Echo flexed her aching fingers. Her biceps burned, and her lungs felt as if all the air inside had escaped. Sweat dripped down her brow and more trickled between her breasts. She lashed out with another hard punch at the swaying sandbag—

“Aaack,” she whimpered, pain rushing through her hand, hurting like holy hell. Hastily, she leaped back before the swinging sandbag blasted her in the face.

Breathing hard, she glanced at her damaged knuckles. Yup, bruised them all. The middle one had split open and bled. Wonderful. She rolled her sore shoulders. She needed to find a willing opponent.

Of the Guardians, only Týr had trained with her, and she had a feeling he held back. A lot. Blaéz, he just gave her pointers but refused to engage in a fight. Hedori, however, took her training seriously, but only with weapons, which was why she appreciated having Ely and Shae as sparring partners. Man, those girls could fight.

As for Aethan… She sighed. No, he wasn’t going to relent. Darn stubborn immortal. She was so tired of hoping, knowing he would never change his mind.

Growling, she spun around and gave the sandbag a hard sidekick. There. That felt good after the tension she’d carried around the entire day. Besides, Darci was the one getting married and under stress. Perhaps she should finish now, shower, and go find her friend and see if she needed any help. After all, she was the maid of honor.

Echo picked up the towel from the bench and wiped her face. As she reached for her water bottle, she frowned, staring at her fingers. What the—?

The bruised skin on her fingers had mended, and the split knuckle only sported a fading pink patch.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

At that low, slightly accented and incredibly sexy voice that always made her toes curl, she spun around. A smile curved the corners of her mouth, her healed fingers forgotten.

“Aethan,” she breathed as he strolled across. The overhead lights reflected off the multiple blue shades of his gorgeous hair, which he’d tied in a stubby ponytail, revealing the small, platinum hoops in his earlobes. The man never failed to take her breath away, even after a year together. “I thought you were busy working on your stock and property stuff?”

“It can wait.”

Oh. “So you’re on your way to meet up with Nik?”

“Rescheduled for later.” He ran his gaze down her body, and his white-flecked gray eyes flared with heat. She swallowed, her body heating up. Yup, he liked her in her knee-length tights and tank top. But she also knew, he was a master of self-control.

Since he wasn’t here to train with her, despite wearing his workout gear, and it wasn’t in her nature to give up, no matter what her earlier thoughts were, she tossed her towel aside, grasped a handful of his t-shirt, and pulled him to her.

She ran her tongue over his lower lip before sucking on it leisurely…sensually. The growl became a groan, and he hauled her into his arms, deepening the kiss in a hungry tangle of tongues. The treacherous buzz of his deadly ability brushed over her psyche. Her breath hitched. God, she loved this dangerous side of him. And reveled in his perilous power as pinpricks of whitefire seeped through her, amping her own desire.

“Damn, Echo,” a rumble rolled out from deep in his chest. His hands slipped between her thighs, and his fingers stroked along her cleft.

Ohh! A moan broke free. Before she got lost in him, she pulled back, instantly missing the seductive warmth of his mouth, the touch of his hand. “Later,” she panted. “After I’m done with my training—”

“Fuck training—”

“Hedori is on his way.” Heck, the lies piled on, but she’d do anything to crack through that formidable will of his for what she truly wanted.

His eyes narrowed. “No, he isn’t. I saw him moments ago, he was headed for the boathouse.”

“Oh, well.” She rolled her eyes, so much for using him as an excuse. “I haven’t finished my allocated time.”

“Of course,” he muttered, the twitch in jaw more pronounced. “C’mon. There’s something I wanted to do. Why I came looking for you.”

“What?”

He didn’t respond but ushered her out and across the hallway to the other door and into the massive training arena with its sweeping, granite walls and gray-tiled floors.

Echo frowned, raking back her damp, over-long bangs from her eyes. “Why are we here?”

Still silent, he shut the door. The last time they were here together a year ago, he’d…

No—no way! Her heart tripped. Her chin dropped, almost smacking her chest in shock. “You’re going to train me?”

“Yes. I realized it’s time.” He strode off for the swords at far end of the arena.

“I’ve been ready for months,” she grumbled. “You refused to see that.”

“Perhaps. Just be glad I’m here now.”

“Aethan, if I’m going do this, getting hurt is part of the deal.”

In a preternatural blur, he moved to the sword stand and selected two lightweight blades. “Not if I can help it,” he muttered under his breath.

“I heard that.”

His head snapped to her. “I’m way across the arena, you couldn’t have heard me.”

“I did…”

The next second, he appeared at her side, his gaze skimming over her. “Aethan, look.” She held out her hands. “I worked the punching bags earlier without gloves”—she ignored his scowl—“and, yeah, they were bruised badly, one knuckle even bled, but look at them now.” She wiggled her fingers excitedly.

Aethan went deathly still, his glower vanishing as he stared at her nearly unblemished skin. The swords dropped from his hold, their clang resonating in the quiet. He grasped her fingers. “Your healing abilities are emerging.”

It was an amazing thing to see his smile, considering how much he hated when she got even a mark on her, and only now had finally caved to her pestering. But just as fast, his expression morphed into that inflexible one she’d become more familiar with when it came to her safety. “I still expect you to fight as if you’re mortal and your life’s on the line.” He pinned her an inflexible stare. “In other words, don’t do anything reckless.”

Ugh, she knew that. As if she wanted to get hurt by the supernatural evil out there.

His gaze on hers, he kissed her knuckles and let her go. “Right, let’s begin.”

He picked up the fallen weapons, handing her one.

Echo swung the blade, testing the weight of it like Hedori had shown her. “What made you change your mind about training with me?” she asked him, curious now, considering his previously rigid stance on the taboo subject.

“It’s been on my mind for a while…” he admitted, watching her moves with an undoubtedly critical eye. “When Dagan and I were in the Dark Realm, rescuing his mate’s mother, he mentioned wanting Shae to learn how to defend herself now that she’s a part of this dangerous life we lead. I realized that I could no longer put off what I had to do.

“You are my entire life Echo, but you are the Healer, too, and I cannot bury my head in the ground.” His gray eyes burning with untold emotions were rimmed with pain. “The thing is, you dying in my arms ripped me apart. It’s an agony I will never forget—one I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. It still lives inside me.”

Echo froze at his revelation and slowly lowered her sword. Aethan didn’t speak much about that horrid time a year ago when she died. And she knew, too, that it was never far from his mind. But, finally hearing him give words to his torment hit her in her chest like a giant-size fist.

A lump lodging in her throat, she ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, her weapon still palmed. “I’m so sorry. In hindsight, I guess I would have reacted differently in the same situation now, but when the person you love more than anything in this world is in danger, you don’t think. You just react to save them…”

A dangerous demonii had captured her and taken her to Hell, believing he could use her abilities as the Healer to traverse realms and take them over. But Aethan had managed to rescue her and kill the demonii, except the demonii’s human accomplice shot at Aethan with a spelled bullet—which would have killed him—but Echo had taken the hit instead.

She blinked back her tears. “I’m here now, and I’m immortal—you made me so.” She smiled, hoping to chase away the shadows in his eyes. “Besides, I can self-heal also. I’ll be fine.”

A sigh barreled out of him as his hold on her tightened, then he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. “I live for you, me’morae.”

“And I, for you,” she whispered, love and tenderness for her hard and very, very lethal mate overwhelming her.

He stepped back several feet, his weapon hanging loosely in his hand. His expression cool, unreadable—the battle-hardened warrior back. “Let’s begin.”

Unfazed, Echo grinned and danced back. “Come on, my big, bad Empyrean.”

Before she could blink, Aethan lunged, his blade swinging. She countered a little too late, the impact of his strike taking her down easily. She fell on her ass, pain jarring up her spine. He didn’t spare her. It appeared he was finally convinced that she could handle this brutal side of training.

“Always, always be prepared,” he said coolly, but his eyes flashed with amusement as she glared at him. Yeah, the darn wretch had done that deliberately!

Biting back a scowl, she jumped to her feet. No way would she let a little thing like a sore backside stop her from this long-awaited training session with him. Eyes narrowed, her sword braced, she waited, adrenaline pumping through her veins as he circled her like some predator after new prey…

Ten minutes later, Echo gritted her teeth, her damn arms felt like it had been wrenched from their shoulder sockets. Instead of deflecting the strike coming at her—old habit kicked in—she dropped to her knees and skated beneath his swing, smacking the back of his knee with her palm. She jumped up to her feet behind him.

In a blur Aethan twisted, knocking her sword from her hand like it was a toy. It clattered to the floor in a loud twang.

Narrowing her eyes, she stepped back, her obsidian dagger taking form in her hand.

Aethan’s powerful body went still, then he tracked her with that stalking gait, one that warned his prey had no chance of escape. His gray irises sparked a dangerous white.

Oh, crap! He was furious. She had no idea why.

Hastily, she retreated a step, then another as he followed. Her back hit the wall, her dagger pointed at him. He slapped his palms on the granite surface, locking her in. “What exactly did you hope to prove with that little stunt?”

“Aethan—” Shock blasted through her. “What the hell? You just walked into my blade?”

“You know the damn rules, Echo, no matter the situation, whether a true fight or training, you use your fucking blade,” he snapped. “In this arena, when we’re together, I am not your mate—”

“But I’d have used my dagger and would have already slashed your tendons had you truly been evil,” she protested. “The sword is too long. It wouldn’t work for that.”

“I don’t give—” he bit off a curse and inhaled sharply as if trying to calm down. “You’ve done this before.”

“Many times. Since I’m not a strapping girl, nor do I possess the weight or muscles to take down my opponent, I’ve learnt to adapt. I…” She bit her lip, to stop its tremor, remembering. “Damon showed me how...”

At the mention of her former guardian who’d left over a year ago, Aethan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course.”

No, her mate didn’t like Damon. At all.

But Damon had been more than her guardian or the man who’d rescued a young, traumatized orphan girl from the streets and then adopted her; he’d been her family.

Still, if he could simply walk away after ten years together without even a goodbye to her, guess he hadn’t been that invested in their relationship after all.

Aethan lowered his hand, his gray eyes searching hers. “You okay?” he asked quietly. He knew it still hurt her that Damon had left so abruptly. She straightened her spine and forced a smile. “I’m fine. Let’s continue…”

* * *

Later that morning, Darci finished her email and hit send. The caterers had been finally locked down, along with her menu preference. But Blaéz remained in her thoughts.

He hadn’t been in bed when she’d gotten up later that morning. She wasn’t surprised, considering he never went back to sleep after those nightmares of Tartarus.

When she’d seen him at their midday meal, he appeared his normal, tormenting self and that eased her.

She understood it had only been six months since he got his soul back, along with his emotions… It had to be why the nightmares plagued him. Because there was no enemy, no loose ends. Maloch was dead. The past had finally been buried. Hopefully, in time, those nightmares would fade, too.

Darci pushed to her feet and stilled, goosebumps prickling over her arms. Her gaze darted to the tall window. Cold, noon sunlight slanted inside, brightening the massive library and highlighting a few dust specks, but she couldn’t see anyone.

Darn. She was still too edgy and didn’t need an overactive imagination, as well, when she had more pressing problems to deal with.

Finnén.

If he was around, then she had to be prepared for anything. He was dangerous and had a couple of screws loose as far as she was concerned.

Perhaps she could ask Echo for help. Her friend had been a self-defense instructor before she mated Aethan. With Finnén snooping around, Darci refused to be unprepared. Or unarmed.

About to leave, movement at the window drew her attention. She smiled, her worry easing. There you are.

Dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, Blaéz bent his arm over his head, the other hand tugging at the elbow as if to loosen the muscles in his side. Strange, he never used this side of the castle to start his run.

His tee rose up at his actions, briefly revealing a side-view of his smooth, lightly tanned stomach and back. She could never resist his hard, mouth-wateringly sculptured abs. So why waste a golden opportunity to torment him?

Before he disappeared, she darted to the French door, opened it, and shuddered at the blast of cold air snatching her breath as she stepped out. “Hey, you.”

Blaéz pivoted. Something dark flashed in his eyes. The next minute, he was on her, pushing her against the rugged wall and kissing her hard and deep.

“Blaéz—” She pushed him back, breathing heavily. He stared at her for several seconds then spun away, taking off for his run in a blur.

Frowning, Darci touched her slightly tender lips. He’d never been so aggressive with her. Her heart tripped with unease as she stared in the direction he’d gone. Was it the nightmare? God, she never felt this helpless before. They had to find a way for those dreams to stop—they just had to.

Darci headed back inside in search of Echo. As she neared the kitchen, her steps slowed when Shae and Dagan stepped out. They made such a striking couple. Despite Shae’s height, she appeared fragile and delicate with her lean build, pale skin and bright hair. He was exceptionally tall, muscular, and dark—and a vampire.

Darci still couldn’t get over that.

“Shae—” Dagan caught her hand when she would have walked past him, his ebony warrior braids swaying just past his shoulders now. He turned her to him and gently caressed her cheek. “It’ll be okay.”

“How?” Her shoulders drooped in despair. “You heard her. She flat-out refuses to talk to anyone.”

“Hey.” Dagan drew her closer and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s hard, I know. Give her a little time, perhaps then she’ll be more open to it?”

“I really hope so,” her voice, muffled by his chest, drifted faintly to Darci. Her shoulders rose and lowered as if with a heavy sigh.

Dagan looked up and nodded as Darci drew closer. She smiled in greeting.

Shae pushed back her heavy fall of wavy hair. A faint smile curved her lips but it didn’t touch her shadowed gaze when she saw Darci. Before she left with her mate, Darci quickly said, “Shae, can I speak to you?”

“I’ll be in my workshop,” Dagan said quietly. “Call if you need me, Shae-cat.” After she nodded, he pressed his lips to her temple and strode off toward the basement stairs.

Shae watched him go, rubbing her brow as if trying to ease away a headache.

“Are you okay?” Darci asked softly.

“Yes…” She dropped her hand and shook her head. “No. It’s Mom I asked her if she’d talk to Lore about what happened, about her abduction. She refuses.”

Lore was Echo’s tutor, but according to Blaéz, he also liked to dig into the Guardians’ heads to help them deal with their incarceration. She recalled Blaéz being as tight as a melded vault about his imprisonment until she’d slowly peeled away the layers and he finally spoke about his horrific past.

Darci doubted that Jenna was ready for that just yet. “Just be there for her for now. Later, try again.”

Shae wrapped her arms around her waist. “I hate seeing her like that.”

Darci understood, she really did. At times, Blaéz would withdraw into himself after a nightmare, and use brutal activities—either going through a rigorous circuit training for long hours or swimming the treacherous ocean—to come out of it. At least he never asked her to whip him anymore.

“You wanted to see me about something?” Shae asked her.

“Yes.” Darci nodded, trying to shut off her pained thoughts. “Would you be able to take photos for the wedding? I’d appreciate it if you could.”

Gray-gold eyes widened in surprise before a smile lit her striking face. “Of course. I’d be honored.”

“Thank you. I was afraid I’d have to make do with my nephew’s cell phone shots,” Darci said wryly.

“My pleasure. I’ll see you later. I have a few things to take care of, wrap up the last part of my freelancing job.” With a little wave, and appearing somewhat more in control of her emotions, Shae headed for the back stairs.

Darci pushed the kitchen door open and entered. She found Jenna seated at the table, a euphoric Bob splayed over her lap, all four paws dangling down her thighs as she stroked his back.

She adored Bob, and since Shae’s mother appeared far too fragile to be carrying a teacup, let alone a feline of Bob’s girth, Darci asked softly, “Shall I take him?”

Jenna looked up, her dove-gray eyes warming in her pale face. “No. I like him...” She broke off as Hedori walked into the kitchen, looking nothing at all like his usual well-dressed self, wearing faded jeans, a long-sleeved sweatshirt, and he’d fastened his steel-gray hair into a loose braid.

He looked really, really good. Yep, she and the other girls had commented on that. Not in front of their mates, of course. The only time he dressed this casually was when he took his sailboat out.

Hedori slowed to a stop when he saw them. “Darci.” He inclined his head in greeting. “Can I get you something?”

“Thank you, no.” She smiled. “You’re spending the afternoon at the boathouse?”

“Not exactly. I’m taking Lady Divine out for a few hours,” he said, glancing at Jenna.

Despite the fact that Jenna was his mate, Hedori treated her like he did all the women in the house. Courteously. After what she’d been through, being abducted by a psychotic rogue angel and held in the Dark Realm for six months until he, Dagan, and Aethan had rescued her, Darci understood why he kept his distance. Jenna was too traumatized. She didn’t speak much to anyone, and not at all to him.

More, Jenna had no idea what she was to Hedori.

“M’lady?” he said quietly to Jenna, his expression unfailingly polite, “is there anything I may get you before I leave?”

She lowered her gaze back to Bob and shook her head. Still silent.

“Hedori, wait,” Darci said quickly, stopping him before he left. “Do you know where Echo is?”

“In the gym. With Aethan, I believe.”

Disappointment took hold. Seemed like she’d have to work on her own again.

With a smile of thanks, Darci walked out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs leading to the basement.

In a storage room, she found the old corkboard she’d stashed there and headed outside for the ten-minute walk. Brisk, tangy air stole her breath and she shivered, hastily buttoning her jacket, but it didn’t deter her as she marched past the gazebo on the lake, across the rolling lawns and the bright maple trees, toward the small shrubs edging the looming forest.

After she’d found the tall tree where she’d hammered a nail into two days ago, she put the board up then walked a short distance back and summoned her obsidian dagger.

Determination to get it right riding her hard, she pulled back her hand and flung the blade. The dagger took off like a tipsy drunk, bounced off the wood and fell to the ground.

Aww, man! Hands on her hips, she glowered at the fallen blade. Really?

A half-hour later, Darci groaned in frustration. If she could wound Finnén when he first attacked them at the castle six months ago, why the hell couldn’t she hit the stupid darn corkboard now?

“Problems?”

She glanced over her shoulder and met Týr’s smiling, toffee-colored eyes. Sighing, she walked over and retrieved the dagger. “I’m trying to improve my throwing, but it’s just not happening.”

He stopped beside her. “Pitch the blade again and let me see.”

She got back to her starting point, grasped the black hilt, and flung it. As if it had memorized its last trip to the corkboard, it tapped the surface in a taunting hello and fell to the leaf-covered ground.

“See?” she moaned, scrubbing her cold palms over her heated cheeks. “It’s hopeless.”

Týr rubbed his mouth. She was well aware he was hiding his smile as he ambled to the fallen dagger, picked up the weapon, and strolled back to her.

“Wield it like this.” He grasped the tip with his forefinger and thumb, pulled back his arm, and let it fly. Like black lightning, the blade winged through the air in a lethal hiss and embedded dead center in the corkboard.

He removed the dagger, came back, and handed it to her. “Now, you try.”

She held the blade like he had but before she could release it, he stopped her. “No, not so far from the tip. You need to control your weapon. Hold it like this.” He moved her fingers to the pointy end of the blade.

She arched a brow, eyeing the dangling weapon suspiciously. “And this will work?”

“Try. Pull back your arm and put force and your body weight behind it when you let go.”

Okay. He was a fighter, he knew best. Grasping the deadly tip the way he’d shown her, she drew back her arm, and with everything in her, she let it go. It struck the edge of the corkboard but stayed embedded.

“I did it—I did it!” she cried the air in elation. “Yes!”

“Just practice. Put a little more power into your throws, and you’ll take out all those fuckers—I mean demoniis we slay every night.” He grinned unrepentantly, masculine dimples denting his cheeks as he moved to the side. “Again. This time keep your focus on the bull’s-eye. That’s your ultimate target.”

Týr watched her throw a few more times.

When the blade finally embedded halfway through and just off center, he whistled in praise. “Nicely done. Now, let’s try holding the hilt and—”

“What exactly are you doing with my mate, alone in the forest, Norse?” A cool voice cut through her excitement like a whip.

Aww, darn it! Not now.