“Nothing happened,” she whispered, dread deepening the chasm in her stomach. Nothing happened.
Chapter 12
Darci’s telepathic message reverberated in his head. Nothing happened?
The bastard had abducted her, touched her—fucking put his mouth on her. Blaéz bolted down his fury and sagged against the wall, hanging onto the broken chains as if he was still under the fucker’s control.
“Don’t,” Nora’s inaudible warning drifted to Blaéz as Darci tried to pull free of her hold. “You could get hurt again or distract your mate. He still has the other shackle to break.”
Then he shut down their mental pathways. He didn’t want Darci to feel the deadly rage storming through him—one that demanded death. He focused his mind, searching for the weakened link he’d found earlier in the spelled manacles and slowed the moment he hit the tiny spot that didn’t grate his psyche like a metal brush.
Blaéz let his deadly power free, willing the cuff to splinter. But the fucking thing still held tight. Teeth gritted, he pushed harder. The muscles on his neck straining like cables about to snap, he tugged at the cuff with his other hand. Pain took on an excruciating burn as the metal rubbed against his open wound. Blood dripped down his clenched fingers, adding more to the small pool on the cemented surface.
The air shimmered, and Finnén took form near the stairs.
He didn’t even glance at Blaéz, too self-assured of his own importance and power. Fucking asshole! He strolled closer to Darci. “Really?” He cast her a disdainful look and flicked a dismissive glance toward Nora as if she represented the worst of her genus. “Never gave you credit to summon a demon to aid you. I suppose she got you back on your feet, too?”
The demoness narrowed her eyes, her arm tightening around Darci. However, she remained silent.
With another hard push of his power, Blaéz wrenched at the metal, and the cuff snapped into two, the pieces clattering to the filthy floor.
Finnén spun around, his sneer morphing to a look of confusion.
A roar erupting, Blaéz flashed and smashed his fist into his brother’s jaw—the agony in his torn wrists scarcely penetrating, adrenaline fueling him. “You should have never come after my mate—ever!”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make you suffer,” Finnén snarled, diving for Blaéz, and they both went crashing to the floor. He flipped on top and rammed his fist into Finnén’s face again. Bones crunched as his twin bellowed in anger, blood gushing from his busted nose.
“Guess he doesn’t require our help,” a familiar voice said. Aethan.
“Nope.” Týr.
Ignoring the warriors who stood near the foot of the stairs, he punched Finnén again and again as eons of suppressed rage starting from his boyhood broke free—being used as a punching bag because he was a servant. For the thefts he had no knowledge of and had been thrown into the dungeon. Receiving approval for a job well done from The Morrigan as her squire, only to end up with Finnén and his cohorts coming after him and leaving him broken and bleeding—
Finnén shoved his hand between them. A sudden bolt of power hit Blaéz in the chest with the force of a sledgehammer, and he flew back hard into the opposite wall with a loud thud. Cement cracked, and bits of mortar fell along with him to the floor. Struggling to pull air into his bruised lungs, Blaéz stumbled a few feet, trying to regain his balance.
Fuck. He shook his dizzy head. He should just end this now, kill him. But it wouldn’t lessen his burning need for retribution. This bastard had abducted his mate!
“I want to kill this shithead for leading us on a fucking wild chase,” Týr muttered in annoyance. “Shielding this damn place from us… Celt, quit playing with the dumbdick. Finish him already…”
Teeth gritted, Blaéz leaped for Finnén. A psychic push ripped through Blaéz, and he fell back on his ass on the gore-covered ground.
“…or not.” Týr cocked an eyebrow at him, pulled out a pack of M&M’s, and settled against the wooden rail of the stairs like he was watching a fucking Marvel movie. Asshole.
“I’m going to take the utmost pleasure in killing you,” Finnén jeered through his busted mouth, chest heaving as he lurched up. “Too long have you been a stain on my life—”
“You never could let it go,” Blaéz spat, breathing hard through battered lungs. Roiling pain a familiar, old friend he welcomed. He pushed to his feet and swiped the blood trailing down his mouth with the back of his hand. “The heavens know I never wanted to be aligned with you in any way, but I am her fucking son, too. Deal with it!”
“Oh, I plan to!” Finnén countered. In a swirl of mist—the lethal, ebony-edged Mating Sword that could kill an immortal—appeared in his hand. “It’s time to end this.”
The darkness that ate at him since his mate’s capture, spread through Blaéz in a deadly black wave. Indeed, there was no coming back from this.
No! Darci shoved Nora away, but her friend hauled her back, her grip like a vise. “Stop, Dars. This sibling conflict isn’t yours, it’s theirs.”
Sibling conflict? The gods certainly took it to another level. But she didn’t give a damn. All that mattered was Blaéz.
Christ! He was hurting on so many levels, from a mother who’d given him away and changed his life to one of unimaginable horror, to a brother who hated him for existing, and a father who didn’t care.
Finnén lunged, the weapon arching toward Blaéz, who didn’t even evade, yanking Darci’s heart to her throat. Seconds before it plunged through him, Blaéz leaped back, the sword slicing him across his chest instead. He grabbed the lethal blade from his brother and kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying back.
The sword in his possession, Blaéz flashed across the basement, the blade winging down. Finnén tried to gain his balance and hastily lurched to the side—his blood-curdling roar filling the basement. Blood gushed from his shoulder as he stumbled back, his arm hanging limply from its socket. He slipped on the gore and collapsed to the blood-soaked floor.
Darci stared in shock, her breath frozen in her lungs at the horror transpiring.
The air above them flickered, and spun like a black cloud. The Guardians pivoted, swords drawn as Blaéz stood over his brother and plunged the Mating Sword toward Finnén’s heart.
“No—” A flare of power crackled like lightning from an agitated cyclone, thrusting Blaéz several feet away and stopping the deathblow. The Morrigan took corporeal form, energy still sparking off her, her long, dark green cloak swaying about her ankles.
He pivoted, his chest heaving, the lethal sword dripping with his brother’s blood. His eyes cold, expression detached.
Darci felt no sympathy for Finnén. He was an utter bastard, but still…she inhaled harshly. Had the goddess arrived a few seconds later, he would have been dead.
The Morrigan’s face paled at the gory sight before her. She flicked off her hood, revealing unbound, ebony hair. Her flat, blue eyes shifted from Blaéz to Finnén, who lay on the cemented floor in a bloodied heap, groaning as if he were dying.
A nerve pulsed in her jaw. “Get. Up.”
The power in her words wrapped around Darci, urging her to obey, but Nora’s steady grip kept her from disgracing herself.
Finnén lurched to his feet, cradling his bloody, dangling left arm, and scowled, despite his badly beaten and swollen face.
“I cautioned you,” The Morrigan said, her voice low and all the more deadly for it, “about your anger towards your brother just moments ago. Even though you know why I gave him the life I did as a child, you blatantly disregarded my orders. Yes, they were a decree.” Her expression grew remote. “If I could bind your brother’s abilities as a babe and give him away, believe me when I say I will do far worse to stop you both from killing each other. Your powers are hereby bound—”
“You cannot do that!”
“—for a century, and you will serve your penance in Tartarus.”
“No!” He flashed—or tried to. A flick of her
hand, and The Morrigan had him immobilized. He thrashed with his uninjured arm, trying to break free of her hold, his beaten face darkening with fury.
“Resist, and your abilities will be permanently revoked.” At her promise, Finnén growled and cradled his injured arm. Finally, his head lowered, and his shoulders hunched in defeat as if all the fight had seeped out of him. The Morrigan glanced at Blaéz. “Is this why you summoned me earlier to some parking lot and then disappeared?”
“Do you really think I’m going to let this go?” The bruises marring his cheekbone and jaw were already fading, but his eyes were blue chips of ice. “He abducted my mate, threatened her. He fucking touched her!”
Oh, Blaéz. Darci pressed a hand to her chest at the stark pain in his voice, her heart aching. Hastily, she mind-linked with him, wanting to reassure him, but the static energy continued to block her.
“It’s over,” the goddess said quietly. “Finnén will have a century to consider the error of his ways.”
“And you imagine that will stop him when he traded a blood-promise with a demon to trap and kill me?”
The Morrigan’s eyes narrowed.
“We wouldn’t have let that happen,” Týr’s cold voice cut through the heightened tension, surprising Darci, considering he was more laid-back than all the Guardians. “We were a little late trying to get through the damn spell surrounding this place. But there’s no way we were going to let Blaéz deal with this ordeal alone. He’s our brother, and that piece of shit…”—he nodded at Finnén—“would have been dead by now if we weren’t delayed.”
Silently, the goddess eyed Týr and Aethan flanking Blaéz. And, as if finally grasping who his true family was, she inclined her head at him. “Be at peace, a mhac—”
Blaéz swung away and flung the sword, the thing embedding with a twang in the opposite wall. His expression set in resolute lines, he closed the small distance between him and his brother.
“You want to know why her?” Anger vibrated in his low tone.
Finnén lifted his head. With his badly injured face and swollen eyes, it was hard to decipher his expression.
“Because she did what no one else ever did. She loved me unconditionally when I couldn’t—despite knowing the truth about me. She gave up her life for me. I will lay down mine for her. She is my life. And that is something you’ll never, ever understand, being the egotistical prick you are.”
Finnén looked away. The Morrigan hesitated, her features tense, her gaze dark as she stared at her younger son. Then her expression smoothed back into an even mask, and in a silvery-blue shimmer, she, Finnén, and the Mating Sword disappeared.
His words still ringing in her ears, Darci blinked away the tears in her eyes and sprinted to Blaéz. And stumbled to a halt in front of him.
This close, she finally saw the rips in his black sweater, the slash on the front from the deadly blade, the material gleaming wet with blood. Despite his fading facial bruises, his skin appeared as if stretched too tight over the bones of his lean face. His arms hung loosely at his side, but his eyes burned neon blue as if still gripped by rage.
“Blaéz?” she whispered.
He didn’t move, didn’t blink.
Fear taking hold, Darci slipped her hand into his bloodied one and struggled to keep her tone calm. “It’s me,” she said quietly, stroking his palm with her thumb. “It’s okay—it’s all over.”
Three, painful heartbeats later, he blinked. A harsh exhale escaped him, and his warm fingers tightened around hers, awareness bleeding back into those wild blue eyes. Even though he didn’t speak, the chill inside her eased.
“At least that’s concluded,” Nora remarked from behind her.
Darci didn’t want to let go of him, but she had to speak to Nora. There were no words for what she’d done.
She pivoted and threw her arms around her friend, grimacing at the twinge in her ribs as she hugged her. “Thank you,” she whispered, her throat thick with tears and gratitude. “For everything…”
Nora squeezed her gently as if aware of her injury. “It wasn’t much, but I’m glad I was able to help.”
There were so many things she wanted to say to Nora, but right now, she just wanted to leave this horrible place and put their lives back together again. “I’ll call you, okay?”
“No…” Nora sighed, blowing her green-streaked, black bangs away from her eyes. “It won’t be possible. I’ve been called back home to Stygia. I’ve tarried far too long in your world. My sire requests my presence. He’s probably furious that I slayed his heir, and my punishment awaits.”
Her father would seek retribution because she killed a monstrous demon? “Tell him what he was. What he did!”
“I think he knows.”
Then it struck her. Nora’s sire was the Sin of Envy. Oh, crap!
Darci tried to be positive. “Maybe he wants to make you his heir.”
A faint smile tipped Nora’s mouth. “It’s better than dying, I suppose, but then I would not be able to visit this world as often as I’d like. Besides, females do not inherit such vast capabilities as to become the Sin of Envy. But, whatever awaits me, just know I’m glad we are okay—”
“Wait, I wanted to invite you to our wedding.”
A tinge of regret darkened her brown eyes. “I cannot.”
“It’s not in a church but at the castle,” Darci protested.
Nora shook her head, her gaze shifting to Blaéz, who remained silent then back to Darci again. “Thank you, but I cannot enter there either. It’s just how things are. Besides, Maloch complained about it enough times when he tried tracking your mate over the centuries.” Then she smiled. “My felicitations on your upcoming nuptials. I only wish you happiness, my dear friend. Until we meet again…” She squeezed both Darci’s hands, and in a swirl of green mist, she vanished.
Darci stared at the empty spot where Nora had been, wishing things were different, but Nora was right. With immortals, there were laws binding them, laws none could evade.
Slowly, she turned to Blaéz and realized that they were alone in the dim basement. The other Guardians had left. When, she had no idea.
“Blaéz—”
He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Later. I just want to get out of this godsdamn place.”
Chapter 13
The moment they took form in their bedroom, Blaéz let Darci go. At her searching gaze, and unable to face her while struggling to shut off the anger still raging inside him, he turned away.
She stepped in front of him, her worried eyes fixed on his. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “We’ll talk later. Shower first. You’re smeared with blood.”
She didn’t even glance at her dress, filthy with dirt and gore, but grasped his hand instead. “Very well, but you’re coming with me. You were wounded by the darn Mating Sword, we need to tend to it.”
He stood there, unable to move as she tried to pull him into the bathroom. His heart ached, like a huge fucking fist was crushing it. He’d failed her. And she wanted to take care of him? “Darci, I—”
She wheeled back to him. “Look, I know you and your brother have a history, but it’s over now. It will get better.”
“How?” he rasped. “The fucker had me trapped, I wasn’t able to free myself and save you. You did—”
“That’s a load of bullcrap! You would have, and you know it. All I did was summon Nora. You broke those damn spelled cuffs!” She inhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her ribs, then charged on. “Besides, Aethan and Týr had your back. Your brother is cunning, he knew the only way to trap you was to get a demon’s help and kidnap me—or he never would have! Being a law-keeper didn’t help him much, did it? Once freed, you took care of him. He would have been dead if The Morrigan hadn’t interfered. It’s over.”
Over? If he had used his deadly ability and ended Finnén the moment he could…maybe. But the bastard had abducted and threatened his mate. Blaéz’s rage—his honor—demanded more than the us
ual fistfight that occurred over his accursed past. It demanded the way of the warriors, a battle until death. Now, his brother was spared because of The Morrigan!
Godsdammit! Blaéz pinched the bridge of his nose, hating the powerless feeling still roiling through him.
“Oh…” a whisper of pain speared him straight in the heart, splintering his anger. His head snapped up, his hand dropped. “What?”
“This is because Finnén kissed me, isn’t it? It’s why you won’t talk or look at me.” Her eyes darkened in hurt.
What the fuck? “No—”
“Yes.” Her lips trembled. She pressed them tightly together and walked away.
“Darci, wait—”
The bathroom door closed behind her with a resolute click, shutting him out.
Blaéz ground down on his molars, wanting to smash Finnén’s face to pulp again. Damn his bloody family. He slammed the granite wall with his palms in frustration. His still healing wrists twinged in protest. Every time Finnén and The Morrigan appeared they messed up his life.
The sounds of gushing water drifted to him, pulling his eroding mind back. His cell beeped. He snatched the device from his pants pocket. Even with a cracked display screen, the damn thing still worked. Declan.
His jaw clenched. He didn’t even read the message, just texted back that Darci was safe and taking a shower.
Exhaling roughly, Blaéz dropped the phone on the bureau and opened the door. As he entered the vast black and white marbled bathroom, the rush of water grew louder, and he nearly tripped over the clothes strewn across the floor.
What the—?
Darci never flung her clothes about.
Frowning, he glanced at the large, oval tub near the trio of elongated windows, steadily filling with steaming water. Darci sat hunched in the bathtub. No flowery bath salts scented the air or bubbles foamed the surface. Instead, the salty tang of her tears struck him with the power of a dropkick in the gut.
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