As he neared his mate’s beloved work place, he found the door opened. Blaéz leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and watched her for a second. Darci and Echo sat on the couch in front of the roaring fireplace.
It warmed his heart to see the easy friendship that had sprung up between Darci and the other females here. After the debacle several months ago with her demoness friend, Nora, he’d worried that it would take her time to move past it.
“This chocolate cake tastes absolutely divine,” Darci murmured, licking the frosting from her lips. Instantly, his gaze fixed on her mouth, and his body went into slow burn, recalling her tongue working his cock in the same way—shit. Only his formidable willpower had his control falling back into place.
“Whatever you do, please don’t tell Kira,” Echo groaned, reaching for her coffee mug. “She’ll then attempt to replicate the cake and we’ll be forced to eat it.”
Blaéz had heard of Kira’s atrocious cooking. Thankfully, he hadn’t had to sample her efforts. The possibilities of tormenting Týr just grew.
Darci laughed, setting her plate on the coffee table. As if sensing him, she turned. A smile lit her beautiful face. “Blaéz,” she breathed.
He straightened from the jamb. “Ready?”
“Yes.” She rose, picked up her bag and coat from the couch, then glanced back at Echo. “Are you going for your bridesmaid dress fitting today? What about Kira?”
“Yes, after lunch. Aethan’s taking me. We’ll stop off and see Gran. Hopefully, Kira will be back from wherever she disappears to these days,” Echo said, her brow furrowing. “We’ll meet you there.”
“No,” Darci said, putting on her coat. “I’ve rescheduled my appointment. I have a few things to do today. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay, then. Have fun,” Echo called out as Darci made her way across the marbled floor to him.
She stopped in front of him and slid her palm up his chest, her touch burning through his shirt and imprinting on his skin. She reached up and pressed her lips softly to his. Then she licked his lower lip—fuck!
His rigid control almost snapped. It took everything in him not to devour her mouth. Besides, she did want to win, and he had to let her try.
A soft smile on her lips, she drew back. Her eyebrow arched. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re up to something.”
“A leannan, when it comes to you, I’m always up to something.” He clasped her hand, and as he traversed the long corridor in the direction of the basement garage and his car, he asked, “Why did you change your dress appointment?”
She pulled out her gloves from her bag, her brow creasing. “There’s just so much to get done today. It’ll be fine.”
Frowning, Blaéz opened the car door for her. True, there were still a few things left to do for the wedding. Yet, something didn’t feel right.
An hour later, he dropped Darci off at the entrance toFantasy Cakesin midtown and searched for a parking spot in the traffic-choked street. He glanced in the review mirror, his attention narrowing in on a man standing in front of the bank, wearing a gray sweatshirt with the hood on and faded jeans.
A space cleared up in front of him. About to indicate and steer the Veyron in, some shithead in a sedan cut him off. Teeth mowing down, Blaéz took hold of the human’s mind and ordered him to back the fuck off and go sleep off his attitude.
Car parked, Blaéz shot a telepathic warning to Darci to stay put while he jumped out and, in preternatural speed, took off in the direction where he’d seen the guy. But catching a familiar psychic vibration, he gave chase. In a quiet alley, he flashed and dove for the hurrying figure, slamming the man against the building. The hood fell off his head.
Finnén.
They looked so much alike; it was like staring in the mirror. Except, they were like night and day, and it wasn’t just their contrasting hair color. His brother was an egotistical shithead who thought the sun rose and shone out of his arse.
More, he realized it had been Finnén he’d sensed that night at the club, and was why all his warning receptors had clanged so furiously.
“You’ve been following me,” Blaéz snapped, anger twisting his gut. “Why?”
“Followyou?” Cold, gray eyes stared back at him. “Full of yourself, aren’t you?”
The human clothes he’d sported morphed to worn, brown leather pants and a vest over a dark tunic. The lethal, silver-edged, ebony Mating Sword was strapped to his back. He made no move to push Blaéz off. “I’m a law-keeper. There’s unfinished business on this realm.”
At those cryptic words, Blaéz stilled. The bastard just never gave up, and his kind of trouble was a damn pain in the arse. Since The Morrigan had sent him packing from the castle on that fateful day several months ago after Blaéz had mated Darci, and he’d tried to slap the Absolute Laws on them, he was back probably to stir up shit again.
“Come anywhere near us, and you will regret it.” His warning clear, Blaéz shoved him away.
