Absolute Surrender (10 page)

The door to the gymnasium opened and Blaéz strolled in.

“What happened? The Norse left in a blaze and I mean that literally, like he couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” Blaéz glanced at the spots of blood on the floor then at Aethan’s ruined hand.

Ignoring him, Aethan strode to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water. The cold liquid sliding down his throat did little to dull his anger, but remorse slithered in and settled like an old friend.

‘
Why not tell Blaéz the truth
?’ the darkness creeping inside his head prodded him. He tried to shut out the destructive whispers.

Fuck, he wouldn’t sink lower than he already had. How could he tell Blaéz anything, without bringing back horrifying memories of a past best forgotten?

In the Realms of the Gods, they’d once been protectors of the Goddess Of Life until evil intruded and she’d disappeared, never to be seen again. As punishment, they’d been stripped of their powers and incarcerated in the deepest, darkest level of the Dark Realm.

In Tartarus.

A place where Blaéz lost all emotions after his soul had been ripped from him. Not an easy thing to do when you were a god.

Icy water splashing on his hand, jerked him back.

“Your mood’s been off lately,” Blaéz said, his empty stare ramming home to Aethan the void the male lived in. No emotions. No feelings. Inflicted pain was all Blaéz felt.

“Leave it alone.” Aethan refused to talk about Echo with anyone. Ever.

He tossed the water bottle into the recycle bin and strode over to the stack of towels on a shelf near the lockers. He picked one, threw it over his face and squeezed his eyes shut. Inhaled slowly. Gods, he needed to calm down.

Damn hard to do when self-hatred raged in him. His fists tightened. The scabs crusting over on his knuckles cracked and split, started oozing again. The pain of his busted hand reminded him he’d finally taken over the slot of Asshole of the Year.

He’d find Týr and...yeah. The thought of apologizing stuck in his craw. He should have shut his damn mouth and left well alone—like he always did when dealing with Týr.

He stalked past Blaéz.

“Wait.”

Teeth gritted, Aethan turned slowly. He didn’t trust himself to speak. The intense “come-on” look Blaéz was giving him did nothing for his mood.

Then it hit him, a blow to the gut as he struggled for breath. The Celt would already know without a word being spoken. He wouldn’t just see
Echo
—he’d have seen them
both
.

Abso–fucking–lutely great.

“Let it go, man. I don’t care what you’ve seen in your visions. I’m not in the mood for this,” he told the warrior and slammed out of the gym.

CHAPTER 7

Aethan materialized in the alley on the Lower East Side the following night. He scanned the area. No sign of him.

Not surprising. Calls to Týr’s cell phone went unanswered. Every time Aethan tried to connect through their mental link, he hit a wall. The warrior had cut himself off from contact—too damn bad for him. He’d find Týr and do the necessary evil.

The stiffness in his jaw had him releasing his clenched teeth. Apologies bit ass big time.

Aethan headed for Club Anarchy. He knew the male well enough to know how he’d vent his rage. And since Týr wasn’t out on the streets, what better place to find willing partners than the club.

Heavy metal music rocked through the worn building like an earthquake. Strobe lights bopped blue and green neon dots over a sea of frenzied, near-naked bodies. Laser beams flashed in rhythm to the music, heating up their feverish movements.

Ignoring the lower-level dance floor, Aethan stepped around rowdy, lurching drunks and headed upstairs to the VIP lounge. Beneath that nauseating cocktail of heavily perfumed air, the stale stench of liquor, and the sharp odor of white dust, he found the scent he wanted. Woody bergamot. The citrusy smell was fused with cold rage.

Avoiding several of the females who made a stumbling beeline toward him, he tracked the chilly anger down the short corridor. The club’s owner, a tall black male waited outside a door, dressed in cream-colored tailored pants and jacket. Thick platinum chains hung around his neck. On the other side of the door, flanking him, stood a big burly bouncer clad in black leather. They turned as Aethan approached. The glazed look in their eyes confirmed he was in the right place.

“You ain’t allowed in this section—”

The bouncer didn’t get a chance to say more. Aethan shoved into the mortals’ minds, took control.
You didn’t see me.

Both men went back to staring at the wall opposite. Aethan willed the door open and stepped into the near darkened office, the door closing behind him.

Loud feminine moans and flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, drowning out the muffled music thumping in the club below. The musky scent of sex hit him. Týr had a female flat on her back over the desk, her legs wrapped around his waist, as he pounded into the human with no regard for her comfort.

From the way she was writhing, Aethan doubted she cared much.

Her unbuttoned top hung off her shoulders and displayed her ample assets, which jiggled with each thrust of Týr’s plundering hips. He still wore his clothes. His long coat hiding most of the action from view, for which Aethan was grateful.

Týr didn’t slow down. A cool smile rode his face as he ran a hand up the female’s torso, cupped the plump flesh of her breast, and squeezed, eliciting a louder moan from her. Quick fingers worked her pink nipples. The woman’s whimper grew nosier but not a sound came from Týr. Still keeping perfect rhythm, he started in on her other mound.

Yeah, the bastard was paying him back, big time. Damn hard to swallow when the truth was shoved down your throat with a fist the size of Thor’s hammer.

The carnal pleasures Aethan pretended not to have an interest in gained momentum. His body had stirred awake and it had nothing to do with the erotic activities taking place on the desk. He’d been in a constant state of arousal since he’d met Echo. His blood pounded in his veins and heated his groin with a need he’d give anything to satiate—to sink deep into her hot silky heat, have those honey-toned limbs wrapped around his waist, until his hunger for her was sated. Then he saw Echo’s face frozen in terror, her legs still around his hips, where she lay dead beneath him.

His blood ran cold.

Pivoting, Aethan stalked from the room. He joined the males outside the office, staring at the opposite wall and trying desperately to clear his head.

The door opened moments later and Týr swung past him, his expression unyielding. Aethan joined him. They left the club and headed into the chilly night air, the wind snapping open their long coats. Aethan stuck his hands in the pocket of his leathers.

“Týr—”

“Not interested.”

The male was still pissed. Aethan couldn’t blame him. Hell, if he had to deal with someone like himself, he’d be worse.

“Too bad. You’re going to hear it anyway.” He threw Týr’s sentiment from yesterday back at him, but got no reaction. “I was out of line, what I said—”

“It matters little.” Cold. Clipped. “I’m on duty at the rift.”

Týr stepped into a darkened doorway and his form began to shimmer. Before he could dematerialize, Aethan clamped a hand on his arm. “You want to take a shot at me, it is your right.”

He shrugged Aethan’s hand off. “I have work.”

Training. Duty. That’s what their lives amounted to. Aethan stepped back. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Týr didn’t respond. The air around him shifted and he dematerialized.

Aethan rubbed his face with a weary hand. Redemption wasn’t for them. This was their life, the only one Gaia granted them. A damn cruel fate to walk amongst the freedom of others and never be able to touch it. Their existence was set in stone. Protect those whose life was forever barred from them. A life they could never have.

In the distance, church bells rang. Drunken laughter rippled through the darkness. He tensed, glanced around. A strange sensation rushed over him, unlike any he’d ever encountered before.

What the hell!

His thoughts scattered as the air around him shifted and sucked him into a whirlpool of unimaginable power.

***

Echo stepped out of her apartment door. The flurry of footsteps resounding through the silent hallway had her biting back a groan.

“Darn it, Echo. Wait up.” Kira rushed after her, tugging on her jacket. She hooked her arm through Echo’s as they left the building and headed up the street. A thin layer of mist swirled around them, blurring the lampposts lining the road.

“Sane people stay inside their homes, where it’s safe and warm,” Kira grumbled, zipping up her jacket.

“I have to get out, need some air. Go back inside, I won’t be long.”

“No. I know you. You’re still upset over what that jackass, Neal, said.”

“Kira, I’m fine. I can’t sleep, so I walk. It helps settle me.”

“At night? Echo, that’s like sticking a flashlight on your forehead, telling the
demoniis
a delicious human is available—no wait, your pheromones do that well enough.”

“I know.” A smile tugged at Echo’s mouth. “And I don’t have to expend any energy looking for them.”

Clearly not amused by her smart-ass remark, Kira’s tone was filled with irritation. “I’m afraid, one of these days, things will end badly for us.”

“Us?” Echo asked, unable to keep the amusement from her voice.

“Yes. If you die, I’ll be sad forever.”

Echo lost her smile. “I’m not going to die, silly.”

The incident with Neal had opened an old wound. If she were honest enough, a part of her would always hurt, a part that remained a child. Most times she didn’t let it bother her until she looked in the mirror...and saw her ugly eyes.

Weirdo. Freak. She’d heard it all before.

Memories nudged through the cracks in her mental armor.

‘
Stay here you little freak.
’

‘
No! Please, don’t please—I’m sorry.
’

He loomed over her, tall, thin, with dark eyes and a sneer on his face. Her foster father didn’t care for her pleas.

‘
You mention that aura shit again, I’ll cut out your tongue and feed it to the dog. Auras? Only the devil’s spawn sees those things!
’
He shoved her into the darkened basement and locked her in there.

A shudder filled her. She’d been young, barely six-years-old and had no idea what she’d done wrong. Her parents had died in a mugging gone wrong when she was four, leaving her to the
tender
mercies of the foster care system. But she learned one thing that day. She never spoke about her abilities to just anyone, again.

You did so with Aethan.

She scrunched her nose. Yeah. Well, Aethan didn’t count. He just bulldozed his way into her life and demanded answers. They’d probably still be there, standing behind the cathedral in a deadlock, if she hadn’t given him some kind of response.

“Echo, you okay?”

She nodded and squeezed Kira’s hand. “I’m fine.”

They’d been friends a long time and Kira understood her too well. They continued silently up the street, turned left and bypassed a homeless man sprawled on the sidewalk, soaked in alcoholic fumes.

“I don’t like the nights. Give me the creeps,” Kira whispered, glancing around the shadowy street and holding tighter onto Echo.

“That’s only because you know what else is out there.”

“True. Had I not met you, I would’ve never known. Gran certainly won’t tell me. You know how protective she is.”

“She just wants to keep you safe.”

“Any safer and I might as well be holed up in a nunnery.”

“Now, there’s an idea,” Echo said in amusement. “But would they let you change boyfriends every second week at a nunnery?”