The events of last night had certainly broken his ennui. Darci Callahan was unexpected. Just the thought of her and he half expected his heart to thump faster, but as usual, all remained calm. The results of the background search he’d done revealed only the basics. Twenty-six, single, and she worked at the library in East Village.
The information wasn’t enough for him. No matter. He planned to see her today, and he’d find out what he wanted.
After he’d left Club Anarchy in the early hours of the morning, he’d gone back to her brownstone. The place had been in darkness, and she’d been asleep. Instead of knocking on her door and awakening her—that wouldn’t have gone down too well, considering he’d probably shocked the life out of her with his actions—he’d chosen to wait, despite wanting to experience that extraordinary moment again.
He, however, never played to lose. Patience. He was good at that. He would get what he wanted. Her. Over the passing years, he’d amassed more than enough mementos from the other Guardians. His latest acquisition—Týr’s vintage Harley from a game of foosball—pissed off the warrior to no end.
But she was more.Shemade him feel.
Increasing the speed on the treadmill, he ran faster and tried to understand.
Why her? Why now?
Nothing made sense.
One needed a soul to feel, and he didn’t possess that any longer.
The door opened. Michael strode inside, circled the heavy equipment, and sat across from Blaéz on a workout bench. The old tee he wore looked like the moths had had a great time feasting on it. It didn’t surprise Blaéz that the archangel was still here when he rarely stayed at the castle. It was expected after Blaéz had missed the “chat” last night.
Well, he’d been busy…stalking. He couldn’t make the meet.
Michael’s eerie blue eyes settled on him. They appeared like shattered sapphires, as if he’d lived through a brutal torture. The jagged pieces never quite fit anymore, allowing a strange silvery glow through.
“What’s going on?”
Time for his grilling. With no way to escape this one-on-one with the snarly male, Blaéz said, “You know what I am. Why the questions now?”
Michael picked up a three hundred pound weight and began his arm curls. “For centuries, every few months you disappear for days at a time. I gave you space, understood you needed it. But that time in Tartarus has long passed. You’re losing all your cognitive skills, ones that make you a Guardian. Sure, you do the job, but there’s a lack of care now.”
Blaéz heard the unasked question. Maybe he should have felt guilty that he cared so little about his own health, his life. After all, Michael had given up more than his status as the leader of the archangels, lost something irreplaceable to free him—free all of them from that hellish hole.Andhe’d chosen to stay on as their leader. Why anyone would want to take charge of moody, temperamental fallen ex-gods, Blaéz had no idea.
Still, he could never reveal the reality of what he’d done…still did, or where he disappeared to every few months. Days he could never speak off. The truth would crush the warriors.
He functioned on autopilot in his role as a Guardian. Nothing more than an automaton. It’s why meeting Darci, and the emotions that had unfurled so briefly, yanked him by the balls.
“You’re becoming self-destructive,” Michael snapped.
He was way past self-destructive.
He reeked of Hell.
Couldn’t the Arc smell it on him?
Blaéz brushed the sweat from his brow and pounded harder on the fast moving belt. A slow burn started in his thigh muscles, followed by a trickle of pain. “It’s been three and a half millennia, you think I’m a loose cannon, then take me out.”
Those silvery fissures in Michael’s blue gaze flared at his blunt words. Jaw rigid, the archangel switched the free weight to his other hand. “You’re seriously pissing me off, Celt. Get your shit together, fast. We work because of anonymity. Those cage fights will bring us notice. We go viral, all hell’s going to fly. And I don’t mean by me.”
“So noted.”
Gaia, the Being they’d sworn their allegiance to as Protector of Earth, of all mankind… No, he didn’t imagine she’d be pleased. They were supposed to remain a myth—beings that didn’t exist. Indeed. The sweat dripping down his abs felt very, very real, as did the female who, for one breathless moment, had him feeling again.
He stepped down from the treadmill, pulled off his tee, and swiped his damp face. Picking up his cell, he left the gym with Michael’s gaze boring holes into him. At times, he just wished the Arc would take him out. And end it all.
Shower finished, Blaéz walked into his dressing room, checked through his clothes then decided to skip the leathers. He pulled on black pants and glanced at the time on his cell phone as he shrugged on a shirt and buttoned up. 3:44 P.M.
He was done waiting. Snagging the Veyron keys from the bureau, he left his quarters and headed down the long corridor toward the circular gallery with its hoard of paintings and armored figures.
Afternoon sunlight poured into the foyer through the floor-to-ceiling stained glass window. It bathed the grand staircase and dappled the marble statues watching over the several tall potted plants in a kaleidoscope of colors.
