Page 44 of Blaze
A hoarse keen fills my ears, and it’s only when Reaper crouches next to me, jerking my head up by grabbing my chin, that I realize it’s from me. He’d lifted his might, his shadow of death from us.
I might as well wrap his cloak around myself and be sent to the abyss. It’s what I deserve after harming my mate.
“You need to pull your shit together, Haborym.” Reaper’s invocation of my true name is still filled with power. My mind shuddering against his will. “The Light Justicars approach.”
My nostrils flare. The threat to Kennedy stirs the coals of anger in my chest. I meet my president and commander’s void-filled eyes. “She is my mate, sir.”
“I’ve surmised as much,” he says. He releases me and stands, offering me a hand. “Be that as it may, this is no time to quarrel with your brother. If you wish to claim your mate, you must first defend her.”
I take his hand, needing his help as I stagger to my feet. Despair threatens to knock me down again. “She fears me now,” I admit with shame. “My flames hurt her.”
Reaper doesn’t let me look away. “Then you must go tend to her and apologize. But do not claim her by force. If you do, I’ll rip your soul from your body and send it back to your father. Understand?”
It’s an unnecessary warning. I nod anyway. I’d rather burn my heart to ash with my own flames than force myself on Kennedy. He shoves me in the direction of my room, and I don’t hesitate. The Light Justicars may be on their way to take her from me, but I will not go into the battle before telling her what she means to me.
I follow her scent to my room and force myself to take a few breaths. Then I push open the door, stepping into the room slowly. Immediately, I see she isn’t in it and my eyes track to the closed bathroom door from where sounds of a running sink come. I cross the room, not letting myself look at the bed where the blankets are still messed up from how I woke her earlier.
Ears straining to hear what I can through the door, I rap two knuckles against it.
The sound of something falling is quickly followed by a muffled curse. I wait, even though all I want to do is barge in and see how she is.
“Who is it?” Kennedy calls out. It’s another reminder of her humanity. She can’t scent or hear me.
“It’s me,” I answer, moderating my voice. “I need to see how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine,” comes her instant rebuke.
Shame fills me. I press my palm flat against the door and lean my forehead against it. “Please, kitten.”
If I must beg, then I will beg. I will live on my knees before her for the rest of eternity if she demands it.
How my father would laugh at me now. Ready to beg on my knees before a powerless human female.
Yet there is no more worthy a creature in all the realms than Kennedy.
After a long moment, she pulls me from my misery. “Fine.”
I don’t give her time to rethink. I open the bathroom door. My eyes find her immediately. She’s facing the sink vanity, her injured hand still held under the running water. Her shoulders are tense, but her face is blank in the mirror.
The walls I’d slipped behind over the last week are back up, higher than ever. And it’s all my fault.
“Let me see.” My voice is rough, and she flinches, her eyes closing as her uninjured hand curls on the counter.
I curse inwardly. I’ve never wished before to be an angel, but in this moment I wish I had their enhanced powers so that I could bring peace back to my mate. When I hear the ragged breath she sucks in, I give in to the urge to sink to my knees and sit on my heels.
Even like this, my eyes are level with the bottom of her shoulder blades, but I lower them and wait.
“What are you doing?” Incredulity fills Kennedy’s voice.
I look at her through my eyelashes and raise a shoulder in a weak shrug.
“I scared you. I can never tell you how sorry I am, kitten. But worse, I hurt you.” I drop my gaze to her feet as she turns towards me in the small bathroom. I wouldn’t blame her if she decides to kick me. “Even if you can bring yourself to forgive me, I don’t know if I can forgive myself.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, then she shifts, the sound of water cutting off. A draft of air brushes against me as she reaches for a towel, her hiss nearly silent as she pats her injured hand dry.
“I’ve had worse,” she whispers, cutting off when a growl begins to rumble. Fortunately the sharp, sour scent of fear is there and gone in a moment.
“I’ll kill him for you,” I vow. “Even if you want nothing more to do with me, Kennedy.” I raise my head, tilting it back until I can meet her whiskey-honey eyes. “This I swear to you, my mate. I will destroy Enzo Pastori. He will never hurt you again.”