Page 22 of Tortured Soul
Chapter 8
Lola
Arc and the Guardians were some kind of myth. Not really a myth as I’ve actually met the guy—not impressed by his attitude, by the way—but a myth in the way that people were always talking and praising him like he was their holy savior.
When I was paying for my new clothes—a couple of shorts, a pair of jeans, a bunch of underwear, and a few simple T-shirts as my “welcome gift” wasn’t that much—the cashier had rambled on and on about how grateful I must have been to get here and finally meet them. How could I when I’ve never even heard of them all until today?
I merely smiled and nodded, eager to get the hell out of her shop and into my new more comfortable clothes.
People had been staring at me all morning, whispering to each other. I didn’t remember them doing so when I first got here and was escorted by Marcus and the other guards to Kai’s office.
At some point, I stopped at the apartment to switch my too hot and uncomfortable leather pants for denim shorts and my dirty white tank top with a black cropped top. It already made me feel better.
But when my stomach grumbled, I realized that I’d forgotten the little lunch bag with its lunch box in Kai’s office. Damn, I was starving.
As I was enjoying the shade on a bench under a large tree in the park, I’d never thought I’d be relieved to see a guard—not Marcus—coming to bring me to Kai’s office, way before the agreed 2:00 p.m. The relief was, however, short lived.
I froze on the doorstep and didn’t move even as the guard collided with my back.
Kai was nowhere to be seen, butArcwas. With a tall blond guy whose angry blue eyes were focused anywhere but near me.
If I had to guess…
“Carter owes you an apology,” Arc said, foregoing any formalities.
Yep. Carter. I could read it in his hateful glare.
He mumbled something that sounded like “I don’t owe her shit” and crossed his arms, looking out the window.
His eyes were, as I predicted, a clear blue, framed by thick dark lashes, hair a dark blond, disheveled wavy mass with strands peeking out in all directions. His clothes were casual and old looking, and a silver ring glinted on the side of his nose. He was rocking the grungy look, though…
Our gaze finally met a second before he stared me down with disgust.
“As far as apologies go, it doesn’t look like one,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest defensively.
As impossible as it seemed, his frown deepened. Arc pushed him forward roughly and he stumbled, catching himself on the corner of Kai’s desk.
“Fucking apologize and stop making me waste my time,” he growled, the sound deep and menacing. “I don’t care what’s going on in that fucked up brain of yours, you don’t get to treat her like you did.”
“But she’s—”
“Not the problem here. You are. Now fucking apologize before I pluck the feathers off your wings one by one.”
Carter groaned, his shoulders tensing. Some of the Divines—higher angels and Archangels, strangely the most annoying of them all—did have retractable wings. Plucking them sounded like a worse torture than cutting them off…But what did I know? The only wings I could summon were decorative.
“I’m sorry,” he gritted, eyes focused on the window.
Of course he didn’t mean any of it. Did I care? No. I wanted him to be as far away from me as possible. He could shove his apology as far up his ass as he wanted to.
Arc stared at him with hard eyes. I didn’t answer the meaningless apology and the silence was deafening. The tension was so thick that I bet the guard standing behind me wished he was anywhere else cleaning some shit out of some toilet.
“Leave,” Arc said through his teeth.
I relaxed and nodded, turning to exit the room.
“Not you,” he corrected and I froze on the spot. “We’re not done. Carter, out.”
“Gladly,” he mumbled, rushing past me, nearly bumping my shoulder in the process.
