Kyrian sidestepped a clothing rack, giving a wide berth to two half-naked women as they grappled and swung. Screeching at a decibel beyond imagination, their altercation seemed to be focused on the last Cat Woman costume in size four and the Superhero Hallowe’en party of the century tomorrow night. The blonde salesgirl—ironically dressed as a naughty-cop—tried to hold them apart, while her brunette Pocha-hottie co-worker muttered into her walkie for help.
Cue two muscle-heads in stretched black T’s striding in to break up the fun.
Amusing as a cat-fight would normally be, the influx of testosterone and hostility made Kyrian itch. He slid beyond the drama and followed the short corridor to the close quarters of the boutique’s private dressing area.
From the back, the mass of hulking male acting as a blockade could have been either of the Egyptian twins. The absence of a spiked dog-collar gave it away. Kyrian drew a deep breath, hoped for the best and steeled himself for the worst. “Seth, how’s things, my brother?”
“Greek.” Seth offered his tattooed fist up for a bump and shifted to unblock the entry. “Same ole. Cleaning up on the streets and in the sheets. You? How’s the clinic and that Lightworlder doc of yours?”
Kyrian shrugged, stepped into the 10 x 10 mirrored sitting area, and positioned himself to watch the doorway and the corridor beyond. “Clinic’s almost operational. Drina’s a rock star. She’s got mean skills.”
Seth’s cool smile morphed into a slow, sly grin he’d seen all too often. Horny motherfucker. “I hear that.”
Really? Was there anyone in the three realms Seth and his twin hadn’t sampled—jointly or one-on-one. Kyrian rubbed a hand across his jaw and exhaled. “At least tell me you treated her well. It was just you, right? Seth?”
Seth chuckled and waggled his brow. “Consenting adults, Greek. S’all good. And trust me, you don’t want or need the details.” Seth resumed his position in front of the access hallway, his bulk sucking the walls of the space in close and the ceiling down tight. His brother-in-arms wasn’t one of those bulging ‘roid-droid types. Seth and his twin were massive warriors who fed, fought and fucked like machines.
Kyrian met his gaze and tried to read his mood. “You don’t seem surprised to see me. Are we good?”
“Us? Always.” As he scrubbed his fingertips against his dark, buzzcut hair, his jacket shifted, and the butt of his Glock made a quick appearance. He had his double holster on, so the matching piece would be under the other arm of his trench. Kyrian approved. The guy was guarding precious cargo. “And no, I’m not surprised she insisted on a shopping trip today. She misses you fierce and a mall crawl is the one place Zander would never follow.”
Kyrian leaned forward and lowered his voice. “So, how is Z? How’s his control?”
Seth locked eyes on the fitting room door and frowned. “With her . . . perfect. I’ve never seen anything like it. He’ll be at DEFCON 1 and about to go CANDU reactor over something and she’ll lay her palm on his chest and you can actually feel the energy in the air settle. With everyone else . . . well, let’s just say we’re all giving him space.”
Kyrian knew about giving Zander’s dark side space. After Austin’s resurrection from the dead, she’d lain unconscious for three days. During those uncertain seventy-two hours, Zander lost himself to the full force of his transformation. He’d ripped into the Shedim slayer responsible for the attack, violated and tortured the bastard like one of the vile scum they were bred to fight against. He never imagined Zander capable of crossing that line.
Still couldn’t believe it.
With all traces of duty and honor lost, reasoning with Zander had been impossible. Kyrian had stepped in to save his brother’s soul. Zander, however, didn’t see it that way.
“She in there?”
Seth nodded. “If you’ve got our girl, I’ll go check out the squawk-and-scuffle and give you two some privacy.”
“Thanks, my man. And Seth . . .” His brother glanced back over his shoulder and Kyrian was struck by how much he’d missed the wisecracking pain in the ass. “I swear I won’t jam you up with Zander. If he finds out, I’ll fall on the blade.”
Seth waved away Kyrian’s concern. “S’all good, Greek. S’all good.”
Alone in the boxy sitting area, Kyrian shifted for a better defensive position and scanned the mirrored walls of the room. The way they were angled reflected twenty little white platform stages, twenty pansy-assed velveteen sofas, and twenty raven-haired Greeks that hadn’t slept in way too long. He leaned forward, giving the hollows under his cheekbones and the dark circles under his eyes a dispassionate once over. Man, those bags being reflected gave his face a hard-ass edge.
He slid his fingers down the front of his new Balmain military jacket and released the silver epaulets out of their moorings. The two halves of his jacket hung open. It would be the work of a split second to reach his twin SIG forty’s tucked snug at the small of his back. And if needed, he had another dozen weapons concealed in inside pockets, depending on what type of daemon or evil had the balls to slither into his path.
He rapped a knuckle on the buttercream colored door. “How you doing in there, sweetheart?”
“Kyrian!” Austin’s silky southern drawl pegged him square in the chest. The door flung open and she latched around him. Silky mahogany hair brushed his cheek and a wave of coconut shampoo filled his sinuses. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”
He needed to loosen the cage of their embrace before his scent was all over her. He willed his arms to release her or his legs to take a step back, but that was a big no-go. He was rooted in place, right where he needed to be. His fingers clenched her hair, and he pulled her closer. For the first time in two months, he drew a full, deep breath. “So, how’s married life?”
Austin pulled him toward the loveseat opposite the mirrored walls and he helped her settle. Being blind didn’t slow her down any and even less now that she could see members of the Otherworld. The positioning of the couch compromised his line-of-sight, but he sat next to her as she proceeded to fill him in on everything he’d missed at the loft. After fighting alongside his squad for the past millennia, two months of exile was negligible.
Honestly, he didn’t care what daemon drama they’d faced since Zander had taken him off rotation. Serpentines. Poltergeist. Wraith. None of it held his interest in that moment.
He let her talk, drinking in every word. The smooth southern cadence and her unending smile warmed him within. Damn. Only a bastard fixated on a woman married to his brother. Zander and Austin were in love. And he wouldn’t change that for all the longing in his pitifully empty life. Whatever.
This thing he felt for her was what it was—and he had no idea what that was.
Over the course of the next half hour, the two salesgirls poked their heads in to check on them like expectant prairie dogs. When it was obvious Austin wouldn’t be hurried or interrupted, they retreated to the chaos of their end of summer sale up front, looking like they needed a little liquid sedative and some TLC after closing.
He sighed. They weren’t the only ones. After a couple of hours out with Austin, he was going to be raw and only too happy to join them in smoothing away the rough edges of the day. He might even pop back and take them up on that. Once Austin was safely back in the loft with her husband of course.
“So, what do you think?” Austin stepped onto the little platform stage and struck a pose so that twenty Austins sporting wrist-biting, ice-blue, goddess costumes reflected back at him. The sheer fabric cut low enough up front to make a monk stand at attention and high enough along her silky thighs to barely cover her hoohaw—as she called it.
“You are utterly delicious, sweetheart,” he swallowed, “but Zander will be homicidal the entire night if you wear that . . . and killing the clientele is bad for business. I think a full-length gown would be better.” “
Austin swept her chestnut hair up into a chignon and pivoted like a runway model. “Such a den mother, Kyrian. I invited you shopping so I wouldn’t end up being covered from stem to stern. If Zander gets his way, I’ll be a nun or a mummy or something.”
He laughed. She had Z pegged.
Dropping her hair, it cascaded down her back and he watched as it caught the halogen lights twinkling from all angles. She tilted her head to the side and turned her hazel gaze on him. “It’s my first theme night at the club. I want to turn heads. Besides, if I wear a full-length gown, nobody will see my gladiator heels.”
He scanned the line of her long, perfect legs and shook his head. Gold leather straps wrapped up from four-inch heels to tie just below her knee. “I lived through the Roman Empire, cowgirl, and no gladiator ever wore heels like that.”
“Too tough to maneuver the sand of the Colosseum?”
“And too much hair on their legs to pull it off.”
She giggled. “Fortunately, there’s no sand on the dance floor of the club and I shaved my legs this morning. I’m good.”
Scratching the nape of his neck he knew this ship was sinking. “Austin, you realize Z is going to have an aneurysm when he sees you wearing this, right? Blood will be spilled.”
The glimmer in her eyes told him she was counting on it.
“Yee-fucking-haw, Austin,” Seth choked, stepping back into the change area. “We’re buying that one too, right?”
She smiled and sauntered back to the change room. “Thanks, Seth, and yes. Can you settle our bill? I’m wore out and don’t want Zander riled up because we’re out in the big, bad world too long.”
“As you wish, milady.” Seth grabbed the costume and the gold, strappy shoes as she opened the door a crack and handed them out.
Kyrian passed over a Lady Zorro costume with leather thigh-high boots and a naughty nurse costume with a stethoscope that were laying on the arm of the sofa.
“Oh, and Seth?” she said, peeking out the door. “Grab a full-length goddess costume too, would ya? No way is Zander letting me out of the loft in any of the others.”
Seth nodded and left to take care of things.
Kyrian laughed and checked himself in the mirror. “Okay, you had me going for a minute. I honestly thought you meant to wear those to the party at the club.”
Her laughter rang strong and expanded in his tight chest, filling his lungs.
“Hey, sweetie?” She stepped out of the change room in worn jeans and a cotton, peasant blouse, her purse slung over her shoulder. “We’re getting Thai take-out on the way home. I’m crazy hungry. Any chance you could be persuaded to come back with us for dinner?”
Kyrian’s bubble burst. “Sorry, sweetheart. Drina’s waiting at the clinic—”
She narrowed her gaze and pointed a manicured finger at his chest. “You two must think I’m dumber than dirt. I don’t buy all this clinic malarkey as an excuse for you being gone. I know y’all think it’s protecting me, but you will never fix what’s broken by avoiding each other. Grab hold of those reins big-boy and come home.”
As they headed out to the main part of the store, he tucked her in close. “Give it time. I’m fine at the clinic until Zander’s emotions settle.”
“A racetrack is not a home. I know because I spent fifteen years practically living in horse stalls. Your home is in the loft with us.”
“Not right now, it isn’t. I don’t want you worrying though. S’all good.”
Austin sighed. “I’ll keep at him. I’m sure if—”
He squeezed her to his side and kissed her cheek. “Let it be, cowgirl. Zander’s adjusting to a lot and his beast is stubborn as hell. He’ll come around, and in the meantime, all you have to do is decide which costume he’s going to rip off you first. You’re about to make Zander a very happy man.”
Austin pretended not to notice the tightness in Kyrian’s usually charming smile. He and Zander played a good game. They spoke cordially when folks were watching, but she knew her husband’s second in command as well as she knew Zander.
Best friends were like that.
Something had knocked their relationship off the trail when she was kidnapped and killed by the Shedim Slayer, Stryker. Neither would speak of those horrible days—none of the warriors, actually—but she understood why. Zander had almost killed himself drawing her back from the dead, and Danel was hurt so badly he would likely never fight again.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Kyrian asked.
She nodded and accepted the bags to keep Seth and Kyrian’s hands-free for weapons. With a hold on Kyrian’s elbow, they escorted her from the costume boutique out into the wide expanse of the Eaton Centre. The concrete and glass surfaces of the massive mall caused the sounds to bounce around from all angles. The noise disoriented her a bit. She preferred to walk on her own with Stetson to guide her but Zander thought it easier for his men to whisk her to safety without a ninety-pound chocolate lab getting into the mix.
She loved the Eaton Centre. They hated it.
Kyrian was a shopping man-whore, and Seth was usually up for anything, but the security issues with sight lines in a place made mostly of glass made her bodyguards as nervous as long-tailed cats in a room of rocking chairs. In truth, they were Nephilim warriors in a world full of demons, but the metaphor remained the same.
She glanced up to where skylights arched six storeys above their heads. The sun’s light warmed her face as she imagined the flock of sculpted Canada geese that hung suspended in flight beneath the slate blue October sky. Kyrian had described it to her in such detail the first time they’d come here together, she could see it clearly in her mind’s eye. That was while he hid her from the archangels, while Zander tried to smooth things over so they could be together. Only, she thought they’d all be together.
She drew a deep breath and tried not to tear up . . . again.
Zander’s magic mojo had given her back more than her life . . . it had given her him and his men. They were her life now. And ever since Lady Divinity blessed their union, she’d been able to see them. Not in the traditional sense of sight, but she could see the auras and colors of the Otherworld around her. It was a kaleidoscope of silhouettes and colors and, in the case of Zander, Kyrian and the others, she could see them fully. Their massive outlines, their muscle-bound warrior frames, and their Watchers’ marks—the ornate tattoo record of the demon souls they claimed and carried within them. They were terrifyingly beautiful.
As the mechanical hiss signaled the arrival of the glass elevator, Kyrian’s palm left the small of her back and Seth shielded their entry. While other, human shoppers shuffled behind them and moved to enter, Kyrian stood at his full height and breadth to block their entrance. Though the mall crowd started to complain, whatever expression he threw their way stopped all objections.
Confident, powerful, and as alpha as her Sumerian husband, the olive-skinned Greek was a credit to the warrior training he’d received millennia ago. Not as massive as Seth and Phoenix’s pro-wrestler physiques, Kyrian was lithe, wickedly sexy and intimidated everyone.
Well, everyone except her and Zander.
When the doors hissed shut, the elevator began its descent. Kyrian shifted and joined Seth in blocking her from the glass walls of the elevator. The pair scanned the flurry of shoppers below muttering observations of the humans and Otherworlders flitting and filling the atrium below. Mothers with strollers sat along the edge of the fountain, and shoppers laden down with bags rode up and down the escalators in a life-sized game of chutes and ladders.
Of course, the humans couldn’t see the daemons among them, but they could. The Seraph blood running in Nephilim veins allowed them to see past the enchantments that disguised the identities of both Dark and Light. And now, she could see those things too. Things she’d never known back when she’d lived life as an oblivious human. Things she sometimes wished she couldn’t see now.
Seth retrieved his phone from the hip pocket of his long, leather slicker and raised it to his ear. “Side door in two, my brother.”
Outside the confines of the elevator, the sharp echo of a thousand voices bombarded. It lowered decibel by decibel as they made their way from the main floor of the center, down a side hall, and toward the parking garage. Austin knew the drill. Reaching the inside of the metal fire door, Seth looked out the hatched-glass window and waited the few seconds until a quick, sharp horn sounded on the other side.
She tucked in tight to Kyrian’s side. Zander was crazy overprotective, no doubt, but after experiencing the evil tip of the Darkworlder iceberg she would never argue. She followed Kyrian’s lead through the door. If a security force made her angelman feel better when she was out in public, she’d deal.
One parking garage was the same as the next—the chill of concrete construction, the hum of fluorescent lights, the dank air that smelled like sweat and the reverberating sounds of unseen activity above, below and beyond. It was that activity that set her boys on edge.
Kyrian’s grip tightened. His pale green gaze swept their surroundings. Fixated on all the gray and gloomy, his gaze hardened. She felt it then, that itch she’d gotten a few times since Zander brought her back. The needle-tip prickling at the back of her neck. A Nephilim early warning system that never came early enough.
“Gun!” Kyrian tackled her to the side. Bullets hissed past her ears. Concrete exploded. They hit the garage floor. Pain exploded. The chill of the floor beneath contrasted the heat spreading over her. Commands ricocheted as Seth and Phoenix closed in on them.
One minute she was flat on the ground with Kyrian blanketing her, the next she was tossed into the back seat of the truck, bullets raining down on them. The reinforced glass of the Navigator’s windows puckered and pocked, but nothing penetrated. Car horns sounded. Cries of shock and fear rang through the air as people scrambled to take cover.
Kyrian leaned into the back seat and ripped open her bloody shirt. Searching her skin, his fingers trembled, his eyes wild and filled with rage.
“Her arm,” Seth barked over his shoulder from where he was covering Kyrian’s back.
Ripping a cloth strip from his shirt, Kyrian wrapped it round and round the wound until the pinch and ache had her crying out.
“It’s superficial. Seth, you’ve got her.” Kyrian rolled out of the truck and drew his weapon. “Phoenix, get her to the clinic. I’m on the shooter.”
“No!” Austin grappled to catch him, the slamming door jarring her hand. White-hot pain shot through her shoulder as the truck interior swirled around her head. “Seth, don’t let him go alone. Don’t let him go.”
Too late. Seth had piled in beside her. “You’re priority, cowgirl. Always.”
The truck barrelled past the rows of parked cars, out the gate, through the honking, screeching traffic on Young Street and up Shuter. The roar of the engine drowned out the shriek of tires as they wove through Toronto mid-day traffic.
“I’m fine, Phoenix.” She scrunched her eyes shut as brakes screeched and they swerved. Her stomach lurched and she snapped them open again. “Don’t kill us trying to save me, please.”
“Shots fired on your Ishah,” Seth said into his phone. She heard Zander’s fury from two feet away. “Superficial . . . yes, I’m sure . . . I’m sure . . . It’s a fucking chicken wing, boss . . . we’re on the way to the clinic now.”
The violent baritone of her husband’s voice matched the rumble of thunder outside. Austin leaned closer to the window, imagining the sky darkening above. A crack of lightning burst across the horizon. She flinched. Zander’s connection to environmental energy had intensified when he’d gone through his transformation. What used to rattle pictures and burst a few light bulbs had grown to mortally dangerous levels.
Seth shook his head. “Okay, boss man, we’re on our way.” Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he leaned toward the front seat. “Change of plans. Z wants her brought to the loft. He’s calling in the archangel to heal her.”
“Raphael?” Austin shook her head. Her arm hurt but it wasn’t that bad—not like last time. She ran a finger over the platinum wrist cuffs Zander had commissioned to hide the ugly pink scars on her wrists. She gathered the tattered halves of her blood-soaked shirt and winced. “Shoot. If I look like a Freddy Kruger victim. He’s going to flip.”
Seth moved to pull his black T-shirt over his head.
She stopped him. “I can’t have your scent all over me when he’s panicked, Seth. His beast will rip you to shreds. Grab me the bag with the sweater I bought.”
Seth helped her out of the rag that ten minutes ago had been her favorite blouse and eased her new sweater along her grazed arm and over her head. When she winced, he pegged her with a scowl. “You’re sure you’re not hurt anywhere else?”
“I’m sure, why?”
He held up his hands and though she couldn’t see the fabric, she could see the glow of Seraph blood. “That’s a lot of blood, isn’t it?”
Seth nodded and cursed.
Kyrian. All the blood drained from her head and the truck interior spun again.
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