The angel was a dick, but better him than whoever the fuck this otherunmatedwarrior was that Michael had planned to send. Just the thought irritated him. He needed coffee.
Nik strode to the kitchen when a familiar tug on his psyche had him slowing. Dammit.
Didn’t she ever listen?
He pivoted back to the living room. The angel was nowhere in sight, but Shadow stood near the arcade games, eyeing the interior of the living area. The urge to leap across and keep her pinned to his side swamped him. But he nailed his feet down in the kitchen doorway.
Her gaze lifted to the soaring walls and faded water-stained, biblical ceiling murals that had suffered some damage through the passing millennia. Nik saw anew the cracks marbling the worn floors caused by a tremor centuries ago. Worn leather couches in the circular living room, a wooden coffee table, one of Dagan’s carved pieces from decades ago, sporting nicks and scratches. A little shabby perhaps, but it did well enough for them…then he recalled her crate bed and dinged metal drawers in the cold basement.
“Lore!”
The angel appeared in a flash at his side. An eyebrow lifted. “You bellowed?”
“See that the decor here is redone.”
“No, no,” Shadow protested, her striking eyes darting between Lore and him. “It’s fine as it is.”
“I’m here to keep her safe when you are not around,” Lore countered. “Not be your minion.”
Ignoring him, Nik kept his stare on her. “You should be resting.”
She rolled her eyes.
Of course, she would disobey him.
Nik stalked back into the kitchen, the rich aroma of coffee wafting to him. One he’d put on before she arrived and after his grueling fight with Race. He picked up the espresso pot and poured some into a mug, gritting his teeth, the thrashing inside his head amplifying.
“You don’t have to change anything,” Shadow said from behind him. “It’s not like I live in luxury. Nik, what did you mean when you said you are at your most dangerous now?”
How did he even explain his damn curse to her? It was sure to send her running faster than a hail of ice spears.
Mug in hand, Nik leaned against the counter. From the other side of the table, Shadow watched him worriedly, her lush lower lip caught between her teeth. Just having her so close, his entire being pushed forward, he wanted to shove the table out of the way and haul her to him.
He had to get the hell out of here and away from temptation. No matter his little rebellion with himself earlier when he forced Týr to leave her behind, it was all a fool’s dream anyway.
His life was a shitstorm, and he would never be whole.
“What do you think it means?” he asked, unable to answer her question. “I’m a killer. I destroy demons. I live to wipe them out of this realm.”
She froze. “But n-not all of them are evil.”
“You think?” Grim laughter escaped him. “Given the chance, every fucking one of them will succumb to the calling of their dark nature. Looks can be deceiving,lígo machitís. I ought to know.”
And they fucking make me pay, over and over,he wanted to add,but the words never left him.
She grasped the back of a chair, face pale, knuckles bone-white.
Was she worried about her wonderfulNate?
She wants him. Not a half-breed.Insidious laughter erupted inside his skull.
A thick, suffocating feeling layered his chest, fisting his lungs. Power bled through his splintering mind-shields like a spiked hammer breaking down his mental walls.
“Lore’s around if you need anything.” He set his untouched coffee on the counter and stalked out the open side door, hands clenched, struggling to keep it all in—
Nate’s better. She wants him.The oily voices he could usually shut out grew denser, rubbing his mind raw. Desperate now for an all-out fight to distract him from the agony the impending blood moon would dump on him all too soon, he mind-linked with Race.See you in five—the usual place.
We’re lucky if we have an hour. It’s close to sundown,Race shot back.
