Echo, Mine

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  Kira stuck her hands into the package, and from the abundance of tissues drew out silky, sexy underwear. Black and skin-tone, along with a sheer, champagne-colored baby-doll negligee. Her eyebrows wiggled like two little dancing caterpillars on her forehead. “What do you think, huh?”

  Echo’s heart plunged. She used to sleep naked with Aethan. These days, she wore a t-shirt because it covered all of her. Her throat tight, she blinked away the burn in her eyes.

  No, she refused to succumb to that useless emotion of hurt. Her teeth clenching, she swiped away her drying, overlong hair from her eyes. Right, that would have to go. She would not be that frail person Aethan saw every time he looked at her. Dropping the striped bag on the lounger, she grasped her friend’s hand. “Come with me.”

  Echo headed for the bathroom just off the pool area. Rummaging through the draw in the vanity cupboard there, among the odds and ends of Band-Aid bandages and stuff, she found a pair of scissors. Kira had always cut her hair from the first hit and miss style, nearly eleven years ago.

  “Here. Do it.”

  “You want me to trim your bangs? They have grown really long.”

  “No, I want it all off. I want my old style back.”

  “The emo one?” Kira asked, her smile growing.

  “Yes. Long wispy bits falling over my brow and some brushing my neck, and the rest chopped off.”

  “Wonderful. I've been itching to get my hands on your hair again. Sit, girl. Let’s get started.”

  Snorting, Echo pulled the towel from the rail, covered her shoulders, and sat on the closed toilet seat. Kira went to work. Soon, strands of hair littered the marble floors like strips of black satin…

  A while later, Kira stepped back and smiled. “All done. It’s good to see you back.”

  At her words, Echo’s heart lifted. If her friend saw the difference, surely Aethan would, too. He had to see she was all right now and getting stronger.

  After cleaning up the mess, Echo collected her things from the poolside and they made their way back into the castle’s cool corridors. Strolling past a collection of paintings and armored suits lining the wall, they neared the rec room from where masculine voices drifted.

  “Want to go in and say hi?” Echo asked her. “The guys are there—Týr, too.”

  Kira sniffed. “Why would I care if he’s there? He’s a barbarian who wouldn’t know the right side of a book if a ton of them fell and whacked him on his big dumb head.”

  Echo smiled. Kira avoided Týr whenever she came to the castle. It was like she had a sixth sense or something when he was around. It could be that he’d once called her ‘Fluff’ when he saw her reading a romance book.

  Moments later, Echo entered the kitchen with its sprawling golden oak cupboards and dark-gray granite counters. A cool breeze, rich with thyme and other herbs Hedori grew in clay pots on the terrace, drifted inside from the open French doors.

  She set the gift bag and her book on the island counter and retrieved a Pepsi from the enormous fridge. She glanced back at Kira. “Want a soda?”

  “I’ll get it in a moment.”

  Echo pulled the tab and grimaced at the twinge from her bruised knuckles thanks to her rigorous session in the gym with Hedori that morning.

  At the mischievous expression on her friend’s face, she arched a brow. “What?”

  “Ta da!” Kira pulled out the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy from her tote and set them on the counter. “We can hang out while Aethan’s on patrol tonight and feast on Johnny Depp…” Her gaze dropped to Echo’s reddened knuckles. “Isn’t it too soon to be training?”

  “I need to get stronger fast, Kira.” She had a stubborn Empyrean to overthrow.

  “Oh. Okay…” Kira wandered over to open the fridge and poked her head inside as the door between the pantry and Hedori’s quarters opened.

  The butler walked in wearing sweats and t-shirt. His steel-colored hair was pulled into a single neat braid. He looked like he’d just been for a stroll through the park instead of putting her through rigorous steps of training and rebuilding her body earlier that day.

  Echo scrunched her face at him. “How can you look so…unsweaty?” she grumbled, raking back her new, short hair. “I just came from my swim and still feel icky.”

  His unusual orange-green eyes gleamed with laughter. “I doubt ‘unsweaty’ is even a word, m’lady. But you did well today.” He rubbed his jaw as if still feeling the lucky blow she’d landed to his face during training. “And as for being ‘icky,’ could it be you have just had your hair cut—that can't be pleasant, all those tiny hairs stuck to your skin?”

  Echo rolled her eyes and drank more of her Pepsi.

  “Hey, Heds,” Kira called out as she shut the fridge door with a hip bump, a grape soda in one hand and a Tupperware container with pie in the other.

  Wincing, he gave her friend that half-bow. “Miss Kira.”

  Kira scrunched her face in disgust. “This is the twenty-first century, my dear Heds—I'm Kira—no Miss attached to it.” She grabbed a side plate from the cupboard and popped her pie into the microwave.

  Echo’s phone beeped. She pulled it from her pocket and glanced at the text.

  Darn, Lore was early. Since her tutor had discovered cell phones, he texted all the time instead of simply announcing his arrival like any angel should, with a slight flare of his power. “Ki, I have lessons now. I'm not sure how long I’ll be—”

  “Go—shoo.” She dismissed Echo with a wave of her fingers. “I’ll hang with Hedori and cook,” she said with a happy smile.

  Hedori cut Echo a panicked look. She had to bite her lip to stop from laughing. She didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings. Kira’s heart was in the right place, but her attempts at cooking were terrible. Not that she should judge. She beat her friend by a narrow margin, only because she could actually make coffee.

  She left the kitchen. A quick shower first, it would refresh and prepare her for whatever torture Lore had planned for her tonight. She texted him, Be there in ten.

  Lessons had started two weeks ago. And no matter what Aethan said, there was no way she would cancel her session, short of something cataclysmic happening.

  Chapter 3

  “Damn, you're easy to beat today,” Týr taunted as he rescued the small, checkered ball and dropped it back on the foosball table. “Should have raised the stakes instead of letting you buy me my next supply of candies.”

  Aethan snorted, well aware he’d lost because his mind was elsewhere. “Why would I bet you something I actually like?”

  Týr laughed. The door opened and Blaéz sauntered inside, a book in his hand. The bruise on his jaw had faded somewhat.

  “Yo, Celt, a game?” Týr called out.

  Blaéz glanced at him, his light eyes cool, calculating. “Stakes?

  “My Easy Rider against that pair of bronze daggers you recently acquired at the auction.”

  Aethan spun the foosball rod once more and stepped back. No way would Blaéz bet those. He’d been after the weapons for a long time, and he’d paid about as much, maybe more than the price of Týr’s Harley.

  Blaéz handed Aethan the book and took his place. “Very well.”

  Apparently, he was wrong. The warriors liked living on the edge. He ought to know since he’d done the same before Echo came into his life.

  Aethan left them to their game and prowled past the leather armchairs and couches to the wet bar. Set in the corner of the huge rec room near the French doors, it overlooked the terrace where Echo’s overweight cat lay splayed out like roadkill in the late afternoon sunlight. Insects buzzed around him. Bob opened one amber eye, flicking his chimney-soot tail to chase them away and nodded off again.

  Blaéz and Týr slammed their way into the game, the bangs and grunts reverberating through the huge room. Dropping the book on the counter, Aethan retrieved a can of orange juice from the bar fridge, cracked the tab, and took a long swallow.

  He picked up the remote
lying on the counter and switched on the huge flat screen mounted on the opposite wall, National Geographic came on. Several whales glided through the deep blue ocean, blowing out a torrent of water into the air—

  He raked his fingers through his loose hair, his thoughts back on Echo. His power roiled within him, demanding the calming effect only she could provide. He hadn’t touched her in two days and he’d almost lost control outside—nearly thrown out all his caution and just taken her right there, but seeing that damn scar had halted his ardor.

  Gods, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Images from last fall flooded him. She’d taken the hit—a spelled bullet meant for him—blood flowing profusely from the wound on her chest as she breathed her last and died in his arms. He inhaled a harsh breath, his heart felt as if a giant fist was squeezing it just remembering. Before the pain rendered him helpless, he sidestepped those dark memories. His mouth tightened with determination. No matter how annoyed Echo became with him, she needed time. He’d give it to her.

  But she was pushing herself to the edge in her effort to become stronger faster. He had to do something about that. Switching off the TV, he tossed the remote back on the counter.

  “I win,” Blaéz said. “The Easy Rider’s mine.”

  At the warrior’s cool statement, Aethan glanced at them. The Celt appeared about as excited as the furniture in the room.

  “I don’t fucking believe it,” Týr swore, tunneling his fingers through his messy hair. He glared at the foosball men as if they’d betrayed him. “I lost my Harley.”

  “Don’t bet what you cherish. Later.” With a smirk that didn't reach his winter-pale eyes, Blaéz strode out of the room.

  Scowling, Týr crossed to the bar and got himself a Red Bull. Popping open the tab, he strolled to the open door and propped a shoulder on the jamb. “You look annoyed.”

  Apparently, he’d already forgotten about his loss. Aethan took another swallow of his juice and leaned against the bar. “Do I?”

  “Losing a game, glaring at the poor whales on TV, and almost pulling out your hair, I’d say hell, yeah.”

  “Fuck you,” Aethan muttered.

  Amusement gleamed in Týr’s dark eyes. “Could it be Echo has taken to this Healer thing like a duckling to water, and your nose is put out of joint that she barely has time for you?”

  Aethan cut him an annoyed look. “Is that what you think?”

  “No, but thought it would get a reaction from you. So, she’s pushing herself too hard?”

  Seemed like everyone could see that except his mate. She could never sit still. If she wasn't training, or studying about being a Healer, she was in the kitchen helping Hedori. She was wearing herself to the damn bone.

  Aethan clamped his jaw, finding it hard to push out the words through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how the hell to get her to slow down.”

  Týr shook his head as if resigned. “Look, I get that there hasn’t been a female in your life for eons until Echo. So, obviously, your brain has dried up in that department and you’ve forgotten the social norms for what to do—”

  “If you have some useful insights to share, just fucking do it.”

  Laughing, Týr stepped out and hunkered near Bob. He scratched the cat’s back, pulling a low purr from the feline. “Take her out, man. Away from this place and all this shit. You don’t need me to tell you what to do after that.”

  “You know, Norse, I wait for the day when you're in this fix—” His heightened hearing picked up on soft, familiar footsteps. Echo. He’d already sensed Lore’s arrival. She was probably on her way to the library.

  He set his can on the counter, his entire being was tuned into her, hoping she’d walk into the room before she went off to her lesson. Yet dreading it, too. Dread at seeing his own mate? He rubbed his jaw; his head was so damn screwed up. Six weeks and three days since she’d awakened from her comatose sleep, looking so fragile. And that fucking scar marring her skin would always remind him of how he’d failed her.

  The door opened. She walked in wearing jeans and a tee. Her damp hair—

  He couldn’t breathe, felt as if someone had kicked him in the sternum. It was déjà vu, like her old self was coming back to him. She’d cut her hair. As if his feet had a mind of their own, he was already walking, meeting her halfway. He pressed his lips against hers and felt her breath catch in surprise. She eased back. He traced her lush lower lip with his thumb, unable to get a word out.

  “Aethan?”

  Her voice pulled him back, her eyes searching his face. Shit—what the hell did he want to say? Right. “Lore’s here early, are you cancelling?”

  Snorting, she stepped back and glanced around her. “No, I'm not. I was looking for Blaéz. I left my notebook with him. He’s been helping me with some of the translations. Lore likes assigning me tasks that make me run all over the place searching for help.”

  “He’s a damn idiot,” Aethan muttered, his irritation climbing higher because she wouldn’t do as he suggested. He crossed to the bar, retrieved the book and handed it over. “Here. He left it with me. Anything I can help you with?”

  She took it from him. A hint of mischief sparked in her gaze and made his chest tighten. Her anger at him from earlier when he’d refused to take their heated kiss further had faded.

  “All right.” She opened the book. “Here—what do these mean?” She pointed at the drawings.

  Aethan stepped closer. Resting his hand on her hips, he lowered his gaze to the page and frowned at the several symbols scattered randomly around the circle. Nope. He had no clue what the hell it meant. At his silence, she glanced at him. A laugh escaped her, warming his heart. “You don’t know, do you?”

  He shrugged. As long as she was happy, even if she were laughing at him, he didn't care.

  “It has to do with the Tuatha de Danaan and the faerie world they’ve created,” she explained. “You’re an Empyrean—an angel, not a god, so you wouldn’t be familiar with those legends. Blaéz would.”

  “Says who?” He cocked a brow. “Give me some time and I’ll figure it out. Or I’ll get the Celt to tell me and I’ll explain it to you.”

  She bit her lip as if not to laugh again. “It’s okay. Blaéz helped me this morning, said he’ll make notes for the others we didn’t cover since I had to go meet Hedori at the gym.”

  Týr joined them, sporting a grin. “Like the hair.”

  “Yeah, I grew tired of having it long…” She ran her fingers through the damp choppy strands and cut Aethan a telling look. “Maybe now people will finally see past all the hair and realize everything is just an illusion.”

  What the hell? She’d been smiling moments ago, then threw him that barbed line. Before he opened his mouth to explain once more why, she pivoted and walked out.

  “She looks good, but tired,” Týr murmured from beside him.

  “She doesn't seem to know the meaning of slowing down.” A growl rolled up Aethan’s throat. Didn’t Echo realize they had eternity together to do all the things she seemed determined to cram into one damn day? Being so intimately linked with her, her lethargy weighed him down like a boulder, one Echo would never admit to.

  Týr was right. He had to get her away from here, for his own peace of mind before she crashed from sheer exhaustion. He sent a telepathic message to their head honcho: I need to talk to you—it’s urgent.

  What’s up? Michael asked.

  I'm going off patrol tonight.

  A slight pause. All right.

  That settled, he glanced back at Týr, his other problem sliding to the forefront again. “What would one get for a female—I mean, as a gift?”

  Týr stared at him blankly, Red Bull pausing halfway to his mouth. “Why?”

  “It’s Echo’s birthday soon. I need to get her something but I'm hitting a damn wall.”

  The warrior shook his head. “Seriously man, I have no idea. Ask her.”

  The Norse was no help at all. “It’s supposed to be a surprise—at least
that’s what I’ve heard.”

  “Oh…” Týr muttered, his brow furrowing. Like it was the most difficult math equation ever tackled. He rubbed his jaw. “Yeah, still no idea. Get her a sword—we like shit like that. Being the Healer, she’ll need weapons.”

  Get his mate a blade? Yeah, right. “That’s real helpful.”

  He had a few days. He’d better come up with something. Fast.

  Chapter 4

  Echo stared moodily through the library window at the rolling gardens and the distant green smudge of forest. Late evening sunlight spilled into the enormous place, casting an orangey glow to the towering bookshelves, yet doing nothing to lighten her mood.

  God, she was so over Aethan treating her like she was made of spun glass and would break if he so much as touched her wrong. Huffing out a breath, she rubbed her brow as frustration piled on.

  She missed the way he used to want her with that all-out raw need, the one that made her pulse pound and her heart feel like it might explode. More, she missed him. Dammit, if that big lug of a gorgeous Empyrean couldn’t see the truth—see exactly what it was she needed—then she would just have to show him. Hell, she’d seduce him even if she had to tie him to the damn bed.

  “Am I boring you, Healer?”

  Her tutor’s droll tone yanked her back to her lesson. The lights in the library flickered on.

  The red-haired angel sat on the ladder leaning against the tall bookshelf, arms braced on his thighs. His wings were hidden, but his eyes glinted like metallic green razors.

  She wrinkled her nose and forced her attention back to the enormous book in front of her with its faded, crinkly pages. Right. Study. Three years at university, and here she was back in the schoolroom, this time to learn about her bloodline. But this, unlike her chosen degree in accounting—which she’d quit in her final year to become a fitness trainer instead—she really needed to nail. Innocent lives depended on her.

  “Here.” Lore flashed to her side. An old roll of parchment materialized in his hand. He dropped it in front of her. “It’s the angelic runes. You’ll need to understand all the symbols and their meaning.”