“I’ll go talk to him,” Ashley offered. By the time she got outside, he was already gone. But it wasn’t difficult to find him. The dull thuds and rapid-fire puff-puff…puff-puff-puff of Mitch’s punching bag echoed from the garage. Walking toward the sound, she stood in the doorway of the garage for few minutes, silently watching him wail on the blood red Tap Out bag. Occasionally, he’d let a flurry of leg kicks fly. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess who Mitch was picturing on the other end of his foot. Not good… He may be a tough guy in this world, but he wouldn’t stand a chance against Liam.
“Mitch…”
He continued to pound the bag, no doubt ignoring her.
“Mitch!” Ashley said louder.
“What?” he snapped, spinning around to glare at her. His sweat-soaked t-shirt clung to his biceps and heaving chest. Mitch yanked it over his head and wiped his face dry before tossing it into a crumpled heap next to the door.
Ashley was momentarily speechless and more than a little uncomfortable, standing in here with him. She couldn’t help that her eyes dropped to his lounge pants, clinging dangerously low on his muscle-trimmed hips. It was easy to see why so many girls found him attractive and why his reputation as a player preceded him. If he wasn’t about to marry her best friend, she would have probably given into the lure of his charms herself. But she’d been there, done that, and had the scars to prove it. Never again would she allow herself to fall into such temptation. Getting involved with one of Olivia’s exes had nearly killer her once. Casting her eyes to the ground, she asked. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just great,” he snapped sarcastically. “Can’t you tell?”
Her eyes flicked to his burning gaze. “You know, you probably shouldn’t have yelled at him,” Ashley replied with an equal amount of snark. “I said he was an angel, not a saint. Provoking him isn’t going to help anything.”
“Do you have any idea where he’s taking her?” Mitch asked, dragging his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair.
“No. Somewhere safe, but even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. It’s too dangerous for you to go after her.”
“If I don’t go after her, I’m going to lose her, Ashley!”
“If you lose her, she was never yours in the first place,” she countered. “Be reasonable, Mitch. You can’t protect her from this. It’s too big. The only one who can keep her safe is Liam.”
“He’s in love with her! You said it yourself! How can I just sit here, knowing that they’re together? I just can’t let her go! I’m already the laughing stock of Evercrest.”
Listening to Mitch talk, Ashley started to wonder if he wasn’t more concerned about his ego than Olivia’s safety. “You’re fighting a losing battle, Mitch. Just try to have faith that this is all going to work out. He’ll bring her back, trust me—”
“When?” he demanded.
“When it’s safe.”
***
“Just keep heading west,” Haden instructed, reclining in the passenger seat, legs stretched out the best he could, his shitkickers crossed at the ankles. “I’ll let you know when we’re getting close,” he said, closing his eyes to rest. He wasn’t the same as them, an annoying fact he’d never been allowed to forget, growing up under Gahn’s iron fist.
He needed to rest—pure and simple, a mortal inconvenience he tried not to draw attention to and refused to let slow him down. Weakness was something he refused to tolerate in himself, as well as others. Pathetic…he thought, disgusted by his own humanity—hating it—hating himself—and hating his father who had been cruel enough to doom him to this life of hell.
“You sick or something?” Rowen asked, scowling over at him.
Haden popped open an eye, leveling him with a cold, hard glare. “Yeah, sick of being stuck in this car with all of you!” he growled, closing his eye again and settling deeper into the seat. They knew he was different from them. His pale green eyes confirmed that much. They just didn’t realize how different. Gahn had kept his secret, and that was the only thing the rotten bastard had ever done for him—and only because it served his own purpose.
Gahn had seen to it that any remnant of human emotion or affection in him had died along with Anya. He felt no remorse for what he was planning to do. In fact, he smiled to himself just picturing the look on Gahn’s face when he walked into the Dark Court with Immanuel’s Stone in his hand and shoved his fist down that son of a bitch’s throat. A smug, indulgent smile splayed across his lips as he succumbed to his humanity and drifted off to sleep.
The setting sun cast an orange glow over the little village in the recesses of South Africa. Black magic hung in the air like an invisible cloud. Haden drew a deep breath, feeling his strength increasing, the voodoo infusing his cells. He walked through the village unnoticed, having not yet stepped across dimensions. He’d been tracking this one for months, searching for her in what felt like the ends of the earth. They were always female—the sighted. Why, he didn’t know—didn’t care, dead was dead. But now his hunt had brought him here, to this God-forsaken land. She’d show herself…if he was patient. They always did. It was only a matter of time.
The sharp tang of burning incense stung his nostrils as he passed through several huts, in search of her. They all looked right through him, continuing with their business, oblivious to his presence. Thirsty, Haden walked over to the well in the middle of the small village and noticed a young woman sitting on the ledge. Her back was to him as she drew a bucket of water from the deep recess. Slowly, he approached, watching her as she leaned over the edge. Her mocha-colored skin glistened in a light sheen of sweat. He’d have to be blind not to notice the way her narrow waist met the gentle flare of her hips, those long, bare legs tucked elegantly beneath her.
He stepped to the side, trying to get a closer look at the female. Her long black hair was swept up, held off her bare shoulders with a white-washed bone, exposing the delicate arch of her neck. She wore a thin tan hide-skin dress that did little to cover her voluptuous curves straining against the butter-soft material.
The woman continued to collect the water, paying no attention to him, nor should she. He hadn’t transcended dimensions yet. Haden’s eye was rarely turned by the beauty of human flesh, but there was something remarkable about this creature. She was…absolutely exquisite. The longer he stood there watching her, the tighter his pants seemed to fit. Pressure coiled in his groin, sparking an unfamiliar ache of longing he didn’t understand and didn’t appreciate feeling.
“Would you hand me that pitcher?” the woman asked, reaching behind her for the pot beside his foot.
It startled him when she spoke. Her voice carried a sultry cadence that lit a spark of fire in his veins. He glanced over his shoulder to see who she was talking to. No one was there.
“If you’re going to stand there staring, the least you could do is hand me the pot,” she said, arching a brow as she glanced over her shoulder to look up at him.
Haden’s breath caught in his throat when her dark chocolate eyes locked on him. They held a hint of humor and no fear, which was a new experience for him. After centuries of bloodshed, he’d forgotten what it was like to have a woman actually look at him with anything other than terror in her eyes.
He was momentarily struck speechless by this woman’s beauty. And then the thought hit him. Oh shit, please don’t let it be her. “You can see me?” he asked tersely.
She laughed, and the light, airy sound brushed over him like a gentle caress. “Of course I can see you. You’re practically standing on top of me.” She gave him a bold, flirtatious smile and stood, turning to face him. “Anya,” she introduced herself, wiping her hand against her thigh before extending it to him.
“Haden,” he replied, stepping across to corporeal form as he took her hand. Her grip was firm, confident. The moment he touched her, a jolt of heat sizzled through his veins, and his heart leapt inside his chest. Startled, he pulled his hand out of her grasp. Never in his life had he e
ver experienced such a reaction to a woman’s touch.
“Why are you here, Haden? You’re obviously a very long way from home.”
Please don’t let her be the one, he repeated over and over to himself, knowing it was a futile plea. There was no one to hear it, anyway.
“Do you have someplace to stay?” she asked when he didn’t answer her.
Haden shook his head.
“Well, fill that jug,” she said, nodding to the clay pot next to his foot, “and follow me.”
“Why would you do that?” Haden asked, suddenly intrigued. “Why would you invite me into your home? You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re either very brave, or a very foolish man to walk into this village just before nightfall. Either way, unless you come with me, you will not live to see the sunrise.”
You really have no idea what I am, do you? He thought, wondering if it was possible for someone to possess the gift of sight and not realize it. “Your concern is very touching,” Haden said, picking up the pot and lowering the jug into the well, letting it fill, “but you shouldn’t invite strange men into your home. You don’t know the first thing about me—”
“I know many things,” Anya countered, watching him closely. “I know there is darkness in you. And you have many secrets, but you will not hurt me.”
Anya didn’t realize it, but her declaration had just saved her life—for now. He was too intrigued by this stunning woman to bring her any harm tonight. Standing, he tucked the overflowing jug in his arm. “Give me yours,” he said, reaching for the heavy pot she held in her arms.
Anya gave him an approving smile and handed him her jug. She turned and walked away, Haden followed behind her.
It was less than a ten-minute walk to Anya’s mud-packed hut. By the time they arrived, night had descended upon them. It struck him odd that a single woman, especially one as beautiful as Anya, would be living so close to the outskirts of the village, and alone at that. Did she realize how vulnerable she was out here? Did she realize how vulnerable she was right now?
As they entered the modest one-room dwelling, a small fire was already burning in the clay stove. Cracks in the oven cast dancing shadows all around them. Just like him, they seemed drawn to Anya, swirling around her, brushing her shoulder, caressing her thigh. Holy hell, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
“How is it that you have a place to yourself and yet no husband?” he asked, watching her from across the small table as they sat down to eat the stew she’d scooped from the pot on the stove.
“I am the chief’s daughter. And I will be married.”
Haden schooled his features, fighting the unexpected tide of jealousy rising up inside him. It didn’t make sense that he’d have an opinion, either way. He’d just met the woman he was sent here to kill.
“Who will you marry?” he asked with a forced casualness that was only out of pure curiosity.
“The spirits have spoken of a man, the one who came here for me. You,” she simply said, lifting her eyes to boldly meet his stare.
Haden’s heart thundered inside his chest, making it difficult to breathe. Clearly, the woman was insane—beautiful, yes, but absolutely freaking nuts. He wasn’t going to marry her. Kill her?—probably, but marry her? Not a fucking chance in hell. He was silent a moment as he gathered his thoughts, deciding what to say to her. She probably wouldn’t believe him if he told her she was crazy. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Anya. You wouldn’t think such things if you knew why I was really here.”
She stood from her chair and walked around the small table to kneel in front of him. Her bare legs brushed against his knees as she settled between his thighs. Anya’s dark eyes shone almost black in the low lighting as she reached up and gently took Haden’s hand in hers. “I know why you’re here, Haden. You’re here to save my life.”
He hardly heard the words coming out of her mouth, his heart was pounding so loudly in his ears. Her touch was like liquid fire, heating his blood with desires that would only weaken and distract him from the job he came here to do.
“Anya,” he whispered, suddenly not trusting his voice to hold strong. What was wrong with him? Had she put him under a spell?
“Shhh…” she whispered, bringing her hand up to touch the side of his face. “Just wait… You’ll see.” She leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss against his cheek.
His first instinctual response was to jerk away. His second was to wrap his arms around this tempting female and greedily take every pleasure she had to offer him. He did neither—frozen by a tidal wave of pure pleasure. He’d never experienced anything like this before. In all his existence, he’d never let a woman touch him. So why now, why her?—who in the hell knew. What he did know was that he loved the feeling of this woman’s lips against his cheek, loved the floral scent of her skin that reminded him of jasmine.
“I trust you…” she whispered, her breath brushing against his cheek, skating across his parted lips.
He forgot to breathe. Finally, he inhaled, pulling her scent into his air-starved lungs. The breath he drew between clenched teeth tasted of sweet red wine.
“You shouldn’t—” he whispered, still unmoving.
Slowly, Anya leaned back, putting some distance between them. She watched Haden intently for several minutes, then said with absolute certainty, “You won’t hurt me.”
Haden’s eyes locked on hers, bold and unwavering. “Are you willing to bet your life on that?”
He didn’t miss the slight tremor that racked her petite frame, the bitter almond scent of her fear rising up to tease his senses. Now, that was more like it. Perhaps the female wasn’t suicidal, after all. But then her shoulders stiffened, her back straightened in determination, and with a defiant tilt of her chin, she met his stare and said, “I already have…” Slowly, she stood, turned, and walked away.
He watched her go, mesmerized by her lithe gracefulness as she silently collected the dishes and carried them over to the washing area. She stood with her back to him, saying nothing as his gaze traveled down her back, appreciating the curve of her bottom and her bare legs.
When she finished cleaning the dishes, she opened a chest and pulled out a fur pelt and blanket. “You can sleep over here, next to the fire,” Anya said, dropping them on the floor. As Haden watched her, for the first time in his existence, he started to question everything he believed to be true.
He’d grown up knowing nothing but anger, hatred, and violence. He had no regard for human life. So why now, after all these years, after all the lives he’d taken, couldn’t he seem to do the one thing he’d been raised to do—hunt—find—kill? Haden shifted realms, feeling more comfortable with the dimensional barrier between them.
She poured two cups of tea and brought one over to him. Her fingers grazed his as he took the cup from her. Anya gasped, snatching her hand back as if he’d burned her. Shit… Since he wasn’t in corporeal form, it was more difficult to contain the darkness that lived inside him. He could literally feel it leaching out of him into the woman who now looked at him with guarded wariness.
Her reaction disturbed him. He didn’t enjoy seeing the look of fear on her beautiful face, something he’d always savored in the past—fed from when, time and time again, he’d claimed his victims with savage, merciless efficiency. But now, seeing the way Anya watched him, he suddenly found himself wanting to comfort her.
Impulsively, he crossed back over and took her hand, letting her see—feel—that he wasn’t going to hurt her. “Thank you for the tea.”
“What was that?” she whispered.
That she had to ask confirmed she didn’t know she possessed the sight. She couldn’t differentiate between his corporeal and dimensional status.
“What was what?” he asked. Denial seemed like the best move here. Perhaps she’d think she imagined it. He sure as hell didn’t want to tell her the truth—that she could see angels and demons. That he was a Nephilim hunter, searching for th
e sighted, commissioned by the Dark Court to find and kill these gifted mortals.
As he held her hand, he brushed his thumb over the rapid tick of her pulse. The flesh covering her wrist was smooth as silk. She felt good—too good…
“Umm…nothing, I guess.”
He didn’t resist when she pulled her hand from his grasp, doubt hedging in her dark brown eyes. He found himself wanting to reassure her, which was odd, but hell, from the moment he’d laid eyes on this woman, nothing had been normal. “You were right, Anya. I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassured her. “You look tired, why don’t you try to rest.”
She nodded. “Good night, Haden.” Anya turned and walked behind a curtain of cloth to what he could only assume was her sleeping quarters. He moved over to the pelt, pulled off his shirt, and settled in beside the fire. A soft glow shone from behind the curtain, and he shamelessly stared at her silhouette as she undressed. Each movement held a delicate grace, exposing curves of utter perfection.
His chest tightened, his breath trapped inside his lungs as he forced his eyes from this mesmerizing female. Locking his gaze on the orange flames of the fire that didn’t compare to the heat burning inside him, he sipped the tea she’d given him. Once the rustling behind the curtain grew silent, he frequently glanced over at her, tempted to step behind the barrier, if only to watch the female sleep.
In all his years, he’d never seen such an exquisite creature. Lying there, he couldn’t help but wonder how much time he’d have before they figured out she was still alive. How long before they sent someone else to do his job.
Something hard smacked into Haden’s shoulder, startling him awake. Reflexively, he spun and sunk his fist into Cale’s jaw.
“What the hell!” Cale barked, grabbing the side of his face and knocking Haden’s arm away.
“Why did you disturb me?” Haden demanded.
“Cale didn’t touch you,” Rowen interrupted. “I did. You didn’t answer me when I spoke to you. Were you sleeping?”
Shades of Darkness (Redemption Series) Page 9
