Darkness Eternal (Guardians of Eternity #7.5)(23)

“What about you?” he said as he smoothly deflected her probing. “What are your secret dreams?”

“To be a mother to Laylah,” she confessed without hesitation. “Although I suppose it’s two centuries too late to claim such a role. I’m not sure she’ll ever understand why I had to leave her.”

“You had no choice.”

“That doesn’t mean she’ll be prepared to forgive me.”

“She’ll forgive you.”

She met his steady gaze, desperately needing to believe him.

When she’d handed her baby over to the witch who had promised to keep her hidden, Kata had felt as if someone was ripping out her heart.

Only the absolute belief that it was the only way to keep Laylah safe had given her the courage.

Still, the fear that Laylah would never understand why she’d made the choice to give away her baby had gnawed at her for endless years.

“How can you be so certain?”

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her lower lip. “Because when she traveled to London she risked everything to come in search of you.”

A tentative hope warmed Kata’s heart. “Did she?”

“Nothing could stop her.” Uriel smiled wryly. “And, of course, she refused to leave London until Victor had sworn he would stop at nothing to rescue you.”

She smiled, shifting to brush her lips across his mouth as she savored his words of comfort, allowing them to heal a portion of her heavy guilt.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly.

A peaceful silence settled between them before Uriel lifted himself on his elbow to study her with a brooding gaze.

“Music,” he said abruptly.

She blinked. Okay. That seemed a little random.

“What?”

“I love music and when I have the opportunity to travel to my private lair in Wales I spend my time learning to play a new instrument.” He shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. “I have nearly mastered them all.”

Kata hid a smile, oddly charmed by the embarrassment that he couldn’t entirely disguise.

“Why was that so difficult to share?”

“Because my brothers would be merciless,” he muttered. “Victor would no doubt insist I walk around strumming a damned harp.”

Her laughter filled the glade at the image of Uriel with a harp in his hands. His resemblance to a celestial being would be unmistakable.

“Hmmm. I see your point,” she admitted.

“Of course, if you were to join me in my lair I would be happy to . . .”

He bit off his words as an unmistakable chill pierced the air.

“Uriel,” Kata breathed, scrambling to her feet to tug on her forgotten gown.

“I sense it.” He was swiftly at her side, pulling on his jeans and T-shirt before snatching up the long, extremely sharp sword. “Vampire.”

There was another burst of cold, and Kata hissed in horrified disbelief.

No, it couldn’t be.

Not even her shitty luck could be this bad.

But even as she tried to convince herself it had to be some ghastly mistake, the familiar sense of doom settled in her heart.

“Marika.”

“Impossible.”

She clenched her hands, a combination of hatred and fear blasting through her.

“It’s not a stench I would forget,” she hissed. “Not ever.”

Uriel muttered beneath his breath, his gaze surveying their surroundings with the intensity of a trained warrior.

“Then she must be part of the illusion.”

Kata shivered with disgust. “No, not an illusion. A nightmare.”

“Kata.” The sound of her sister’s taunting voice drifted through the air.

Uriel leaned down to steal a brief kiss, his face a tight mask of determination.

“Keep her distracted.”

“What?” Without answering, he was flowing toward the trees. In less than the beat of her heart he’d disappeared among the shadows. “Damn.”

Alone and feeling like the mouse about to be cornered by a cat with vicious fangs and a nasty attitude, Kata forced herself not to bolt as Marika stepped from behind a large rock.

Uriel told her to distract the bitch, and by God, that’s what she would do.

“Ah, there you are, sister dearest,” Marika purred, a taunting smile curving her lips. “Did you miss me?”

Kata swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.

Not surprisingly seeing Marika was like looking in a mirror.

Same dark hair and eyes, same pale skin and curvaceous body that was currently covered in one of the satin designer gowns that Marika adored.

What was surprising, however, was that she looked as well-groomed and sophisticated as if she’d just stepped off the pages of Vogue.

Dammit.

She was supposed to be dead and even now suffering some grim torture in the bowels of the underworld.

Was there no justice in the universe?

“You really should learn how to stay in your grave, Marika,” she gritted.

Marika gave a toss of her dark curls, prowling forward with an expression of blatant anticipation.

It was a look that always came before the pain.

Hours and hours and hours of pain.

“What’s the fun in that?” she demanded.