Page 3 of Guarded (Hopeless Blessed #3)

Jeremiah

I ’d made a lot of stupid decisions in my life. So many, in fact, that if I could die and leave a body behind, it’d surely be inscribed on my tombstone.

Here lies Jeremiah. A nice enough bloke, for a demon. But an absolute fucking moron when it came to making healthy life decisions.

In my defence, when I’d initially decided to run from my mate, it was a result of panic. A split-second decision made due to the crippling fear of what it meant for me. For the future I’d so desperately yearned for.

Like the other demons in my circle, I’d spent millennia dreaming of the day I’d be free of Hell. When I’d have no one else to answer to. No one else who’d have a claim over my time or soul.

It was all I’d ever wanted. Freedom. To be myself. To do whatever I pleased.

After spending my entire life in Hell, hadn’t I earned that? My days used to be filled with ordinary people’s worst nightmares. To me, it had just been my life. All I’d ever known .

Didn’t I deserve some happiness now I was free? I was sure there were many who’d argue that I didn’t. That what I’d done to the souls down there was enough to condemn me as much as they had been. Even the few times I’d been sent to earth had been marked with bloodshed.

None of it had been my choice. Every day in Hell had been about survival. It was torture or be tortured. Kill or be killed.

For so long, I’d known nothing else.

Thanks to a deal with some plucky humans, I was no longer imprisoned. I was free. Free to live my life the way I wanted to. Me. Just me.

And it had been going swimmingly, right up until the moment I’d seen the grand mansion sat at the end of a winding driveway. A house I knew I shouldn’t have been able to see.

Unless my fated mate was inside.

I hadn’t been able to breathe. I asked them to confirm that they hadn’t lifted the wards, but it wasn’t a necessary question.

My mate had been inside those walls. I knew that as well as I knew my own name.

There was a tug in my chest, urging me forwards.

A hole revealing itself in my heart—a cavern I knew wouldn’t be filled until I was bonded.

I’d felt nothing aside from sheer panic. I’d thought I’d have more time to be free. To enjoy my life before having to worry about someone else.

Yes, it was selfish. But I was a demon—it was practically written into our DNA.

Even worse, my mate was an angel. Not just any angel, but a member of the Seraphim. The most powerful cabal of arch soldiers.

Whose actions were overseen by Heaven .

I doubted they had any more control over their lives than I’d had in Hell. Like I once had, they answered to a higher being. Their whole purpose was to do as they were commanded.

If I accepted a mating bond with one of them, I’d be right back where I was. My life wouldn’t be mine any longer. It wouldn’t even be my mate’s.

It would be God’s. Swapping one all-powerful boss for another was not an item on my bucket list.

That was why I’d run. Why I’d flown as hard and far as possible. Why I’d stayed away for as long as I could.

I can live however I want. Knowing my fated mate is out there doesn’t have to change anything.

That was what I’d told myself. Every minute of every day. It didn’t matter if fate was ready for us to meet—I wasn’t. It was as simple as that.

Or so I’d thought.

Turns out, fate is a fucking stubborn bastard. The pull I’d felt when I’d seen the house hadn’t eased over time. It didn’t lessen with the miles I put between us. If anything, it became stronger, more demanding.

I’d tried to ignore it, I really had. I’d cut my hair short, changing the look I’d cultivated for so long. I’d travelled through countless countries, trying desperately to enjoy the culture. The feel of the sun on my face. Rain. Wind.

I was free. Finally free.

But it meant nothing. Not with the hole in my chest growing every day, expanding until it took over everything else.

My mate was out there, waiting for me. I wasn’t ready, but fate was.

I fucking hated it. Once again, my life wasn’t my own. I wasn’t the master of myself. Maybe I never would be. It was a fucking depressing thing to admit.

When Nox reached out, begging for help, I knew I should ignore it. Realistically, he’d be fine. His housemates were the strongest beings on any plane. Add in the fact that our friends, Dahlia, Quill, and Darius, had agreed to help and they really didn’t need me.

But I couldn’t ignore that my mate was there. Whatever troubles Nox was facing involved my mate too…whoever they were.

That knowledge had had me flying hard and fast from Japan, travelling quicker than I ever had before. The wind had pushed me faster, as though the entire universe was urging me there. To my mate.

If asked, I would’ve insisted I’d only returned for Nox. No one would’ve questioned it. Why would they? He was one of my oldest friends, one of the few who understood what it was to finally be free.

Like me, he’d found his mate within the Seraphim compound. He’d tried to fight it too, but his mistake had been staying in the same country. The same city, even.

It wasn’t one I’d been about to repeat.

Then again, Nox knew exactly who his mate was. I didn’t. I had no idea what he looked like. What colour his eyes were. His hair. I didn’t know the sound of his laugh or what made him moan in bed.I didn’t know his favourite foods, his childhood secrets, or even his name.

All I knew was that he was an angel and part of the Seraphim.

And that he was mine.

I think everything might’ve been okay if I’d managed to not learn anything about him. If I could’ve continued blindly stumbling through a maze of what-ifs instead of being confronted with the stark reality.

Now though…I knew. I knew exactly who I was running from.

Noah. I’d mouthed his name in the dark of night many times, not allowing myself to say it in the cold light of day. My mate.

I imagined that many people who discovered their fated mate was as beautiful as Noah might be scared for a different reason.

They might believe they didn’t deserve him.

That he was too good for them. Don’t get me wrong, that was fucking accurate as hell.

But I was a demon. A demon who coveted pretty men.

Noah was the prettiest man I’d ever seen.

I think my heart stopped beating during the few glances I’d allowed myself.

He was tall and willowy, his delicate bone structure like what humans imagined elves or fae to have.

His high cheekbones framed his golden eyes.

Lilac tresses flowed over his shoulders, as long as mine had once been.

No, he wasn’t pretty. Noah was beautiful. A god amongst immortals. He was born to make people worship him on their knees. In any other circumstances, I would’ve gladly done that. I’d have done whatever it took to charm him into my bed.

But I didn’t. How could I, when I knew what it would mean for me?

Instead, I’d run away. I’d seen his heart breaking, how he’d reached out for me.

I hadn’t offered him anything other than a silent apology. An apology for not being stronger. For fate giving him a mate so unworthy of him. A silent promise to let him live in peace.

I’d flown a thousand miles in the opposite direction, not letting myself look back for a second. If I had, I would’ve returned to him. Would’ve fallen at his feet to beg him for another chance.

I couldn’t though…not if I wanted my freedom.

Weeks later though, I’d come to a horrifying realisation.

No amount of freedom was worth the ache in my chest. The relentless pull back to London. Endlessly replaying Noah’s devastated expression while sleep evaded me.

There was no point being free when the colours of the Amazon had dulled. When the noise of Niagara was merely an irritating hum. When I could find no pleasure in food or drink.

As for being with other people? Forget it. Just the thought of approaching someone had me running for the nearest toilet to empty my stomach. There was no way.

So yeah.I’d made countless stupid decisions in my immortal life.

But running from my mate?

That was the stupidest of all.

Like all demons, I knew a fated mate was a gift. The other half of your soul. The one designed to complement you in all areas. Yet I’d been a fool. Thousands of years old, and I’d run like a child, too afraid of what it would mean for me.

Yeah, demons were selfish creatures, but I took the fucking biscuit.

It had taken me ninety-three days, seven hours, and six minutes to come to this realisation.

Here I was, just twenty-four hours later, standing on the doorstep to the Seraphim compound. I would’ve been here a couple of hours earlier, but I’d suspected showing up looking like I’d flown for twenty-two hours straight wouldn’t win me any brownie points with my mate .

Instead, I’d let myself into the house I shared with Dahlia, Darius, and Quill. Only the latter had been there, appearing to get a bowl of cereal before vanishing back into his room.

It was another reminder of how I’d failed. By letting my selfish desires lead me, I’d let down not just my mate, but Quill too. He’d been struggling ever since we left Hell, refusing to leave the house and becoming weaker as a result.

Well, I was back now. I was going to be a better friend to Quill.

Right after I’d eaten crow for Noah.

I’d showered, shaved, and put on my favourite cologne. I’d chosen an outfit that had a 100 percent success rate in making people want to take it off me.

Not that I thought that would happen with Noah. I’d be lucky if he didn’t slam the door in my face. My goal today was to introduce myself and apologise for my behaviour.

That was assuming I got that far. He might smite me before I was halfway down the driveway.

I wouldn’t blame him.