Absolute Surrender

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  Protective urges he thought long dead, burst free. He didn’t want anything to happen to her. But from her mulish expression he was fast losing ground.

  “How I found you?” he repeated. “For that answer you’d have to be alive to find out, because I sure as hell am not getting into that right now.”

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Your unbelievable recklessness is what’s wrong! Demoniis are cruel, vicious, and cause death wherever they go. They’re nothing like the demons who choose to—”

  “I’m well aware of what demoniis do. I’ve seen it.”

  “If you know the risks, then stay off the damn streets!”

  “Oh, cut the crap. You want me to stay off the streets, then come up with a better explanation than the one you gave me.”

  “You’re one pig-headed female,” he bit out in frustration. And had to clamp down the urge to shake some sense into her. “You want a reason?” His voice changed, filling with menace. “Hunting demoniis is my job. The gods help you, I find you on the streets, I will lock you up some place if it means keeping you safe.” His eyes bored into hers. “Go ahead, test me.”

  She whirled away, outrage sparking off her. “You’d have to catch me first!”

  The door banged shut on her words.

  Scowling, Aethan stormed out of the gym. Echo had no clue how far he’d go to keep her delectable ass safe.

  CHAPTER 6

  Echo drew in a breath as she stepped out into the chilly evening air. She still seethed with irritation and the icy touch of early winter felt good on her heated face.

  Lock her up, will he?

  She’d see about that. And that infuriating man had bitten her again. Okay, maybe it was her fault for stabbing him with her finger. Dammit, it was just her finger, not like she used a dagger.

  She pulled on her coat and took the few stairs up to street level. Backpack hitched over one shoulder, she hotfooted it toward the warmth and comfort of the Peacock Lounge on East First Street.

  Echo pushed open the door to the bar. The overwhelming odor of beer, fried food, and smoke greeted her. A flat-screen TV, suspended above the corner of the bar, replayed highlights from a recent hockey game.

  She found Kira taking orders at a table. There was a bounce in her friend’s step as if she moved to some inner rhythm—music only she heard. Echo waved and headed for the bar. She squeezed in between a heavyset man and a woman, whose overpowering perfume made her head swim. Breathing shallow, she rummaged in her coat pockets for change to buy a drink.

  “Your usual.” A misty glass of Pepsi appeared in front of her. Echo looked up and met Jon’s warm gaze. Tall and lanky, his short blond hair appeared like dull gold in the dim lights. Jon worked the bar part time.

  “Thank you.” She set the money on the counter and tried not to think about the crush he had on her. “So, how’s university?”

  “Uni’s good, but not the shit—” A sheepish grin spread across his face as he took the money. “I mean the stack of assignments I have holed up in my dorm.”

  Someone at the end of the bar called out his name. He glanced away, nodded, then gave her a wry smile when she said nothing else, and went to serve the customer.

  Echo picked up her drink and took a sip. At least Jon didn’t chase after her, or make a nuisance of himself...a shiver ran down her spine. She glanced up and encountered the malevolent stare of the other bartender, Neal.

  She sighed. Oh yeah, evil came in all kinds. Only this one was human.

  Neal wore his auburn hair in a buzz-cut and his green eyes were dark and spiteful. A sneer she was all too familiar with marred his face. She could kick herself for ever getting involved with him. She should have trusted her instincts and stayed away. But Neal had been charming and attentive when they first met. He pursued her until she said yes.

  As it turned out the weasel only wanted to get her into bed. “No” was not a word he understood. His pawing had only riled her. She left the date, furious, leaving Neal with an imprint of her hand on his face.

  Echo couldn’t even blame this on pheromones. Neal Casey was a smarmy snake, interested only in how many notches he scored on his bedpost. His ego battered, he now lived to make her life hell every chance he got. The fact Kira worked here made him unavoidable.

  “Don’t waste your time on Jon,” he hissed, stopping opposite her. He snatched a couple of glasses. “He has more discerning taste than to want a frigid bitch like you.”

  The slap still stung several months later, it appeared. And being called a bitch so many times grew old. Echo pasted on a sweet smile. “Two words, Neal. New. Thesaurus.”

  “Bitch.”

  “I rest my case.” She swung away from him, his presence making her skin crawl. A dull throb started right behind the scar on her forehead. She rubbed it, trying to soothe her headache.

  “Hey.” Kira grinned, easing between Echo and another customer. “Thought you weren’t coming over this evening?”

  “Last client rescheduled. I had some time.”

  “Come on, I need to go to the loo.” Kira turned to speak with another waitress, before she headed out of the bar and down the passage. Echo followed.

  “What happened with Jon? He looks like someone dropped a bus on him.”

  “Not sure.” Echo dodged the question. She didn’t want to get into the usual debate about her non-existent love life. Then, staring at her friend’s hair, she realized the color genius was back and gratefully changed the subject. “Brunette? What’s next—no, wait, what’s your real color anyway?”

  Kira laughed. “This crap I’m blessed with might as well have some use. So, it’s brown for now.”

  Her friend had the ability to change the color of any object, which she did with great dedication to herself, especially her hair. “Hey, you considered going platinum? With the Emo look you have going for you, it’ll be perfect. A touch and you’re blonde, no dark roots to worry about.”

  “Thanks. I’ll pass.” Echo refused with a smile.

  Kira led Echo to the staff restroom and disappeared into a stall. “You know Jon likes you, right?” she called out. “One date with him won’t hurt.”

  Echo sighed and leaned against the basin. “Ki, please, you have to stop trying to fix me up with every available guy we come across.”

  “Like that works.” Her hazel eyes sparked in annoyance when she came out moments later. “You can’t still be hankering after Philip. It’s been over three years.” She pumped liquid soap into her hands and washed them.

  Not in the mood to talk about her ex, Echo shifted her backpack to her other shoulder. “I’m fine. It’s not Philip.” At Kira’s skeptical look, she added, “Really.”

  “Good. Because there is someone amazing out there for you.”

  “You can’t seriously believe that nonsense? What am I saying? Of course, you do, when you change your boyfriend as frequently as you do your hair color, looking for Mr. Right.”

  “Why not? I don’t see any point in staying in a relationship if there’s no magic. But this isn’t about me,” Kira said, tearing off paper towels from the dispenser to dry her hands. “But something’s troubling you.”

  Yeah. But what could she say? Or tell her about Aethan? The man wanted to haul her butt off the street and place her under house arrest. He had this ridiculous idea she’d get hurt going after demoniis. He had no clue as to how fast she was, or of her unusual strength.

  What was it with men? First Damon going hard-ass on her this morning then the original hard-ass reappeared to dish out more orders.

  She shook her head. “Just tired. I’m heading home. I’ll see you later.”

  Kira gave Echo her gimlet stare. “You’re gonna be there, right?”

  “Where else would I be?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. The alleys, filthy backstreets, anywhere rundown, trolling streets and night clubs, searching for trouble?”

  “I’m hurt. My best friend thinks I like street rats.”

>   Kira snorted and headed out the restroom, Echo followed her into the narrow hallway, to find Jon and Neal farther down from them, talking.

  “You can’t be serious,” Neal protested. “There’s Jessie, she’s a looker, even Kira, but not the weirdo. Thought you had better taste, man.”

  Echo stopped, rooted to the spot. Her hand slid into her pocket and curled around her stones.

  “What’s wrong, Neal? Echo turn you down?” Jon’s amused voice floated to her and the knot in her stomach unraveled a little. Obviously the slimy rat hadn’t told Jon about their fiasco of a date.

  “Please.” Neal sneered. “I like them pretty and curvy, not plain and scrawny.”

  Jon shook his head. “I like her. If she ever shows an interest, I’ll ask her out.” He disappeared into the bar. Scowling, Neal stomped after him.

  “The bastard,” Kira muttered.

  Echo’s lips clamped together for a moment as old wounds re-opened and bled from the salt of Neal’s words. “See? That’s why I don’t want to date. It’s a pain in the ass. Half the time I don’t know if it’s my pheromones responsible or if I just bring out the jerks in them.”

  “No,” a low denial erupted from Kira’s throat. “It’s his dick that’s twisted his brain. I’d like to strangle him with—”

  Echo sputtered in laughter.

  “What?” Kira shuddered in disgust. “Eew. I meant his nasty tongue, silly. Not touching that thing.”

  “Thanks for the imagery I really didn’t need. I’ll see you later.” Echo headed for the exit, her smile vanishing. Outside, she dragged in a lungful of cold air, hoping it would calm her. She knew better than to let Neal get to her, but it was hard to turn old wounds into wisdom when they continued to blindside her.

  And Jon? He would come to her defense, because he was an all-round Mr. Nice Guy. Why couldn’t she give him a chance when she did so with a slimeball?

  Because Jon was a decent man and she couldn’t hurt him, not when her heart insisted on tugging her in another direction.

  ***

  Standing on the formation of rocks jutting out into the ocean on the northern side of the estate, Aethan gazed into the distance, his mood riding piss low. The brackish scent of the sea swirled around him. Moonlight illuminated the cold night, reflecting in a pale line on the calm, dark waters of the Atlantic.

  He should have met up with Týr for his training session an hour ago, after he returned from the city but he didn’t care for more of Týr’s snark. Aethan knew the male was bound to say something to set him off.

  All he wanted was a place to think. Echo. The female was hell-bent on scaring the shit out of him going after demoniis. And the way things ended between them, left him frustrated. She confused and tempted him beyond the levels he was prepared for. There was fierceness in her, a fire he longed to burn in.

  Gods. He dragged a hand down his face. His way of thinking wasn’t good for either of them. She was human and he had to get rid of this obsession riding him.

  But easier said than done. He blew out a breath of frustration and tried to calm the war going on inside him.

  The air around him displaced as a figure took form next to him.

  “So, you hide out here?” Týr drawled, glancing around him. “Nice night to contemplate the mysteries of the universe.”

  Aethan grunted. Ignoring the thick-skinned male wasn’t working. He settled for the flat-out aggression. “I want a little solitude—do you mind?”

  “Dude, in case you’ve forgotten, our lives are solitude.” Týr’s smirking tone took on an edge as the bleakness of their reality swallowed the tranquil atmosphere.

  Like he needed a reminder. Dematerializing back to the castle, Aethan headed for the gym. Frustration and unfulfilled desire raged in him. Yanking open the gray locker, he grabbed his workout clothes, changed, then headed for one of the several, strung-up punching bags.

  Several roundhouse kicks and the enormous bag shattered. An avalanche of sand slid to the floor. He moved to the next one. A rapid succession of heavy thuds filled the gym. Just as he’d worked up enough pain, using his bare fists to numb the battle in his heart, the door swung open. Týr strolled in. He shrugged off his black hoodie and tossed it on the treadmill. “Want to explain something to me?”

  “Explain what?” Aethan had to force the words out through clenched teeth.

  “Why, in the last two days, every time I schedule a training session with you, you’re busy?”

  What the hell was wrong with Týr? Did he look the type to open up his heart and bare all? Aethan struck the punching bag, hard. Pain rocked through his bruised knuckles. Not enough. He hit harder and skin ruptured.

  He would forget her, put her out of his mind.

  Hell, for three thousand years he’d lived alone, two days would not change him—

  At the sound of a metallic hiss, Aethan swung around, just as a sword came winging toward him. His heart racing, he reached out and caught the weapon. Images flashed.

  Another sword, glowing with white light, winging through the air. Ariana—

  Snarling, he attacked, his blade whistling inches past Týr’s carotid.

  Týr jumped back. “What the hell is your problem? I thought you’d appreciate fighting me, instead of beating up the damn equipment.”

  “Get outta my way.”

  “You have issues, man. Serious ones—you know what I speak off. Grounding in the mountains is not cutting it. Call one of the females from the pantheons.” Týr shot him a hard look. “If you won’t see to it, I will.”

  “Stay out of my business, Norse.” Aethan tossed the sword aside and ripped into the punching bag once more.

  “That’s a real polite request. Sorry I can’t comply. Have you taken a look at yourself recently?”

  “I don’t need a fucking keeper or your advice!”

  “You’re hearing it anyway.”

  “I didn’t know you cared.”

  “I don’t.” Anger flowed. The air around them shifted, crackled. “You don’t settle those powers, you’re gonna go nuclear on this place—be responsible for taking a lot more innocent lives. The Dark Ages would be nothing compared to this carnage. Is that what you want?”

  The reminder of how his lethal powers had eliminated not only towns and villages, during a time when demoniis had taken over this realm, but destroyed mortals, too, caught Aethan off guard.

  He wheeled around, shoved Týr back. “You think you’re any better? At least I don’t look for the easy way out of this life.”

  “Unlike you, I won’t murder thousands. It’s only my life that would end—what’s the matter? Some female left you all bent-up, you—” Týr’s eyes narrowed as understanding dawned. “Must suck not to be bound by our fucked-up laws and still not have what you want.”

  Týr struck too close to the truth. Knowing he could never touch Echo the way he wanted spiked Aethan’s temper to dangerous levels. The pit in his gut grew. He lashed out, wanting to maim. “Guess five centuries in Tartarus wasn’t enough?”

  Týr stiffened. Red-hot fury and utter betrayal thickened the air. He shoved Aethan back hard. “Fuck you, asshole!”

  His sword falling to the floor with an ominous clang, he stalked out of the gym.

  Aethan swung around and slammed his fist into the wall. Bones shattered, skin split and blood dripped onto the floor. Mentioning Týr’s imprisonment in the deepest part of the Dark Realm was a low blow, even for him.

  His gaze settled on the fallen sword. He’d drawn blood without the need of a weapon.

  When the layers of his soul were peeled away, he wondered if he had any heart left. Or did he just not care who he hurt anymore? Self-loathing could do that to a person. Too many deaths. Too many innocent deaths had stained his soul. He could still hear their screams from centuries ago as he took out demonii infested villages and towns, leaving nothing behind but ash.

  The door to the gymnasium opened and Blaéz strolled in.

  “What happened?
The Norse left in a blaze and I mean that literally, like he couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” Blaéz glanced at the spots of blood on the floor then at Aethan’s ruined hand.

  Ignoring him, Aethan strode to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water. The cold liquid sliding down his throat did little to dull his anger, but remorse slithered in and settled like an old friend.

  ‘Why not tell Blaéz the truth?’ the darkness creeping inside his head prodded him. He tried to shut out the destructive whispers.

  Fuck, he wouldn’t sink lower than he already had. How could he tell Blaéz anything, without bringing back horrifying memories of a past best forgotten?

  In the Realms of the Gods, they’d once been protectors of the Goddess Of Life until evil intruded and she’d disappeared, never to be seen again. As punishment, they’d been stripped of their powers and incarcerated in the deepest, darkest level of the Dark Realm.

  In Tartarus.

  A place where Blaéz lost all emotions after his soul had been ripped from him. Not an easy thing to do when you were a god.

  Icy water splashing on his hand, jerked him back.

  “Your mood’s been off lately,” Blaéz said, his empty stare ramming home to Aethan the void the male lived in. No emotions. No feelings. Inflicted pain was all Blaéz felt.

  “Leave it alone.” Aethan refused to talk about Echo with anyone. Ever.

  He tossed the water bottle into the recycle bin and strode over to the stack of towels on a shelf near the lockers. He picked one, threw it over his face and squeezed his eyes shut. Inhaled slowly. Gods, he needed to calm down.

  Damn hard to do when self-hatred raged in him. His fists tightened. The scabs crusting over on his knuckles cracked and split, started oozing again. The pain of his busted hand reminded him he’d finally taken over the slot of Asshole of the Year.

  He’d find Týr and...yeah. The thought of apologizing stuck in his craw. He should have shut his damn mouth and left well alone—like he always did when dealing with Týr.