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“Dallas,” he said, nearly choking on her name. It felt like he was having a heart attack. “It’s Darien.”
“I know, numb nuts. I have caller I.D.”
“Is Loren with you? I tried calling her, but it went to voicemail.”
“She went to the library to study. Probably shut her phone off or something.” Studying at one in the morning? Right. He wondered if she was right there with Dallas, listening in on their conversation and refusing to talk to him.
“Okay.” He blinked heavily, knowing full well that he deserved it, if that was what she was doing. “Did she say anything when she got there?”
“Yeah, she…she said she saw something she didn’t mean to see.”
The pounding of his heart became so frantic that it literally hurt, each thump like a fist cracking his bones. “I didn’t mean for her to see it either.” He wished Tempus could turn back time again, so he could fix this ugly mistake.
“It was an accident, Darien. I mean, she knows what you do for work, it’s not like you’ve ever hidden it from her.”
“But she didn’t need to see.” With a sigh, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “She shouldn’t ever have to see.”
“You’re reading into it too much. Just give her some space, maybe a day or two, and I guarantee she’ll forget about it.”
It was a fair suggestion, but Darien couldn’t find his voice. And even though a day or two really wasn’t a long time, it sure as shit felt like it.
That was two women in the past ten minutes who’d recommended giving Loren time, and he knew he should listen.
“Is that what she told you?” Darien said. “That she wants space?”
There was a pause. “Yes.” Dallas’s answer was enough to break him.
With a deep inhalation that trembled as much as his hands, he breathed, “Can you just tell her that I love her? Can you do that for me?”
Dallas’s tone softened. “I’ll tell her.”
“Thanks.” He hung up before Dallas could say anything else.
For several minutes, he sat there in the car, debating what to do. His selfish heart wanted him to go to Loren and beg her to forgive him, but he knew he should give her space. The gods knew she needed it. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for her, seeing him standing there in that room, covered in blood, looking like a goddamn psychopath… That would’ve fucked anyone up.
He threw his phone onto the console. “Fuck!” he barked. He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and twisted, veins showing through his skin as he nearly broke the thing clean in half. His heart was racing in his chest, and he could hear his blood coursing through his body, already a simmer that would soon be a boil.
Another Surge was coming. That would be two in twenty-four hours, but who was fucking counting?
Keys jingled as he started the car, every move mechanical. The engine growled awake, and the emergency brake whined as he lowered it, shoved the gearshift into drive, and slammed his boot down on the accelerator.
Gravel flew under the tires as he turned the car around, headlights bouncing through the yard, and sped down the driveway.
The gates barely opened for him on time. Tires screeched as he turned onto the road, burning up a gray cloud, the stench of hot rubber floating through the vents. He took off down the street, pushing the vehicle as fast as it could go. The needle on the speedometer flew all the way to the right, and it fluttered there as he soared through the dark, streetlights pulsing through the sunroof.
It took him a million years to get to the Pit. By the time he pulled to a stop out front and got out, his breathing was a labored pant, as if he had run a marathon. The solid black of his eyes turned the world into neon paint on a dark canvas. Prostitutes and Blood Potion addicts watched as he crossed the street and entered the building.
The audience surrounding the Pit stayed out of his way as he stalked through. People backed up, stepping on each other’s feet, as he walked up to the edge of the deep pit.
He leapt inside, landing on his feet in the bloody sand, not bothering with his usual routine, not bothering to stop at the change room, not giving a shit about anything except unleashing this new wave of anger festering beneath his skin. He sensed Perez observing from his usual seat, but Darien didn’t spare him a glance. Maybe when he was done with the demons he would take the worthless money the asshole paid him and shove it down his throat.
There was another hellseher in the pit, waiting for the demon that was gouging the wall with its claws on the other side of the latticed grille.
Darien barked, “Get the hell out of here, or you’re dying too.”
The man was gone before he had finished speaking.
The bouncers lifted the grille, and the demon burst through, barrelling toward him on all fours, horns glinting in the yellowy light. It leapt for his throat with a guttural snarl, feet tearing up the sand.
