Courting Darkness (39 page)

Had that beast not tried to kill her, she might have felt sorry for it. As it was, she couldn’t help but feel a small measure of self-satisfaction that it would soon reap the wrath of her warrior.

A night didn’t go by that the burnt orange Charger didn’t pass the home of Olivia’s parents. Not once or twice, but several times—as if the driver of the vehicle expected the result to be different each time he cased the place. Then again, Haden’s monotony was hardly any better, watching and waiting with a patience he thought himself incapable of. The only difference between him and the creeper was that Haden knew why he was here—knew that eventually Liam would have to bring Olivia back, and when he did, she’d undoubtedly want to see her parents.

He’d given up on tracking her a week ago when her trail went cold in Mississippi. Haden had no idea how Liam had managed to hide her, but he’d pulled a
Houdini
with the female. There was no question she was gone, and he was unwilling to consider the possibility that his skills as a hunter were lacking.

If that female was anywhere on God’s green earth, he’d have found her. So, herein lies the million dollar question: Where the fuck was she? He refused to believe she was dead, which was just about the only explanation he could come up with. Each and every time his mind went there, a knot formed in his gut and a crushing ache centered in his chest, robbing his lungs of air.

No. She wasn’t dead, he told himself—she couldn’t be. Liam wasn’t stupid, and this wasn’t that angel’s first rodeo. Liam would give his life for her. That, Haden was certain of, and that bastard was hard to kill, so despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, he was relatively certain the female still lived.

What he wasn’t certain of, however, was why the guy in the Charger was so damn interested in her. It was as if he, too, eagerly awaited Olivia’s return. After the first day of watching the guy make numerous passes by her home, Haden dismissed the notion that the guy was simply a concerned friend of hers. Were he that, he would have rang her parents’ doorbell, offered his condolences, and perhaps inquired as to if they’d heard word from her. No, this male was no friend, which only left one other option—foe.

Abandoning his post across the street, Haden pulled his purloined ride behind the guy and followed at a discrete distance. They drove through town, ambling down the pre-dawn streets without purpose. It was almost as if the guy had nowhere to go, or at least didn’t want to be there. Growing tired of this cat and mouse game, Haden was about to make his presence known when the guy took a turn down a residential street, home to blocks of rundown duplexes, and pulled into the driveway of a rather decrepit-looking shit box. Haden parked along the road a few houses back before cutting the lights. The guy climbed out of his car and stopped, looking up at the second story window. Following his gaze, Haden noted the flickering ambient light of a television. Still, Olivia’s stalker stood there, watching…waiting.

What the fuck was this guy doing? Haden’s hand shot to the door handle, about to exit the car and ask just that, when the shadow of a tall, lanky male shrouded in a hooded mantle crossed in front of the window. Haden froze, shock initially stopping him cold, his blood turning to ice as his instincts told him what his mind refused to accept.

Gahn was here.

Evil hung in the air, a palpable supernatural fog that stirred Haden’s own darkness to life. He couldn’t look at his father without seeing Anya’s beautiful face, without feeling her lifeless body in his arms, or smelling the heady copper tang of her spilt blood. The sharp knife of betrayal quickly gave way to rage stabbing through his heart. His pulse quickened, hatred burning like acid in his gut, turning his veins to ash. With every fiber of his being, he ached to claim the vengeance long due him—for Anya, for his sanity.

Damn Liam… If he had that stone, this could all be over. The chance to avenge his beloved was right here, right before his eyes, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. The impotence was nigh crippling. At present, he wasn’t even in possession of his dagger. If he’d had the blade, he might have said fuck it and pulled a Hail Mary. It mattered not if he walked away from Gahn, as long as that bastard went down with him. But he couldn’t be assured that would happen, not without Immanuel’s Stone, and Haden wasn’t willing to take that chance. Cursing Liam, he waited for the demon’s scout to enter the duplex before starting his car and returning to ground zero.

Chapter Thirty

Olivia scrambled off the bed and rushed to the closet, snagging one of the gowns Rebecca had left for her. After a moment of struggling into the billowy silk, she finagled the zipper closed in the back. Hitching up her skirts, she raced down the hall after Liam.

By the time her bare feet hit the landing, Rebecca and Niall were entering the foyer and the front door swung open. If she lived a hundred years, she swore she’d never forget the sight of Liam filling the entrance. Her hand flew up, muffling her startled gasp. The fire burning in Liam’s amethyst gaze was so preternaturally lethal, a shudder of alarm raced up her spine. The hard set of his rigid jaw was clenched with fury. His already dark hair was now streaked jet black, ink dripping from the tips, splattering on the floor as he stepped inside. The Correan’s blood covered his bare chest, his pants… Either he was immune to the acidic burn of the creature’s blood or did not care, because the angel made no haste to rid himself of the violence literally covering him head to toe.

Niall’s top lip curled in approval, his grin more a sardonic sneer as he gave Liam a chin nod of approval. “Figured you’d want me to leave him for ya.”

Pushing his hair out of his face, the long damp strands remained slicked back as he ambled past them. He wiped his palm against the thigh of his jeans and grunted an acknowledgement.

“You ask me, you missed your calling, my friend. You sure you aren’t part rogue?” Niall jeered, clearly enjoying the show.

“Had you asked me that three days ago, my answer would have been different,” he verily growled, marching down the hall toward the bathroom. A moment later, the door slammed and the water pipes running through the ceiling gave a shrill whine.

To Olivia’s ire, Niall appeared entirely too pleased by the whole scene. With an exasperated huff, she spun away and headed down the hall. The dark angel’s amused chuckle echoed at her back, grating against her nerves like broken glass. That was one angel she was not going to miss, she mused, halting at the bathroom door. Olivia lifted her hand to rap her knuckles against the wood panel and then hesitated. Maybe she should just walk in. Seeking admittance would only give him the opportunity to deny her.

Forgoing the courtesy knock, she cracked the door and slipped inside. Leaning against it, she stepped back until the latch softly clicked. She didn’t speak as she approached, thinking it was a miracle in itself that six and a half feet of muscle-bound warrior could even fit inside that small tub. Were it not so serious, were his mood not so snarly, it would have actually been funny seeing him try to finagle in that thing. As it was, he was having a hell of a time submerging his head in the pooling water.

He cast her the briefest glance before grabbing a rag, squeezing some soap on it, and proceeding to scrub his chest. The inky black liquid only smeared across his muscled pecks, an impatient curse ripe on his tongue.

Olivia reached up to the cabinet and withdrew the same jar of salve Rebecca had given her last night. Kneeling at the side of the tub, she twisted off the cap, scooped out a healthy amount, and smeared the rosemary degreaser across his chest.

“I don’t want you touching me like this. I’m covered in Correan blood.”

“Let me help you,” she insisted, pulling the rag from Liam’s reluctant grasp. “You can barely move in here.” As she worked her hands over his stained flesh, the blood melted away. At her insistence, he didn’t resist her ministrations, nor did his body relax to her touch. Tension still thrummed in his corded muscles, the tight clench of his jaw hinting at his tolerance over her washing him.

“Can you scoot lower? Getting this out of your hair is going to be a nightmare.” His silent compliance brought a small smile to her lips. Dipping a pitcher between his parted knees, she filled it and then poured it over his head. As she worked the rosemary scrub into his hair, she teased, “I hope you’re not expecting another happy ending when this bath is done.”

A snort of suppressed laughter broke from his chest, and she thought perhaps a measure of tension eased from his taut muscles.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a very inappropriate sense of humor?”

“Once or twice. Have
I
ever told
you
how hopelessly in love I am with you?”

He chuckled. The low throaty rumble brought a smile to her lips.

“Once or twice.”

Olivia grabbed the shampoo off the counter, added it to his hair, and worked it into a lather. As her fingers massaged his scalp, nails scratching lightly, his body finally began to relax. The wide set of his shoulders dropped, the rigid stiffness of his spine eased, allowing him to lean forward.

“You’re my hero, you know that? You always have been and you always will be. Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you for helping me get my memory back.”

The crackle of lathering suds filled the stretching silence between them. After a moment, he softly replied, “I love you, Olivia.”

The wearing of Haden’s patience had since gone thread bare. In light of his recent discovery, he abandoned his current stakeout for the hunt of another predator. As he sat recluse in the corner of Waterworks nursing a glass of his current drug of choice, tequila, his fixed gaze followed the arrogant cockstand across the room. The guy was over-average height and stature by human standards. Definitely big enough to impose his will on Olivia, whatever that may be. And given shitdick’s current roomie, “whatever” was definitely not good.

Batting zero for four, the guy ambled over to the bar and parked his ass in the empty seat between two women. Haden waited patiently for strike five. A few minutes later, the brunette on the left grabbed her drink and stalked off.

Taking up his own glass and ready for a refill, Haden sidled up to the bar and posted on the vacant stool. Apparently, the guy possessed the self-awareness of a toad. Death sat beside him, and yet he gave no notice, so intent he was to dip his dick in the blonde beside him. Haden was sorely tempted to reach over and snap the bastard’s neck as he tried in vain to catch the attention of the woman. The only thing staying his hand was the knowledge that once Gahn’s pawn was dead, the bastard would have no choice but to find another patsy, and Haden couldn’t risk losing his true target.

The blonde kept her face angled away from her would-be suitor. Disinterest rankled off the woman like she’d bathed in a bottle of
Back the Hell Off
from
Estée Fuck-You Lauder
. Sick as shit of waiting around for this train wreck to happen, Haden knocked his elbow into the guy’s forearm he leaned heavily on, trying to grab Blondie’s attention. Either too drunk or too stupid to get the hint, Haden nailed the guy again when his first attempt went unnoticed. This time, the guy’s drink splashed over his hand and onto the bar.

The guy whipped his head around—
about fucking time—
anger flashing in his bloodshot eyes. “What the fuck, man!”

Haden kept his posture low, back hunched, shoulders slumped, to disguise his true size. Keeping his voice low so the female wouldn’t hear him laying claim to her, he growled, “That’s my woman you’re practically dry-humping, asshole.”

Olivia’s stalker straightened in his seat, his chest puffed out like a cock in a hen house. “That so?”

Hearing the slurred reply, a grin tugged at Haden’s top lip. “Yep. And you see that one over there?” He pointed to the brunette across the bar, the one who’d most recently vacated Haden’s seat. “That one’s mine, too. And that one, and that one, and that one.”