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Luc’s head spun as the red haze of rage and jealousy faded from his vision. He watched as Roth’s knees buckled, and he fell into Athon’s arms. Fynn had come up beside him to help the shell-shocked male lift his former lover, as Perri ran for the door to the side room. He registered it all with the eye of one watching an enemy with suspicion, his teeth still on edge, his body primed for action as adrenaline still pumped through his veins.
Caine and Deus held his biceps in a hold so tight he knew he’d have bruises before nightfall. He shifted, indicating they could release him now, but instead of doing so Andy and Marco stepped right in front of him. Blocking his view of the men carrying his target from the room.
Fuck! What the fuck was wrong with him? Roth wasn’t his target. They were brothers and sisters in arms and bonded by their friendship and duty.
Deep down, he knew. He’d known the first time he’d spied her across the room of that dance hall in Chicago. He’d known that without her all hope was lost, all purchase in reality would be clutched to with a desperately tenuous grip. He wasn’t the leader he should be. Her love was his greatest victory, her loss his spiral to insanity . . .
His eyes locked on her as if she were the stars on a cloudless night that couldn’t be ignored. She seemed so radiant, as if eating up the energy of the room. The servicemen dancing with the pretty ladies decked out in their best dresses, hair rolled and pinned in place to perfection. The worries of tomorrow were lost in the joys of the night before them.
She was absolutely stunning, she outshone them all, and he couldn’t look away. As if sensing his interest her gaze snapped to him, her lips parted slightly as she took him in. He wasn’t going to lie. He was pretty well put together and had never had trouble attracting—well, anyone he’d wanted really.
The moment her pupils dilated he made his way to her side, the crowd parted as if by magic, he wasn’t ashamed to say he’d had a hand in it either, or rather his shadows had sought the outcome of their own volition. Seeing as how they were invisible to humans unless otherwise needed.
They’d had the most amazing week together. Wrapped up in a cocoon of fantastic sex and witty banter. His shadows had rejoiced at her touch, and for the first time he’d felt complete. He hadn’t even known there was anything missing in his existence, and yet she’d filled the empty places in his soul.
He’d had to leave, head back to the fortress briefly once that week had ended, with every intention to return in a day or two. He left a note and a single black tulip upon her pillow.
If he’d known it would all turn to shit, he never would have left her there like that. He would have come back sooner, fuck the consequences. Of course, he’d not made it back for another two weeks. It was as if the Fates themselves had meddled with shit just to keep him away. When he’d finally knocked on that unassuming powder blue door, and it had moved inwards at the light touch, his heart had fallen to his toes.
The pretty little human, whose eyes had burrowed into the deepest parts of him, lay in pieces on the living room floor. Glassy eyes so far removed from what they’d been before. For the first time in his existence he’d said hello to his breakfast twice in one day at the sight of such gore and mutilation, he roared his pain and agony to the heavens. He’d forced his way into the Almighty’s inner circle and demanded justice, only to be turned away with pitying glances. A crime committed by human hands didn’t fall into their purview, especially one they could find no trace of . . .
He’d left in anger, determined to show them his torment. He’d show them traces, he’d bring every part of her, every print, and every speck of blood to them. He’d lay out the image of her death at their feet and ask which human had misstepped so egregiously. He’d demand their name, and he’d take their soul to torture for the rest of his eternal life.
Except, as his booted feet once more crossed the threshold of a place that’d held such wondrous joy, but that now left the taste of ashes on his tongue, he found . . . Nothing. Everything was perfectly in place. Perfectly empty and devoid of life and even death did not linger there. Even the plants she’d so lovingly tended and that he’d glanced at earlier, so green and full of life, were nothing more than dried out husks, quickly turning to dust in the air. With heaving breaths he tried to reconcile the two images now warring in his head as he searched high and low and found nothing, not even a strand of her hair remained.
Her neighbors, whom he’d seen her speak to more than once, claimed the house had been uninhabited for years. All he knew was she was gone, as if she’d never even been real and was just some jack-off fantasy gone wrong.
Deus couldn’t help wondering what in the ever loving fucking love triangle bullshit was up with Luc and Roth? Not to mention the way Athon had stared at Roth with such longing. The poor bastard was still hung up on the stubborn idiot. More so than any of them had probably realized. Anyone with half a brain could see the total love and devotion Athon felt for the guy, and once upon a time Roth had, without reservation, felt the same way.
Noting the others watching him as he held onto Luc’s arm as the male snarled and twisted in his fight to be set free, he saw the same sadness and confusion on their faces. The same determination and resolve as well. Whereas anyone else with any sense of self-preservation would be running away with their tails tucked between their legs from what was essentially the Devil himself, they stood as one, ready and willing to fight for their leader, to hold his demons at bay and fight him if need be. Deus didn’t have the sense the Almighty gave him as he nodded his head and prepared to take the Devil by the horns, not when it came to his brothers and sisters, his comrades. Not when it came to Luc. The male had saved his ass so many times and pulled his nuts out of the fire. He’d saved them all at some point.
When Ares stepped up to take the arm he was gripping Deus was a little surprised to say the least, normally he was the last to get with the touchy-touchy, and holding tight to Luc was requiring a lot of body contact. It was a sign of how much the guy respected and cared for their General and how far he was willing to go to figure out the cluster-fuck of a situation Luc was in. That they were all in now. He felt like a fucking Musketeer just thinking it. Whatever was going on though clearly revolved around that redhead from the viewscreen. Once this current situation was rectified, they’d really have to focus on finding the bitch who’d brought this shit storm to their doorstep.
With a deep, calming breath Deus released Luc’s arm into Ares’ capable care and stepped in front of their unraveling leader and prepared to take whatever hits were needed if this didn’t work. Which it might not, considering he’d never had to use his voice on such an enraged and primal Lucifer before.
As he came out of his mental wanderings Luc found a set of red ringed white irises playing a game of ‘up close and personal’ with his. Deus’s voice registered as a far off lilt, rushing up like a freight train until he damn well covered his ears and reared back from the incredibly loud motherfucker screaming in his face.
“What the ever loving fuck has crawled up your ass, General? Keep acting like you did with Azaroth, and you’ll find that’s the only fucking title you’ll have. Take your head out of your ass and rein in the fucking shadows.”
Luc’s jaw dropped, the usually mild-mannered gentleman of the group was up in his grill like a wrestler on fight night. Admittedly the guy hated being ignored and his loyalty bordered on obsession. Nobody ignored Deus, it was almost impossible to do so, he was a very compelling guy, one of his gifted talents was compulsion. Which meant Luc was more fucked up than he’d thought if he was so far gone that the dude was in his face to this extent.
Luc’s shoulders dropped and his eyes reflected the regret he felt deep in his marrow. He felt his shadows riding him, trying to lash out as they sought to protect her, claim her, find her, but he pushed them back into the ‘bottle’ within himself.
Looking to his left he found his arm still pinned in place, muscles straining. Caine looked bored and was barely breaking a sweat, but with the amount of hours the guy logged in the gym and in combat training that was hardly a surprise. Looking to his right he saw that at some point Ares had taken over from Deus to allow him to sing the song of a very fucked off metal head. Ares looked slightly less comfortable holding onto Luc. The guy hated physically touching others, absolutely detested it. He refused to speak of it, but Luc knew the bare basics, and even those made his toes curl back to his ankles and his spine want to exit his body along with the contents of his stomach. That he was holding tight to Luc like a drowning man to a flotation device told Luc more than anything how much he’d fucked up. His team, his soldiers, but more importantly his truest friends were fucking terrified. Not of him, but for him.
Looking back at Deus he saw the sheer defeat and fear he felt reflected in the male’s glistening eyes. Deus leaned his forehead against his, and as he did he found his arms free and his body surrounded by the warmth of Deus’s. His clean woodsy scent filled Luc’s nose and a sense of calm, a calm only Deus could manage in such a storm of swirling emotions, came over him.
He could have sworn he heard a collective sigh of relief echo through the room before he started slipping away, Deus taking him under with his lilting voice saying it was time to rest.
A muttered, “I’m sorry,” left Luc’s barely parted lips a split-second before it was lights out.
Luc’s eyes fluttered open to the low hum of voices arguing, and quickly closed as light hit his sensitive eyes. Lashes fluttered in an attempt to filter the light slowly, and as he gazed around the room he found he was on the sofa near the door of the meeting room. Everyone from earlier, minus Azaroth and Athon, was huddled around the small computer screen that popped up from the table in front of Luc’s chair, muttering and occasionally cursing.
“What the fuck, guys? It’s like a fucking wolf mating. But that’s freaking impossible for us, so what the fuck is going on? First Luc and now Roth?” one of them exclaimed roughly.
“If the noises coming from the other room are anything to go by, I wouldn’t rule out Athon being dragged into this mess either,” someone else added almost too softly.
He couldn’t tell who the voices belonged to, it was like his brain hadn’t fully come back online yet.
