“I missed you, too, Ashley.” His normal whiskey smooth voice was roughened and raw.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there dangling in the air, refusing to let him go. After moments of soothing her, she finally managed to get herself back under control. He set her feet on the ground and gently unwound her arms from his neck, prying her off him. She couldn’t do it herself, couldn’t let go, because she knew the moment she did, it was only a matter of time before he’d disappear again.
She could tell by the look on his face that it pained him to separate from her. For that reason, she didn’t kiss him as she so desperately wanted to right now. It would only make things harder on both of them.
“I don’t want you to leave with Mitch. You know it’s dangerous—”
“I don’t want to go. I have to, Balen. It’s the only way Mitch stands a chance at surviving this.”
“I’m not his guardian, Ashley, and I’m under no obligation to keep him alive. You’re using me and putting yourself in danger for him. I don’t like it.”
“I’m sorry. And you’re right, I am using you. Because I know that wherever I go, you go, and I also know that although you may not like Mitch, and you have every reason not to, you won’t let them kill him. You’re too good for that, too honorable, and that’s why I love you so much.”
“You give me too much credit. I almost killed him myself last night.”
She cringed. The memory was still too raw.
“If he touches you again, I’ll not be so forgiving. He’s been warned once, and I won’t tell him again.”
“I think he got the message loud and clear this morning. And he’s sorry. I honestly don’t think he’ll ever do something like that again. He loves Olivia—”
Balen scoffed. “He doesn’t know the first thing about love, Ashley. He’s in lust with her. Liam loves Olivia. When you love someone, you put their needs above your own. You suffer for them. There isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for them. You don’t drink a bottle of Jack and try to get into their best friend’s pants.”
Okay, Balen was still really pissed off about that. Mitch probably didn’t realize how lucky he was to be walking right now. “I can’t stop him from going. I tried. So my only option is to go with him. He’s made mistakes, and no, he doesn’t deserve Olivia, especially after last night, but he doesn’t deserve to die over her, either. And that’s what’s going to happen if he leaves with those demons. I set Olivia and Mitch up, Balen. This is partly my fault, and I feel responsible for this mess. I’m going. I know you don’t want me to, but I hope you understand why I have to. I know that you’ll still love and protect me, despite my decision to go against you on this.”
The muscle beneath his eye ticked and a low, frustrated growl chortled in his throat. “I don’t agree with your decision to do this. If I wasn’t honor-bound to respect your free will, I’d stop you from leaving. But know this, if you get hurt because of this guy, or if he pulls anything like that again, I will kill him myself.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Give me another shot,” Haden commanded, sliding his empty glass over to the bartender.
The judgmental asshole behind the counter cocked his brow and glanced at the clock hanging above his head, then back at Haden. “Little early, ain’t it?”
“It ain’t too early for me to beat your ass if you don’t pour me another damn drink!” he snapped, in no mood to take this guy’s bullshit.
The bartender’s hand rested warily on the neck of the Tequila bottle. “You ain’t drivin’, are ya?”
With the speed of a serpent’s strike, Haden reached across the bar and snatched the bottle out of the guy’s hand. “Does it look like my reflexes are impaired?” he growled, grabbing his empty shot glass off the counter and turning to walk over to a secluded, stay-the-hell-away-from-me corner of the bar.
He could feel the bartender’s glare boring into his back, but apparently the guy liked his teeth, because he didn’t say another word to him as he slid into a recluse booth and propped his feet up on the opposite seat.
The place was empty, but then, it was still pretty early. Most people didn’t start tying one on at 9 a.m. Then again, “most people” weren’t haunted with the guilt of killing the only person they’d ever loved, nor were they saddled with an asshole demonic legion interfering with their only shot at vengeance. Maybe once Gahn had paid with his life and the Dark Court was nothing but ruins, he could find the peace his tarnished soul so desperately needed.
Now, all he needed to do was figure out how to kill two birds with one stone. He knew he couldn’t beat Liam. He was a Ronnin warrior and those bastards were tough. He could kill Rowen, but he’d take some damage doing it and that’d require recovery time he just didn’t have. He needed to act before dumb and dumber returned. The simple solution was to get Liam to kill Rowen. When the angel was otherwise occupied, he’d find Olivia and get the stone—quick and easy like. So the million dollar question was how in the hell was he going to get Liam to leave that female alone long enough to get to her?
For now, he’d just sit here and drink about it. Perhaps after a few more shots, the answer would come to him. Settling in, he helped himself to another glass full of the amber balm, folded his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes to relax a bit. Mulling over his options, it didn’t take long before he began to plot out a plan, and soon after that, his thoughts turned back to Anya. He didn’t know why she seemed to plague him day and night of late. Perhaps it was the knowledge of how close he was to finally reaping justice for his female that kept her so near to thought. Perhaps it was his refusal to let her go… After all these years, his mind could still carry him back to her like it was yesterday—to another time, another place, straight into Anya’s arms.
The balmy air clung to his sweat-soaked skin as he worked his passion and frustration out on his female lying beneath him. He could feel the rapid pounding of Anya’s pulse against his lips as he kissed her throat, her breasts crushed into his chest as she arched her back, her nails scoring the flesh on his shoulders as she sought her release.
This was his favorite memory of her—lost in him—wild—abandoned—free… It was the last time he’d see her alive, the last time he lived in the fallacy called hope that all would end well for them and that he could convince Gahn to release him from his bondage and allow him to disappear with his sighted wife and unborn child. She hadn’t even known she possessed the gift until the day hell had rained down upon her village, raping, pillaging, and burning it to the ground.
She’d been terrified—devastated, and he feared the grief alone would abort their child. But she hadn’t miscarried. One month later, her belly continued to swell. And after the very unpleasant task of telling her the truth—about what he was, about what she was, he’d needed to find a safe place for her to stay while he prepared to return to the Dark Court.
She had other family, an uncle who lived forty clicks east of her village. She wanted to stay with him, with her family, while he was away. He didn’t blame her for wanting to be around those she loved, but he questioned the wisdom of leaving her in another village. There were other places, more secure places, he could have hidden her, but she’d refused, insisting on not being alone, needing the comfort of her family.
Because he’d loved her, he’d recanted. Because he’d recanted, he’d killed her. He should have known she wasn’t safe—that they’d find her. Then again, that was the problem with love, it made a male weak, skewed his good judgment, deluded him into believing in lies like happily ever after…
Anya’s throaty groan sent him into his own spiraling release, and for those last stolen moments, nothing existed but Haden and his mate. In a few short hours, when the sun fractured the midnight sky to birth a new day, he’d be leaving her, saying good-bye to go fight her demons—to slay the wicked dragon, and with any hope, he’d return to her before nightfall. If not, then he wasn’t coming back at all. He’d be dead, because he wasn’t leaving Sh
eol without their freedom.
With a tortured sigh, he kissed his female one last time and pulled away from her. She caught his arm and tugged him back. Not ready to leave, he let her draw him down, taking care to shoulder the majority of his weight. The gentle swell of her abdomen brushed against the muscled ridges of his stomach.
As he bent down to kiss her, he felt a fluttering bump against his stomach, and Anya smiled against his lips. “Did you feel that?” she asked, lacing her arms up around his neck to pull him closer.
“Yeah, I did.” It was a bittersweet moment, feeling his child for the first, and what he now knew was the last time.If it’d been hard to leave before, now the task felt impossible. His heart literally ached with desperation. If he thought, for one minute, there was someplace they could go where he could hide them—be safe—he’d swallow his arrogant male pride and run with her in a heartbeat. But he knew Gahn, and if he tried to flee, the hunter would become the hunted, and Gahn would never quit.
“See, I’m not the only one who wants you to stay.” She kissed his neck, lightly trailing her fingers down his back. “Just one more day… Please stay one more day.”
The pain in his chest made his voice harsher than he’d intended. “I can’t, Anya. We’ve discussed this. Already I’ve tarried too long getting you settled in with your uncle and his family. I have to go before Gahn sends another legion. If all goes well, I’ll be back by tonight.”
“And if it doesn’t?” she challenged, tears now streaming down her face.
Damn, it nearly killed him to see her cry. “Shhh…” he soothed, bending down to kiss her face, tasting every place her tears touched—her eyes, her cheeks, and neck. But soon his kisses turned from comforting to demanding as his body sparked the plea for one last time.
Anya must have felt it, too, because her body welcomed his demands and issued a few of her own. Maybe some sixth sense inside her knew he wasn’t coming back to her, at least not alive…
Three days… Three days he waited while Gahn—the bastard—refused to see him. By the time an audience was granted, Haden was murderously pissed off. He knew Gahn was fucking with him, giving him a little payback for all those summons he’d ignored over the past five months. And each hour that passed didn’t bode well for the demon’s amicability. By the time Haden walked in through the doors of the Dark Court, he knew he had about a snowball’s chance in hell of walking out of there, so he didn’t even try to pull his punches.
“I want out!” Haden demanded as he stormed into the chamber. One of the hounds standing near the entrance leapt to its feet, the animal’s eyes glowing red in the dim lighting. Froth hung from its jowls, its sharp teeth flashing a menacing snarl as it snapped at his ankle.
Haden paused long enough to drive his booted heel into the side of the animal’s head. A loud yelp echoed throughout the chamber as Haden continued to stride purposefully toward Gahn, who watched him with a look of surprised amusement.
“So…the Prodigal Son returns at last.”
The sickly sweet cadence of his voice almost gave Haden a glimmer of hope that Gahn would release him.
“Tell me, my boy, where have you been?”
“You ask me that as if you don’t know.”
Gahn shrugged and cast him a blasé glance before feigning interest with something stuck under his long, gnarled nail. But Haden wasn’t buying the act. Gahn was furious—livid. He could see it in the flashes of red sparking the demon’s coal black eyes.
“You’re an ungrateful shit, you know that?” he snapped, locking his menacing glare on him. “You want out? After all I’ve done for you? You want out!” he bellowed, slamming his fist onto the arm of his chair. “You stupid son of a bitch! The only reason you’re alive is because I allow you to live. I own you and don’t you ever fucking forget it! If you want mercy, then you came to the wrong throne, boy! I’ve raised you from a pup, and this is the thanks I get!”
“I have served you for thousands of years! Without fail!” Haden yelled back. “Do you know how much blood I’ve spilt for you?”
“Not enough,” came Gahn’s cold, detached reply, momentarily rendering Haden speechless.
“Not enough?! Will you damn me to an eternity of murdering for you? Seventy-five years, that’s all I ask—one mortal lifetime. And then I’ll return to you faithfully in service, forever in your debt.”
“You are forever in my debt right now, and if I thought there was a chance you’d redeem yourself and return to that petulant shithole in Africa to do what I sent you there to do…” Gahn shook his head. “Seventy-five years,” he scoffed. “And what of the young she carries in her womb? And their young, and their young after that? All of them—sighted Nephilim! Did you honestly think, for one second, that I’d allow you to breed your own race and make yourself a god? Haden, even if there was a small measure of kindness inside me and I would have agreed to grant you your mortal’s lifetime, you killed her the moment you fucked her and infected her with your seed.”
In that moment, Haden knew. He knew why Gahn had refused to see him for three days and he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Anya was dead. Grief ripped the denial from his throat as he prayed to a God who must truly hate him. “Noooo!!!”
“This seat taken?”
Haden jumped. Holy hell, he hadn’t even heard anyone sneaking up on him. When he opened his eyes, he knew why. Shit…
“For you, it is,” Haden replied in a bored, don’t-start-with-me growl.
“Good.” Liam swiped at Haden’s legs like a mother bear cuffing her cub, knocking them off the chair. They hit the floor with a sold thud, and Liam slid into the seat across from him. He didn’t speak. The irritating bastard just sat there staring at him like some science experiment gone wrong.
“I’m surprised you found me so easily without that demon’s stench to follow. Damn, they do stink, don’t they?”
Liam’s brow arched questioningly. Still he didn’t speak.
“Look, you can either speak, or you can pantomime this shit out, but I am not, nor will I ever be, a mind reader.”
“How are you tracking Olivia?” Liam finally asked.
“Lucky guess?”
“Bullshit.”
“You’re right. Luck has never been on my side—”
“What are you?” Liam demanded.
Haden let out a sarcastic snort. “What do you think I am?”
Liam scowled. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking, asshole. I know you’re not one of them. Your energy is different—”
“Ahh…but a force to be reckoned with, no less.”
Liam tensed and his energy spiked, throwing off reflections of crimson and amethyst that coincidently matched the color change in his eyes. “Who are you? What are you?” he rephrased the question. “You’re not demonic, but your soul is as black as theirs.” He refused to look away, the warrior’s eyes remained cold and calculating. “What do you want with Olivia?”
“Tell you what,” Haden said, picking at his eyetooth with his tongue in bored interest. “You have questions and I have answers… I’ll play you for them.”
“What?” Liam snapped, looking at Haden like he’d just lost his mind.
Maybe he had… “Pool,” he said, getting up from his seat and snatching the Tequila off the table. He tipped the bottle back and took a long pull, abandoning the glass as he sauntered to the gaming corner. “You sink a ball, I’ll answer a question. I sink a ball, you answer one of mine.”
Liam rolled his eyes and slid from the booth, following him to the back. He didn’t miss the lithe grace in which the warrior moved—completely fluid and in control. Yeah, he could take Rowen, easy. The only regret Haden had was that he was going to miss the show.
“Where are Rowen and his legion?”
Haden slid the quarters in the slot, shoved the lever forward, and jerked it back, releasing a cascade of balls. He pulled the white one out of the rack and tossed it at Liam with enough speed and stank to test the warrior’s refl
exes. He snatched it out of the air with a reflexive flick of his wrist. Impressive… An approving grin spread across Haden’s face. “I think that constitutes a question. Rack ‘em up. And no angelic magic. You’ll play me fair and square,” he said, pulling a stick off the wall and chalking it up.
Liam shot him an irritated glare, snatching the triangle off the hook on the wall and slamming it down on the table. He racked the balls and grabbed the stick closest to him. Haden watched as he lined up the cue and drove it into the balls. A loud crack rang out in the empty bar as pool balls ricocheted off the side bumpers, scattering across the table. Two solid-colored balls rolled into the right corner pocket, and Liam looked up at Haden expectantly.
“Nice…” Haden said, nodding approvingly.
Liam didn’t reply. He stood near the table, staring at Haden with an amethyst glow in his deep violet eyes.
“Evercrest…” Haden answered, casually. “Cale and Rhen are in Evercrest. I expect they’ll be rollin’ in sometime tomorrow morning. Not sure where Rowen is at the moment. Of course, if I were you, I’d be makin’ it my priority to find him right quick. He’s got a hard-on for that female of yours and his only orders are to kill her, don’t matter to the Dark Court how she gets that way.”
Now, that got the warrior’s blood boiling. Haden bit the inside of his cheek to keep the satisfied smirk off his face.
“Yeah, he’s around here, somewhere. I told him to piss off this morning.” He took another swig of Tequila. “That one really tries my patience. He can be a real asshole, in case you didn’t know.”
Liam let out a sarcastic laugh. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”
Haden shrugged. “‘S’pose it is,” he replied, offering Liam the bottle of Tequila.
He shook his head. Of course he would. No self-respecting Ronnin would be caught dead sucking from the same bottle as a Nephilim. “Suit yourself. Just bein’ friendly, is all.”
Shades of Darkness (Redemption Series) Page 17
