Echo, Mine

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  As if the word was an invite, they fanned out. Sensing Aethan’s growing anger, Echo quickly moved to his side and put her palm on his chest. When it came to her, his cool lasted just so long, and she could already feel him teetering on the edge.

  “Vampire slayer? Good one, bro!” Another man chortled, slapping his friend on the back.

  “Yea, doll, keep him back,” the dumb-head said. “Don’t wanna mess his pretty face.”

  Liquor handing him all kinds of fool bravery, the idiot staggered closer, unaware of the truly dangerous predator barely leashed at her side. The damn flea brains had no idea it was for their own protection she held Aethan back.

  “Hey, sweet thing, did you sit on a pile of sugar?” he crooned. “You sure have a sweet ass. I want a taste of your—”

  Aethan moved—Echo spun around faster, her irritation spiking, and lashed out her own fist, connecting hard with the man’s face. Owww, she bit back a curse, pain strumming through her abused hand.

  “Fuck!” The drunk stumbled back into his wary pals, blood streaming from his nose. “What the hell, bitch—we were just havin’ some fun.”

  Aethan grabbed the fool by the neck and lifted him in the air.

  “Go find your fun elsewhere or I’ll break your fucking neck.” His tone could have cut steel. He flung the drunk clear across the parking lot, and he landed with a thud on the hood of his Porsche. The other two scampered off, casting panicked looks Aethan’s way.

  Flexing her aching fingers, Echo climbed into the SUV. Her hands were never going to get a chance to heal at the rate she was using—and abusing them. When Aethan made no move to shut her door, she met his frigid expression with a worried one. “What’s wrong?”

  Without a word, he took both of her hands and examined the bruises on her knuckles. “Why didn't you tell me you hurt your hands?”

  She shrugged, feeling the tension in him curling around her like a noose. “It’s nothing—”

  “It’s not nothing, you are in pain. That I won't have.”

  She sighed. “Aethan, I am going to get bruised sometimes. You have to accept that.”

  His mouth compressed. He remained silent for several long seconds, and her own anxious breath caught in her throat. A rough sigh escaped him. “Don’t push it, Echo. Whatever abilities you’ve been gifted with may take a little time to show up. In the meantime…”

  He held his palm over her knuckles, and the silvery-blue light of his healing power coalesced over her wound, healing the bruises within seconds. She understood it was hard for him to see her get hurt, especially after he’d had to watch her die.

  The pain eased and she flexed her fingers.

  “By the way, nice right hook.”

  Relief chasing away her worry, she laughed and fastened her seat belt. “Yeah, well, I hate sexist remarks. Now let’s go to Anarchy.”

  Chapter 6

  Echo rested a hand on the landing rail. Heavy metal music rocked off the walls, and dizzy, flashing strobe lights made the dancers appear as if they were on an all-time high. Most probably were.

  “We could go elsewhere. A quiet bar at a hotel—even the movies,” Aethan said from behind her. His hands caressed her upper arms, but she knew it was more to keep her close, without the crowds jostling into her.

  “Movies?” She laughed, cutting him a quick look over her shoulder and met his brooding stare. “You hate sitting still for so long.” Despite the loud noise, she knew Aethan could hear every word she said, just as she now could with her new heightened senses. Looking forward again, she took in the busy nightclub. It was in the worst part of The Lower East Side, but she didn't care. Nor was she letting Aethan off the hook. “Besides, what fun is there in a quiet bar? I like this place.”

  “I don’t.”

  She sighed. Before she could respond, a stir on her right pulled her attention away. A big blond god jogged down the stairs from the upper VIP level. The few people walking up parted like the Red Sea. Týr’d probably coined the phrased ‘drop dead dazzling.’ He barely noticed the patrons’ gawking as he stopped beside her and Aethan near the balustrade.

  He winked at her, his toffee-brown eyes filling with laughter. Judging from Aethan’s dark expression—yep, her man finally knew who was responsible for telling her.

  Týr wasn’t fazed at all. “I need your mate for a sec, gorgeous.”

  “Týr, he knows you told me,” she said with a wry smile. She moved away from Aethan’s side. “I’ll wait for you at the bar.”

  “No—”

  “I’ll be fine, Aethan. Talk. Meet me there when you're done.” Deftly, she slipped away before he could stop her and weaved her way through the masses, past the crowded dance floor, and to the packed bar. A rail-thin blonde knocked into her and glared like it was all Echo’s fault. In this swarming place, people were bumping into each other all the time.

  Ignoring her, Echo squeezed into a just-vacated seat at the packed bar. She ordered her drink and swiveled in her stool to face the raving crowd.

  Despite the bar’s distance from the dance floor, it didn’t mute the crashing music.

  The night had been perfect, well, except for those drunken idiots. It felt really good to be out—to be away from the castle, her lessons. She glanced back at the stairs but couldn’t see Aethan or Týr. They must have stepped away from the busy landing.

  Echo? At his telepathic link, she smiled. Obviously, he’d sensed her looking for him.

  I'm fine. Just having a drink…or maybe three, she teased.

  A slight pause before he responded; Then you’ll be easy to spot. I’ll be there in a few.

  Did he think she’d be the lush dancing on the counter? Snorting, Echo took her G&T from the bartender and sipped, enjoying the sharp lime taste.

  The last time she’d been in this place, almost nine months ago, it had been the lowest point in their lives. She’d broken off with Aethan and was trying to get over him. It was here that he’d come after her. Here he’d seen her with Jon, who’d had a crush on her and had kissed her palm while dancing. Aethan had been furious.

  That night had changed hers and Aethan’s lives. He’d finally put aside his fears of hurting her with his power and had claimed her in that elemental way of his kind, with a soul joining when he’d made love to her.

  She liked this club so she didn't want any bad memories attached to it.

  Now, if he could just get his sexy self over here, they could wipe that slate clean when he danced with her. Whatever Týr had to say must be pretty important to delay him.

  Echo shifted on the high bar stool and crossed her legs. The hemline of her short skirt rode up her thigh. She tugged at it, but the thing refused to budge.

  With a grimace, she gave up and sipped more of her drink. Someone swung her stool to the left, startling her. The brown-haired guy next to her smiled, and despite her scowl, caged her in with a hand on her seat. The corners of his dark eyes crinkled as his lusty gaze swept over her tight, sleeveless top molded to her chest, then down to her legs, and back up to her face. “Dance, sugar?”

  Echo nudged his hand off her stool. “No. I'm waiting for my”—mate? He’d probably think it was a friend and get excited—“husband.”

  His gaze lowered to her left hand and he smirked.

  That’s the part that made people not believe her. No ring. She didn't care for rings, mostly because it got in the way of fighting. She smiled sweetly. “It’s at the jewelers.”

  “No probs, you change your mind, I'm right here.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Of course, he’d be. Her pheromones—or angelic allure as Aethan insisted on reminding her she now possessed—still leaked, no matter how much she tightened her mental guards. So anything with a Y chromosome was drawn to her. Tightening her psychic shields, she met yet another man's smoldering stare.

  Echo took a healthy swallow of her drink and turned away. A nice buzz had started when her seat was swung around once more. Shit. Not again.

  Arms sli
d past her, trapping her against the bar counter and caging her in. Echo narrowed her eyes, taking in the impossibly handsome face in front of her. Ooh, time for some fun.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” she said coolly. “Like I just told him,” she flicked her thumb to the guy next to her who was now chatting up his other neighbor, “I'm waiting for someone. My other half, actually.”

  “Other half?” A dark brow shooting up, he leaned closer. “Too bad for him. He shouldn’t have left you alone and unattended.”

  Since he was practically in her air space, she put her hand on his chest, keeping him back. “So you just hit on women sitting alone, is that it?”

  “No, I have very selective tastes,” he murmured, his gaze caressing her face. His low, heated tone sent a shiver of awareness sliding through her. One she struggled to clamp down.

  “Oh, really?” she drawled. “What exactly is that, pretty boy?”

  “Pretty boy?” His mouth flattened.

  Hated that, did he? “Well, you are. You have this whole sharp…”—devastatingly smoldering stare? Nah, then her plan wouldn’t work—“totally useless look about you,” she paraphrased the end line from a movie she’d recently seen, trying hard not to smile.

  That sensual mouth so close to hers twitched. “So I'm a prostitute now?”

  He remembered. She bit back her smile. She’d been so sure he’d fallen asleep during the rerun of Pretty Woman last weekend.

  “Well, considering you're trying to pick me up, what am I supposed to think?” She batted her lashes at him.

  Those storm-gray eyes narrowed.

  Satisfied she’d had the last word, it was time for part two of her plan—to render him totally speechless and utterly horny. The moment on the beach was a start, but it had been all about her.

  Echo took another sip of her drink then rested her elbows on the counter behind her, which, of course, pushed her chest out. His gaze slid down to linger on her cleavage. With her buttons unfastened, the front parted, revealing the swelling curves of her breasts and more of the lace edges of the black, push-up bra Kira had given her.

  His eyes, slits now, came back up to meet hers. Her heart pounded. She’d never in her life dressed so provocatively as to reveal her underwear in public. Trying to get her breathing back to normal, she glanced away from his heated stare. A group of women standing several feet away eyed him in awe. Echo couldn’t blame them. Aethan was luscious. And his bottom lip was just so biteable. She wanted a taste of him—

  “Why, exactly, are you're wearing your top like this?” He fingered her unfastened buttons. “I don’t think I care for it—”

  She smacked his hand away. “I like it—”

  Someone bumped into him, his mouth tightened. His arms still caging her protectively, he turned his head, as did Echo.

  “So sorry—” a curvy brunette with collagen-plumped lips threw out with a contrite smile. Then her eyes widened. “Wow, I think it’s my lucky day—or yours. Let me buy you a drink to make it up to you. I'm Kenya, and this”—she wave a finger to the other woman who joined her—“is my sister, Tracy.”

  Twins. Of course. Echo narrowed her eyes at the woman’s blatant come-on to her mate.

  Aethan scarcely gave the two of them a glance and shifted his attention back to Echo. He studied her face, a barely there smile tugging at the corners of his lips that she wanted to wipe clean off his face. He knew she was irritated. Why the hell didn't he say no?

  “I'm not interested,” he said, his gaze holding hers. “I have everything I want right here.”

  Okay, so she wouldn’t really punch him. She loved his face too much to hurt it. Echo eyed the twins coolly. She wouldn’t be surprised if they’d deliberately bumped into him. Though he was ace in shielding his angelic allure, the way he looked was reason enough.

  Their brows furrowing, the twins slunk off, appearing bewildered. “Well, if he prefers some lanky skank with freak-eyes, it’s his loss, not ours,” Kenya muttered.

  Freak eyes…devil’s eyes, the old, childhood taunt whispered in her mind.

  Aethan straightened, his expression hardening. She laid a hand on his arm. “Forget them.”

  Those steel grays met hers, deadly in its intensity. “I won’t allow anyone to say that shit about you.”

  “I'm fine, really.” And she was. He gave her that stability, the grounding she needed.

  After a tense moment, the stiffness left his body. “You are precious to me, Echo mine.” He brushed the dimple in her chin with the back of his knuckles and kissed the tip of her nose.

  Her heart dropped. He kissed her on the nose—on her damn freaking nose—not the mouth!

  “Button your top.”

  He was worried about her unfastened blouse? “Aethan, stop. This is supposed to be our night out, and it was going well until those two bumped into you!”

  “Yes, it was. But not with every male’s eyes on your chest,” he muttered. “And I don’t care about them or their agenda.”

  “Really?” She rolled her eyes at his possessive tone. “We’ve been together nearly a year. And they were so coming on to you.”

  “No, me’morae, we’ve been together a bare eight months, and six of those I lived in hell not knowing if I’d lose you,” he said darkly. “And they can do whatever the hell they want. I. Wasn’t. Interested.”

  “Next time try harder.”

  “What?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “What did I do?”

  “Nothing!” And that was the whole point. Gritting on her frustration, she slugged back the rest of her drink, slammed the glass on the counter and stalked off, pushing her way through the crowd.

  Aethan would never cheat on her. Even now, confused as he was about why she’d stormed off, through their soul joining, his immense love surrounded her, filling her with warmth and tenderness. Once an immortal found their mate and soul joined, that was it—no other could snare their attention. But he could have damn well kissed her properly instead of on her bloody nose!

  That was what had her seething, and the fact that he had no clue as to why she was so mad.

  In this very club, months ago, he’d kissed her, all raw and needy—it hadn’t mattered that he was angry with her. Hell, he’d used to take her mouth in those hot, carnal kisses that simply melted her bones for just smiling at Týr. But now? Nada!

  A guy stepped in her path with a loopy grin and glazed eyes. He probably saw ten of her. “Wanna h-hook up?”

  Yeah, right! Scowling, she shoved him out of her way and stomped out of the club. As she cleared the stairs, one of the twins was there, talking to a man—a demon. She flung a smirk Echo’s way and stroked the dark-haired man’s chest, as if to say ‘see, I too have a sexy man.’

  She was welcome to him. Sexy, handsome men could be so darn impossible! Besides, Echo was well aware of how good-looking demons were, too. She’d dealt with many during her stint as a hunter when she pursued the demonii responsible for killing her friend.

  As the twin sashayed off with her conquest who sported dark shades, an acrid trace of sulfur drifted to Echo—oh, crap!

  Demoniis. They wore sunglasses to hide their red eyes when they hunted for prey. Echo opened her psychic sight, and at the pulsing red aura surrounding the fast-disappearing man, she swore under her breath.

  ***

  What the hell had just happened? Aethan stared at Echo’s disappearing form. Why was she so riled at him? She had to know it was always about her. No one had ever fascinated him the way she did.

  Their first night out was turning into a fucking disaster. He’d intended to take her out to dinner, a quiet bar to relax, but nothing had gone according to plan. Echo, apparently, had a whole other agenda for their evening.

  He hadn’t wanted to come here, but she was right. It was time to let go of the past. This place always reminded him how he could have lost Echo to that human, Jon, or another had he not overcome his fears and claimed her. But more, it was only a few days later that she’d
died in his arms…

  Shit. He rubbed his jaw, his stomach hollowing out. The gut-wrenching desolation that had gripped him would never disappear. He doubted it ever would.

  So he shut it away and followed Echo then stopped and glared at the crowd surrounding him. Unlike his mate, he didn't care to be pushing his way through the masses. He walked around them and took off after his fast-disappearing mate, but more people got in his way.

  Irritated, he headed for the stairs when the air was knocked right out of his lungs. Godsdammit—Rahvert! Týr had mentioned seeing a scarred demon loitering in The Bowery. Echo was heading outside alone. The fucker just had to get a whiff of his scent on her—

  Willing people out of his way, Aethan sprinted for the exit, hoping it was just some random demon and not Rahvert and crew.

  ***

  Echo pushed through the swarm of people heading for the exit and finally stumbled out into the muggy night. Inhaling a deep breath, she squinted, peering down the shadowy backstreet. Dark places were demoniis’ preferred feeding spots. She sprinted down the narrow alley, turned left into a short dead-end lane and skidded to a halt near the Range Rover. Grateful she didn't twist an ankle.

  The demonii had the twin against the wall, his mouth on hers. She thrashed about, hitting him. Nope, that lip-lock wasn't about passion, and yeah, that feeble hitting wouldn’t work either. The twin’s eyes bulged as he attempted to suck out her soul.

  Instead of collagen, self-defense classes would have been a far better use of the woman’s money.

  “Hey, you,” Echo called out to the fiend. “What about me?”

  The demonii stiffened. He wheeled around then stopped and sniffed, obviously catching a whiff of her pheromones. His forehead had shifted partly, jutting out and revealing his demonic nature. Lust pulsing in his red aura.

  “You smell so goooood.” His rusty tone scraped her sensitive hearing like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Yeah, that’s me, tasty human.” She snorted, ignoring the whimpering woman. “Why don’t you come and get me?” Echo summoned her obsidian dagger, concealing it against her skirt. Another demonii crept out from behind the SUV. Crap. She could take them both, but the woman would be in danger if one chose to go after her.