“You’re a pain in the arse.”
“And here I thought you can’t feel anything.”
A dusky-skinned waitress sidled up to them. “Can I get you boys anything?”
Blaéz ignored her and took a sip of his whiskey. With a shake of his head, Damon dismissed her.
For a male who looked that good, and he’d sure give Race and Týr a run for their money, Blaéz found it strange that Damon didn’t appear any more interested in the fairer sex than Blaéz had been…well, before Darci.
“Not interesting enough, or does she not possess the right chromosome pairing?” Blaéz taunted.
“Maybe I’m taking a page out of your book.” Violet eyes gleamed. “Wouldn’t you like to know how I came by that knowledge about your lack of soul?” Damon goaded.
“How?”
“Let’s just say I wanted to get even.”
Blaéz swallowed more of his whiskey. Riddles again. Seems he’d have to pry out every word from him. “Why did you wait this long?”
“Because I had no idea you didn’t possess it, just thought you were a dick, until I heard rumblings of a demon searching for a warrior’s soul—the math was really simple then.”
Of course, Maloch would be looking for Darci, too. He would use anything to get her and take possession of Blaéz’s soul. At the realization, Blaéz pushed to his feet. He had to get back to her.
“Leaving so soon? And just when we were bonding.”
Blaéz gave him a middle finger salute and headed out of the bar. Damon’s laughter followed him.
Watery, noon sunlight peered through the thick, gray clouds as Blaéz walked toward a recessed doorway and dematerialized back to the castle.
He found the library occupied, but no sign of Darci. Echo sat in an armchair, running her unsteady fingers through her messy hair. The redheaded, pain-in-the-arse angel, Lore, stood near the fireplace, his ruddy wings sweeping the floor as he spouted another history, or whatever the hell lesson he was giving, at a barely awake Echo.
Blaéz turned to leave.
“Blaéz, wait.” At the sound of Echo’s voice, he stopped.
“You are distracting us,” the angel objected. “She’s missed a few days already.”
Lore must definitely have a stick shoved up his arse. Blaéz cocked a brow. “I imagine you’ll make sure she pays in double time for the interruption so stop whining, angel boy.”
Lore’s face pinched. Blaéz glanced at Echo, who hid her smile behind a bland expression. She still appeared a bit pale after coming out of her healing sleep. He sent a telepathic message to Aethan, who’d gone to train in the forest with Týr instead.Your mate’s up—
Thanks.The mind-link shut off.
“Don’t tell Aethan I’m having lessons,” she said. “He’ll freak. I just need to keep busy. If he knows, he’ll insist on me resting and taking it easy. Any more shuteye, and I’ll start to feel like Rip van Winkle.”
The female sure had a way with words. “Too late. He knows.”
She grimaced. “Okay, I guess that means he’s on his way.” She turned to the angel. “Lore, let’s continue this tomorrow?”
Lore merely crossed his arms over his chest and didn’t move at her dismissal. Well, if he wanted an arse whipping from the Empyrean, his problem.
“Blaéz?” Lines puckered Echo’s smooth brow, her mind obviously on something else. “I heard there could be another like me in the city? Is it true?”
“Who told you?”
“Lore.”
Seriously, Lore had no idea when to quit. The Empyrean wouldn’t be happy about this. Heaping more worries on his mate who’d just recovered from a hazardous healing of the rift.
