Heavy rock music blasted off the walls and settled in Reynner’s head. Flashing lights almost blinded his sensitive eyes. He wished Michael had rethought their meeting place. The club thronged with people. And he didn't like crowds.
Reynner leaned against the steel balustrade running the length of the gallery that overlooked the dance floor. He ignored the skimpily dressed women trying to make eye contact, his attention on the approaching male.
Dressed all in black, the leader of the Guardians fit in with most of the club’s clientele, but for his exceptional height of six foot nine. Strands of night-dark hair escaped their tie and framed a face that appeared carved from granite. Shades covered eyes Michael didn’t reveal to the human populace.
The females tracked him with covetous looks, drawn by the angelic allure, but something about him made them keep their distance. Had to be the hands-off, hard-ass look the archangel wore like a mantle.
Michael had been the one to find him eons ago, killing demoniis like some demented being after he’d escaped Hell. The archangel had hauled Reynner off to Exilum, a sanctuary for immortals and a place he now called home. Yeah, he owed Michael big time, and it was why he continued to hunt supernatural evil wherever he was while searching for the foretold one.
Michael handed him a squat glass before taking a swallow of his coke.
Reynner cocked a brow. “What’s up?”
“Aethan’s back in New York.”
Hearing that name, Reynner’s stomach churned. Nothing would ever ease his guilt. He’d accepted long ago thatheshould have been banished for Ariana’s death, not Aethan. Not the male who’d once been his best friend.
“Anything else?”
Michael gave him a long, hard stare. “Why don’t you meet him? Get this shit out of the way. You were friends once.”
“Friendships fall apart all the time. Besides, it’s too late for that.” Three millennia too late. Aethan probably hated his guts.
Michael gave him a hard stare then shook his head. “You’re one stubborn bastard.”
Whatever. He needed to focus on finding the female tied to the scroll. Two damn months in this city, and still no sign of her. It was time to move on, to scry for another possible location. He had no desire to bump into his old friend and revisit a past they could never shake. Or put right.
“Thanks for the heads up.” Reynner handed his untouched liquor to a passing waitress and headed out. As he cleared the stairs, a visceral hunger slammed him square in the chest. He skidded to a halt.
What the hell?
Inhaling harshly, he rubbed his sternum and scanned the place. Beneath the layers of liquor, sweat, and heavy perfume, a delicate fragrance with a tantalizing hint of peach seeped into him and stroked his senses. His body went into slow burn. Blood heated. His groin hardened. A strange, urgent need took hold of him. Compelled, he tracked the scent down the corridor. But the trail disappeared into the restroom where a pack of females took their own sweet time entering their shrine. Did women do nothing solo?
Irritated and forced to cool his heels, Reynner waited. His cell vibrated. He checked the text then ignored it. Damn interfering angel. Michael never gave up trying to fix a broken past.
Reynner leaned against the wall several feet from the bathroom door and willed off the light above him. With his height and hair, the attention he drew was a bloody nuisance. Throw in his cursed angelic allure—yeah, the shit was a guaranteed trouble magnet. He clamped down on his psychic shields, his attention fixed on the restroom, cell phone tapping against his thigh.
Whoever the female was that had worked her mojo on him would wish to the high heavens she hadn't. He’d made that mistake once with Inanna and had paid the price for his stupidity. He wasn’t about to let it happen again.
***
Eve stared at her reflection in the restroom mirror, tucked her long bangs behind her ear, and inhaled a deep breath. Everything about this evening was heading in the direction she wanted. So why was she having second thoughts?
Deep down, she understood her hesitation. She wanted to fall in love—have what her parents had had before their deaths—but with her affliction, it was but a dream.
She raked back her hair and sighed. Earlier, she’d casually touched David’s hand minus gloves, just to be sure, and colors had roared to life in her head. Thankfully, without the painful invasion of thoughts and feelings she normally got from others. But the impulsive brush had left her with a slight throb in her temples.
So what did she do?
Surrender to dating a man she liked despite the headaches or live a lonely life?
A noisy group of women entered and broke through her depressing thoughts. Her cell beeped. She grabbed her gloves off the basin, retrieved the phone from her bag, and read the text. A belated wish from one of her old coworkers.
Smiling at the exploding birthday cake gif, Eve left the bathroom and crashed face-first into a brick wall of muscles.
Aw, crap!Her open purse flew to the floor, scattering its contents. She stumbled back but her half-hoop earring caught on the soft fabric of his shirt, jerking her forward. Pain blinded her. Gasping, Eve blinked back tears as she pulled free. Calloused hands steadied her. At the strong grip, goosebumps flooded her skin and the fine hairs on her arms rose.
Her gaze snapped up. And up. The air rushed out of her lungs. Apology and throbbing ear forgotten, Eve gaped at the man holding her.
