He took a step forward, but Pyro held him back.
His father raised a brow and smirked. “A beautiful specimen, isn’t she? I’ll have a healer take care of that cheekbone before I have a go at her. I don’t like fucking my women when they look like shit. My men were idiots and hurt her, but I killed them, so it made me feel a bit better.”
The woman was chained to the wall, her body lax in an unconscious state. Who was she? Why had Pyro taken her?
How could Balin help her?
“Once I get through with her body, the demons at the games will like her. They’ll probably use her for a whore for a bit before they put her in the games. I’m sure they’ll enjoy that. She looks like she could use a good fucking.”
Balin clenched his fists at his father’s vulgar words. He wouldn’t let this happen to her. No, there was something about her…
Could she be…?
“Word is she’s Ambrose’s true half, but he hasn’t claimed her yet. I don’t know why, but this will kill the bastard.” Pyro slapped Jamie hard across the broken cheek, and she let out an unconscious whimper.
Fuck, she couldn’t be Ambrose’s true mate because he was pretty sure this human woman was his.
Fate really was a bitch.
****
When Balin left, Pyro paced again in his foyer. That had been an interesting reaction on his son’s part. Almost as if…no, that couldn’t be.
Could it?
Had the rumors been wrong and this Jamie wasn’t Ambrose’s true half but really Balin’s?
Fuck, either way, it could do. He’d have to have her killed quickly, but not here. He’d already promised her to the games. Balin couldn’t have time to realize there might be a connection between them. He could regain his energy.
He’d have to move up Jamie’s torture. There would be no time for fucking and whoring, only her death in the games.
She’d go tomorrow. Pyro would make sure of that. As soon as the healer came to fix her face so she’d be a draw at the games, he’d throw her to the wolves—maybe not so figuratively.
Plus, there was something about her, something that nagged at his senses. Was she truly human? No, the rumored storm must have been real because Jaime was turning into something. What, he didn’t know. He needed her dead, quickly.
His plans were moving faster, but he’d still have his revenge either way. He had to.
Chapter 4
Ambrose paced in the living room of the home he had rented for his stay. Why hadn’t Lily called him to tell him that Jamie had called her? Gods, he sounded like a common teenager, waiting for his school crush to call a friend. The feelings coursing through him were nothing like a teen’s. They were feelings he desperately wanted to ignore, but as soon as he’d seen Jamie, he knew he couldn’t anymore.
He wanted her.
He had no idea how his old bag of bones would accomplish that, but he would find a way. First, he had to know she was all right.
And, of course, there was the whole other mate thing that bothered him.
Was there another one out there for Jamie?
He had never heard of that, only pairs and triads.
Could that mean…
He froze in mid step and blinked. Could they be a triad? Was that why he felt there was another?
Ambrose didn’t know, but no matter what, he needed to make sure Jamie was all right first. He’d give Lily five more minutes, then he’d go to Jamie himself.
He sat down on the stool by the bar, his head in his hands. He’d rented the house so he could figure out what to do. He hadn’t planned on staying long, only long enough to find Jamie’s other half, or whoever the other man was to them, and to protect the seven women from other supernaturals. He hadn’t even unpacked yet, not knowing what his future held. It pissed him off to have his plans on the wind as he was usually the one with everything set in stone, battle plans pored over and every strategic outcome analyzed. Yet, when it came to Jamie, he was out of sorts, lost.
Why had fate decided to let him find her now? He’d been alive for over five thousand years, yet he’d never gazed upon his true half until he was so old he didn’t even want one. Who was he to have a woman so young with so many new experiences in front of her?
Jamie was probably at home, snug in her bed, or reading a book. He knew she loved reading romances and anything that had a happy ending. It helped that she owned a bookstore. Maybe he’d show her the collection of books he’d piled up over the centuries.
Great, he sounded like the Beast trying to win Belle’s heart with a side of “Would you like to see my etchings?”
How long had it been since he’d tried to woo a woman?
Did he even want to woo her?
Yes, he did, but that didn’t mean he should. She was way too young for him. That was the whole reason he’d stayed away for so long. He could do nothing for her. Jamie was full of life and laughter—well, at least she had been before she’d met him and the trigger to their mating had started.
This situation wasn’t like with most true halves—or triads if that was the case with them, but he didn’t want to think about that—where they met, and in their hearts, they recognized each other and knew they were perfect for each other in every way.
No, with the seven lightning-struck women, things seemed to be different. With Lily, the first to meet her true half, once she’d met her mate, it triggered the transformation into her supernatural. Jamie seemed to be reacting slightly different than Lily, not as sick, at least from what Ambrose had seen—thank the gods.
Once they made love, then the transformation into her supernatural half would be complete, and she would become whatever was running in her blood. With Lily, it had been a brownie. Ambrose didn’t know what Jamie would turn into, but he knew he’d help her whatever way he could.
Even though he didn’t deserve her.
It wasn’t because he was still mourning his late wife, Ilianya. No, he had moved on from her long ago. Yes, he still missed her in a way because he’d lost a part of himself when she’d died too tragically. She’d been soft, pleasant, and a wonderful mother to their two children, Nathan and Laura. She’d been Shade’s sister and had brought the two men together in a brotherhood that was stronger than blood. When the wars had claimed Ilianya, his children, and Shade’s fiancée, Cora, Ambrose had given up on love.
Love only brought pain and loss.
Then Shade had found Lily, and Jamie had come into Ambrose’s life. He’d tried to give her up, tried to run away from the problem like a coward, yet he’d failed.
He still wanted her.
He didn’t deserve her.
Why wouldn’t she call? Was she okay?
His phone rang, bringing him out of his thoughts. He ran to it, nearly knocking over his side table in the process. He took a deep breath, settling himself. For fuck’s sake, he was a five-thousand-year-old warrior angel; he needed to act like it. After all, he was the stoic one, the one people never saw smile. He didn’t have to run to the phone like a teenager.
“Yes?” Ah, that sounded more like himself.
“Ambrose?” Lily asked.
He’d forgotten to check the readout on his cell phone; luckily it was Lily. And, hopefully, she was just calling to let him know Jamie had made it home and he didn’t have to worry anymore. Yes, that was why she was calling; it couldn’t be for more than that. His old heart couldn’t take it.
“Yes, Lily, how can I help you?”
“It’s Jamie. She never called and isn’t answering her phone. I’m getting worried.”
Pain clutched his body at her words. No, Jamie had to be okay.
“Maybe she’s just in the bath reading like you women like to do.” The image of Jamie in the bath with her caramel-latte skin, wet with trails of bubbles leading to places he wanted to taste assaulted him, even as worry gripped him.
Lily let out such a frustrated sigh that Ambrose regretted trying to make light of the situation. He was too worried to
try to retain his normal monotone.
“Even if she was in the bath, she’s like me and would have her cell phone on her. Plus, she didn’t call like she said she would. I’m worried, Ambrose. I’d go over there, but I can’t even stand straight. The morning sickness isn’t so morning anymore, and Shade won’t let me go.”
“I’ll go right now. Lie down and let Shade take care of you. That’s what he’s there for, Lily.”
She let out a relieved sigh. “I’m sure she’s all right, Ambrose, right?”
Ambrose swallowed hard. “I’m sure she is. Let me take care of her.”
“I know you’ve been avoiding her, so I’m sorry to bring you into this.”
Ambrose was already out the door and to his car when he answered. “You never have to be sorry about asking me to take care of your friends.”
Especially Jamie.
“Let me know what you find.”
“Of course,” he said as he pulled the car out onto the road. He lived only ten minutes away from Jamie. A curse and a blessing in some respects.
She had to be okay. Most likely, she’d turned off her phone for peace and forgotten to call. He didn’t want to think about another outcome, though he already had one in his mind. He went through his mental checklist of the weapons in his car and on his body—he always had a small arsenal with him wherever he went.
Plus, he had even more in his cache—the magical storage space, for lack of a better word, that held everything close to an angel’s body. He never had too much in it because it took energy to keep it full, but he had enough weapons to take out whoever would hurt his Jamie.
His Jamie.
Yes, she was his, even though he’d run from it.
He pulled into her driveway and parked next to her car. Something was off. He felt it in the air, the heaviness that coated his skin, his tongue.
Someone had been here.
He pulled out his sword from his cache as he got out of the car and tucked it to his side to avoid scaring the neighbors if they were watching. Humans were too curious for their own good sometimes. He knocked on the front door, but no one answered. Not wanting to startle her, or whoever might be in there with her, by breaking down the door, he walked around to the back and froze.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as blood roared in his ears.
The back window that faced her living room was shattered, leaving her house open to the elements. He reached out with his senses and didn’t feel another presence, but he couldn’t be sure. Some supernaturals, like him, could shroud their existence in the shadows, and he didn’t want any surprises.
He jumped through the broken window, and bile rose in his throat. The glass from the window had shattered into pieces along the floor and onto the couch. Something had broken her coffee table, its wooden shards everywhere. There was a puddle of blood on the floor that weakened him at the knees, but that wasn’t what made him want to scream.
No, not that.
There was no need for him to check the rest of the house, not when he knew she wasn’t there. He couldn’t feel her there, though he knew she was alive.
No, the message written in her blood on the wall was what brought him to his knees, the glass and wood cutting deep into his skin, reminding him he was alive and able to fight to bring her back.
She’s mine now, bastard. –Pyro
Ambrose held back the war cry of anguish that threatened to break free of his throat. He didn’t want to rouse the neighbors or the police with his pain. No, this wasn’t a human issue. A fucking demon had taken her to hell.
Not any fucking demon, but Pyro, the demon he hadn’t been able to kill because he’d been distracted by Shade’s first battle. He’d scarred the demon down his side, but it hadn’t been enough.
Not nearly enough if Pyro was still taking revenge.
Taking his Jamie.
Oh, gods, she had to be alive.
He’d fight for her with every ounce of his being.
There were no good demons, only dead demons in his mind. The only demons who didn’t take souls died too young and were most often too weak to be of much good to the cause.
It looked as if he were going to hell, though he couldn’t go by himself. Not if he wanted to live and not start a war between the angels and demons. The angelic council would never condone a battle over a human—even Ambrose’s human.
Fucking elitist bastards.
He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and ran to his car to head to Dante’s Circle. The dragon might be able to help him get into hell or at least have an idea on how to get to a portal. Ambrose didn’t know much about Dante, other than he was a dragon who cared for the seven women, especially Nadie. Somewhere, deep down, Ambrose trusted Dante, and he would use that. Anything to save Jamie.
His hands shook as he drove, his body shaking right along with them. He couldn’t even imagine the pain Jamie would be enduring at the hands of Pyro, the fear that would overtake her.
He’d save her; he had too.
Ambrose wasn’t an idiot though. He knew it was a trap. Pyro wanted payback for that scar, and Ambrose would walk right into it. He didn’t care. Jamie was more important than any pain he’d have to endure.
“Dante!” he called as he slammed open the door, scaring some of the patrons at the tables. None of that mattered. Only Jamie did.
Dante strolled from the back, his piercings and tattoos making him stand out, not to mention his blue-streaked black hair that fell to the floor when not braided.
“Yes, Ambrose?” Dante drawled.
Ambrose stormed to the back area so he wouldn’t upset the humans more than he already had. He might have started one scene, but he didn’t need another.
“I need your help,” he said.
Dante’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and his body went on alert, no longer the carefree bar owner, but a dragon with the power to kill with a single flick of his wrist.
“What is it?”
“Jamie’s gone.” He was surprised his voice didn’t break when he said it. “A demon by the name of Pyro has her in hell, and I need to go there to help her.”
Dante cursed under his breath and walked to his office. Ambrose followed him, his body and everything else on edge.
“I can’t go alone, not as an angel; you know that. It would start a war, and the council would filet me, even as a warrior. I can’t bring Shade down because he’s also an angel, and it wouldn’t do any good. Lily’s pregnant, and I can’t take him away from her. I need your help,” he repeated, the words heavy on his tongue. He was not the type of man to ask for help lightly, but Jamie was worth far more than his pride.
“I can’t go with you,” Dante said as he rummaged through a chest behind his bookshelf. What the hell did the old dragon have back there?
Wait, what?
“You can’t or won’t?” he asked, anger in his tone.
Dante stood and glared, his eyes turning all white. The room cooled dramatically, and the other man’s body shimmered and flexed.
Holy shit, he couldn’t turn into a dragon here, not in this place. It was too small, and Ambrose was not in the mood to die.
Because no matter how strong of an angel he was, and besides Shade, he was the strongest, he was no match for a dragon with a temper.
“Can’t,” Dante said through clenched teeth as his body visibly calmed.
Ambrose relaxed slightly, though he was still on alert, being cooped up with a dragon and the fact that Jamie wasn’t near him.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m banned from hell.”
What the hell? How did one get banned from hell? As an angel, he was advised not to enter the hell realm because his presence would immediately be known and he could die and perhaps start a war.
He wasn’t banned.
One had to do something truly…horrific…or something to be banned from a realm.
Wisely, he didn’t ask why, but nodded for the dragon to continue.
/> “Like I said, I can’t go with you, but I can get you in.”
Ambrose shook his head. “I know of a few portals, so I can get to it, though those portals are hard to get through. I don’t have a way of cloaking myself or anything while I’m there. I’m no match for an entire horde of demons on their land.”
Dante nodded. “I understand, but I have a portal in the back of this place. You can get in through there.”
Ambrose’s eyes widened. What kind of secrets did this dragon have? Did he really want to know the answer to that?
“I can also help you cloak yourself,” Dante continued.
“How can you do that?”
Dante handed him a gold medallion that was engraved with some kind of writing that Ambrose couldn’t decipher. Which was strange itself since Ambrose could speak most languages, dead and alive.
“Wear this around your neck at all times and no one will be able to tell you’re an angel unless they fight you and smell your blood,” Dante explained.
“Where the hell did you get this?” He winced at his bad pun.
Dante lifted a pierced eyebrow. “In hell, where else? Just wear it and try not to kill too many demons on your way. Also, you say it was Pyro who took her?”
Ambrose nodded. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Good, he needs killing. His son, Balin, could be an ally, if he’s still alive.” A shadow passed over his face, and Ambrose blinked.
“An ally?”
“Balin doesn’t take souls, but Pyro has locked him up for so long he’s been unable to come to the human realm to find his true half.”
“So his body is dying because he doesn’t take souls. Why didn’t you help him get out if you knew him?”
“I tried.” Dante’s eyes whitened again before he shook his head.
“So Balin is his son, so he might know where Jamie is.” It was a start at least.
Dante nodded. “Yes, and knowing Balin, he’s probably already trying to help her. Though his three hundredth birthday is coming up within days, Ambrose. You know what that means.” The dragon leveled his gaze at him.
Her Warriors' Three Wishes (Dante's Circle) Page 4
