“Yes,” he said, sniffing the air. Joy lightened his pale, frighteningly-handsome face—all the more macabre when he smiled, revealing a set of fangs. But that wasn’t right, he didn’t have—
“I’ve been searching for you.”
“I’m flattered by your devotion. Why don’t you come and get me?”
He laughed in delight. “We’re going to have so much fun.”
His movements a blur, he attacked.
Familiar with their quick maneuvers, she danced back, barely avoiding his grasp, but a wet trail ran along her jaw.
Echo wiped the saliva off her face, her eyes trained on him. She didn’t bother to curse this time as she waited for his next move.
“You taste absolutely luscious,” he leered, circling her.
She countered, moving with him, the dagger hidden in her palm. “Yeah–yeah, that’s me, luscious human. You’re boring me. Let’s cut the chitchat and get on with it.”
He growled. His brown eyes filled with a darkness so malevolent, the hair on her nape froze.
Somewhere farther down the alley, a back door opened. The smell of baking bread and voices yelling something in Mandarin filled the cold, smelly alley. Another door opened and more voices joined the clamor as the backstreet came alive and merchants made an early start to the day.
“You’re coming with me.” Lazaar didn’t seem to care people were within yelling distance, must think he was safe in the cover of smog. Or that she was easy to get at. She had to end this.
He launched himself at her. Evading him, she swung around and lashed out, her dagger slicing the fiend across the chest. The momentum sent her skidding on the wet sludge covering the ground.
“You’ll pay for that,” he snarled.
She bounced on her feet, her dagger braced for another attack. “Put it on my tab.”
But he stepped back as another sinister growl left him. “Listen to me carefully, human. The next time I come, you will leave with me, or you won’t like what I will do.”
He didn’t flash after his threat, merely retreated into the early morning fog which swirled around him, thickening until it engulfed him. Echo struggled not to hurl at the stench of sulfur coating her tongue and skin—
She stilled. That fiend hadn’t smelled right, no honeysuckle like the one in the subway. Instead, he smelled of...vanilla?
Her eyes darted around. She inhaled deeply, searching for his scent. Nothing. Just the aroma of baking bread crowded her nose. Crap! His smell was the one she’d hunted five long years for. But why did Lazaar reek of vanilla now like the one who’d killed her friend? She had to be imagining things. Besides, the one who killed Tamsyn had blond hair. Not brown dreads.
The hair on her nape prickled. A dark figure materialized in front of her. Her blade palmed, she attacked. A sharp hiss erupted from her assailant, and swearing in a language she’d never heard before. Before she could locate the fiend through the fog, he grabbed her from behind, locking her arms.
“I will kill you!” she snarled, and head-butted him, connecting with his jaw instead of his nose.
A satisfying grunt of pain reached her ears. He released her hand and yanked her head back in a steel grip. She elbowed him in the ribs with her freed arm.
“Stop that, you little hellion!” The air filled with more curse words. The next minute her dagger was gone. He pinned both her arms with one of his, keeping her trapped against him.
She inhaled sharply. The familiar scent of rainstorms and leather enveloped her. “Aethan?”
“Yes, it’s me.” He whirled her around to face him. “Who the hell did you think it was?”
***
Aethan cursed again. She’d slashed him with that damn dagger. The fact she thought him a demonii and attacked him made his gut knot in fear. He dropped the weapon into his coat pocket and hauled her into his arms, so damn grateful she was safe. Unharmed. He breathed in her scent—
She struggled to get away from him.
His anger resurfaced.
“It’s best you don’t fight me.” His arm clamped around her waist, he dematerialized them back to the castle.
CHAPTER 18
The thick walls of the small living room subdued the sound of the winds howling outside. Fat raindrops splattered against the windowpane, drowning out the crackle from the fireplace.
Aethan helped her off with her jacket. Despite the warmth from the fire, a tremor swept through Echo, tightening Aethan’s mouth. Warily, she watched him as he examined the wounds on her arm.
She swayed. He grabbed her arms, steadying her. God, she hated this dematerializing. Made her feel like she’d left her head behind.
He hauled an armchair close to the fireplace. Gratefully, she sat down, keeping her gaze off him. The dizziness finally dissipated. She doubted she’d ever get used to it. Moments later, he shoved a snifter of brandy in her hand.
She shivered as the warmth from the fire seeped back into her frozen limbs.
Aethan paced in front of the fireplace, the antique carpet muffling the sounds of his booted feet. He wore black leathers and a dark gray dress shirt. He pivoted and her breath seized. The dagger-slash on his sleeve was wet with blood.
Her gaze darted to his. Her heart tripped when she found him watching her, his eyes a stormy gray.
“What the hell were you thinking, Echo? If I’d come a minute too late, the demonii could have killed you. I leave you for one minute and you go get yourself into another dangerous situation.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“Left me for one minute?” She jumped up from the armchair, the brandy spilling over her shaking hands. “How dare you? You left for two days without a word or an explanation!”
Her humiliation grew at how desperate she’d been to reach him and she hated herself for being so weak. “I never expected this, you—” She waved a finger between them. “—me to be a forever kind of deal.” The lie stuck in her throat. But she couldn’t do this, couldn’t let him play with her emotions.
“Wait one damn minute—”
She was done waiting. “You changed your mind about us, fine, but have the decency to tell me so instead of leaving.”
She set the snifter aside and wiped her damp hand on her jeans. Pain tightened her chest with knowing she didn’t matter in the greater scheme of things in his life.
It’s okay.
She did better on her own, without a man in her life. “If I could get a ride to the city, I’d appreciate it.”
***
His hands jammed into his pockets so he wouldn’t put a fist through the wall, Aethan struggled to contain his fury. He despised the helplessness that still lingered from when he couldn’t find her. Now she stood there and made this his fault—it was, he knew that—for walking out without an explanation.
If she thought for a single second, he would stand back and let her leave him, then it was time she understood what it was to be an Empyrean’s mate.
“Echo, I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you—gods, it’s the farthest thing from the truth.” He closed the distance between them. “I had no choice.”
“We all have choices.”
“No. Not all are that fortunate.” He cupped her chin and saw the pain she struggled to hide. He hated himself for putting it there. “I couldn’t stay to explain two days ago. I didn’t dare. I had to Ground or it could have ended in disaster. You know what I am. You saw my powers. There’s a dark side to it, too,” he said, brushing the silky smooth skin of her jaw with the pad of his thumb.
“You experience terrible pain if you don’t Ground when your powers spike.”
Hedori had been busy.
Aethan didn’t care. He pulled her into his arms and held her—needed to know she was safe.
“Yes, that’s one part of it. When I Ground, I have to go to the mountains. The white quartzite found there helps me stabilize. For that to happen, I must shut down completely, body and mind. I lose track of time. It’s something beyond my co
ntrol.” He bit on her earlobe in punishment for doubting him. For even thinking he didn’t want her. The little gasp that left her made him feel better.
“Echo, had I stayed, I would have hurt you. And that I would never allow.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Where I come from, Empyreans have various strength and types of powers. Mine is of Whitefire, the most lethal. It would be deadly to anyone if my shields so much as cracked open. Mortals and immortals alike would die. My job as a Guardian makes it necessary to use this ability to take out evil. You’ve seen me. Now do you understand just how perilous I am?”
“Only to demoniis,” she insisted. “You won’t hurt me.”
Her trust sent a warm feeling coursing through him, but it didn’t override his irritation when she refused to recognize that every time his powers surged, she could be trapped in a minefield. Dammit, how could he make her understand how risky this was?
He groaned, “Echo—”
She cut him off. “Your eyes, they turn white. It’s because of what you can do, right?”
“No, that’s because of what I am.”
“What do you mean?”
He brushed a hand over her hair. “I don’t want to frighten you.”
“You know I’m not easily intimidated or scared. If I’m to understand this, you have to tell me.”
Tension flowed right back into him. He let her go and stalked over to the window to stare out into the wet night. Lightning flared, brightening the shadowy trees and drenched gardens. Rain raced down the windowpanes in tiny rivulets. The gentle touch of her hand on his back offered him comfort, one only she could give.
“It happened during my mother’s transition,” he began. The nerve in his jaw ticked furiously, remembering the first time he lit up like a damn specter. He’d been only sixteen at the time and completely terrified when in a spurt of anger, a wave of light exploded out of him. Over half the countryside had been destroyed in the blast. He’d taken out dwellings, shrubs and plants. Singed skin, clothes and hair off the people caught in the wave of light. The image of his mother’s horror when she’d realized the truth was burned into his memory.
“Her transition from what?”
Echo’s voice pulled him back. He braced his fist against the windowpane. “My mother’s a seraph. When she fell, she went through a brutal and fiery trial, unaware she was pregnant with me. I absorbed the Whitefire that took her wings. A damn vicious punishment for falling in love with an Empyrean and leaving the order of the Seraphim.”
***
A seraph?
“Aethan.” Echo drew his hand from the window and opened his clenched fist. Smoothing out his fingers, she stroked her thumb over the calluses on his palm. “Your mother? What is she?”
“An angel. Only she was a divine one—unlike the Empyreans. We’re angels of a different caliber, much too powerful, without wings, and a menace with the kind of powers some of us are burdened with.”
Echo dropped his hand. She stared at him as his bitter words flayed her.
He’s an angel! Aethan’s an—
Her mind stuck on that line like a scratched disc.
“Whitefire is an energy belonging to Heaven. A horrifying power, one nobody should be subjected to, yet it’s used as a punishment for fallen angels. No one should possess abilities like mine.” He turned and took her cold hands in his, his warmth flowing into her. “Echo, I’m the result of an Empyrean and a high level angel. Add Whitefire to the mix—hell, I shouldn’t even exist.”
“Don’t say that.” Her grip tightened. “Then I wouldn’t have met you. If I had to live my horrid life all over again just to be with you, I would.”
He pulled her into a crushing hug and the air left her lungs in a gush.
Argh—she didn’t really need to breathe, did she? He could always revive her if she asphyxiated.
“Echo?” His breath ruffled her hair. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He sounded far too serious. Her stomach dipped when he let her go.
“My powers don’t only make my fighting abilities lethal. During times of intimacy, some of that power escapes. When I first came to this realm, before I became a Guardian, there was another, a human female. I never thought about how my powers might affect her when we became intimate. Not until it was too late.
“She—” He blew out a breath. “My powers filled her, and her heart gave out. I couldn’t save her. I’ve never been with a mortal again. That’s why I must be careful with you. Every time I touch you, it gets riskier. I fear my need for you will push me over the edge. Make me lose control. It terrifies me of what could happen to you.”
Each heartbeat became more agonizing than the last. “What does this mean? You’re afraid you’ll hurt me, so you won’t touch me? Won’t make love to me?”
He captured her face in his hands before she could draw another pained breath, tenderness banishing the austerity of his gaze.
“Hell no.” He slid his mouth over hers. “I can’t not touch you. I might as well stop breathing. I will find a way out of this, I promise. But we have to be careful.”
Echo rested her forehead against his chest and squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to cry, wanted to yell at the unfairness of her life. Her pheromones played havoc and ruined relationships for her, and now this.
Aethan could kill her. Not something she wanted to hear, especially from the man she was in love with. But he wasn’t really a man, was he?
She pushed away from him and looked him over. Tall, muscular and heartbreakingly handsome, even with the grim expression he sported. His thick hair he’d tied back in a tail, revealed the gleam of silver earrings. He was perfect.
She tried to understand what he saw in her, and failed. “Why me, Aethan?”
“You haunt me,” he said simply. “From the first moment I saw you, there was no looking back for me. You are mine, Echo. My heart. My soul. My destiny. And I will never give you up.”
***
Echo walked into the bedroom wearing blue flannel bottoms and a darker blue T-shirt. She smoothed a shaky hand over her tee. She’d hoped a shower would calm her nerves, help her come to terms with what she’d learned about Aethan.
Being an angel with scary-ass powers didn’t matter to her. She fell in love with the man she thought him to be, from the moment she saw him in front of the stone angel statue. The irony of it brought a wry smile to her lips.
Running a hand through her damp hair, she turned and saw him come out of the dressing room. He’d changed, too, and wore jeans and a T-shirt now. Nothing remained of the deep wound she’s inflected on his biceps, just a thin red line across the tattoo.
“Can you use your sword if you’re wounded on the tattoo?” she asked, worried that she’d left him weaponless.
His gaze softened. A hand on her nape, he drew her close and laid his lips on hers in a tender kiss. “No. But I’m always prepared, so don’t worry about it. Here.” He held out the obsidian dagger.
“No. It’s yours—”
“No, it’s not. It never was. I inherited that along with my tattoo. It’s my mate’s dagger—yours.”
“You’re with me because of a dagger?”
“No.” He shook his head, amusement brightening his eyes at her snippy tone. “I’m with you because you are mine. I don’t need a mystical dagger to tell me how I feel. Besides, that’s no ordinary blade but a Gaian one. It can’t be stolen, ever.”
“But I did, from you.” She smirked because she loved besting him. Taking the blade from him, she trailed her finger over the design on the guard and said softly, “It glowed the first time I touched it.”
“I guess it would, since it recognized you. However, that blade will summon me if you’re in dire danger.”
“Like tonight?”
“No. I was faster,” he retorted. He took the dagger from her and tossed it on the table. “It can never be stolen, it will always return to you. And if you need it, will it to you. Why
didn’t you tell me about your friend being killed by a demonii?”
The abrupt change in conversation froze her. He didn't look happy. Kira must have told him the truth.
A knock sounded on the door, and a gush of relief filled her at her momentary reprieve. Aethan crossed over and opened it. Hedori came into the room, carrying a tray which he set on the coffee table.
“My lady, I’m glad to see you unharmed,” he said.
She offered him a smile while embarrassment made her want to squirm.
Did they all know Aethan had found her in an alley where she’d attacked him? Of course, they did. Týr and Blaéz had helped him search for her, and Hedori had been oozing anxiety by the time they got back to the castle.
After Hedori left, Echo sank into the armchair, her stomach pitching. She didn’t dare tell Aethan she’d seen Lazaar again...she frowned, the confusing scent of the demon troubling her.
Avenging Tamsyn was too important to give it up. She just hoped Aethan would understand once she told him about those years on the street. He had a right to know why she couldn’t leave this alone. She poured herself coffee, hoping it would settle her nerves, and took a sip.
Aethan stopped a few feet in front of her and waited.
“My parents died in a mugging when I was four,” she said softly, staring into the black liquid in the cup. “I had no other family, so I ended up in foster care. I hated it there, really hated it. But I was too young to do anything about it. Not for lack of trying. Complaining to the social workers just made things worse.” The memories of long nights locked in the cold, dark basement sent a shiver over her skin. She turned the mug in her hands, seeking fresh warmth. “A few years later, I ran.”
She glanced up at him. Not a flicker of emotion showed on his striking face, but those eyes swirled with sympathy, with knowledge.
“You already know, don’t you?” she whispered, her stomach cramping at the realization. Had he known from the beginning?
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