“It was given in love, Olivia. I carved that stone with my own hands. But it was a dual-purposed gift.”
Okay, sentiment redeemed. “Do you have any idea why Haden wants it so badly?”
“No. But I intend to find out.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. When she parted them to return his kiss, he pulled away. It took all her self-control not to balk when he slipped out from beneath the covers. She bit her bottom lip, stifling a feminine groan as she watched him cross the bedroom and disappear behind the bathroom door.
As if he didn’t trust her not to respect the redefined boundaries of their relationship, she heard the lock softly click into place a moment before the blasting hiss of the shower.
Sighing, she threw back the covers and got dressed. She could still smell the faintest hint of Liam’s spicy scent on her skin, and truthfully, she wasn’t in any hurry to wash it off. Stopping at the dresser, she combed her fingers through the several snarls of her long black hair and pulled it into a messy bun.
With her hair pulled up, the marks on her ivory skin stood out. The dusky purple fingertip bruises from Haden’s punishing grip lined the left side of her throat. His thumbprint spotted the other side, but the mark she reached up to finger, the red mark that brought a small smile to her lips, was the one Liam had made on her neck when they’d been in the shower together—just like the marks she’d placed on him in a multitude of creative places. But just as he’d promised, this morning they were all gone. His body bore no evidence of their night together. To look at him was as if it had never happened. But this…this small reminder that last night hadn’t been a dream, made a smile touch her lips.
She shuffled into the kitchenette, put on the complimentary pot of coffee, then took yesterday’s room service pizza from the small refrigerator and stuffed it into the microwave. It wasn’t anything to write home about, but it was calories. She was halfway through her second slice and sipping a hot cup of less than average Joe when Liam strolled out of the bathroom, running his hands through his damp, overgrown locks. Moisture concealed the dark burgundy streaks, making his hair look nearly black.
“It’s longer than it used to be,” she commented, glancing up at him over the rim of her cup.
“What?” He stopped abruptly, halting a few steps from the island to look over at her questioningly.
“Your hair—it’s longer.”
He tossed his head and dragged his hand through the dark locks, pushing it out of his face. “Just haven’t had time to take care of it,” he replied offhandedly.
“I like it this way. You want a cup of coffee?”
“Sure.”
The chair rustled behind her as she poured a cup. When she turned back and handed it to him, he glanced at her and then visibly tensed, his brows pulling tight in a menacing scowl. An amethyst sheen rimmed his violet irises as his eyes locked on her neck and he muttered a curse that sounded more like a growl.
Taking the cup, he set in on the counter and caught her wrist before she could move back to her side of the counter. When she resisted his tug for her to step closer, he took the necessary steps to come to her. Bringing his hands up to circle her throat, heat seeped beneath the surface of her skin, slowly spreading up her neck. She knew this feeling, knew what he was doing. He’d done it before after Max had attacked her—he was healing Haden’s marks on her neck, and with it would go the marks left behind by his kisses.
Olivia jerked away, and he had no choice but to let her go or strangle her himself. “Stop! I don’t want you to fix this.” She turned her back to him and walked over to the counter. It sounded irrational and she didn’t expect him to understand, so Olivia didn’t even try to explain it. “I’m fine,” she quickly replied, reaching up to touch her throat.
“Olivia, what is going on with you? Why wouldn’t you want me to erase Haden’s touch from your neck?”
She busied herself refilling her cup of coffee while fighting back tears. Because you’ll erase yours, too… “Nothing’s wrong,” she denied, struggling to keep the thickness out of her voice. “I just don’t want you wasting your energy on me. That’s all.”
Seconds passed, and she knew he stood right behind her. Not because he’d made a sound—he never did. His heat radiated against her back and she steeled herself against the impulse to melt into him.
“Olivia.” His hands firmly grasped her shoulders. “I think you misunderstood me earlier—”
“No, Liam, I understood you just fine. You need there to be boundaries between us so you can do your job and go home. I have no say in this. It’s just something I’m going to have to accept. But it would certainly be a lot easier to do if you’d stop touching me.”
His sigh tickled the back of her neck and his hands dropped from her arms. “Dammit, Olivia, this isn’t any easier for me.”
“I never thought it was,” she replied coolly, taking a step to the side, putting a fraction of distance between them. Right now, the only thing keeping her together was self-preservation mode, and she’d had three long years to perfect it. She’d be damned if she was going to let him see her cry. “So, tell me, what’s the plan?” she asked, changing the subject. “Since Rowen is dead, do you really think Cale and Rhen will bother coming after me?”
“I know they will. Haden needs them as a distraction. He knows he can’t take me on alone and win.” His gruff voice grew distant, and she glanced over her shoulder to see him walking away. “I’m going to pay Haden a little visit and get some answers before we leave,” he said, shoving his feet inside his boots and bending over to lace them up.
She could have done without that perfect ass shot, especially now, since she knew exactly what was beneath those low-slung dark blue jeans that were intended to be relaxed fit, but considering the muscular body inside them, relaxed was definitely not the way she’d describe them.
“I won’t be long. Do you think you can be ready to leave as soon as I get back?”
She nodded. Not that he was looking at her anymore. “Sure, where are we going now?”
“Duluth.”
“Minnesota? Why are we going there?”
“It’s far enough past the Grotto that hopefully Haden won’t realize that’s why we’ve traveled north.”
“Grotto? As in West Bend, Iowa? Why are we going there?”
“As long as you possess that stone, you’re a target. The Grotto is the best place to hide it. It’s constructed of precious stones.” He stood, walked over to her, and stopped on the other side of the table. When he met her eyes, they were full of regret. “I’m sorry, Olivia, but when we get there, I’m going to need you to give that necklace back.”
Shit… “I don’t understand. Why can’t you just kill Haden and end this?”
When Liam exhaled, it sounded as if the weight of her world rested on his shoulders. “It’s complicated. Haden is a Nephilim, which means he’s half mortal, and that half buys him just enough humanity to fall under the blood covering of Christ.”
“I don’t understand. What does that mean?”
“It means that all of humanity had been bought and paid for by the sacrifice. Angels are strictly forbidden from ending the life of a being that has the potential for salvation. Demons, no problem, their choice was made a long time ago, but mortals…they’re a different story.”
“Are you saying there’s still a chance Haden could get into Heaven?”
Liam nodded, looking none too pleased by the little loophole.
“What do you think he’s going to say?”
He arched his brow and looked at her like she was crazy. “I’m not going to tell the bastard. It’s bad enough that I can’t kill him. I’m certainly not going to give him the ‘repent and ye shall be saved’ speech.”
“Huh…well, maybe you should. Perhaps then he’d give up his quest for Immanuel’s Stone.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cale sat across from Rhen in the all-night diner, sipping his Diet Coke and bemoaning his rotten luck tha
t Mitch’s “friend” just happened to be the ward of Liam’s best friend. He shifted in his seat and stretched his side, testing the tender ribs—yep, still sore. He was healing more slowly lately, and would really like to know what in the hell that was all about. Other than a black eye and busted lip, Rhen didn’t look much too worse for the wear. Of course, if he was, he wouldn’t say. Rhen never did, and that’s what Cale liked about him. All brawn and little lip, not that Rhen wouldn’t take the opportunity to bust his chops from time to time, but Cale didn’t mind.
What did burn his ass was that Rhen emphatically failed to appreciate the severity of their situation. He didn’t know Liam and Balen the way Cale did. Before the Great Fall, they’d served in the same army together—he, Liam, Balen, Rowen, and Tate. That battle was the first, and not the last time they’d raised arms against each other. It had been a violent and bloody war. When all was said and done, both he and Liam had met the end of each other’s blade. The scar running down his face was a daily reminder of how close he’d come to losing his head. No doubt Liam’s side bore a reminder of his own.
It was too little too late to consider the possibility that he’d chosen the losing side of this war. All the regrets in the world weren’t going to get him a “do over.” He’d been so convincing, the Morning Star, filling their heads with thoughts of injustice and grandiose promises of power and incomprehensible strength—lies on both accounts. At this point, the only hope that remained for the Dark Court was the Antichrist. He would come and deceive the multitude, armies would rise up and align with them in the battle of the Second Coming—if Olivia, the sighted one, didn’t ruin it all first. She would see him for what he truly was, and if exposed before the appointed time, all could be lost.
The cell phone in Cale’s pocket vibrated. Gingerly, he leaned to the side and pulled it out, looking at the caller ID. Shit. Haden. “It’s for you,” he grumbled, tossing it across the table to Rhen.
Rhen picked it up, looked down, and snorted, “I don’t think so. It’s your phone, buddy. He wants to talk to you.” He tossed the phone back across the table.
As it buzzed and vibrated its way closer to Cale, he muttered an oath under his breath and answered the phone, shooting Rhen the one-finger salute across the table. “Yeah?”
“Rowen’s dead.”
Bloody hell! “How?”
“Wouldn’t know, I wasn’t there. But Liam and the female are still in Vegas, probably not for long, though, so quit jerking each other off and hurry your asses back here before we lose them again.”
The line went dead and Cale cursed, slamming his phone onto the table. “Rowen’s dead.”
The only expression Rhen gave was the questioning arch of his midnight brow. “How’s that?”
“Hell if I know. Haden just said Rowen’s dead and he wasn’t there when it happened. He said to hurry back before Liam and Olivia leave Vegas.”
“You believe him?—about not knowing how Rowen died?”
“Not for a second, but we don’t have a lot of choice but to stick with the rotten bastard. He’s our tracker and we need the extra muscle if we’re gonna take Liam down.”
“And Balen,” Rhen added.
Cale looked at the demon sitting across the table, his face a mask of total apathy. Was Rhen really so badass that he didn’t care they were likely heading into a suicide mission, or was he so dense, he didn’t get how bad this was going to be?
“Perhaps if we get to Mitch this morning, we can convince him to leave Ashley behind. That would at least help tip the odds in our favor.” It wasn’t like they had many options. Either way, they couldn’t go back. If they returned to the Dark Court with Olivia still alive, they’d be as good as dead.
“Well, what are we waiting for then? Let’s go talk to him.” Rhen slid out of the booth and walked to the door. As Cale followed behind, he thought he noticed a gimp in Rhen’s step. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who felt like he’d been hit by a steam roller.
They pulled into the motel parking lot, and Cale hissed a nasty curse when he spotted Balen lawn-chairing it in front of Ashley’s room. This guy was going to be one big pain in the ass, no doubt about it—as if they didn’t already have enough of those to deal with. He parked beside the Mustang, glanced over at Rhen, and muttered, “You go talk to Mitch. I’ll keep Balen occupied.”
“You sure? Didn’t go so well for you the last time, and I may not be so keen on saving your ass again.”
“Shut up!” Cale growled, getting out of the car and slamming the door on Rhen’s taunting chuckle.
“I’m just sayin’,” Rhen added, climbing out to make his way over to Mitch’s room.
“Little early, aren’t ya?” Balen asked as Cale approached. Those violet eyes tracked his every move with a predatory glint, telling Cale he was just itching to finish what they’d started last night. “Ashley’s still asleep.”
“Well, we need to get an early start if we’re going to make it to Vegas by nightfall.” Cale answered casually as if he were planning a road trip with an old buddy. “Of course, you and the female can always stay here. Like I said before, she isn’t the female we want. If I’d known who Mitch’s little girly-friend was, I never would have let him bring her. I have no quarrel with you, Balen, and I intend no ill will on Ashley. This is just business, that’s all.”
“Just like you intended no ill will when you assaulted her?” Balen growled, his eyes flashing amethyst.
“All right, I admit it, that one was my bad. But I did it for a good reason,” he supplied in his own defense. “You think I have nothing better to do than go around assaulting women? Honestly, I think you’re missing the bigger picture here.”
“And what bigger picture is that exactly? Enlighten me, oh wise one. Is it in your ‘bigger picture’ to die?—because that’s exactly what I see happening.”
Cale shook off the chill that ran down his back. “I died a long time ago, Balen. There’s nothing more you can take from me that hasn’t already been stolen.”
That comment must have caught Balen off-guard because, for a brief moment, Cale thought he might have seen pity in the angel’s eyes. “Whose fault is that?” Balen snapped harshly. “You had the same choice as the rest of us. You’re the one that chose to walk away!”
“I chose what I believed!” Cale barked defensively.
“You chose a lie!” he growled with equal venom. “And I’m sick of watching these mortals pay the price for your mistakes!”
“It is what it is,” Cale replied flippantly with the wave of his hand.
“What it is will be the end of you.”
Cale wasn’t sure which he detested more, Balen’s anger or his pity.
“Why don’t you just end this, Cale? Olivia’s death won’t stop the judgment that’s coming for you. You’re fighting a losing battle and you know it.”
“I know nothing of the sort!”
“Then you’re too full of your own stupid pride to admit it,” Balen snapped, standing up from his chair so fast, the momentum sent the flimsy plastic toppling back to knock against the glass window of Ashley’s room. He faced off with Cale, glaring down at him, and growled, “I cut you some slack yesterday, because we used to be friends. I’ll not extend that courtesy to you again.”
Balen looked over Cale’s shoulder, and by the look of pure hatred shining in his amethyst glare, he knew Rhen must be approaching. “You’re lucky I’m bound by an eternal law that prevents me from manipulating Mitch’s free will, or else you’d be dead.”
Balen spoke with such venom and authority, God himself might as well have reached down and slapped him across the face. As Rhen met Balen’s malevolent glare, a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “I think perhaps Ashley may be worth dying for, then. She looks absolutely delicious. Tell me, Balen, does she taste as wonderful as she smells? I’m sure you’d know.”
Now, what in the hell was that? What happened to not pissing the warrior off?
A low growl
emitted from Balen’s chest as he leapt for Rhen. He moved so fast, the dumb bastard didn’t have a chance to cross over before Balen’s fist connected with his mouth. Rhen flew back and landed on the hood of a parked car. The metal frame caved beneath the impact, leaving an indention on the hood and an alarm blaring its assault.
Ashley and Mitch’s doors swung open at the same time. Each stood in their doorway, staring in shock as a stunned Rhen slowly climbed off the hood of the car. Fixing on Ashley’s startled gaze, he reached up and wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. His dark eyes never left hers as his tongue slowly snaked out to skate across the cut on his bottom lip.
“Tell me, how does that taste?” Balen growled, stepping toward Ashley to usher her back inside. “As foul as it smells?”
“Smooth,” Cale snapped, scowling at Rhen. “Do you really think goading him was the smartest option here? Why in the hell would you do that?”
He dabbed at his lip again and shrugged. “Mitch needed a little convincing he was safer with us than a loose cannon like Balen. I sure as hell hope it worked, because that bastard has a nasty right hook,” he grumbled. Rhen looked over at Mitch and called, “You about ready to go?”
Mitch hesitated a moment and then nodded. “Yeah, just give me a minute.”
Less than five minutes later, Mitch was walking out with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Just as he tossed the bag into the back seat, Ashley’s door flew open and she came running out. “What are you doing, Mitch?”
“Bloody hell…” Cale grumbled under his breath.
Mitch turned to Ashley and took a few steps from the car, guiding her over to the Mustang so they could speak in private. It didn’t matter. Cale could hear them just as well over there.
“Mitch, what are you doing?” she asked. “Why are you getting into their car?”
“Look, Ashley, I think I’m gonna take it from here on my own. I appreciate your concern and all, you really are a great friend, but I’m not into playin’ third wheel to you and Balen.”
Shades of Darkness (Redemption Series) Page 23
