“She’s staying,” Nik snapped, tugging her close, practically plastering her to his chest. Heck, it surprised her he hadn’t actually grabbed her by the hair and dragged her off into his cave—er, monastery.
“Guess that means I’m leaving alone.” Týr winked at her.
It relieved her a lot that Kira’s man was so cool even with a knuckle-dragging brute slaying him with a fierce scowl.
“You need anything, just call,” Týr said.
“She won’t.”
The warrior laughed and dematerialized, vanishing from sight.
She pried Nik’s hand away from her waist, then frowned at the blood smears on her palms. Hurriedly, she examined his inked arms, but he didn’t have any wounds. Her gaze shot up, and his grim stare snared hers. “What?”
“This is a bad idea.”
“Everything is a bad idea with you,” she muttered, frowning at the fading bruises on his jaw. Her gaze dropped lower. Scabs covered his knuckles, too. “You’ve been fighting! That’s what I sensed?”
“There’s no need for you to worry about me.”
“Yeah, obviously,” she shot back. “You’re a big and strong warrior and utterly infallible. Why would you need someone like me?” A little slow, but she got the message.
A vein pulsed on his brow. “You’re here now, come inside.”
“Jeez, such a gracious welcome.” Feeling like a fool waiting for crumbs of acceptance, she pivoted for the granite balustrade. Exhaustion and a sense of unworthiness swamped her. “I think maybe it’s better if I leave—”
“Theós, Shadow.” Nik’s arms slipped around her waist, startling her, and he buried his face in her neck, a tired sigh escaping him. “This is so fucking hard. I’m at my most dangerous right now. It’s the only reason I left New York. And you’re right in its path. I need time—time to get myself together.”
She had to fight the constraints of his arms to turn and put a hand on his chest to get some space so she could see his face. “What do you mean?”
He let her go and rubbed a bruised hand on his bristly jaw. “It’s because of what I am. Just fucking bad news all round—”
A bright light flashed over the courtyard, distracting them and blinding her.
Nik pivoted, keeping her behind him, and he growled.
What the heck was that? Her sight a little blurred from the flash, Shadow clutched Nik’s shirt and peered around him, then gaped at the ethereal figure coasting down to take up space between them and the gloomy monastery. All the darkness created a perfect backdrop for the heavenly being. His six-foot wings fluttered, emitting a golden glow and sending a light breeze over them.
“Why are you here?” Nik growled.
The angel shrugged, sunset-hued hair spilling over his black tunic-covered shoulders like tongues of flames in the fading light, the colors also reflected in his wings. “It seems I am needed.”
Shadow gasped at the tingly sensation flowing over her.
“Shut off your damn glow,” Nik snapped. “She’s not interested in all the pomp and shit you winged boys indulge in.” He glared at her, removing her fingers digging into his side.
“What?” She’d just seen a real, live angel, so forgive her if she gawked.
Shadow went back to staring. The angel drew his wings against his body, and the tingles faded. Sure, he resembled a storybook fantasy with those gorgeous appendages, but it was Nik—even with his grouchy moods and complexity—that drew her. And, yeah, while she was relieved to find him alive in this crazy location, and glad he hadn’t rushed off because of some woman, why had her instincts gone all loco? It wasn’t as if she’d suddenly become psychic.
Nik grasped her hand and strode past the angel into the monastery. Shadow glanced back and found the red-headed angel following them. She’d seen demons, but never a divine being. Ely and Aethan weren’t like him. As far as she knew, they didn’t possess wings or have this heavenly glow.
“Michael sent me to protect the human,” he said, cracking through Shadow’s fascination.
Whoa, what? “Who?” she asked.
“She doesn’t need protection.” Nik stopped in the small vestibule with domed windows. “She’s got me.”
“That’s not what I understood,” the angel countered. “You didn’t approve another warrior—”
“Yo—” Shadow waved her hands, stepping between them. “I’m right here. How about you both direct your questions to this human instead of disputing among yourselves, huh?”
Nik’s mouth tightened.
The angel’s cool metallic-green eyes lowered to her. “I’m your only hope if you want to survive this demon hunting you, human. I am Loráed.”
“Shadow,” she introduced herself. “Why do I need more protection? I have Nik.”
He shrugged. “I do not question the archangel when he seeks my service—”
“Whoa, back up. What archangel?”
“Michael.”
Man, her poor head was actually starting to hurt having to deal with a stubborn immortal and now a boneheaded angel. Her nodes throbbed, reminding her of her injury and her need to feed soon. Gingerly she stroked her chest.
“You’re in pain,” Nik said quietly.
Finding him watching her, she sighed and dropped her hand. “I’m okay.”
“Sure, you are.” He swept her into his arms.
“Wait, wait, what are you doing? I can walk,” she grumbled as he strode across what appeared to be a gloomy, but massive semi-circular living room, with soaring walls and a high ceiling. Of course, he was totally ignoring her complaints. “And I haven’t finished questioning him.”
“This way saves time, and Lore’s a pain in the ass.”
She would have laughed at his cranky comment, but a wave of dizziness swept through her. Stifling back a groan, she rested her head against Nik’s chest as he headed up a concealed side stairwell. Maybe she needed to eat, but food had been far from her mind after Nik had left her room this morning. The bite of cake probably didn’t count.
“When did you last take the potion?” he asked.
“When you gave it to me.”
“Dammit, Shadow. It’s why you still feel weak, and that injury won’t heal as fast as it should.”
“It tastes like sewer,” she protested.
His handsome features hardened further.
Was it wrong of her to want to kiss his tense mouth and feel it soften beneath hers as she knew it could?
A door magically opened, distracting her, then Nik set her down on an ocean-sized mattress with a massive, intricately carved headboard and twin wooden posts at either side guarding over her like sentries.
“Nice bed.” She smoothed her palms over the charcoal-gray covers.
“Dagan’s handiwork.” Nik disappeared into one of the two doors opposite the bed and reappeared a moment later with a glass of sludge.
Oh, man.
“Here.” He sat next to her and held out the vile potion. “It will eliminate the weakness. Your wound hasn’t healed yet. The Oracle said two to three days, but not if you miss taking the potion, Shadow.”
With no way to evade the gunk, she chugged the thing in one go and thumped the tumbler back into his hand. Her eyes watered, and she dashed a palm over her mouth.
Nik rose. “Now rest—”
“I didn’t exactly walk all the way from New York to Europe,” she grumbled, even though she did feel like crap. But his pale stare warned her he’d tie her down if she moved a limb.
Ugh. She pouted and flopped down on the mattress. The door shut with a soft click.
Shadow glowered at the ceiling, then she frowned. So much for her impression that something was wrong with him and that he needed her.
A faint scent of stormy nights and cedar merged with leather seeped into her senses, and then she knew. This was his room, the utilitarian décor so him.
Dust motes coasted about in the waning daylight filtering through the three dome-shaped windows and underscor
ing the faded white walls. Too edgy to rest as commanded, Shadow slid off the bed and started to pace, ending near the corner, iron and stone fireplace with a stack of logs near it. She kneaded her temples.
Why had she felt as if Nik was in trouble?
He seemed like his usual dark, taciturn self, giving off that come at your own risk vibe.
With no answers, she pivoted and sidestepped a wooden chair with a black sweater tossed on it and continued her march, passing a scuffed chest near the window and a small shelf stacked with paperbacks. She halted her restless pace-a-thon.
What did he mean he was at his most dangerous right now?
Since only he could give her answers, she headed for the door.
Nik rested his fists on the granite sills of the living room window, staring outside at nothing.
How had she sensed his turmoil?
Hell, he shouldn’t be surprised when they seemed to connect on an intrinsic level. And she’d come after him because she thought he was in trouble.
His chest constricted, and he rubbed the ache there. She worried about him. Yeah, the warriors cared, too, but this was different. This was…more.
Emotions flooded him as the pounding inside his skull continued. He wanted to go to her, promise her everything would be okay, promise her whatever the hell he could, just so he could keep her with him.
But reality hung over his head like a guillotine as the fading sun dipped behind the mountains and dusk crept over the lands, reminding him of what awaited. He had to leave before Shadow got caught in his malevolent curse, yet his feet felt weighed down by boulders. Exhaling roughly, he scrubbed his face and straightened.
The faint shift in the air had him pivoting. The lights came on, brightening the place. Lore sat on the top step of the split-level living room. Wings nowhere in sight, glow dialed down. Damn idiot couldn’t have done that in the first place instead of overwhelming Shadow with the angelic allure?
The irritant arched a brow. “You want to throw me out, but you can’t.” He rested a forearm on one raised knee, his amusement annoying as ever. “No one but me can keep the little human safe when you’re not here.”
No, Nik couldn’t deny the reality. In a matter of hours, he would be confined. Shadow would be alone in the monastery, with no way out, if, on the off chance, danger found them. He should have let Týr take her back, but the thought of her gone, and in another man’s arms—something inside him had snapped. And he’d acted like a man possessed.
Yeah, he was a selfish bastard, but he couldn’t let her go. It had been hard enough to leave her behind at the castle in the first place.
“Yeah, you made your point,” Nik muttered.
The angel was a dick, but better him than whoever the fuck this other unmated warrior was that Michael had planned to send. Just the thought irritated him. He needed coffee.
Nik strode to the kitchen when a familiar tug on his psyche had him slowing. Dammit.
Didn’t she ever listen?
He pivoted back to the living room. The angel was nowhere in sight, but Shadow stood near the arcade games, eyeing the interior of the living area. The urge to leap across and keep her pinned to his side swamped him. But he nailed his feet down in the kitchen doorway.
Her gaze lifted to the soaring walls and faded water-stained, biblical ceiling murals that had suffered some damage through the passing millennia. Nik saw anew the cracks marbling the worn floors caused by a tremor centuries ago. Worn leather couches in the circular living room, a wooden coffee table, one of Dagan’s carved pieces from decades ago, sporting nicks and scratches. A little shabby perhaps, but it did well enough for them…then he recalled her crate bed and dinged metal drawers in the cold basement.
“Lore!”
The angel appeared in a flash at his side. An eyebrow lifted. “You bellowed?”
“See that the decor here is redone.”
“No, no,” Shadow protested, her striking eyes darting between Lore and him. “It’s fine as it is.”
“I’m here to keep her safe when you are not around,” Lore countered. “Not be your minion.”
Ignoring him, Nik kept his stare on her. “You should be resting.”
She rolled her eyes.
Of course, she would disobey him.
Nik stalked back into the kitchen, the rich aroma of coffee wafting to him. One he’d put on before she arrived and after his grueling fight with Race. He picked up the espresso pot and poured some into a mug, gritting his teeth, the thrashing inside his head amplifying.
“You don’t have to change anything,” Shadow said from behind him. “It’s not like I live in luxury. Nik, what did you mean when you said you are at your most dangerous now?”
How did he even explain his damn curse to her? It was sure to send her running faster than a hail of ice spears.
Mug in hand, Nik leaned against the counter. From the other side of the table, Shadow watched him worriedly, her lush lower lip caught between her teeth. Just having her so close, his entire being pushed forward, he wanted to shove the table out of the way and haul her to him.
He had to get the hell out of here and away from temptation. No matter his little rebellion with himself earlier when he forced Týr to leave her behind, it was all a fool’s dream anyway.
His life was a shitstorm, and he would never be whole.
“What do you think it means?” he asked, unable to answer her question. “I’m a killer. I destroy demons. I live to wipe them out of this realm.”
She froze. “But n-not all of them are evil.”
“You think?” Grim laughter escaped him. “Given the chance, every fucking one of them will succumb to the calling of their dark nature. Looks can be deceiving, lígo machitís. I ought to know.”
And they fucking make me pay, over and over, he wanted to add, but the words never left him.
She grasped the back of a chair, face pale, knuckles bone-white.
Was she worried about her wonderful Nate?
She wants him. Not a half-breed. Insidious laughter erupted inside his skull.
A thick, suffocating feeling layered his chest, fisting his lungs. Power bled through his splintering mind-shields like a spiked hammer breaking down his mental walls.
“Lore’s around if you need anything.” He set his untouched coffee on the counter and stalked out the open side door, hands clenched, struggling to keep it all in—
Nate’s better. She wants him. The oily voices he could usually shut out grew denser, rubbing his mind raw. Desperate now for an all-out fight to distract him from the agony the impending blood moon would dump on him all too soon, he mind-linked with Race. See you in five—the usual place.
We’re lucky if we have an hour. It’s close to sundown, Race shot back.
I need this.
He strode into the backyard, passing the small building housing the generator, and his steps faltered. Snarling, he slammed his palms on the granite wall, the evil within him rioting harder and harder.
Damn fucking Fates!
They probably watched with elation to see how this gamble would play out. To see if he would give in to his own needs and put Shadow in death’s path.
Theós. He lowered his head and shut his eyes, yearning to go back inside. If only his life had been different. Because he wanted her, so fucking badly.
Chapter 13
Shadow pressed a hand to her churning stomach, staring at the empty doorway Nik had stormed through. Why? Because she defended demons despite knowing his loathing for them?
She wished she understood his hatred for the entire species. Yes, some were utterly vile, but several of them were her friends. And yes, one of the evil ones had killed Eddi.
Thoughts of her beloved friend were never far from her mind, and sorrow swamped her.
I will make the demon bastard pay, Eddi, I promise.
Mouth tight, she tramped to the door Nik had vanished through. Something crackled beneath her kicks. Her gaze lowered to the frost-crusted f
loor, then up. More ice coated the open door and the jamb. She’d experienced the icy chill that occasionally surrounded Nik, seen him summon ice spears, but never this… Oh, no. She sucked in a harsh breath. He’s losing control.
The need to help him overwhelming her, Shadow raced outside, following Nik’s trail into the spacious back courtyard. No sign of him.
Worry hiking, she ran around the side of the monastery, skirted a small building attached to the abbey, then hurried along the narrow, frost-encrusted path between the monastery and granite wall. She stumbled to a halt.
Nik stood near an excavated stairway leading up into the mountains, a hand braced on the granite, head lowered. Ice coated the surface, the steps, and the ground around him.
Cautiously, she approached. “Nik?”
He glanced over his outstretched arm. Dear lord, his otherworldly eyes glowed a brilliant neon white so deadly, her breath caught in her throat.
“You should stay away from me.”
“I-I’m not afraid of a little ice.”
Dark laughter. Like he found it funny. “I could kill you.”
Trusting her instincts and considering his past actions, she took another step closer. “Then you kill me—”
He reached out and grabbed her, dragging her to him, the wintry air surrounding him instantly vanishing. “You do test me, lígo machitís.”
His mouth came down on hers. The hunger in his kiss stunned her, as if he were starving, and she, his life-giving sustenance. She wasn’t complaining. This was what she wanted from him, this raw, unbridled passion.
His tongue sought hers, licking and sucking. She kissed him back with the same intense need, the glide of his tongue piercing a sensual caress. A whimper escaped her. Desire gathered, tightening her body. God, she wanted that tongue all over her, wanted him inside her. But with his height, his rock-hard cock pressed against her tummy, instead, not where she wanted him. Moaning into his mouth, she lowered her hand to stroke the rigid bulge in his jeans.
A dark growl rumbled free from him. He grasped both her wrists with one hand and held them above her head against the wall, his other palm settling on her hip. “Do you want me to fuck you right here?” he demanded. “Hard and fast?”
Shattered Dawn (Fallen Guardians Book 5) Page 15
