling not to smile. Race was drop-dead stunning for sure, but he wasn’t Blaéz. No one was.


  Blaéz bolted down his irritation and shot the warrior a hard stare, which was totally wasted on him since he didn’t look up. “What are you doing here?”

  Still silent, Race tied the strings on his pants. He didn’t talk…much. Had to be the dragon in him. That alter-ego bastard practically reeked of wildness and solitude.

  He looked up and angled his silver head thoughtfully. “I find I’m somewhat curious as to why you’d choose a lifetime of hell. Again…”

  “So, you flew across the continents to get your answer?” Blaéz asked, tone droll.

  “And I find that hell is beautiful.” Race’s gaze slid back to Darci.

  At the blush streaking her cheeks, Blaéz wanted to punch him. For someone who shunned the living, even interacting with the Guardians unless he had to, Race was a bloody contradiction today.

  “Save it, dragon. This is my mate, Darci. Race is another Guardian,” he told her. “Ignore whatever he says. We do.”

  She smiled. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Your dragon’s incredible.”

  “Well, now…” Race’s deep red irises brightened, his provoking expression changing into one of sudden interest. “She is something…”

  And there he went again, the flirty fucker! A low growl built in Blaéz’s chest.

  Race’s eyes gleamed in amusement.

  Damn idiot! Reeling in his exasperation, Blaéz asked, “Are you going inside?”

  “No.” He slid his hands into the pants pocket and rocked on his bare feet, his gaze drifting skyward. “I’m heading back.”

  “You came all this way just to give me shit?”

  “No, I wanted to see the female who chose to die for you.”

  Feeling as he’d been hit in the heart, hearing that, Blaéz hauled her close, not wanting to think about that horrible time when he nearly lost her.

  “I love him,” Darci said quietly, her fingers stroking his chest. “I would do anything for him.”

  Race glanced at her, then his gaze lowered to the obsidian dagger she fisted. A hint of a smile appeared. “And dangerous, too.”