Get yourself together and that wound seen to.“You’re off patrol.” Michael shook his head and stalked off, probably at how deep Blaéz had dug his own grave.
He didn’t want to look up, and yet he did, and felt like he’d walked into a brick wall as he met wounded sunflower eyes. Darci stood on the first landing, not the second. Guilt like a lead ball rolled into his belly. She had to have heard everything. Indeed, he’d rather face the Arc’s inquisition than this female who’d wormed her way into the void in his chest.
Blaéz trudged upstairs, past her and struggled to keep his steps steady. With his strength waning from the taint of the hellish whip, he almost toppled into their room. She grabbed his arm. “You’re bleeding.”
He pulled away. He didn’t want her touching him, not while Hell’s filth still covered him. Besides, the last time he saw her, she’d shut him out because he couldn’t give her what she wanted. That stung big time, but more, something inside him hurt thathewasn’t enough.
You will never be…you soulless deviant…
Jaw tight, Blaéz sidestepped her. As he pulled off his ruined t-shirt and it cleared his head, he found Darci in front of him. Eyes fierce. “Don’t ignore me, I was worried sick—”
“—because of me?” He cast her a level look, balling his shirt. “You shouldn’t. It’s just sex between us like you pointed out. And that’s all it’s ever going to be.”
Pain seeped in her eyes. “Yes, I said that, you big jerk. But you were the one keeping secrets, not me.”
He didn’t need to have his sins thrown at him. He knew exactly what he’d done.
But with her so close, her warmth drew him like a damn moth. He wanted her beneath him, to be inside her, the only way he’d ever feel warm again—godsdammit! He had to get away from her. In frustration, he thrust his fingers through his clipped hair and stumbled into the dressing room.
Images from the last time in this very place rebounded like a whiplash in his mind. The disbelief—the pain in her eyes when she realized he couldn’t give her the things she wanted. “You want out, is that what this is?”
Darci stopped at the doorway, her expression tightening. “You were gone. For three days…”
That she didn’t answer him, his gut twisted into a hard lump. With barely leashed violence, he flung his shirt aside. Tell her of his living nightmare? Of the innocent lives he’d taken, every fucking time he’d been hauled back to that shithole?
Teeth gritted, he struggled to unfasten his pants button. His fingers fumbled, felt too stiff. Fuck this. He lurched into the shower and opened it to a full blast. The warm spray nailed him hard. The splattering sounds barely drowned out the sly laughter in his head.
She will never be yours…
Steam filled the cubicle but nothing could warm the frozen void inside him. Or block what he’d done. His throat tightened at the pain strangling him, had no idea if it was his or hers. He slid down the tiles and banged his head against the wall as the water beat down on him.
How the hell did he even begin to tell her about the horror he still lived?
* * *
Darci paced the length of the bedroom, anger and frustration warring within her at Blaéz’s harshness. This cold man with the empty eyes who’d come back from God only knew where, she didn’t know.
What had happened to him?
The things he’d flung at Michael bounced around inside her head. How could he think so little of himself—hate himself so much?Immoral? Why would he say that? She looped around the bedroom as questions pounded her. Anabhorrent? Because he needed pain to feel?
As her anger faded, the worry that had plagued her since he’d disappeared morphed into concern. Obviously, he’d been in some kind of fight. The acrid reek of gun smoke, sweat, and blood covered him, and there was a healing lash across his back.
More, he felt too cold when she touched him, almost as if he’d frozen inside out… She slowed to a stop, something wasn’t right.
Well, whatever it was, that stubborn, rock-head man wasn’t going to get away with this. She would have her answers. Spinning around, she stomped through the dressing room and into the bathroom filled with the sounds of rustling water. And couldn’t see him. Panicked, she flung open the steam-filled shower door. And there, she found him.
“Blaéz!” She darted inside to where he sat in the corner still in his leathers and boots, as if he’d given up halfway while undressing. Water beat down at the two of them now, drenching her within seconds. She shut off the faucet and lowered to her knees. “What is it—what’s wrong?”
He lifted his head, blinking away the water. When he just stared at her, she ran her fingers through his short hair, needing to touch him. “I know I shut you out the other day. But”—she pulled in a deep breath—“I needed time. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Never.” How could she? When he already carried the scars of his torture. “If something’s wrong, talk to me—don’t shut me out.”
His eyes squeezed tight as if in pain. He dropped his head against the tiled wall. “You should walk away, leave, and never look back. I’m not broken, Darci. At least pieces have a chance of being patched. Healed. I cannot be put right, ever. I may look like a man, but inside it’s an abyss filled with nothing but darkness.” His dull gaze met hers. “I shouldn’t have brought you into my life. I’ll taint you. Ruin you. And that I cannot bear.”
His torment hidden from the world but freed with her near—the only time he could feel—formed a vise around her heart. “No, Blaéz—” she struggled to get the words past her own tear-lodged throat. “That’s not who I see. You’re a Guardian. You protect humans who have no idea you exist, and most of all you give me the only thing that matters.You. I’m exactly where I want to be.”
“You don’t know…don’t know what I am!” Anger and torment laced the words wrenched from deep within him.
“Then tell me,” she said softly, brushing away the water running down his face from his hair. Heavy silence cloaked them. Her warrior with so much pain buried so deep inside of him. God, she longed to help him, to heal the fractures in his mind.
