Breaking Fate (26 page)

Darci stiffened in his arms. “What?”

Blaéz tightened his hold, no way would he let the bastard get anywhere near her. He pressed his lips to her hair. “He’s not coming within breathing distance, let alone touching you. I will kill him first.”

Nor would he ever let Darci know what he suspected. She’d probably want to give it back without thought of what could happen to her. As long as he had her, he didn't care about anything else.

Taking a deep breath, Darci pushed away from Blaéz. The time had passed for being able to speak to him in private.

“Blaéz?” She nervously kneaded his chest. “There is something you should know.”

Whatever he saw in her face, his entire manner changed, became rigid as if cast in stone. Darci instinctively grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt to hold him there. “Blaéz, it’s me. I—”

“No! Absolutely and unequivocally, no!”

She blinked at his vehemence. Protested. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

His eyes blazed pearlescent in fury. He pulled her hands off his shirt.
“Don’t I?”

The others stilled. It was a rare thing to hear Blaéz yell, but she refused to be intimidated. “Blaéz—” she said with quiet determination, “I am the one. I possess your soul.”

Like the wind sweeping through the clearing, it left behind only silence. Deadly silence. Even the leaves stood still.

Blaéz’s fury solidified into ice. “So what?”

He knew?
No matter, it changed nothing. Breaking free of his iron-grip, she stepped back a few feet. Her chest hurt as the pit inside of her widened at the knowledge she could never have a life with him. Because Blaéz’s very existence depended on her.

“It means I can freely give—”

“I don’t fucking want it.”

“Why?” Týr demanded. “It would break your damn tie to that asshole—”

“No,” Blaéz cut him off. His gaze pinned on her, narrowed dangerously.

With little choice, she did the only thing left. She let her love flow into her smile and told him the truth. The partial truth. “Blaéz. I’m merely its keeper.”

“Are you now?” His expression hardened, his tone dropped to a worrying sub-zero.

“Yes.”

“Then tell me what happens to you once you release it?”

Damn. The man was worse than a cross-examining lawyer. “Nothing. My lineage has protected your soul since the beginning. I guess my bloodline is strong enough to house a god’s soul.”

He closed the small distance between them, grasped her by her upper arms and hauled her close, his nose almost touching hers. “Never lie to me, Darci. The Morrigan is as selfish as the rest of them in the pantheons; she cares only about easing her own guilt. I'm not fool enough to believe that bull about a mortal housing two souls.”

“It’s the only way out and you know it,” Darci said with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “I refuse to let you destroy yourself.”

“And you think that’s so fucking important to me? That I would accept it, then watch while you take your last breath?”

She froze. His cold smile cut like a razor.

Darci straightened her spine. “It is my right, my will to do as I want.”

“Indeed. Well, I have to accept it, don’t I?” He let her go and turned to Michael, dismissing her. “I need to know what happens now. Do you take this to Gaia or what?”

“Dammit, Blaéz!” Darci grabbed his arm dried with blood, but that was like trying to turn a deeply rooted tree stump. She wheeled in front of him. “My soul may not be as strong as yours, but I am
mortal.
”

His lips tightened. The rigid lines of his face morphing into anguish at her unsaid words; she would eventually die anyway. And Darci knew there was no way he’d freely accept his soul. It had to be why The Morrigan had given her the disc.

Blaéz looked past her to Michael. “What’s next?”

“Gaia would have to give her verdict. In the meantime, find a way to counter that pull before the next blood moon. Check out the ancient scripts we have again. I’ll see what I can do. And you're back on patrol, but pair up with another. Those bastards will probably cause havoc on the streets now.”

In a swirl of silvery sparks, Michael vanished.

Týr crossed to them, hesitated. His toffee-brown eyes still edged with betrayal, he stared at Blaéz, but they held empathy, too. “Goddammit,” he muttered before he walked away, fast disappearing into the darkening forest as night stole in. Dagan glanced at Blaéz, nodded, and he too left.

“You need me, call,” Aethan told Blaéz.

Echo offered Darci a sympathetic smile, but the shock on her face remained at Darci’s disclosure as she and Aethan departed.

Leaving Darci alone with Blaéz.

“Why didn't you tell me The Morrigan was your mother?” she asked him.

“A twist of fate doesn't make her my mother. The female who cared for me was one of her servants.” Fury lingered in his gaze as he made his way through the trees.

“Blaéz, wait.” She rushed after him. He spun around, and she crashed into him, feeling as if she’d run into granite.

“Don’t ever lie to me again, Darci. Just don’t. I’ve been dealt that shit once too often.” Taking her hand, he walked back toward the castle. Darci had a feeling she knew of whom he spoke. What had The Morrigan done that made him hate her so much?

Before she could speak, he said, “The Morrigan’s visit was what you wanted to talk to me about?”

Though nothing showed on his face, Darci got the distinct impression he was furious that his mother had come after her. “Yes. But everything seemed to go to hell so fast today, there wasn’t even a chance to do so.”

“I know.” His thumb stroked her palm. “I know.”

“Why do you dislike her?”

“Because she made my life a living hell.”

***

Darci stalked the dressing room a half hour later while Blaéz changed into his patrolling gear. The sight of his muscular thighs encased in leather pants and a t-shirt stretched over his well-defined body distracted her a little, and had her eyeing him in appreciation. But her mind tipped back into worry. Michael shouldn’t have let him go back on patrol so soon with Maloch’s minions around.

“Blaéz, it’s dangerous being out on the streets.”

“Stop worrying. Aethan’s my guard tonight, he’s one terrifying son-of-a-bitch.” He sat down on the wooden chest and pulled on socks. “I’ll be fine, even if the demon opens a damn portal to yank me back.”

Right. Darci stopped her erratic pace-a-thon and leaned against the bureau. The whip wound on his bicep had healed and was now a thin red line. But the bloody spots on his cheeks troubled her. “Those lesions on your face aren’t healing.”

“I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

“What caused them?”

“Wyvern.”

“Those lizard things?” Darci shivered, remembering the horrendous demonic creature she’d seen through the library window.

“Yeah.” He picked up a boot and tugged it on. “Their saliva’s like acid.”

“Thank God you can heal yourself!”

“Indeed.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I'm lucky that way.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “Blaéz, we have to talk about this—”

“We definitely will, about this irrational need you have to put yourself in danger again.” He rose. The quiet fury in his tone made her wary. “You ever think to do something so reckless again, rush in front of fighting warriors, I will lock you up in that library you love so much.”

She scowled, straightening from the bureau. “Would you stop threatening me? I was trying to save you!”

At her irritation, his anger seemed to deflate. He crossed to her and gently stroked her cheek. “Don’t you know, you already have,
a leannan?
A touch and you gave me life again.”

His words melting her ire, she rested her face on his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist.

“I will find another way to break this cursed binding, I promise. But I need to know you’ll be safe. Don’t try anything foolish.” He pulled back, his gaze stern. She knew what he meant:
Don’t give him his soul without his knowledge.

“Promise me, Darci?”

At his insistence, and with little choice, she sighed. “Okay, fine, I won't.”
For now.

He cupped her face. “You're my life. Don’t take that away from me. We will find a way out of this. Trust me.”

Within seven days? How would they?

Darci opened her eyes, squinting at the midday sunlight streaming into the bedroom. Her body trapped against a warm, breathing wall with limbs. And fingers that caressed her breast. Her breath hitched. Sleep cleared in a heartbeat as his mouth settled on her nape and nipped her skin.

Shifting, she turned and found Blaéz watching her. Her chest swelled with love, it spread from her heart and saturated her very being. God, she wanted every day to be like this, to awaken every morning with him.

But the hopelessness of their situation hit her hard. The conduit disc The Morrigan had given her hung like a millstone around her neck because Blaéz would never accept his soul, not when he knew what that meant for her. Worse, the disc didn't have a long shelf life, just a week. One week. At the thought, pain suffocated her.

“Blaéz—”

“No.” He cut her off. “We’re good. Everything is as it should be.” Obviously, he knew what she planned on saying. He changed the subject. “You have that engagement party to attend tonight, right?”

“I don’t care about that!” The words burst out of her. “Blaéz, that demon is desperate to get at you — he won’t wait for the next blood moon. Please, please accept your soul, we’ll find another way for me.”

He pulled back. All the warmth in his eyes from moments ago disappeared, leaving them stony. “You think I'm that weak? After I fought off the bastard for three and a half millennia?”

She sat up, anxious to get through to him. “I'm not questioning your strength — God, Blaéz, listen to me—”

“No. And don’t ask me again.” He pushed off the bed and stalked toward the bathroom, shutting the door.

Darci slumped back on her pillow and stared at the vaulted ceiling. She didn't want to fight with him, but it was so damn hard. If he didn't take his soul, then he left her with little choice.

Burdened with her guilt, she dragged herself from the bed and shuffled to the bathroom filled with the sound of rustling water. Blaéz stood in the misty shower cubicle, a tall, motionless silhouette, his fists braced on the tiles, head lowered as the water beat down on him.

As if sensing her, he looked over his shoulder. Even with the foggy glass between them, the intensity of his stare stroked her like one big caress. Heart heavy, she made for the sink.

“Darci.”

Just her name in his lightly accented voice, and like a hypnotic lure, she could do little but turn. And found him holding the shower door open.

When she didn't move, he stepped out of the stall, water running down his hard, muscled body. God, but the man was pure sex. It made her body melt into a puddle, made her want to lick every drop off him. He pulled off her nightshirt, tossed it aside and swept her off her feet.

Desperately needing to forget, if only for a while, Darci kissed him. A low rumble of approval left him and he took over. His tongue sweeping into her mouth, he stepped back into the rustling shower…

***

Later that evening, Darci stood in front of the open closet, not really seeing the clothes in there. She didn't have the heart to go to Irina’s party, but Blaéz had insisted after he’d gotten back from whatever errand he had in the city. He wanted everything to be normal.

Would things ever be that way again?

Taking a deep breath, she shut it all out as best as she could, determined to enjoy this evening with him.

She pulled up her hair and with a few twists, secured it into a topknot. Selecting a matte gold, sleeveless cocktail dress from the closet, she wiggled into it, zipped up the low V back then smoothed the fabric of the bandage-style dress over her hips. She skipped the stockings and stepped into matching stilettoes, then brushed on mascara before applying a tinted cherry lip-balm. There. All done.

Movement at the doorway caught her eye. She wheeled around, teetering on her heels. And gaped.

Yep, gaping was allowed. Blaéz stood in the doorway, hands in his pants pockets, watching her with a lazy, sensual stare that created a deep flutter in her belly. Whichever designer he wore, he looked downright scrumptious in black on black formal wear. Tailored pants hugged his long, muscular legs, and his suit jacket did little to conceal the hard, sexy body beneath it.

He walked to her with that unconscious grace, turned her so she faced the floor-length mirror again. A hand on her churning stomach, Darci watched him. His handsome face, dark hair and clothes a striking contrast to her own golden brown appearance.

He trailed his fingers down her bare spine and desire spread goose bumps over her skin. He fiddled with her zipper and pulled it up. She must have left a little undone. He kissed her nape, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “You’re beautiful,
a leannan
.”

Darci pivoted in his arms, his warmth and masculine scent wrapping around her like a silken caress made it difficult to think beyond wanting to tear his clothes off.

“You…” She slipped her hands beneath his suit jacket and stroked his silk-covered chest. “Gorgeous. Hot. Sex on legs.”

“Sex on—” Dry amusement lit his gaze. He nipped her unadorned earlobe. “Let’s go before I throw you on that bed and ruin your dress and hair.”

Her mind in a whirl, Darci grabbed her evening purse as he led her out into the corridor, a hand on her lower back. She gave him a playful look. Taunted. “Since when did that stop you?”

“Well, then.” He moved so fast, she squeaked as he crowded her, steering her back into the bedroom, reprisal etched on his face. Laughing, she tried to duck under his arm, but he anticipated her move, blocked her, and pressed her up against the corridor wall with his tough body.

Sighing, she wrapped her arms around his neck, whispered against his lips. “How about we leave now, come back early, and I’ll let you have your wicked way with me?”

“Wicked way?” He kissed her. “Indeed, always my favorite kind.”

As he took her hand and headed for the stairs, Darci’s grip tightened on her evening purse that held the disc. Too afraid to let it out of her sight, and yet so afraid of it.

***

The hotel’s elegant ballroom swarmed with guests relaxing now that the formalities and dinner were over.

Darci had congratulated Irina and her fiancé, Thomas, when they’d arrived earlier that evening, then she’d introduced Blaéz. It was only natural that people had stared, some in fascination, others warily.

Now, as the engaged couple swayed on the crowded dance floor like two matched bookends to some slow ballad, Darci wanted more than anything to be in Blaéz’s arms. She leaned her elbows on the damask tablecloth and glanced at him seated beside her.

At his raised brow, she said, “Dance with me?”

“I don’t dance. Ask me to fight, and you’d have a better response.”

Darci had to bite back her smile. The response was so like him. “How would you know, if you won't try, huh?”

“Because—” he lightly trailed his fingers down her back, sending shivers skating over her bare skin, “if I hold you in my arms, then I’ll want to make love to you, that’s how I know. It’s not worth it when I’ll be left wanting.”

A tremulous laugh escaping, Darci wheedled. “Don’t think about that, just keep some space between us and it will work. I promise.”

“Doubtful.” His pale eyes heated like a rising thermostat. “All I can think of when I hold you is touching you, and very inappropriately I might add. And that’s not for others to see.”

Warmth rushing to her face, she gave up and hastily studied the décor instead. But with nothing to distract her, the knot in her belly started to tighten again. No matter how much she tried not to think about what was at stake, to just enjoy this time with Blaéz, the truth hovered in the back of her mind like a malignant virus.

Her fingers tightened on her champagne glass, knowing soon it would all be over. Tears thickened her throat. A damn week. Or Grace would lose the baby and the demon would finally claim Blaéz.

“What’s wrong?”

At Blaéz’s soft question, she swallowed more of the bubbly liquid to steady herself before she looked at him. She forced her lips to curve in a semblance of a smile. “Nothing. I'm just wondering if Nora is here yet.”

“I'm sure she’ll find you,” he said, his gaze narrowing. Unable to bear his scrutiny, knowing he’d ask and she’d tell him and ruin this night, Darci pushed to her feet. “I need the restroom.”

He rose. She patted his arm. “No. Stay. Take notes on the dancing, maybe you’ll change your mind.”

“Unlikely.”

She sighed. “I'll never get to dance with you, will I?”

He shot her a hooded stare. “Later, in our room… we’ll dance.”

Despite the yearning seeping through her, sadness took hold. Yes, they would have tonight… maybe this week, then…

“Be back in a minute.” Swallowing hard, she picked up her purse and made for the restroom.

Darci shut the door, leaned her hands on the marble basin in the elegant washroom, and inhaled a harsh breath, a huge invisible fist of despair squeezing her lungs. Rinsing her shaky hands with cold water did little to ease her. She lifted her gaze and stared at her reflection in the mirror, the staggered colors of her sunflower-hued eyes more brilliant now with unshed tears.

She took a tissue from the box on the counter, and mindful of her mascara, she dabbed her eyes then walked out of the restroom.

“Hey, you!” Nora slid to a halt in front of her. The green streaks in her hair matched her short, halter-neck dress. Nora’s gaze widened. She looked Darci over and let out a low whistle. “Whoa! Girl, you look sexy — like some golden goddess. The hunk must be close to keep the predators away, eh?”

And just like that, Nora brought her smile back. “He’s here. Why are you so late?”

“Argh, my family crashed at my place late last night.” Nora scrunched her face and hooked her arm through Darci’s. “Let’s go find a drink, I’m dying for several.” Evading the swarm of people in the corridor, they headed back. “So, you and Blaéz are okay now?”

“Yes, we worked things out.” She didn't want to talk about them so she steered the conversation to the engaged couple. “Did you see Irina, yet?”

“Sure did. I doubt if she noticed me, though. Her attention was all on Thomas.” Nora grinned, pushing open the door to the reception drenched with laughter, music, and perfume.

Darci couldn’t blame Irina for being so wrapped up in Thomas when all Darci thought of was Blaéz.

“There’s the bar,” Nora said, like she’d seen utopia. It probably was with her troublesome family around. They cut through the milling bodies and Nora plunked herself on a seat. Snapped her fingers. “Vodka, lots of ice” — then she lowered her voice — “and give my friend here a Screaming Orgasm.”

The waiter’s gaze darted to Darci. She had to bite back her smile. “Really, Nora, stop saying it like that to the guys.”

Nora grinned. “Come on, it’s fun — admit it, yeah?”

Darci shook her head, still a little embarrassed when the bartender came back with their drinks. “Can I have a whiskey, too?” she asked him. “No ice.”

Nora guzzled back her liquor. “Needed that. I can't stay long, Dars, I told Irina, too. I have to get back home. Families are a pain in the backside, I tell ya.”

Irina, walking past, did a U-turn when she saw them. A wide grin split her attractive face. “There you guys are.”

“Lemme see the ring again,” Nora demanded.

Her face flushed in happiness, Irina held out her hand, the diamond solitaire sparkled in the light.

“It’s exquisite.”

“Beautiful,” Darci agreed, trying to ignore the hollow pit in her chest.

“Dars, I bet you will follow in my footsteps soon, right?” Irina teased. “Blaéz can't seem to keep his eyes off you.” She looked past Darci and grimaced. “Seriously, you better hurry back. My cousin’s heading for him — the man-shark!”

Darci’s stomach dipped. Naturally, she glanced his way. Sure enough, a slender, dark-haired woman spoke to Blaéz. She knew exactly how he’d be, all coolly polite and nothing else. His gaze met hers across the room. She smiled. He stared. “I guess I’d better go rescue him.”

A cell beeped. Nora held up a finger and pulled out her phone from her evening bag. She stared at her text. Her lips tightened. “I’ve gotta go. I'm so sorry I can’t stay and meet your man, Dars. But soon, yeah?”

“It’s okay.”

As Darci turned to take her drinks, Nora grasped her arm. Her dark gaze flared fiercely for a second, then she hugged Darci tightly. “I'm so glad we’re friends. I never had one that didn't bite, scratch, or try to cause trouble.”

“Me, too. Not the biting and scratching parts. But I'm glad we are.” Darci returned the embrace, wondering why Nora seemed so angry for a second. It had to be her brother. He never gave her friend a break. Darci was just glad Declan loved her.

So much that he kept a soul-destroying secret from you?
She pushed that thought aside.

“Here,” Nora handed Darci her drinks. “Have fun.” Then she disappeared into the throng of people.

***

Blaéz leaned back in his seat after he’d declined the female's invitation to ‘get to know one another’, and watched
his
woman at the bar.