“Damn fuckers,” Týr muttered. “I got this. Go be with your female.”
“As soon as I take care of those scourges.”
Týr snorted. “Seriously, man. I know away from her you’re back to being the pain in the ass we can’t do without. Forget about the job tonight. Go. I’ll take your turn at the rift, too. Maybe I’ll get lucky and kick some demonii ass before morning.” He took off after thedemons.
Denied a fight, Blaéz stopped on the sidewalk as the oily whisper filtered through his mental shields.You can’t escape me…you want what I have…
It was hard to shut off the voices as his ties to the dark side yanked at him.He could go to the cages, but he didn’t want to return to the castle battered and broken. Darci waited for him. She’d give him the anchor he so desperately needed.
Ducking into a gloomy doorway, Blaéz dematerialized and took form on the front terrace a few minutes later. As he made his way to the enormous doors, amidst the scent of briny sea breeze, a familiar one of clover and mint drifted to him.
Eyes narrowed, he spotted the raven perched on the branch of a potted shrub on the terrace. As if it were an invite, The Morrigan telepathed into his mind,Blaéz, you must hear me out.
Not in this lifetime. He headed for the door.
It’s about the female you have. She’s the key.
At the mention of Darci, he pivoted. “Stay away from her. Or those feathers you’re so proud of will be stuffing a pillow.”
With a furious flutter of wings, she swooped in front of him before he could move, shimmered and took form wearing a dark green hooded cape.
“You want a reason?” she asked him, her blue gaze fierce. “Why I gave you away as a child? I foresaw your destiny. Had you remained with me, you would have died. You were my youngest. I refused to let death win. I did the only thing I could—”
“Indeed. You denied me, took the easy path and gave me away. You, the great queen, Goddess of War and Death, couldn’t protect a child.”
She lifted agitated hands to him. He stepped back. She sighed. “If I had a choice, I would have never let you go. You have the gift of foresight, is it really that simple to ignore it when you know the ones you hold dear will die?”
He didn’t care if there was a grain of truth in her words. He’d already paid for her decree with blood. With his soul.“You should have left me as a servant. I was better off.”
“Blaéz, you becamemyHand, the most skilled warrior ever born.”
“I was your slayer,” he cut her off. “Your assassin—say it. That’s why you chose me as Inara’s protector.”
“No…” She pushed off her hood and held his gaze with determined blue ones. “Blaéz, Isawthat your destiny would still follow you into the battlefields, I couldn’t ignore that, so I had you reassigned to the Sumerian pantheon.”
Blaéz stared at her. She—his own mother had sentenced him to a worse hell—to Tartarus. A place where he’d wished for death many times over. And she could see nothing wrong with that.
“Then you failed.”Death did win.Blaéz walked away. He really wished she would leave him alone, go back to her wars. Why would she start haunting his life now? The fact she’d drawn Darci into this—no. He would stop whatever plans The Morrigan had. No one was coming near his female. Ever.
Blaéz pushed open the massive front door and walked into the foyer. Soft light warmed the place, highlighting the floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows. As he made his way upstairs, he halted. An eerie sensation slid through him. He scanned the castle but all was quiet…no, not evil. Unable to make sense of it, he headed to the second level. Fear punched him in his gut—Darci!
He flashed to their bedroom, yanked open the door, and a body slammed into his, knocking him back several step.
“Darci!” He grabbed her.
“No-no—” she cried, hitting at him. “Let me go!” Her terror a thick cloud, suffocating him. Dammit, was she dreaming about her attack again?
“Shh,a leannan.” He swept her off her feet. “No one will ever hurt you. I have you.” He carried her back to bed and sat down, keeping her cradled on his lap. She shuddered, curled into him as if seeking his warmth. He pressed his lips to her head. “It’s okay.”
Her eyelids flickered open, irises a searing yellow of confusion, edged with pain. His chest constricted at the distress she was emitting.
“Blaéz?”
“Yes, it’s me. What’s wrong? A nightmare?”
Lurching upright, she stroked his face with frantic hands. “You were hurt—”
Hurt?This was about him? She scrambled off him, crawled to his back and yanked up his shirt before he figured out what she’d planned to do.
