Chapter 13
The momentthey took form in their bedroom, Blaéz let Darci go. At her searching gaze, and unable to face her while struggling to shut off the anger still raging inside him, he turned away.
She stepped in front of him, her worried eyes fixed on his. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “We’ll talk later. Shower first. You’re smeared with blood.”
She didn’t even glance at her dress, filthy with dirt and gore, but grasped his hand instead. “Very well, but you’re coming with me. You were wounded by the darn Mating Sword, we need to tend to it.”
He stood there, unable to move as she tried to pull him into the bathroom. His heart ached, like a huge fucking fist was crushing it. He’d failed her. And she wanted to take care of him? “Darci, I—”
She wheeled back to him. “Look, I know you and your brother have a history, but it’s over now. It will get better.”
“How?” he rasped. “The fucker had me trapped, I wasn’t able to free myself and save you. You did—”
“That’s a load of bullcrap! You would have, and you know it. All I did was summon Nora.Youbroke those damn spelled cuffs!” She inhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her ribs, then charged on. “Besides, Aethan and Týr had your back. Your brother is cunning, he knew the only way to trap you was to get a demon’s helpandkidnap me—or he never would have! Being a law-keeper didn’t help him much, did it? Once freed,youtook care of him. He would have been dead if The Morrigan hadn’t interfered. It’s over.”
Over?If he had used his deadly ability and ended Finnén the moment he could…maybe. But the bastard had abducted and threatened his mate. Blaéz’s rage—hishonor—demanded more than the usual fistfight that occurred over his accursed past. It demanded the way of the warriors, a battle until death. Now, his brother was spared because of The Morrigan!
Godsdammit!Blaéz pinched the bridge of his nose, hating the powerless feeling still roiling through him.
“Oh…” a whisper of pain speared him straight in the heart, splintering his anger. His head snapped up, his hand dropped. “What?”
“This is because Finnén kissed me, isn’t it? It’s why you won’t talk or look at me.” Her eyes darkened in hurt.
What the fuck? “No—”
“Yes.” Her lips trembled. She pressed them tightly together and walked away.
“Darci, wait—”
The bathroom door closed behind her with a resolute click, shutting him out.
Blaéz ground down on his molars, wanting to smash Finnén’s face to pulp again. Damn his bloody family. He slammed the granite wall with his palms in frustration. His still healing wrists twinged in protest. Every time Finnén and The Morrigan appeared they messed up his life.
The sounds of gushing water drifted to him, pulling his eroding mind back. His cell beeped. He snatched the device from his pants pocket. Even with a cracked display screen, the damn thing still worked.Declan.
His jaw clenched. He didn’t even read the message, just texted back that Darci was safe and taking a shower.
Exhaling roughly, Blaéz dropped the phone on the bureau and opened the door. As he entered the vast black and white marbled bathroom, the rush of water grew louder, and he nearly tripped over the clothes strewn across the floor.
What the—?
Darci never flung her clothes about.
Frowning, he glanced at the large, oval tub near the trio of elongated windows, steadily filling with steaming water. Darci sat hunched in the bathtub. No flowery bath salts scented the air or bubbles foamed the surface. Instead, the salty tang of her tears struck him with the power of a dropkick in the gut.
He flashed across, lowered to his heels, and grabbed the rim. “Darci?”
She didn’t respond, her gaze trained on her pink-painted toenails now submerged in water.
Did she really think he’d let that little shit ruin what they’d both fought so hard for? For this life they now had? She was his mate. His very heartbeat and all that mattered. He existed only for her. And why he’d lost it when Finnén threatened her.
Blaéz stroked his fingers along her bicep needing to touch her. “It’s not you, it’s me,a leannan…”
When she remained silent, Blaéz rose and pulled off his clothes. He stepped in behind her and sat down. Fuck! He bit back a curse as he slid his legs alongside hers, the steamy water nearly blistering his balls.
He scooped her hair away from her shoulders and pressed his lips on her nape. “I don’t care that he kissed you—I mean I do, because I’m a possessive bastard when it comes to you. You are mine! But don’t ever imagine that I would blame you for the shitstormhemasterminded.” He rested his brow on her nape, regret choking him. “I’m truly sorry for this mess I brought to you, for hurting you.”
