A flash of his hand and Maloch sliced Darci’s cheek with a black elongated fingernail. She cried out in shock, pain spreading. Blood oozed down her face, dripping onto her chest.
“Kill more of my soldiers and I will make her scream before I destroy her.”
Blaéz’s eyes flashed neon in fury. His sword shimmered in his hand. “You won’t get the chance.”
“That puny weapon, again.” Maloch laughed. “Go ahead, try, you’ll kill her first.” He yanked Darci in front of him like his own personal shield.
Then everything happened so fast. The raucous minions froze. Blaéz leaped into the air with impossible speed, twisting his body at the last minute, and as his sword came down, invisible hands shoved Darci away. She stumbled back. Blaéz’s weapon plunged with the speed of lightning before he landed a short distance away.
Maloch lurched back, shock spreading across his pale face, a hand clutching his midriff.
“Never, ever touch my mate,” Blaéz said, his tone a whiplash of ice.
Darci’s gaze locked onto Blaéz’s stone-cold face, a trembling hand pressed to her bleeding cheek. His mate? He didn't hate her?
Blaéz lunged for Maloch but seemed to collide with an invisible barrier, he staggered back several feet. Maloch appeared to be holding Blaéz off with some kind of force field while he waved a hand over his wounds, trying to heal himself. Another desperate wave, but the wound continued to gush. “Evanora! What in all of hell did you do?”
Blaéz pivoted, his sword swinging, but Nora had already taken on a transient form. “Sorry, warrior,” she said, her tone a disembodied echo. “I can't let you kill me.”
In her spectral shape, she floated over to Maloch. “I put the potion in his drink as you instructed. Got him to open the portal, a direct path to you as you wanted. But I made sure you had something, too. Only, I adjusted your potion a wee bit — you recall the drink I gave you before I left for the engagement? Good.”
“You double-crossing bitch!”
She smiled. Ignoring Maloch’s snarl, she took corporeal form again in front of him. “That potion blocked your healing powers. It’s only fair, don’t you think, brother, to even the playing fields?”
Maloch backhanded her, hard. His eyes glowed, flames flickering in them. “You have failed me. Once this is over, I will deal with you. You can be sure this will be your last foray into this blasted realm.”
Nora swiped the blood from her mouth, eyes hardening. “I am not one of your damn cretins, Mal. I know how Caylem died. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out the truth, that I would docilely follow your every decree? You’ve been trying for millennia to locate that soul, but I got a trace of it the moment I came to this world. I’ve known for a year she possessed it, but your desires didn’t fit in with my plans. I had to get you onto this realm, so I could exact my vengeance. I used your need for retribution against the warrior to do so.”
What the hell was she talking about? Darci glowered at her. Blaéz lowered his sword. What was he doing?
“Who do you think is responsible for Cay’s death?” At Maloch’s growl, Darci’s gaze darted back to him. He was still trying to heal himself, his hand moving furiously over the wound. “Why do you think I seek justice?”
“Justice?” Nora repeated. “You wouldn’t know the meaning of the word if it bit you in the ass. You compelled Cay to fight a deranged warrior. Win, and he would be accepted by you — he was just a boy who looked up to you, and you killed him!”
Darci frowned. Her confused gaze pinned on Nora’s furious face. This wasn’t about taking Blaéz’s soul back?
“It was just a game gone wrong.” Maloch’s hand shot out. He grasped Nora’s arm and twisted it behind her. “Take me back to the Dark Realm. That’s an order!”
Pulled so close to him, Nora’s head was forced to tilt up. She spat in his face. “Afraid if you die here you’ll be dead for all eternity without a chance at rebirth?” She slid from his grip like a slippery eel.
“Then I’ll take what is mine—” Maloch hurled out a power blast at Darci.
Before she even blinked, Blaéz moved with preternatural speed, blocking her with his body. The discharge flung him into the trees some distance away. The minions, freed from Blaéz’s psychic hold, attacked him.
“Blaéz!” Darci screamed. Before she could run after him, Maloch flashed and grabbed her, the stench of sulfur so strong, bile churned her stomach. She fought him with the strength of an insect, but he easily forced her jaw open, his nails piercing her cheeks. Her pained cry lodged in her throat.
No! She didn't want to die this way. But trapped by his glowing red gaze, her hands fell limply to her sides and she stood there like a rag doll as his opened maw hovered above hers. He pulled in her breath. Her lungs tightened, she struggled to breathe while Maloch sucked out her life force like some demented vacuum.
A gut-chilling roar broke through the silence as her vision darkened. Then she was free. Maloch was ripped from her and sent flying away. Darci reeled back, a spasm of coughing wracking her. Her chest hurt, like it was on fire.
Blaéz ran his sword through Maloch. “She doesn’t have my fucking soul you goddamned son-of-a-bitch!” As his blade swung in for the kill, Nora darted between them in a blur, a flash of silver in her hand. The dagger she held dripped red with blood as she stopped on the other side. A thin red line appeared in Maloch’s neck… then blood gushed.
“That’s for Caylem,” she spat. “And for hurting my friend.” She glanced at Blaéz. “You can't kill him, warrior. His spell made it so — but I can.”
A chill seeped into Darci. She blinked, trying to clear her fuzzy head as Maloch started to waver in death. The trees surrounding her began to sway, she glanced up, and the star-studded sky above joined in the spin. Something was terribly wrong.
“Blaéz…” Her stuttered whisper was barely audible amidst the gurgling sounds Maloch made. Everything around her dimmed, her knees caved, and she was falling.
No… not Maloch’s death gasps.
Hers.
Chapter 30
Amidst Maloch choking on his own gore, a faint gasp reached Blaéz’s ears. He pivoted
“Darci — no!” His hoarse yell echoed in the eerily calm night, his heart crashing against his sternum as Darci fell. With preternatural speed, he moved, shoving Týr out of his way. The warrior who had taken form in front of him said something about Aethan taking care of the fuckers on the other side. Blaéz didn't care. He skidded to his knees next to Darci and swept her into his arms. Her head and limbs flopped like a lifeless doll.
He felt for a pulse on her neck. Nothing. “No—no, you aren’t leaving me, this isn’t over between us!”
He telepathed Aethan, I need you. Right then he didn't care if the world came crashing down and was overrun with demons. The only thing that mattered was the woman in his arms. She was his entire existence.
“Come on, Darci, talk to me,” he pleaded. Unending silence answered him. Her eyes remained shut. The few freckles across the bridge of her nose appeared like rusty smudges on her pasty skin. All his bitter words to her from earlier hit him with the force of unleashed arrows. Yelling at her, denying her, when all she thought of was him. He wasn’t worth her sacrifice — she was the one who deserved life. She, not him. Pain made it hard to take a breath, to take another step.
He barely registered as Týr cursed and hunkered beside him, looking on helplessly.
Seconds later, Aethan took form near them, appearing as if he’d been tossed through Hell, dispensing his own accursed power. Pale as the moon, he didn't ask questions, lowered on his heels opposite Darci’s motionless body and glanced at Blaéz. “You need to let go of her. This is going to hurt.”
Like he cared. “Do it!”
Aethan nodded and laid both his hands on her chest. As his powers surged from him into Darci, Blaéz could sense the electricity flow wrapping around Darci’s heart, sharp and intense. A jolt, and her body convulsed.
&nb
sp; Feeling as if a thunderbolt struck him, Blaéz inhaled harshly. He pressed two shaky fingers to her throat for a heartbeat. Still nothing. “Come on, a leannan — you have to breathe.”
God damn the fates. Rage and despair warred within him as he held her. She never stood a chance. She was just meant to pass back his soul and die. He pressed her cold hands to his bare chest, trying to infuse his warmth into her. Remorse hit him hard.
“I didn't mean what I said, none of it, you must know that?” He brushed back her hair from her blood-streaked face. The raw wound on her cheek had stopped bleeding… it would with no heartbeat, and his entire being shuddered in pain. He laid an unsteady hand over the gash, sealing it, along with the puncture wounds on her wrist.
“Come back to me, a leannan,” he begged, his throat tight with dread. “I don’t care if it’s for a week, a damn day—” Eyes burning, he lowered his forehead to hers, but instead of her beautiful lilac scent, the coppery smell of blood filled his lungs as she lay silent in his arms. “Just give me a chance to say I'm sorry.”
“Ready?” Aethan warned.
Blaéz didn't move, just nodded, his gaze fixed on Darci’s still face. Her body convulsed again. At the charge of power rushing from her into him, Blaéz ground his jaw at the blow and his own heart stuttered as if it would give out.
That didn't stop him. Lowering his lips to her cold ones, he blew into her mouth. Once. Twice. He breathed his life into her. Her chest rose then fell, but he couldn’t restart her heart. Unadulterated terror swelled in him. “I'm not giving up, you hear me? Shock her again,” he ordered Aethan.
“Blaéz,” the warrior said, voice strained.
He glanced up. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
“Because I could very well kill you with the next damn shock! You need to let go of her now—”
“C’mon, Celt, let go,” Týr backed Aethan. “You’re shaking like a fucking leaf.” He grabbed Blaéz’s arm, trying to tug him away from Darci.
He shrugged Týr off, his hold tightening on his mate. “I’m not… letting… her go.” Menace in his every word. “Now do it!”
After another second of hesitation, Aethan put his hands back in place and let his power charge through. Darci’s body jerked. The bolt sent Blaéz clear across the grassy ground, dropping him flat on his back, unable to breathe. Oblivion hovered. Darkness. Shouts sounded from somewhere. Something pressed on his chest… a mouth on his.
“Dammit, Celt, breathe! You know the Empyrean’s power can take even us out!” Týr.
Blaéz no longer cared. Nothing mattered without her.
A faint gasp echoed into the descending blackness. A sound he longed for so desperately. Like a lifeline, Blaéz held onto it, his lungs filled with air once more, pulling him back.
Darci…
She breathed again.
His eyes snapped open. He found Týr leaning over him, pumping on his chest. “Thank fuck!” the warrior growled, yanking him up. “If you forced me to put my mouth on yours again, I would have killed you myself.”
On trembling legs, Blaéz shoved Týr off and stumbled to Darci. He fell on his knees beside her. “Darci?”
Her eyes flickered open briefly. Heart-wrenching relief flooded him and his throat tightened with untold emotion. His gaze blurred. His body loose and unsteady, he hauled her into his arms and buried his tear-damp face in her hair.
“Blaéz—” At the shaken tone, he looked up. Aethan’s eyes were like gray holes in his pale face. “I scanned her. She— her soul isn’t whole.”
“I know.” Blaéz pressed his lips to Darci’s brow. She turned her face into his chest and slipped into sleep. “I’m going to fix that.” How, he had no idea.
Sweeping her into his arms, Blaéz rose and dematerialized them back to the castle.
In their room, he laid her on the bed, undressed her, and put her in one of his t-shirts. Her color had improved, but her cheek, though healed, was still smeared with dried blood.
From the bathroom, he swiped a towel off the rail, wet it, and headed back to the bed. Gently, he cleaned her. Tossing the terry cloth aside, he tucked the covers over her and sat on the mattress. Even though her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, Blaéz didn't dare move his gaze off her, terrified she would take her last breath.
He picked up her cool hand and held on tight, his thumb stroking the engagement ring he’d given her. He pressed his lips to her fingers. He’d gotten his soul back, his head free of the oily voices and roiling darkness, but at what price? In front of him lay his beautiful mate still on the verge of death.
He was responsible for all this shit — opening a fucking portal? Why the hell would he do something that dangerous with Darci there?
Of course, that damn demoness. He’d picked up bits of Darci’s conversation with Maloch’s wretched sibling during the fight. She had spiked his drink, starting this downward spiral.
How could he ever make up for how badly he’d screwed up?
Blaéz didn’t know how long he sat at Darci’s side and watched over her. At some point, he’d lowered his head to the pillow next to hers, holding on to her hand.
As the dark skies finally gave way to a gray morning light, Darci stirred.
Blaéz jerked up, his feet crashing to the floor. Her lids blinked open. Her eyes no longer resembled the hues of a sunflower. They’d faded almost to a flat brown. Her mouth curved in a smile that made his heart bleed. He couldn’t speak, stark pain choking him. She struggled to sit. He helped her up, stacking another pillow behind her.
“Blaéz!” She expelled a sharp breath and pushed away from him, her anxious gaze darting over him. He glanced down at the ruined, plasma-drenched, buttonless shirt he still wore.
“I'm fine,” he reassured her.
Apparently unconvinced, she reached out and rubbed his chest. She was probably wiping away dirt and blood, but her touch had him on edge. The urge to hold her, kiss her and make love to her, to reassure himself she lived swamped him. But he didn't dare not with her looking so wan. Biting back a groan, he grasped her hand and stopped her.
“How… how did I end up here? I remember leaving the party…” She frowned, as if trying to recall.
Blaéz had to clamp back on his anguish. She didn't even know her heart had stopped beating. It cost him so damn much to pretend, to let the corners of his mouth curve up. “You needed a nap, it seems.”
***
Darci gave Blaéz a skeptical look as she searched his tight, handsome face. Overnight stubble shadowed his jaw. The smile on his lips didn't touch his eyes. He looked a mess. His black shirt had numerous slashes. Dried blood smeared his chest and arms, but he was unwounded, for which she was grateful.
“Another demonii fight?” she asked. She really hated when he got hurt while on patrol.
“Something like that.”
With a weary sigh, she pushed the covers aside, slid off the bed, and stumbled. Blaéz grasped her arm, steadying her.
She felt so weak. Her limbs unsteady like she’d binge-drank through the night. Ugh, her mouth tasted awful, too. At his anxious expression, she patted his bare chest. Smiled. “I'm okay. I need the bathroom.”
He picked her up and carried her. “Blaéz,” she grumbled. “I can walk.”
Ignoring her protest, he strode into the bathroom and set her down. When he just stood there, she rolled her eyes. “I’ll call when I'm done, okay?”
With some reluctance, he left. Shutting the door, she used the facilities then brushed her teeth and washed her face. At the sight of her pallid reflection in the mirror above the basin, Darci groaned. Her hair looked like a bird would be happy nesting there. As she tried to untangle it, her gaze lowered to her eyes. She frowned. The hazel colors were so muted, they appeared dull, lifeless…
Her pulse roared in her ears, and everything that happened after they’d left the party last night crashed into her mind like a deafening rockslide.
“Oh, God — oh, dear God!” She grabbe
d the edge of the counter.
The door flew open. Blaéz was at her side in a heartbeat. He swept her off her wobbly feet. “What is it?”
“I remember.” Her arms tightened around his neck, so afraid to let go as he walked back into the room, afraid she’d never find him again. “I heard you — you brought me back.”
He sat on the bed, keeping her on his lap. “I couldn’t lose you, Darci — I just couldn’t.”
At the naked grief in his voice, she pressed her lips to his unshaven jaw and tried to suppress the tears that weren’t far off. But a tiny sob leaked out. “I guess we were never meant to have a life together, were we?”
Those wild blue eyes held hers, edged with untold torment. “If I hadn't opened that damn portal—”
“No.” She placed her hand on his lips. “It’s not your fault.”
He kissed her fingers then pulled them away. “Why? It’s the truth. I'm a goddamn warrior. My first duty is to protect, and I did a brilliant job of that. I opened a fucking portal with you so close that you had to give your life to save me!”
“You didn't know what you were doing. Nora…” She swallowed, still hurting at her friend’s duplicity. “Nora put that potion in your whiskey, the one I brought to you. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine for being so easily deceived.”
“She’s a demoness, a leannan. She covers her tracks well. But I should have known when I saw her with you—”
“Blaéz,” she cut him off, eyes widening as something else registered. “She — Nora said Maloch trapped you by binding the lingering essence your soul left behind with a spell to their blood moon. It’s how you were summoned, but it was weakening. It’s why he was desperate to find your soul first.”
“It no longer matters, he’s dead. But I want to kill the bastard all over again for what he did to you.”
“Please, let’s not talk about them.”
A moment, then two passed before he spoke. “All right.”
Darci shifted off his lap to sit beside him. Blaéz braced his arms on his thighs and angled his head to look at her. “Tell me about this curse of your bloodline.”
Breaking Fate Page 30
