Absolute Surrender Read online

  He rolled his injured shoulder again, easing the tightness, and paused. A group of teen-thugs with pierced lips stepped in their way, aggression oozing from their pores.

  Eyes cool, Aethan returned their stare.

  “Sure you want to take us on?” Týr calmly exchanged the M&M’s for his obsidian dagger. At the sight of the wicked looking blade, their heads dropped and they scurried away like rats. “Annoying little punks,” Týr growled, sheathing his dagger on his belt. “So, you gonna go see Lila?”

  At the mention of the oracle who treated their demonii wounds, Aethan shrugged. “Why would I do that?”

  “Stop messin’ around, man. Go see Lila and get that damn shoulder fixed. You can’t leave something that dangerous untreated—”

  “I’m good.”

  “Well, then...” Týr slapped him on the shoulder. “Good to know.”

  “Gods-damn it!” He exhaled harshly at the pain blazing through him. “I should incinerate your damn ass!” Even with their quick restorative abilities, lesions caused by demonii bolts were the only injury they couldn’t heal fast enough. A real pain in the ass.

  Týr laughed and shook his head. Taking a black beanie out of his jacket pocket, he pulled it over his pale hair. “Get Lila to see to you, man, or you’re gonna be direct fucking GPS for the demonii shitheads—” Týr broke off, his eyes narrowing. “We have company.”

  With his heightened senses, Aethan felt the brush of ice against his skin. The tattoo on his biceps stirred. He could smell the familiar strain of rotting evil that surrounded the wounded demonii who escaped him earlier.

  Time to end this. “Yeah. But this one’s mine. Later.”

  He headed for a recessed doorway down the alley and dematerialized in a scatter of molecules.

  ***

  Echo Carter wrapped her arms around her waist and paced along the top step in front of the well-lit cathedral, trying to keep warm. The tangy sea breeze stung her nostrils as she debated waiting in her car with the heater running on full blast. But trapped in the vehicle for a half hour while she waited for Kira? Argh. She far preferred the cold. It helped ease the dull ache in her temples.

  Her head still felt heavy and fuzzy from her restless night. Dreams she didn’t want to remember throbbed in her mind, so she concentrated on a tugboat gliding over the ominous waters of the East River.

  The night winds stole under her denim jacket and beneath her sweater like a chilly caress. She readjusted the dagger belted to the side of her jeans, buttoned up her jacket, and slid her hands into her pockets. Her fingers wrapped around the two stones she carried around like a talismans and their warmth seeped into her. But it wasn’t enough. God, she seriously needed a distraction to clear her head and rid her body of the chill.

  Her cell beeped. Eagerly, she pulled the phone from her pocket and sat on her backpack, avoiding the cold cement. Only to find it was a text from Damon.

  Away on business. Get Kira to stay with you. You know why. Call, if you need me. P.S. Don’t do anything stupid.

  She rolled her eyes. Everyone had bad dreams. Didn’t mean she needed a babysitter. Damon’s postscripts, however, never changed, even if his messages did. You’d think she was thirteen, instead of twenty-three and living on her own, the way her guardian hovered.

  But she couldn’t blame him. All that mattered to her was finding Tamsyn’s killer and ending the son-of-a-bitch. That had to be the stupid thing Damon mentioned.

  A man, rushing past her, snagged her attention. Echo turned and watched him skid to a halt. Above average height, this one embodied the perfect male, with bronzed skin, dark wavy hair, and a sculptured jaw. Black shades covered his eyes.

  He headed for her, giving her a closed mouthed smile. Well now, she’d asked for a distraction. Sliding the phone back into her pocket, she rose to her feet. She’d deal with this before Kira got back, and she knew the perfect spot for this little rendezvous. With a casual, seductive sway of her hips, Echo tossed him a sultry look over her shoulder and glided toward the back of the cathedral.

  He followed.

  Of course, he’d follow. They always did.

  She popped free her jacket buttons for easy access to her dagger. The stench of sulfur grew thicker, stronger, the closer he got.

  Adrenalin charging through her veins, Echo rounded the rear of the building and headed for the alcove where the statue of an angel with massive wings stood. When he grabbed her from behind and slammed her against the cathedral wall, she sucked in a deep breath as pain jarred up her arm to her shoulder. She twisted around. The acrid odor flooding her nostrils had bile rising to her throat and told her exactly what this thing was.

  “Ah, little mortal. So good of you to choose this place—” He stopped, confusion flicking across his face, frowned, and leaned in again to sniff her.

  Oh yeah, her cursed pheromones always worked in her favor. They threw them off track and gave her the crucial edge she needed. But the black sludge coating her hands as she held him off told her this one had been wounded.

  “You smell different. Must taste.” His tone slurred. Something wet and rough slithered along her neck. Crap! The slimy saliva on her skin sent a shudder of revulsion through her. But she didn’t let that distract her. Once his foul-breathed mouth claimed hers, life as she knew it would be over.

  Nope, not happening. She had no plans to die at the hands of this fiend.

  “Pity, I have to cut our fun short.” His face cracked in an ominous smile, to reveal pointy canines. “Your light’s mine.”

  “If you want it, come and claim it.” The familiar words rolled out of her mouth. Argh, she had to stop watching Lord of the Rings. She kneed the demonii hard in the crotch, breaking his hold. She spun around, kicked out her leg in a fast sweep, and knocked his feet out from under him. He stumbled to the ground. She was about to go in for what would have been a routine kill, when the demonii sprang up. He flung his shades aside and revealed his eyes. Eerily red, they flamed with fury.

  “I’ll drain every drop of your blood before I rip out your soul!” he snarled.

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  He came at her fast. Echo palmed her dagger and met him head on, then went in low and rammed the blade into his sternum. The demonii fell to his knees, eyes widening in surprise.

  “Didn’t see that one coming, did ya?” Vengeance burned in her as she grabbed him by the hair and slashed his exposed throat, severing the carotid artery. Blood, black and thick, gushed out.

  Her breathing harsh, she let the body fall to the ground. Disappointment burned through her. This fiend hadn’t killed Tamsyn. The stink of sulfur coating her skin lacked the coppery sweet odor of vanilla she was after. No matter. It meant one less evil fiend to roam the streets and rob the innocents of their souls.

  The body decomposed and vanished within seconds. No sign remained that the demonii had ever existed. The oily ooze on her dagger had disappeared, too, when a frisson shot through her. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose in warning. Oh crap. More of them.

  Survival mode on high alert, Echo whipped around in a defensive strike and met steel with steel. The metallic sound reverberated through the cathedral’s garden. The sheer power of the blow vibrated up her hand to her injured shoulder. Pain streaked through her, but didn’t slow her down.

  She attacked. He countered.

  This one was too strong, too canny. She lunged at him, but he grabbed her in a move which made her head spin and imprisoned her with an ironclad grip against a wall of muscles. It took her a second to realize the stranger had no intention of disarming or hurting her. He merely shielded himself from her attack.

  Echo glared up at him in irritation. The impact of the man facing her over crossed daggers hit her like a blow to her stomach. She stumbled backward, dragged in a lungful of air. Wild as rainstorms and earthy as sin, his scent crowded her senses. She blinked, sure the vision before her was a fantasy induced by her sleep-starved brain.

  H
e had to be at least six-foot-seven. His long, black leather duster parted to reveal leathers which covered muscular legs. All that black he wore was a perfect backdrop for a wickedly handsome face. The hard, sensual curve of his lips told her he would know every carnal pleasure there was. There was just something too animalistic about him.

  The chilly breeze tossed back strands of his long hair to reveal the glitter of small silver hoops in his ears. But his hair—she’d never seen anything like it. As if nature had stroked every shade of the blue spectrum then laid a careless dash of ebony in between those hued strands.

  The air around him shifted. Power rolled off him in aggressive waves. But his eyes held her spellbound. Gunmetal gray took on streaks of white, a warning—a caveat, not to attack him again.

  Oh yeah, Mr. Goth-man could send out all the signals he liked, she wasn’t easy to intimidate.

  “Who the hell are you?” she snapped.

  CHAPTER 2

  Echo tightened her grip on the dagger. Her gaze fixed on the stranger, who radiated menace, her stance ready for a fight.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  The cadence of his voice startled her. Like a low rumble of thunder, it caressed her senses. A flash of heat zipped through her veins. Crap! Was he trying to seduce her into giving him whatever it was he wanted? It sure as hell was close to working.

  She stared pointedly at the obsidian dagger he held. “Yeah, right.”

  An odd stillness seemed to come over him at her words, then he relaxed and sheathed the blade on his belt.

  Was she supposed to do the same? Too bad for him, he would have to be disappointed. She waved him off with her dagger. “Good. Now, get out of my way.”

  There was a slight shift in those cool gray depths. Irritation? Amusement? She couldn’t be sure, not when his expression had the tensility of granite.

  He nodded to the spot where she’d killed the demonii. “We need to talk about that.”

  Echo narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t care how sexy that lightly accented voice of his was. If he thought for a second she was going to tell him how she saw demoniis, or killed the fiends, he was doomed for disappointment. People already thought her strange. And for some insane reason she didn’t want him to think so, too. Didn’t matter. She’d never see him again.

  “I don’t think so.” She stepped around him, bypassed a stone bench, and was sheathing her dagger when he grasped her denim-clad arm. His touch sent a jolt to her system, like a sharp tingle. It unsettled her.

  “That wasn’t a request.”

  “I don’t care. You want to unhand me?”

  His gray eyes skimmed over her face, ignoring her demands. “It must be a mortal trait, to delve into things best left alone.”

  “Mortal trait?” Indignation surging through her, she shoved away from him and knocked into something hard. Too late she recalled the bench. Only her agile reflexes kept her from tipping over and landing on her backside. And the fact that he grabbed her arm. She yanked free and drew in a steadying breath, only to breathe in his wild, cool scent again.

  Her eyes rushed to his. He was too close. She couldn’t move, not unless she wanted to crawl up him. Tempting as that was, it wasn’t a good idea. Not when her hormones were shooting down her common sense and waving a white flag in surrender. In a move born out of pure self-preservation, she leaped onto the stone bench to put some distance between them.

  “And you have a temper to match.”

  Her fist clenched. That’s it! She took a swing.

  Faster than a freaking rattler he struck, grasping her wrist, his grip gentle despite the unbreakable hold. “I wouldn’t if I were you. Hitting me will gain you more than you bargained for. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

  Echo counted to ten, but that crap never worked with her. It took a moment longer before she could force herself to unclench her fist.

  “Good.”

  At his murmured approval, she tugged her arm free, his touch increasing her uneasiness. But his words disturbed her on an inherent level. As did his dark stare.

  ‘Hitting me will gain you more than you bargained for.’

  What did that even mean? The man had her thinking of rumpled sheets, the slide of his gorgeous tawny skin against hers—

  She’d finally lost her mind.

  This was not good. Not good at all. Echo stuck her hands in her jacket pockets. The moment she touched the stones, calmness seeped through her, as did the futility of her actions. Why did she choose to hop onto this dumb bench? Now she was stuck on the thing, eye to eye with this maddening, beautiful man who made her act like an idiot.

  ***

  Aethan was struck stupid.

  It had to be the damn lightning bolts zipping overhead that short-circuited his brain, he decided, studying the female in front of him.

  Short, choppy hair, black as a raven’s wing, stood out in all directions. Long wisps fell into her annoyed brown eyes. It was the worst haircut he’d ever seen on a female, but yet it suited her. A streak of color on her cheekbones added an attractive flush to her angular features. Her skin, the shade of golden honey, indicated her mixed race heritage. And she had a lush mouth that begged to be kissed. For a brief moment, he experienced an extraordinary urge to lean down and taste her.

  Gods. He reeled in the desire. Not many caught him unawares, especially not a prickly human. She had to be the one who’d ended the demonii. He must’ve been only a few minutes behind the bastard and she’d taken him down—killed him. What the hell was she thinking? One misstep and the demonii could’ve ended her.

  He ran his eyes over her. Jeans covered her slender legs, revealing scuffed leather boots. The deep red sweater she wore beneath her denim jacket did little to hide her feminine curves. She was too fragile to be involved in this dangerous pastime. Someone needed to point out the risks of her reckless activity, and he was more than willing.

  He closed the space between them and her subtle scent of sun-ripened berries invaded his senses, intoxicating him. She tried to step back, but being on the stone bench she had nowhere to run. She settled for slaying him with her eyes.

  Like that would work.

  “Your little hobby will only land you in trouble.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” With an impatient hand, she brushed back the hair from her eyes to reveal a star-shaped scar above her left brow.

  So she didn’t want to talk?

  “Okay, we’ll do this your way. Whenever you’re ready.” He crossed his arms and waited, ignoring the pull of the wound on his shoulder. He could read nothing off her mind. Her thoughts were walled up behind pure steel. It didn’t matter because none could play the waiting game like he could. Besides, he usually got what he wanted.

  “You can’t keep me here against my will.”

  “I’m not. You chose to stand up there. I just want answers.”

  A low, frustrated growl left her. She made him want to smile.

  Nothing in his long life had prepared him for the sensations crowding him. Blood buzzed in his veins and rushed to his head as he faced a female who affected him like no other ever had. He knew he was on a headlong collision with disaster, and yet he remained. Intrigued. Challenged by her.

  The wind picked up, rustling the fallen leaves around them, and whipped at her hair. Brown eyes glittered in irritation. Something about her eyes caught his attention, but before he could determine what it was, she turned away.

  “You killed some...one,” he told her.

  “Yeah? Prove it. Besides, what are you, the Goth cop?” She leaped off the bench and brushed past him, leaving behind a trail of her heady scent.

  Goth cop? That stumped him for a second. Then reality surged through him. Urias! What the hell was he doing, playing her game? If she were the female they searched for, he’d have to find out her abilities. With her snippy attitude, he’d have as much luck getting her to admit to that as getting her to reveal how she killed the demonii. Not many
humans could take down those fuckers, especially not a fragile female.

  With his mind back on the job, he went after her.

  She spun around when he brushed up against her back, shot him a glare of exasperation, then stalked off, mumbling something about wretched pheromones being the bane of her life.

  Aethan offered no apology for his actions. He got what he wanted. Her deadly blade was now in his possession. If this was the only way to get her to talk, so be it.

  “Answer a few questions and I won’t bother you again.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We all have dreams, doesn’t mean we get what we want—”

  Her mouth dropped open as he flipped her dagger into the air. The shock on her face made his day.

  He spun the dagger again. “Tell me about this.”

  Her belligerent attitude was toast.

  “You–you stole that!”

  “Semantics. I’m waiting.”

  That seductive mouth flattened, her gaze pinned on the blade. He knew better than to get too close and give her a chance to nab the thing from him.

  “This is New York. I’m not stupid enough to traipse around unprotected,” she retorted. Her hand shot out and she snapped her fingers. “I want my dagger back.”

  “This is sharp. You could hurt yourself.” He deliberately ran a finger over the blade’s edge and had the pleasure of witnessing her irritation increase. A furious glower flayed him, before she stomped off to the front of the cathedral.

  He followed, amusement filling him. Slipping her blade into his coat pocket, he watched as she chased off a tabby cat pawing through her bag. Then just to see those eyes spark again, he deliberately moved closer. Hastily, she straightened and collided with him. A muffled gasp of pain escaped her.

  Two things registered as he caught her. She was hurt and he had a raging hard-on.

  Him and his dumbass ideas.

  ***

  Echo struggled to breathe. The discomfort in her shoulder barely registered as a wave of pure need streamed through her heated body.