Breaking Fate

by Georgia Lyn Hunter

  He looked up, slowly licking her wetness from his lips, his demeanor calm like he didn't still have his damn fingers inside her. “Please, what?”

  She squeezed the wooden sides of the ladder and glowered helplessly at him, restrained by her precarious position. The words took a moment — a few years — to break free from her dry throat. “Finish this.”

  A dark brow rose at her demand. “You put me in a position where I couldn’t say no when you demanded I take you to get your brother. Then you rushed headlong into danger. You did not trust me.”

  Gah, he was still going on about that?

  He lowered his head and nipped her clit as if he knew her thoughts before lapping away the pain.

  A shuddering groan left her. “IdotrustyouitwasjustinstinctI'msorrrrry…” Her words ran into each other, all her defenses crashing under his onslaught.

  He stilled.

  Noooo, he was going to leave her this way, unfulfilled. He was incensed enough to do so.

  Then he dropped her legs over his shoulders, giving him greater access to every part of her. He lapped her, his tongue light as gossamer wings. Her body tightened. Spine tensed. He closed his lips around her clitoris and sucked, working her to a fever pitch. Blood roared in her ears…

  A voice intruded. She heard Blaéz’s name. No—no, not now!

  “Make them go away!”

  He laughed against her bundle of nerves — the sound so rare, her heart squeezed — but the vibrations amped up her orgasm. She choked back a cry. He sucked harder, worked his fingers faster then bit down on her clit. A rush of sheer, unadulterated desire yanked her up and tossed her over in a fiery explosion of impossible pleasure.

  Her legs gave out. She let go of her precarious hold and collapsed over him.

  Without any effort, he swept her off the ladder and into his arms. She buried her face in his neck, her body shuddering uncontrollably.

  After a long while when the madness had eased, she became aware of his warmth, his cool sensual scent surrounding her. He sat on the couch, cradling her on his lap. At the hard bulge beneath her bottom, her lids flashed open and she met his pale, amused eyes.

  She glowered. “I hate you.”

  “Most do.” He didn't seem bothered by her words, just took her mouth in a possessive kiss. As his tongue took control of hers, she could taste herself. Despite her exasperation with him, she responded. Because — dammit, the man could kiss.

  ***

  Blaéz eased away from Darci’s enticing mouth, so tempted to finish this. But when the life of his woman was on the line, the threat had to be eliminated first.

  “Was that supposed to be my punishment?” she asked.

  More like his, he thought wryly. “No. It just seemed like a good idea once I had you there.” Clamping down on his own needs, he grasped her chin. Even now, he couldn’t get past the fear he’d felt when the demon had flashed and grabbed her. “You ever put yourself in a situation like that again, Darci, you’ll find out what true punishment is. And I’ll make sure you have a guard twenty-four-seven — even to the damn toilet.”

  Her gorgeous face pulled into a scowl, her gaze still edged with the remnants of passion. “I didn't know what he was, okay? I saw my brother in trouble—”

  He cut her a granite stare. She shut her mouth. Blaéz moved her off his lap and rose, his erection a pounding ache, the scent of her arousal doing little to ease him. “I have to go.”

  She hastily pushed off the couch. “I thought you were off duty?”

  “I am.” No need to frighten her with the facts of what he had to do. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Where are you going? I thought…” Color flared across her expressive face as she rebuttoned her top and straightened her clothes.

  “We will, but I have something,” — or someone — “to take care of first.” Blaéz forced his gaze away from her tempting mouth and headed for the door he’d locked with his mind when Týr came searching for him, probably to go on patrol. Unlocked it and left.

  ***

  Blaéz dematerialized to The Bowery and the fighting pit with only one thought: Find the one responsible for sending those hoodlums to his mate’s home and deal with him.

  The rage he’d barely leashed while with Darci settled into stone-cold resolve.

  He’d killed the demon who’d licked her face. It wasn’t hard to dig for information from his corrupted mind. And he got a name.

  Blaéz neared the basement, when the malevolent odor of decaying demons reached him, the sulfuric reek strong. Two demoniis watched the place from the shadows.

  He didn't have time to engage in this fight. Blaéz shoved into their minds and detonated them. As they turned to ashes, he headed for the metal door. The ominous darkness inside his skull swirled awake like a thick fog, the oily voices chanting… Kill them. They deserve it.

  Blaéz walked down the dank corridor toward the arena, the scent of blood and pain filling his psyche. Grunts echoed, and the sounds of fists hitting flesh filled the air. He stopped one of the ‘hoods who passed as security. “Reno.”

  The human cut him an impatient glare then froze when he saw whom it was. A hint of wariness flickered in his eyes. The guard stuck a thumb out behind him. “Security room.”

  Blaéz headed down the corridor. He slipped his hands in his back pockets and felt a scrap of silk there. Darci’s panties. He scrunched them tightly and pushed them farther into his pocket, didn't want them falling in this shithole. Opening the gray metal door, he slipped into the small, cramped room. Three humans watched several monitors fixed on the cage fight.

  “Reno?”

  Heads turned.

  “What?” A thin man with slicked-down blond hair and pale skin twisted in his chair. Flat blue eyes sparked with recognition. Smirked. “Another fight, warrior?”

  “Yes.” Blaéz grabbed him by the collar and hauled him past the gaping security guards, stopping outside in the derelict lane. What he wouldn’t give to kill the prick. He had to play by the rules because the scum was human.

  He shoved Reno against the wall and thrust brutally into his mind. The shit he dug through until he found what he wanted made Blaéz wish he could snap the twisted man’s neck.

  Females tied to the bed, bleeding from razor slashes while he grunted over them… some dead… images of Darci with Daniel as they entered the library filtered through Blaéz’s head. Reno had stopped at the red light opposite them…

  Reno had a thing for curvy females like Darci. He’d used the boy to get at her. It wasn't some random attack outside the library, he’d sent those thugs after her, too. And now to her home? He was that desperate to get her?

  “Not in this life or any other, you piece of shit.” Blaéz coldly wiped clean the lowlife’s memories. He cared little if the human ended up with scrambled brains. He flung him away. Reno hit the wall and lay there in a heap of tangled limbs.

  But his raid into the human’s depraved mind didn't leave him unaffected. Added to those two demoniis he killed earlier, the malicious whisperings gathered momentum. Come, warrior, it will be sooo good…

  His shields were splintering and he could do little to rebuild, tethered as he was to Hell.

  His cell vibrated in his pocket like an explosion, hauling him back. Grabbing the lifeline, he pulled out his phone and stared at Darci’s text. You took my underwear.

  He ran his thumb over her name. As much as he needed her, he couldn’t let her see him this way. At the mercy of his darker side. Pushing the device into his pocket, he walked back to the one thing she hated but he needed right then.

  Chapter 23

  A low rumble pulled Darci out of her reading as silky-soft fur brushed her ankles.

  “Bob.” She laughed when he jumped up and settled his overweight body on her lap. “You miss Echo, too, huh?” She stroked the cat’s thick soot-colored fur. He rewarded her with a flick of his heavy tail over her arm.

  With the warriors on patrol and Echo in her healing sleep,
the too-silent castle held all the appeal of a mausoleum. No wonder Bob felt lonely.

  She set the book she’d been reading down on the coffee table. It was close to midnight, and Blaéz had been gone for over an hour. Worry inched its way into her belly. What was so important that he had to go out again?

  And that reprimand on the ladder? God, her tummy dipped just thinking about it. The man knew how to exact reprisal with just his hands and mouth. Her fingers tightened in Bob’s fur. With a low rumble, he lifted his head and stared at her with those unblinking amber eyes.

  “I'm sorry — cut me some slack if I sigh over him, okay? The man rocks my world. No one has done that, ever.” She smoothed down Bob’s fur. “C'mon, let’s go get us both something to drink. I'm thirsty.” She rose and left the library, hugging the heavy, purring cat who seemed quite content he didn't have to walk.

  In the kitchen, he hopped out of her arms and almost face-planted on the floor.

  “Darn it, Bob, don’t do that. I can't have you hurt,” Darci grumbled. “What ever will I tell Echo when she awakens, huh?”

  When he finally righted himself and stared at her, she shook her head. “Okay, one milk coming up.” She poured the creamy liquid in a bowl, set it on the floor, and helped herself to apple juice. Finishing her drink, she rinsed her glass. “Right, then. I'm off to bed,” she told the cat. “Coming or staying?”

  In response, the feline bounded toward the pantry and to Hedori’s quarters.

  Snorting, Darci headed upstairs. She walked into their softly lit bedroom and drew to a halt. Frowning, she glanced around then crossed to the slightly ajar study door. The knot in her stomach loosened in relief.

  Blaéz stood near the window in the darkened room, staring outside.

  “You’re back.” She reached for the light switch near the door.

  “Don’t—”

  Too late. Brightness flooded the room. His lips tightened.

  Darci searched his face. He wasn’t bruised. Not a scratch marred him. Yet the vibe he gave off made her uneasy. His expression flat, his entire body appeared like a coiled spring. He watched her with hooded eyes.

  Something was very off. A chill darted through her as understanding struck, along with gut-churning fear. He hadn’t been in a fight — he was fighting with himself. “Is the tie pulling you back to the demon?”

  He didn't respond, continued staring at her. She hurried across to him. “Blaéz—”

  He stepped away, eyes glowing like pale moons. “Stay back.”

  She stumbled to a halt. “Let me help you.”

  “No.” His hands clenched. Unclenched. “I am… not… myself right now.”

  It’s when he’s vulnerable that’s he’s at his most dangerous.

  He didn't have to say it, but Darci saw it in his eyes.

  It mattered little to her. No way could she stand aside while he suffered.

  Cautiously, she approached him like one would a wounded animal — a risk she knew, and a chance she took. If he hurt her… then he was lost. Her heart refused to accept that. She reached for him, he jerked away.

  “I didn't go fight in the cages because you hate them…” His words seemed wrung out of him. “But it’s the only way to get rid of this thing — the roiling darkness inside of me…”

  In that intrinsic part of her soul, Darci understood just how tenuous his hold to this world was with that demon after him out for revenge when he out on the streets. Even if he did quench the need for a fight, Blaéz would have no safety net away from her.

  “Then use me,” she pleaded as utter terror seized her at how close to the edge he was. “You need me, I'm here. Let me help ground you.”

  He shook his head and stepped around her. “No.

  Hurt flared. Shoving it back, she followed him. “So you think getting beaten again is the only way?”

  “It is, after those kills—”

  “What kills?”

  He stopped at the study door. “Found two demoniis lurking in the alley. After getting into their heads to kill them, it is then that I’m… not very stable… I need a haul back fast.” A sheen of sweat broke out on his skin pulled even tighter over the sculptured bones of his face. His internal struggle surfacing. “I need something more to anchor me. I need… pain.”

  At the starkness of his words, Darci rubbed her arms, suddenly too cold. “And I am not enough for you that you won't even try. I'm not breakable, Blaéz.”

  “Run to you every time Maloch yanks at me, which is constantly?” The helpless anger in his eyes morphed into icy rage. “I won't do it… I refuse to taint you… It’s guaranteed to put you in the bastard’s crosshairs.”

  His lucid words chilled her. Darci tried to breathe through the hurt. She couldn’t continue fighting him for every little thing if he wouldn’t even meet her halfway. “Fine.” She turned away. “Have it your way.”

  A harsh curse erupted behind her as if pushed to the end of his endurance. “You want to do this? Come on, then.”

  He was at her side in a heartbeat. Steely fingers shackling her wrist, he pulled her with him. Darci had to run to keep up with his long strides, almost tripping in her flip-flops. He headed for the narrow back stairways to the basement. Instead of taking the corridor to the gymnasium, he walked in the opposite direction, and came to a dead end.

  He touched a slight depression in the uneven stone wall. It slid open, revealing more stairs leading down into a gloomy passage. A dank, musty smell drifted to her. “What is this place?”

  “A basement chamber.”

  The door closed behind them with a sharp hiss. Blaéz opened a concealed panel, flipped a switch, and the wall slid open again. Lamps came alive, casting a soft glow around the chamber. An enormous four-poster bed with a deep blue quilt dominated the opposite wall.

  There was nothing here, except for the bed and the wide empty space where they stood. Uneasy, Darci glanced around and realized there was no window. Goose bumps spread over her. The place was a little too eerie for her. “Who lives here?”

  “It belonged to another Guardian.” Tone terse. “He’s dead.”

  “Why—” she swallowed. “Why are we here?”

  Whether he heard the apprehension in her voice, she had no idea, but he let her go. Darci rubbed her wrist and watched him anxiously.

  “You don’t want me fighting in the cages, very well, but I need something more.”

  “What?”

  He walked to the black wooden chest opposite the bed and opened it. He searched through the contents then rose and crossed back to her. Her gaze fastened on the plaited, black, snake-like whip he held it out.

  “You can't be serious!” Darci stumbled away, eyes wide in horror at what he asked, visions of her nightmare flooring her. She was thinking more along the lines of making love; rough, hard, whatever. Never this.

  “Don’t worry,” cynical laughter, “I dislike being restrained.” He pulled off his tee and tossed it aside. “Wield it like this.” He cracked the whip away from her. It streaked out like lightning in front of him. “It’s a shorter one — I don’t want you hurt.”

  Darci’s mouth wouldn’t cooperate, her voice stuck in her throat. The tight lines of his face revealed nothing of the man she knew. His features like stone. He pressed the hilt into her clenched palm. “Now try.”

  Shaking her head, she stared at the evil thing in her palm.

  “Do it,” he snapped.

  Her chest heaving, she lashed out in reflex. Once. Twice. The whip crackled in the air. Jaw tight, he nodded and crossed to the rough wall. Bracing his hands on the uneven stone surface, he gave her his scarred back.

  “Don’t hold back. This isn’t about controlling your strikes.”

  Faced with the harsh reality, her limbs turned to water. “I can't.

  “Now!”

  She jumped at the harsh order. The whip fell from her fingers.

  Damn him! A wave of anger surged through her veins, scorching her blood that he would dema
nd this from her. She scrambled after the fallen whip, picked it up, and eyes squeezed tight unable to look, she let it fly. She had no idea how to hold back a strike even if she wanted to. A hiss cut through the air. A hard thwack of leather against flesh echoed in the silent chamber.

  The whip’s recoil caught her arm, the sharp sting made little impact. All she heard were the sounds of the horrid strikes. One. Two. Three…

  Tears seeped past her closed lids. God! She could feel every damn lash as if on her own skin. There was no way to tell which of them suffered more; Blaéz, because of his need, or her because she was the one inflicting pain on the man she loved. Unable to go on with this cruelty, she opened her eyes.

  Oh, God! Her horror knew no end. Bloody lines crisscrossed against the old ones on his back. The whip fell from her hand. Her knees gave out and she slid to the cold stone floor, pain squeezing her lungs. More tears fell.

  Blaéz crouched in front of her. With gentle fingers, he wiped her cheek. “Darci—”

  “No!” Knocking his hand away, she shot to her feet. “I hate you — I hate you for making me do this, for making me hurt you!” Most of all she hated that she couldn’t be enough for him. Feeling as if she couldn’t breathe, her heart constricting, she wheeled around and dashed through the darkened tunnel as if the very evil that had forced her hand were after her.

  “Darci, stop.”

  She ignored him and ran harder. The next second, he was there. He grabbed her around the waist.

  “No!” She fought him, struggled to break free. He swept her into his arms and carried her back into the chamber. Her fear intensified. “Oh God, please don’t ask me to do that again.”

  “Shhh, love.” His arms tightened around her, his anger seemed to bleed out of him. “Those strikes didn't hurt. But they meant more to me than all the busted ribs and broken bones I’ve collected—”

  Holding him tight, Darci felt the fresh welts on his back beneath her hands. Bile rushed to her throat. As he lowered her to her feet, she swayed, shaking like a leaf in a storm.

  “Ah hell, a leannan…” Remorse flashed in his eyes, he exhaled heavily. “I'm sorry I forced you. I was so mad that you wouldn’t understand. You demanded I stop, but if I do, there will be no return for me. Pain helps keep me focused. Anchored.”