Echo, Mine (5 page)

“Am I boring you, Healer?”

Her tutor’s droll tone yanked her back to
her lesson. The lights in the library flickered on.

The red-haired angel sat on the ladder
leaning against the tall bookshelf, arms braced on his thighs. His
wings were hidden, but his eyes glinted like metallic green
razors.

She wrinkled her nose and forced her
attention back to the enormous book in front of her with its faded,
crinkly pages. Right. Study. Three years at university, and here
she was back in the schoolroom, this time to learn about her
bloodline. But this, unlike her chosen degree in accounting—which
she’d quit in her final year to become a fitness trainer
instead—she really needed to nail. Innocent lives depended on
her.

“Here.” Lore flashed to her side. An old
roll of parchment materialized in his hand. He dropped it in front
of her. “It’s the angelic runes. You’ll need to understand all the
symbols and their meaning.”

Nodding, Echo spread the aged scroll open.
She’d never seen a chart like this one. She rubbed her arms as an
eerie sensation slithered through her when she stared at the
scroll. It was almost like she could see the entire circle shimmer,
and the symbols reform, reaching for her and pulling her mind
beyond the doorway, through the veils…

Her heart clipping hard, she yanked free
from its hold.

“What is it?” Lore asked, watching her
closely.

She shook her head.

“Very well. You’ll need to understand their
magical aspect, how they work, and be able to wield it—but that’s
for later—now, let’s get back to this—” Lore tapped the open page
of the enormous ancient textbook in front of her, bringing her
attention back to the lesson, then he began pacing the length of
the desk and back again as he continued talking.

Pushing aside that eerie moment with the
angelic runes, Echo flipped to another page on the history of the
angels and their ranks, with details of their capabilities.

Who knew that her ancestor would turn out to
be Zarias, the leader of The Watchers, when she didn't even have
any family? But she
had
inherited his gifts. Now, as the
Healer, she alone possessed the ability to repair any rips
appearing in the mystical veil, the barrier protecting the earthly
realm from supernatural evil.

As Lore droned on and on about honing her
heightened senses to be aware of things she couldn’t see, her
attention drifted to the window. Her thoughts turned to her
problems once more as the sun dropped below the trees in the
distance.

Aethan had to realize and understand, no
matter how annoyingly slender and fragile she looked, he’d made her
immortal when he brought her back with his deadly power. She wasn't
so breakable now. Nothing could happen to her. Why did he ignore
that particular little detail?

“…Zarias was a great warrior. But he made
bad choices.”

At the sudden change in topic, Echo snapped
her gaze away from the window and narrowed them at the angel’s
comment.

What the heck was his problem? Always
branding humans as too weak, not good enough to match up to an
immortal. It hiked up her ire. “Because he fell in love with a
human?”

She’d been mortal once, and she understood
better than most how hard it was, but she hadn’t simply sat on her
ass and waited for handouts. She’d fought for every damn thing she
had.

“Indeed. Had he kept to the laws, we
wouldn’t have this need to train you as the Healer. You show no
enthusiasm, constantly staring through the window.”

Echo scowled. “You know, Lore, you're simply
prejudiced.”

In a flash, he was in front of her, all
six-feet of sunset-hued wings emerging. Hands on the desk, he
leaned close, his vibrating wings causing a breeze to flutter the
bangs from her brow.

“No, little Healer”—his silvery-green eyes
flared—“I'm a realist. Angels are here to do their jobs, and that
is to help humans in need. To guide them when it’s deemed
necessary,
not
to form attachments.” He stepped back.
“Right, then. Now that I have your undivided attention, let’s recap
what was learned.” A beam of orange light leaped from his hand,
hissing toward her like a deadly missile.

Echo dove sideways, her chair crashing to
the floor, and her heart slamming against her ribs. She glared at
him. “What the hell, Lore?”

“Profanity doesn’t become you, Healer.” He
circled her. “Did you think I’d treat you like a babe? You need to
toughen up.”

She sidestepped the fallen chair, adrenaline
rushing through her, but she kept a safe distance from him. Dammit,
now
Lore chose to spring this physical session on her
without warning? At least it pulled her out of her lethargy and
kept her mind occupied. She eyed him warily, all her focus on his
hand.

“Zarias was a great warrior despite his
weakness,” Lore informed her. “You daydream of your warrior when
you should be sharpening your senses to predict an unexpected
attack—and shield. Fighting supernatural beings with vast powers
will be dangerous—”

Before she could blink, another orange beam
whistled through the air, striking her dead in the stomach. She
stumbled and fell on her ass.
Shit!
That freakin’
hurt.
It took her several tries before she could breathe easily
again.

“Be thankful that wasn’t at full strength or
you’d be trailing your guts about.”

His haughty tone had her blood boiling in
fury. Echo jumped to her feet, her ass protesting painfully at the
movement. Summoning her obsidian dagger, she flung it with all the
anger and frustration raging inside her, nailing Lore in the
stomach. “Be
thankful
it wasn’t your damn groin! And don’t
read my bloody thoughts!”

Lore stared at the weapon lodged in his
belly. He removed it, gaping in disbelief at the black blade
gleaming wet with his blood.

What do you know? The sanctimonious one does
bleed red.

Other than the heightened senses she now
possessed, and her old talent of seeing auras, she hadn't appeared
to inherit anything else since she’d been brought back. She was
really glad that she had her mystical weapon though. The one she
stole from Aethan when she’d first met him, not realizing it was
actually
her
dagger—the one only his true mate could wield.
It only responded to her now.

Echo willed the dagger back to her. The
moment it took form in her hand, she snatched a scrap of paper from
the desk and cleaned the blade. “You didn't know, did you?” she
asked smugly. “That I can actually call my own weapon?”

Another bolt of light struck her in the
chest. She tripped and landed against the desk, struggling to
breathe as pain ripped through her. Her grip tightened on her
dagger.
God
, she was going to carve that damn fiend into
tiny angel pieces and then toss his arrogant carcass over the
cliffs for the fish to feed on.

His eyebrow shot to his hairline. “Feed me
to the fish?”

“You’d be lucky if I didn’t dance on your
bloody corpse first—and stop reading my damn mind,” she snapped.
“Or we’ll find out if my blade can kill angels, too!”

“It’s good you have that weapon,” Lore
continued once more, like he hadn’t just had a blade embedded in
his belly. “Your fighting skills are atrocious. You have no
coordination, and certainly no clue how to block a psychic attack,
let alone your thoughts—”

Echo pulled back her fist and rammed it into
the angel’s jaw. His head snapped back.
Aww—crap! That bloody
hurt!

She tightened her shields over her thoughts
and shook her fingers, trying to ease the spreading pain. After her
earlier gym session with a punching bag, her knuckles had taken a
beating.

Lore touched his jaw and eyed her silently
for a long second. “There is hope for you yet, Healer.”

Praise? That surprised her. “Gee,
thanks.”

Her sarcasm washing over him, he waved his
hand over his belly. The bleeding stopped and the red wetness
staining his tunic vanished, but the rip remained. “Let’s
resume—”

“No. That’s it for the evening.” Aethan
walked in, dressed in leathers and a dark gray dress shirt. That
surprised her; he usually wore crewnecks or a t-shirt while on the
job.

Echo cut her man a quick smile and pushed
away from the table, her sore fingers and backside forgotten. If he
found out she’d engaged in a fighting session with Lore, and that
he’d used his powers, Aethan would probably kill the angel. Despite
Lore being a pain in the ass, she didn't want that. He was a good
tutor.

Aethan glanced at her and paused. His gaze
skimmed over her newly cut hair…heat flared in those stormy gray
depths. Oh, yes. Step one seemed to be working. Step two needed a
little more planning. She had to drive him crazy—so crazy that he’d
stop thinking and just react, like in the rec room.

He crossed to her, his attention shifting to
the toppled chair behind the huge mahogany desk. Despite his
hardening expression, he lightly stroked her upper arm. “What’s
going on?”

A light tingle of his power streamed through
her, throwing her libido into high gear. The man was tossing out
all sorts of aroused vibes but still remained in complete control.
Shit
.
He
was supposed to cave, not her.

“Nothing,” she reassured him. Stepping away,
she righted the chair and admitted the truth. Well, some of it.
“Lore decided on a practice session—”

“Which she’s never going to be ready for,
Guardian, if there is an urgent need for her gifts,” Lore informed
him. “I’ll send her to you when I'm…satisfied.”

Aethan’s features turned to stone. Divine
angels didn't take mates, but Lore appeared to like needling
Aethan.

“If you don’t want to live, just say the
word. I can and
will
end you—”

“Aethan,” Echo interrupted him before blood
splattered the walls. “Did you need me for something?”

His cold gaze remained fixed on Lore for a
second longer, then he looked at her and his expression softened.
“Yes. We’re going out.”

They were? It was so unexpected that she
spun to Lore. “We’ll continue tomorrow.”

A quizzical look on his face, Lore stared at
her for a second then shrugged. “Very well, Healer. Until tomorrow
but you will have an extra hour to make up.”

Of course he’d tack on more time.
“Okay.”

Lore waved his hand and the English text in
the ancient book became a jumble of strange, unreadable scripts.
The book slammed shut. In a shimmer of silvery sparks, Lore and the
book vanished.

So…” She turned to Aethan, curiosity filling
her. “Where are we going? To Gran’s?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “No. I
thought er- dinner somewhere…a restaurant maybe?”

Her mouth opened, then shut.
That
she
didn't expect. Aethan and the other Guardians usually kept beneath
the radar of humans when not on patrol. “You mean like a date?”

“I guess that’s the right word.”

Despite the fact that she’d so rarely dated
before she’d met Aethan, and she desperately wanted this, she
didn't say anything. She studied him quietly. Nothing showed on his
face, but being so intrinsically linked with him, she sensed his
uneasiness. “You don’t want to, do you?”

Instantly, the tension in him vanished.
Determination realigned the hard lines of his sculptured jaw. Yup,
her mate had a core of intractable stubborn but when he put his
mind to something, even if he didn't like it, he’d do it.

His gaze softened and his hands settled on
her hips, his thumb caressing her hypersensitive skin. “As long as
it’s with you, I’ll do anything. Now, how much time do you need to
get ready?”

Except trying to treat her like she was
normal. Her heart tightened at the thought, then she stilled. Going
out on this sultry, romantic evening? Suddenly, the night had
endless possibilities.

Not giving him a chance to say anything
else, she sprinted from the library and shouted over her shoulder,
“Half an hour! No, wait, make that twenty minutes.”

There was no time to waste. A little out of
breath already just from the sprint into the passage, she skittered
to a stop, spun around, popped her head through the doorway, and
grinned at Aethan with unleashed anticipation. “Back in
fifteen.”

As she hurried down the corridor toward the
grand staircase, her mind flipped through what to wear, and she
skated to a halt.
Kira
. She had to tell her friend first.
Pivoting, she ran back to the kitchen
and gaped. Pans
and bowls littered every corner of the countertop, surrounded with
flour dust. A ready-to-topple stack of dishes filled the
sink.
The faint, suspicious smell of something burnt
lingered in the air, despite the open doors.

Hedori gave her a defeated smile, but his
eyes crinkled in amusement.

Echo wasn’t really surprised
at the mess, having lived through them at times.

Kira beamed. “Hey, you're done? Good—I made
biscuits and gravy.” She lifted a spoonful of something lumpy from
a pot. “Come. Taste.”

Echo hastily stepped back. “Er, maybe later.
Ki, can I take a rain check on the movies? Aethan wants to take me
out to dinner.”

“Of course!” A wicked grin widened Kira’s
mouth. “See? Just have faith—now, you go knock his socks off.”

“Yeah, about that…” Echo grimaced. She’d be
the first to admit, she wasn’t too clued in to dressing sexy. She
usually tried to dress as modestly as possible, considering she had
her over-working pheromone problem to deal with—a bane in her life
that attracted anything with a Y chromosome. Mostly, she lived in
her jeans or sweats. But Kira could throw on whatever, even wearing
a simple, flowing blue strappy dress and leather sandals, and look
like a million dollars. “I need help selecting something to
wear.”