Breaking Fate (29 page)

“She said if I didn't release your soul then the baby Grace carries would die — Blaéz, I would have done it regardless.”

Swearing a blue streak, Blaéz jerked up and paced to the window, tunneling his fingers through his clipped hair. Then his shoulders sank and a rough sigh escaped him. He pivoted and came back to her, his fury concealed as he searched her face. “How do you feel?”

“I'm okay.”

A stare.

She sighed. “A little tired.”

A brief nod, he helped her back into bed. Ignoring her frown, he pulled the covers over her. “Rest for a while, I’ll go get breakfast. Would you like me to ask your family over? I’ll send Hedori for them.”

And have Declan want to kill Blaéz now? “No.”

He didn't respond, a nerve beating hard in his jaw, and she knew he understood why. She pushed the covers aside again, and slid off the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Blaéz—” she held him off when he came to help her. “I need a shower. I'm not an invalid. Yes, I do feel a little tired, but I want to
live
my life. Not stay here and wait my time out. No one can say how much of that I have left anyway. Let’s go out and live — come with me?”

“Go where?”

“Everywhere.” She pulled him down by his ripped shirt and kissed him on his mouth. “I want to see the lighthouses in the Hamptons. Walk on the beach. Dance. I want to do it all, with you.”

***

As Darci disappeared into the bathroom, Blaéz shoved his fists into his pants pocket. It took everything in him not to follow. Not to pretend he wasn’t on edge when all he wanted to do was keep her at his side. The sounds of the shower turning on drifted to him, as did a telepathic intrusion in his head. At the familiar insistent vibe, Blaéz growled and opened his mind to Michael.

Meeting.

Dammit. Now? He had no interest in attending any meeting.
Fine. But up here, I'm not leaving Darci.

Very well.

Blaéz pulled off his tattered shirt, put on a clean tee then stepped out into the corridor. He settled a shoulder against the jamb. He left the door slightly ajar so he could hear Darci. She wanted normal, this was as normal as he could give her. Along with lighthouses and walking on the beach.

The sounds of squeaky-soled sneakers drew his attention. Aethan and Týr strode in from the back stairs, both wearing Gi’s and damp tees. Probably came straight from training.

Aethan propped himself on the wall opposite Blaéz.

Týr ignored the upholstered Queen Anne chair and dropped to the floor near the marble podium that held a vase filled with lush lilac foliage. The flowers had to be Hedori’s doing. Blaéz had once asked him for their name because their fragrance reminded him of his mate.

Blowing out a weary breath, Týr leaned against the wall, an arm resting on his bent knee. Michael walked in from the main stairway. No sign of the Sumerian. Dagan must still be tracking the elusive killer.

Michael got straight to the point. “Hell’s instrument of torture on this realm — what happened to it?”

Blaéz’s jaw tightened, recalling his utter fear after Maloch had handed the hellish weapon to his second in command to detain him while Maloch took off after that demoness who had hauled Darci away.

“The weapon’s no more,” Aethan told Michael, retying his damp blue hair. “I incinerated it, along with all the fuckers Maloch brought.”

“He came after me,” Blaéz admitted. “He wanted either me or my soul back. I skewered him. Bastard won't be a problem.” Hooking his thumbs in his pants pockets, Blaéz told them the rest. “His sister wanted vengeance. Seems he’s been messing around with family members. He caged his younger sibling with me.” A shrug. “I killed him — I killed many then — so I can't recall it.”

Blaéz filled them in about Nora, and how she’d fostered a friendship with Darci after tracing his soul to her, but did nothing, except for setting up the confrontation between Maloch and him. “She had it all planned, Maloch’s eventual downfall. She sliced his carotid before I could end him, said something about me being unable to kill him due to a spell he used to tie us.”

Michael nodded. “About Maloch, found out something. Did you know who he was?”

Blaéz shrugged. “No… he could have told me. I don’t remember, didn't care. I just wanted the fucker dead.”

“Understandable,” Michael agreed. “It’s surprising he didn't gloat that fact to you.”

“Who?” Týr demanded.

“A spawn of Leviathan, the Sin of Envy,” Michael said.

“Of course,” Blaéz muttered. “It all makes sense now. Why I was tugged down to that level of Hell. Own me, a coup for him. And probably why he was able to bring that damn weapon here, too.”

Michael’s harsh expression eased a little. “Darci? She’s okay?”

At the thought of how little time she had left, Blaéz’s chest tightened. “She gave me back my soul — what do you think?”

No one said a word. The floor appeared far more interesting.

The rustling shower had stopped. Blaéz glanced over his shoulder into the bedroom and straightened from the doorjamb. Týr rose, joining Aethan, both of their gazes filling with empathy.

God, he so hated being faced with
that
shit. How the hell did pity help, except for hammering another nail into his already shattering life, reminding him just how fast time flew.

Aethan stopped him. “You need anything, call.”

“Yeah.” Týr nodded in agreement, and they headed down the corridor, the sounds of their booted footfalls fading. Blaéz turned to find Michael still there. “It’s over, Blaéz.”

“Is it? Sure, the fucker is no more, but what about Darci? How do I stop her from dying in the next few days?”

When Michael said nothing, Blaéz stalked into his room and shut the door quietly behind him.

The violence inside him grew. He wanted to make Maloch pay — to hurt, so damn bad.

Not because of his own tortured past, but for touching his mate, for shortening her life span even more. But the bastard was dead, and nothing could heal the pain inside him, one he had no idea how to fix, or shut off at the thought of his mate dying.

“We should stay in today.”

Darci looked up at the sound of Blaéz’s voice. She pushed away the brunch plate that held a half eaten chicken sandwich and a slice of chocolate cake she hadn’t touched.

Late morning sunlight poured in through the library windows and highlighted Blaéz’s unreadable features in clear detail as he watched her from across the desk, his own meal barely touched.

She wanted to reassure him that everything would be all right, but that would be a lie. So she did the hardest thing she ever had to, and smiled playfully. “Okay. But tomorrow I’ll have a new bucket-list now that we’ve completed the others.”

A tic worked his jaw. She felt his frustration. “Don’t, Blaéz,” she said softly. Reaching across, she covered his hands resting on the desk. “I loved every minute of our time together.”

The last three days had been amazing.

He’d taken her to the beach just past the cliffs on the north side of the island. She’d spent several idyllic hours with him, walking on the white sands and wading the shallow waters.

The following day he’d shown her more of the parkland gardens of the estate then stopped at the gazebo on the lake where someone — Hedori probably — had laid out lunch on the low wicker table for them. She’d fallen asleep afterwards. There was no escaping that change in her. The tiredness.

Yesterday, when she still refused to visit her brother, Blaéz didn't push. Instead, he’d taken her for a drive along the coast, showing her the beautiful lighthouses she wanted to see, then stopping for lunch in a cozy little restaurant on the way back.

“It’s been perfect,” she whispered.

Blaéz freed his hands and covered hers with his warm ones. For a brief moment, he shut his eyes tight. Meeting her gaze once more, he rose. “I’ll light the fire.”

He crossed to the hearth, lowered to his haunches and manually lit the wood already piled there.

She watched him for a second, and realized he was trying not to show her his own anguish. Helpless, with no idea what to do, she pushed away from the desk. Her gaze dropped to the coffee table opposite the fireside. At the sight of the old scrolls and books scattered there, her heart stuttered. Blaéz might have given her all she wanted in the last few days, but he couldn’t hide his frantic search to find a way to help her live longer.

Deep inside her, she felt the broken fragments. Nothing lined up right any more. There was no fixing her fractured soul.

Unable to look at that reminder, she gathered some of the books and took them to their shelves. As she slotted them back in place, a wave of exhaustion swept through her, she clutched the wooden ledge.

She was weakening. And Blaéz knew it. Yet, he remained silent, gave her what she wanted. But when he thought she wasn't watching, she’d seen the torment in his eyes.

With a trembling hand, she tucked back a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail, wishing there was some way she could ease his pain. Maybe she could take him on a short walk to the lake. She liked that place, and it wasn’t far.

As she turned from the shelf, the soft strains of a familiar song floated to her.

Blaéz had slotted his cell phone in an iPod dock on the mantel above the fireplace, the music filling the library. She watched as he crossed to her. So tall and beautiful, his eyes a darker blue and filled with love. He held out his hand. Her heart thudding painfully against her ribs, not daring to believe, she set her palm into his. He drew her close, his arm sliding around her waist, giving her the support she needed. His other hand clasped hers and held it against his chest.

Slowly, he swayed with her to the music, his gaze holding hers as Shayne Ward’s haunting lyrics filled the room…
Nothing’s impossible, nothing’s unreachable…

Tears burned for release. She whispered, “You don’t dance.”

He brought her fingers to his lips. “For you, I do. Only for you.”

Slipping her free hand around his waist, she rested her face on his chest. He lowered his head to hers and softly sang the words to her. Shocked surprise turned to pleasure, then pain. Tears leaked from her eyes as his low baritone filled her ears.

Each word pulsed with his love. She bunched the fabric of his shirt and held him tight, her breath hitching. Unable to go on with anguish and despair crowding her, she stopped dancing.

With a finger, he tilted her face then brushed away her unending tears with his thumb. “It wasn't meant to make you cry.”

“I know. You-you gave me my dance, my song…”

“You had this in your CD player.” He drew her close and moved with her to the music again. “I listened to them and chose this one.”

Darci drew in a shaky breath. This moment would stay with her forever. Memories flowed at how she’d met him… and all that had happened. She’d lived a lifetime in a few short weeks with him.

As the song drew to the end, she looked up, her throat too clogged with emotions to speak. His eyes gleamed wet. He pressed his lips to her brow then led her to the couch, his tone raspy. “Rest. I’ll go get you something to drink.”

***

Blaéz strode into a smaller living room a short corridor away from the library and threw open the outer door. The brisk air did little to cool his pain, his anger. He narrowed his gaze on the birds roosting on the shrubs nearby.

“Summon her. Now!”

In a cacophony of noise, the cawing crows took to the sky. He stepped out onto the small terrace. Raking his fingers through his short hair, he watched the skies. Memories of Darci in his arms moments ago filled his mind… he tried to be strong for her, but the cracks in his emotional shield widened. Heavens, how could she be so brave knowing what would happen, when he was barely holding himself together?

At the sound of flapping wings, he looked up. A raven swooped down. All the pain and anger bleeding through him swirled into a raging thunderstorm as The Morrigan took form.

He never hated his heritage and her the way he did right then.

“Blaéz.” She smiled. Her happiness evident that he’d called her. “You are well indeed. Your eyes are beautiful once more. What is it you need?”

He would have preferred never having to summon her for anything, but when it came to Darci, he’d go on his bloody knees and plead if need be. “You brought this curse to light. Undo it. Save her.”

She sighed. “I cannot. It’s a pledge already set.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. For every curse there has to be a counter one, even I know that!”

“The choice was always hers. Free will—”

“Free will? You fucking blackmailed her,” he snarled. “She bravely gave my damn soul back even knowing what her fate would be.”

The Morrigan waved away his words with an impatient hand. “We are powerful beings, we form alliances. You will find another mate more suited. Matters of the heart are for the weak.”

His hands clenching, the air around him turned icy. “Then this meet is a waste of time. You say nothing I want to hear. Leave. Take your birds with you. I am not bound to the laws of the Celtic pantheon or interested in your plans.”

“Blaéz.” She pushed back the hood of her gray cape, appearing a little flustered. “Had I not gifted her bloodline with your soul, you would have never met. She fights her destiny, lingers on this realm just to be with you.”

Her declaration was a punch to his heart. Images of Darci lying dead on the ground filled him with anguish, knowing that it would soon come to pass. Not even Aethan’s ability could bring her back this time. He’d come across Aethan and Týr pouring over the ancient scripts, searching for a way to help Darci. But nothing could, not with what The Morrigan had done.

Blaéz rubbed his burning eyes. “How long?”

“I cannot say…” She paused and he knew she was already scanning Darci. “A day. Two.”

Oh, Christ. He squeezed his eyelids shut, his heart shuddering in pain. How the hell was this fair? At the light fingers brushing his jaw, he jerked away, eyes snapping open. Her hand clenched. He spun around and made for the door.

“Blaéz, wait.” He ignored her and entered the living room, but her voice followed him. “There is one other way, but as a mortal, it would be hell on her. The price too high.”

He pivoted. The Morrigan stood in a patch of sunlight on the porch, looking the exact opposite of what she truly was, like some fucking merciful deity, instead one of death. “What?”

“To save her, I can create a pact with The Forces that rule the Limbo Realm. All that is needed is her blood oath.”

He walked back outside. “And the price is?”

“When she dies at the end of her mortal life, The Forces will claim her soul as payment. She would never be able to leave or ascend to the final resting place for humans. To their Heaven.”

Blaéz glared at her in disbelief. “You are fucking crazy if you think I will put her through that hell. She gave up her life for me —
me!
”

“Nothing is without cost, it’s always about balance. Your soul was loaned to her in good faith. It was never hers. She only exists now because I gifted it to her. Even if you do claim her in the elemental way of our kind, there is no guarantee of a soul joining. Hers is too frail. Besides, as immortals, we only have one chance at that — do not waste it.”

Unable to handle the fury raging through him, he punched the wall beside the door. Pieces of rubble rained to the floor.

“Blaéz!” She grasped his ruined hand.

He shrugged her off. The pain spreading through his cracked bones and bleeding knuckles did little to mend the ruptures in his heart. Rage gave way to crushing agony, as if his entire being had splintered into a million pieces. He had to go back to Darci, knowing he’d failed her again.

Two days — two miserable fucking days! Or accept the Limbo deal so he could have her with him.

God damn him and his
mother
to Hell.

***

Blaéz stalked into the kitchen drenched with sunlight, but nothing could melt the ice inside him. How could he damn the love of his life to oblivion? Have her live forever in a gray in-between world, unable to have eternal peace? Watch others pass through to a final resting place she could never ascend to, just so he could have her?

He squeezed his eyes tight and knew he could never do that to her.

With a heavy heart, he picked up a pot and poured the energy strengthening tea Hedori had brewed into a cup. She needed the potion now with her lack of appetite. The kitchen door opened and Michael walked inside. “We need to talk.”

“Not now.” He’d already wasted too many precious minutes of his two damn days away from Darci.

“It will only take a minute. I spoke to Gaia.”

At the ancient goddess’s name, Blaéz slowly set the teapot aside and met Michael’s unwavering stare. “It could have waited. I have eternity for you all to screw me over.”

Michael said nothing. His usual annoyance at Blaéz’s determination to flout his rules was a kick in Blaéz’s face. Just as well the Arc had cut out the pity. He didn't need that shit right now. “Just spill, Michael, what is it?”

“Her verdict is you haven’t broken her rules because you’d already been bound to the demon when she took your allegiance. You had no knowledge of that tie until that first summoning. Since you’ve been through hell and back, literally — several times over — there is no need to prolong your torment with more agony as you still live with your current one.”

His hand fisted, causing the scabs forming on his knuckles to split and bleed again. “Indeed. From one damnation to another, living eternity without my mate. I would have preferred death.”

Blaéz picked up the cup and walked out of the silent kitchen. This entire place reminded him of a fucking fast-closing tomb.