The hands they’d held out to summon more energy stilled. The look of horror crossing their faces augured well for their continued life, even if it were only for the next few minutes. They shoved the human aside. “It’s the Detonator.”
They had a name for him? Well, now. He sauntered closer. “If you mean can I blast you to smithereens with just a thought? I'm game to test that theory. Are you?”
The demoniis shifted uneasily, sticking their hands in their pockets as if to make sure they didn’t give in to temptation and strike him. Pity.
Blaéz glanced at the human cowering against the wall, the faint whiff of liquor drifted from him. “Run.”
The male took off, wavering up the alley like a tipsy bullet.
One of the demoniis leaped at Blaéz. He evaded, grabbed his quarry in a chokehold, and dragged him into the shadows, away from the humans nearby.
A quick twist and he broke the scourge’s neck. Before he regenerated, Blaéz summoned the mystical sword tattooed on his biceps. In a tingle, it slithered down his arm and took the form of a six-foot-long obsidian broadsword. Etchings of ancient symbols marked the black blade. In his hand, it glowed to life.
He brought his weapon down in a deadly arc that decapitated the fallen demonii. Black blood sprayed Blaéz with the stench of decay. Aware of the other two creeping closer, as if he were that easy to kill, Blaéz pivoted and pierced one in the chest. Then swung around and beheaded the other, closing in on him from the left. More gross plasma spurted out of its headless neck. The demonii fell to the ground, disintegrating into a gooey black mess before turning into dust.
The wounded one cannonballed right past Blaéz and up the alley toward the humans. Willing his sword back to his biceps, Blaéz flashed, blocking the demonii mid-way. “You really didn’t think you’d escape me, did you?”
Cornered, the dead sucker summoned another bolt.
With his mind, Blaéz pushed into the demonii’s thoughts and let loose his deadly ability. The scourge’s eyes bulged. Then, like the pop of a fizzy drink, he exploded into pieces; blood and gore turning to ash and raining back on the dingy tarmac.
Cooooome, warrior…
Held in the grips of his invasion, the oily darkness crawled around in Blaéz’s head. Compelling. Urging him to respond to the slick voices.
Drunken laughter erupted like a gunshot to his head. Cab doors slammed shut, yanking Blaéz back to cognizance. With no emotions to ground him, slipping into the demoniis’ tainted mind was always a risk, a one-way ticket to Hell. Why he rarely used that ability. He shook his head to clear the thick black haze, brushed the dust from his clothes, then he checked the time on his cell. 9:21 P.M.
He was late.
***
Darci left the library a few minutes after nine. She stepped out of the staff entrance that opened into a narrow thoroughfare. Within seconds, the humidity had her top sticking to her clammy skin. She scrunched her nose at the foul stench drenching the muggy air and glanced around.
He was nowhere to be seen. She lingered for a few seconds. Ugh, she was seriously out of her mind to wait for a complete stranger whose name she hadn't even thought to ask.
Sure, he looked better than any guy she’d dated. Heck, he was outright good-looking, but that wasn’t what that drew her. It was, she thought with wry acceptance, that untouchable level of arrogance when he’d held her trapped against her door and had said she would kiss him if he wanted her to. Oh, his ego had ticked her off. But more, it was the way he wouldn’t accept no for an answer, his sheer determination in pursuit of her. He fascinated her.
However, he’d stood her up, that much was clear. Sighing, she headed down the lane, the dim lights barely illuminating the way, and tried not to think about why her heart sank at the fact that he hadn't shown.
She noticed Irina and Maria almost at the end of the alley and hurried to catch up. She didn't care for this gloomy road, but it got her to the subway and home much quicker. The hardcover book she’d borrowed slipped from her hand and fell to the asphalt. Dammit. She picked it up and dumped it into her tote bag, grimacing at the added weight.
Footsteps sounded behind her. Wariness prickled along her neck. Darci cast a look over her shoulder and quickened her pace, only to be grabbed from the side and shoved against the wall. The rough bricks scraped her cheek. Pain escalated.
“Well, now,” a crude voice rasped. Fear churning her stomach, Darci grabbed the arm fastened around her neck and tugged, but her assailant held on. She brought her heel down hard on the fiend’s foot. Snarling, he let go. She swung her heavy tote bag and hit him across his jaw.
A curse rang in the air. “You bitch!” A stinging blow exploded across her face. Stars burst through her darkened vision. Nausea rushed up her throat.
“Hijo de puta! No marking on her,” another growled.
A screeching of tires, and the next minute she was shoved into a vehicle. The pungent odor of sweat, stale aftershave, and liquor made her stomach heave. All the things she’d read about in the papers, in books, came screaming through her mind. They would rape her — kill her—
She clawed at the man following her inside. His fist lashed out. Her head hit the door, pain spread through her jaw. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. Another man got in on her other side. Doors slammed shut. Her wrists were wrenched behind her back. She cried out, the searing agony overriding the pain in her head. Rough hands yanked at her top. Buttons flew. He grabbed her breast, squeezed hard. “We’re going to have so much fun, puta.”
Darci cried out, squeezing her eyes tight, fear and helplessness taking hold of her. She had to find a way out of this, if she didn't — no-no, she couldn’t bear to even think about what would happen…
***
Blaéz took form in the shadows of the buildings opposite the library. He crossed the street when the sound of a faint scuffle reached him, followed by a cry of pain.
With inhuman speed, he tore down the alley alongside the library. Two males were shoving someone into a car. Beneath the piss and dumpster stink, the faint scent of lilacs drifted to him. Thoughts of total annihilation filled his mind. They dared to touch his female.
He dematerialized. As the vehicle slowed down to turn onto the main street, he took form in front of it. The black Camry shuddered to a halt. Despite the dark interior and shadows, with his heightened sight, he could see Darci sandwiched between two males.
A window lowered. “Get outta the way, asshole,” an angry Spanish-accented voice yelled at him.
“Let. Her. Go.”
“He wants to order us.” Cocky now. “Why don’t you come and get her, eh?”
They thought to taunt him? Bad mistake. Blaéz lifted his hands.
A snicker followed. “You move us with your hands now, eh?”
With his mind, Blaéz ceased the engine then ripped the doors off of their hinges and flung them away. A tinny sound filled the alley as metal hit the building and landed in a heavy clunk. He seized the humans who touched the woman he’d claimed as his and flung them out of the car in opposite directions. They hit the walls skull first and landed in a heap… silence reigned.
Blaéz walked around the car to the back seat and reached for Darci. She scurried away from him, her fear so thick it left an acrid taste in his mouth. But with the door on the other side ripped off, she fell out of the vehicle — and cried out.
Blaéz flashed and grabbed her before she hit the asphalt. She yanked free from him, tears of pain dripping down her face. There were raw and bloody scrapes on her cheek. An ugly bruise had formed on the side of her jaw. Blood trailed from her split lower lip, down her chin, and dripped on her gaping shirt. Purple bruises marred her breasts. Breathing harshly, she pulled her top closed with trembling hands and watched him with terrified eyes.
Did she think him one of the fuckers who’d hurt her? The urge for vengeance grew, he thirsted for it, but a deep-seated need demanded that he see to her first.
Slowly, he reached for
her again. “I won't hurt you.”
“No-no!” she shrieked, hitting him. Her nails caught him in the neck. Blaéz grabbed her and crushed her to his chest, his protective instincts so strong, so unfamiliar. “Shh, a leannan, I have you.” He pressed his lips to her forehead—
A streak of pure agony shot through him as if struck by lightning. Pain, unlike anything he’d ever received almost brought him to his knees. His heart nearly crashed through his ribs. Unable to cope with the flood of emotions, he sent her to sleep and dematerialized, shooting a telepathic message to one of the warriors — he had no idea who — for clean up.
Moments later, he took form in front of the castle. Pain had him clenching his jaw as he stumbled inside and into the foyer. The butler appeared and rushed toward him in a blur, his inhuman orange-green eyes flashing with concern.
“Sire, allow me.” Hedori reached for Darci.
An animalistic growl escaped Blaéz. “No one touches her.”
Hedori pulled back, hands raised in a placating manner, his voice calm. “You will drop her and she’ll come to more harm. I'm sure that is not what you want?”
Did Hedori think him injured? The male had no idea of the truth — of the emotions coursing through Blaéz that had him weak and sweaty. Ignoring Hedori, he willed the lounge door open and staggered toward the couch. Gently, he laid Darci down. Her freed hair spilled out like honey-brown swirls on the black leather.
Michael entered a few seconds later. He must have picked up on the distress Darci was emitting. Good, he could heal her, instead of always being on Blaéz’s back about his proclivities for the extreme. He didn't trust himself right now with all the emotions barreling through him, a chaos of feelings he could barely handle. He needed to calm down fast.
Michael’s gaze went straight to Darci. Her ripped blouse revealed the darkening bruises on the soft curves of her breasts. Her skirt had hiked up and exposed her tanned thighs. Blaéz picked up a knitted throw that smelled a lot like Echo from the armchair and laid it over Darci, concealing her chest and bare legs.
“Heal her,” he said, stepping back. She was human, she could die so easily. That, he refused to allow.
“What happened?” Michael asked.
“An attempted abduction. Saved the female, but they’d already hurt her.” Vengeance grew, demanded justice when he remembered the fear in her eyes.
“Demons?”
“Humans. She’s a relative of the lad from the cage fight.”
Michael cut Blaéz a sharp look then lowered to his haunches and examined the scrapes and bruises on Darci’s face.
Did he have to be so damn close?
Jaw locked down, Blaéz stuck his fists into his pants pockets so he wouldn’t haul the archangel away when he removed the throw. Michael held his hand an inch above her facial injuries. A silvery-white glow seeped out from his palms and coalesced into Darci.
Blaéz paced to the window, unable to remain still. Or watch. Felt as if his skin were all that was holding him together, stopping him from unleashing his anger. He tried to sort through what was happening to him. From the moment he’d met her, emotions had trickled into him like a low-voltage bulb when he was around her, but the moment he touched her or put his lips on her skin… it became sharper. More intense.
At the sound of footsteps, Blaéz turned.
Echo entered the room. Concern crossed her angular features when she saw Darci, then her mismatched amber and gray eyes cut him a worried look. “Is she going to be okay?”
Blaéz nodded. He’d accept nothing less.
The door opened again. Týr and Aethan walked into the lounge. Týr dropped a pink tote on the armchair then stared in surprise at Darci. Blaéz wanted to knock the warrior’s teeth down his throat. Irrational, but there it was.
Aethan gave Darci a brief glance as he pit-stopped near his mate for a quick stroke of her arm and a kiss to her nape before he strolled over. Gunmetal gray eyes gleamed. “Found your signature trails,” he said, retying his multihued dark blue hair back into a stubby ponytail, revealing small silver hoops in his earlobes. “Torn car doors. Broken bones—”
“Those three fuckers?” Blaéz asked.
“Cops were already there. Guess they’ll be sent off to hospital.”
Týr walked over with a shit-eating smirk. “Damn, Celt, you're one brutal son-of-a-bitch. Good thing you play on our team.”
He had no idea. Týr’d probably rip free the sword tattooed on his biceps and decapitate Blaéz at the truth.
Michael rose to his feet and joined them. “A little rest and she’ll be fine. I’ve sent her into a deeper sleep.”
“Blaéz?” At the sound of Echo’s voice, he glanced her way. “Would you like me to see to her?” she asked.
“No. I’ll do that.”
Týr eyes widened in surprise then he deliberately cleared his ear with a finger, as if he had a damn rock lodged there. “You will?”
Blaéz ignored him. He crossed back to Darci, slipped his hands beneath her warm body and picked her up. He sucked in a harsh breath as he walked out of the lounge. Despite being prepared for the backlash of touching her, emotions charged through him again like a kick in the gut — anger, anticipation, and gut-searing desire. But worse, with it, came perception. Guilt at the truth of what he was. Something he didn't care to feel.
Moment’s later, in his darkened quarters on the second floor, he willed on one of the sconces near the bed and laid Darci on the dark covers then hunkered down beside her. The low light cast a soft golden glow over her tan features. As if compelled, he picked up her hand and against his big, callused one, hers was too slender, delicate. It made him want to gather her close, protect her from any danger. He had no idea why she affected him this way.
His gaze fastened on the grime on her hand then lowered to her ruined top.
Now what? Did he remove her clothes and make her comfortable? No, he had a feeling she’d probably become hysterical if she woke and found herself naked in a strange bed, especially after her ordeal.
Right, the clothes remained. He removed her shoes, dropped them to the floor then rose to his feet. The dried blood on her chin had him moving again. He cut through his dressing room leading into the huge black and gray marbled bathroom with its elongated trio of stained glass windows. From the rails, he grabbed two towels, but with no container for water, he dampened one and headed back for her.
Gently, he cleaned the dried blood from her cheek and chin. The cut on her mouth had healed with Michael’s help, along with the bruises on her cheek. Blaéz brushed away the wavy strands from her face and lightly ran his finger over the feminine lines of her jaw in awe. Emotions flowed through him again as if he were connected to a low voltage battery. Not the deluge from earlier, but gentler now.
Frowning, Blaéz dropped his hand. Was it because she was asleep and no longer in pain that emotions didn't barrel through him? With no answer, he collected the soiled towels and took them back into the bathroom. He dropped them in the laundry hamper when a thud broke the quiet.
Blaéz sped through the dressing room into the dimly lit bedroom and stopped cold, his gaze on the empty bed. Dammit. She shouldn’t have awakened, not with the deep sleep Michael had put her in. Wherever she was, he’d find her. She couldn't have gone far. Movement to his left caught his attention. He found her huddled in the shadowy corner of the room.
“What are you doing down there?”
Her hands flashed out. “Stay back.”
Well, that wasn't working for him. He had to know she was all right. He took another step.
“No!” Her guttural cry stopped him dead. She pushed to her feet, her gaze unfocused. Her fear slashing at him like razors. He held his hands up, hopefully in a non-threatening manner. She scurried backward, tripped, and hit the bedside table behind her. The obsidian dagger he’d tossed there, forgotten and rarely used, rattled. She grabbed it and held it defensively with shaky hands. “Stay away.”
Her words were a rou
gh rasp. It made him realize how much she must have screamed. He hadn't heard her because he’d arrived a few minutes too late, busy keeping the damn city safe.
Anger infiltrated, fast and furious. Blaéz wanted to go back and break the humans’ bones all over again. “I did not hurt you,” he said quietly. “I would never hurt you. Those who did, they paid.”
“Where—” she swallowed, “Where am I? Who are you?”
She didn't remember him? “You are in my home. You know who I am.”
“I do?”
“Yes, Darci.” She stiffened at his use of her name. He willed on all the wall sconces. Light brightened the room. Her gaze widened in recognition.
“I am Blaéz.”
Chapter 4
Blaéz.
The man who’d saved Daniel and who had come to the library to see her. Darci stared at him for a long second. No, he hadn’t hurt her… others had…
Her breath caught in her throat, her mind releasing the terror it hid.
But he’d taken a car apart without touching it. He’d flung the men who’d attacked her on the sidewalk the same way. Panic took hold. He was even more dangerous than the others. She dashed for the door. He beat her there, blocking her way, a large looming presence.
“No — stay away from me!”
Her gaze darted around. Was there no escape from this prison? A cool breeze drifted to her. Panting hard, she made a run for the open windows and prayed they were on ground level. The windows slammed shut. She jumped back, her heart crashing in her chest and spun around.
“Don’t be a fool.” His tone would have had her scowling if she weren’t drowning in fear. “I didn’t just save you so you could hurt yourself again.”
Her back pressed into the windowpane, whispered, “I saw what you did. You tore off the car doors — you — you killed those men.”
His pale eyes roamed over her face. He didn't deny her accusation, merely said, “No, I didn’t kill them, which is a pity. They hurt you.”
“How did you do that? The car — the windows?”
Breaking Fate Page 4
