Page 9 of Guarded (Hopeless Blessed #3)

Jeremiah

“ T hat outfit doesn’t do your arse any favours.”

I jumped at Quill’s voice, frowning at the demon in my doorway. “Satan, Quill. Warn a guy next time.”

He ate a spoonful of cereal from the bowl cradled in his big hand, crunching it ostentatiously. “I’m telling you, those jeans aren’t the ones. Wear the black ones instead.”

I rolled my eyes, tempted to point out that someone with milk stains on his top shouldn’t be judging me. I didn’t though. If Quill said they weren’t working, then I needed to change.

I rummaged through the pile of discarded clothes on my bed. “These ones?”

“Yup.” Quill slurped some milk from his spoon. “With the forest green T-shirt.”

That one hadn’t even made it out of my drawers during my mammoth session of trying on almost everything I owned. “Quill, that one is two sizes too small. I shrank it in the tumble dryer, remember?”

Modern appliances were something we’d all had to adjust to living topside. Washing machines and dishwashers were so practical. The tumble dryer wasn’t something I could say I’d missed out on in Hell. It was so hot down there that your clothes often dried before you hung them up.

The same couldn’t be said of London. During our first week here, I’d merrily thrown everything into the machine, not realising that not all materials could be dried that way.

Several items of my clothing had paid the price.

I’d been meaning to sort through and get rid of them all, but I’d been too busy.

Too busy running away from my mate and gallivanting pointlessly around the world instead.

“That’s the point.” Quill pointed his dripping spoon in my direction. “You’ve got the muscles; you may as well show them off.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I kicked off the jeans Quill had deemed not good enough and pulled on the black ones.

Quill didn’t bat an eyelid at my stripping.

We’d lived in close quarters for centuries.

Not that we’d been lovers—Quill was far too much like my brother for me to see him like that.

But we’d certainly seen each other naked often enough for it to not bother either of us.

“I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. ”

That wasn’t technically accurate. I didn’t want to come across as desperate.

Even if I was.

From the second I’d got the message from Noah yesterday, I’d been overanalysing absolutely everything. Trying to figure out how to act. What to say. What not to say.

Basically, what I needed to do in order to not fuck this up again.

“From what you’ve said, the issue is you not trying hard enough in the past.” Quill shrugged. “You may as well go in the other direction.”

That made too much sense for me to argue with it. Stripping off my shirt, I hunted through the drawer for the green one. Pulling it on, I turned to face the mirror and groaned. “Quill, you can literally count my fucking abs.”

“Can see your nipple piercings too.” Quill nodded emphatically. “It’s perfect. Trust me.”

I eyed myself doubtfully. I did trust Quill, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was trusting myself to not mess this up.

Again.

Picking up my phone, I reread the brief exchange with Noah for the millionth time.

Unknown number

I’ll give you one hour. Tomorrow at Boswell’s Café on Bournemouth Road. 1 pm.

I’d texted him back immediately, not even stopping to save his contact details first.

Jeremiah

I won’t be late. I promise. Thank you.

He hadn’t responded immediately. He’d left me waiting for another three hours. Three hours of me pacing the hallways of our house and generally pissing off everyone in my vicinity.

After adding him to my contacts, of course.

Noah

I don’t care if you’re late. I’ll be there from 1-2 pm and not a minute longer. If you want to waste some of your hour because you can’t be punctual then that’s on you.

His messages had me adding another detail about him to my list. Two, actually.

Noah believes in second chances.

Noah sets boundaries.

Boundaries I would respect. It was only ten a.m. and I was planning on walking out the door the moment I was ready. Noah wouldn’t arrive a second before one, I knew that, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t.

“It’s perfect,” Quill said, walking fully into my room and putting his bowl on my desk. He came up behind me and squeezed my shoulders. “You look hot as fuck, Jeremiah. Noah’s going to swallow his tongue when he sees you.”

“I doubt it,” I sighed, patting one of Quill’s hands. “He’s probably going to punch me.” I tried to twist to walk away, but Quill’s grip held firm. I met his gaze in the mirror, confused. “What?”

“Stop being so hard on yourself,” Quill said firmly. There was a flicker of flame there, something I hadn’t seen in a very long time. “Yes, you fucked up, but that doesn’t mean you should be treated like a whipping boy.”

“Well, we do know what that’s like,” I joked feebly.

“Don’t do that. Don’t trivialise what we went through to try and justify this.”

He finally let me go and I spun to face him. “What on earth are you on about, Quill?”

He shook his head, drifting back to where he’d left his bowl.

He used to just leave them all over the house, but after Dahlia had stabbed him over it a while back, he’d got better at clearing up after himself.

“I’m just saying you don’t need to keep punishing yourself.

Yes, you did a shitty thing to Noah, but that doesn’t mean he gets to give you the cold shoulder for the rest of eternity. ”

My temper rose in defence of my mate. “Noah is entitled to treat me however he wishes.”

Quill hummed, turning the bowl in his hands. “I think you believe that because you think you deserve it.”

“I do deserve it. He’s my fated mate and I ran away from him.”

“I’m not talking about that.” His gaze met mine and the flames were long gone. In their place was the quiet deadness I’d come to associate with him. “You think you deserve to be treated shittily because of what we did in Hell.”

I flinched. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? I wouldn’t blame you if it was, Jeremiah. Maybe you’re not just chasing after Noah because he’s your mate, but because you think he’ll punish you for what you did. Because you think suffering is what you truly deserve, not love.”

I stared at him. Was that what I was doing? No. Surely my subconscious wasn’t that righteous?

Was it?

Quill looked at the floor. “Believe me, I understand better than most.”

I took a step towards him. “Is that why you won’t leave the house?”

His head snapped up and it was like looking at a different version of him. A paler one. “Why I won’t leave doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” I whispered, reaching out to touch him. “It does when I can see how much you’re struggling.”

He stepped back before my hand could make contact, my fingers grasping nothing but empty air. “I’m fine. Enjoy your date, Jeremiah.”

He was gone in a flash, my arm still hovering uselessly in the air.

Fuck. What were we going to do about Quill? All those millennia, we’d dreamt and talked of the life we’d lead once we were finally free of Hell. Now we were topside, but Quill still wasn’t free. His body was here, but his mind wasn’t.

I had no idea how to save him.

I was in the café by eleven a.m.

Naturally, Noah didn’t arrive until one p.m. on the dot.

The ache in my chest had gently eased as he’d drawn closer to the building, fading away into nothing the moment he walked through the door.

My breath caught in my throat at the sight of him.

His hair was tied back in a high bun, with two strands of hair framing his beautiful face.

He was wearing a form-fitting top complete with skinny jeans, making my mouth water at how they both clung to his body.

An iridescent scarf was artfully arranged around his neck.

Everything else seemed to fade away as he approached.

The shriek of the milk steamer. The crying toddler two tables over.

The rich scent of coffee and pastries. All of it vanished.

My entire attention was zeroed in on Noah.

Was he actually gliding across the café towards my table?

Everything about him screamed elegant grace.

The same couldn’t be said about me. Stumbling to my feet, I winced as I managed to knock my chair over in the process.

“Hi,” I said breathily as Noah stopped on the other side. “Thank you for coming.”

Noah’s eyes wandered over the many cups littering my table. “I see you’ve been here for a while.”

Flushing, I righted my chair before gathering the cups in my hands. “A little. Had to make sure I didn’t waste any of my sixty minutes. Anyway, what can I get you?”

Noah’s brows twitched. “I can get my own coffee.”

I hesitated. I knew what I’d normally say, how I’d act, but I’d fucked up so much with Noah, what if I did so again?

He went to walk to the counter and I threw all my fears out of the window. If fate had put us together, that had to mean Noah would like me for me, right? Not some manufactured version that didn’t truly exist.

Dashing around to the other side of the table, I drew back the chair with the hand not juggling cups. “Please, allow me. I need to take these cups back anyway.”

Noah eyed me warily. “You do?”

“Yeah.” I leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, “I’ve been being a model customer so they wouldn’t kick me out before you arrived.”

“Ah, so you do know how to behave in polite society.”

My eyes dropped to his mouth of their own accord. “About as much as I know how not to in impolite society.”

Noah’s lips parted. The lower one in particular was so plump—just begging for me to sink my teeth into it. “Interesting.”

Was I imagining the heat in Noah’s gaze? I drifted closer without thinking, our mouths only inches apart now.

He gave a breathy gasp. “Jeremiah?—”

The crash of china interrupted whatever he’d been about to say.

I glanced around to see a bloke at another table apologising profusely to a barista for dropping a mug.

When I turned back to Noah, he’d sat down, and his face was so cold and distant that I wondered if I’d imagined the brief moment we’d shared.

With a brittle smile, he laced his hands together on the table. “I’ll take an iced oat milk latte with caramel syrup. Thank you.”

I nodded, giving him a smile. It didn’t matter if his guard was up. I had time.

All the time in the world, in fact.

When I returned with his drink in hand, it was obvious he hadn’t relaxed at all. If anything, he was even more tense. He wasn’t fidgeting though—there were no obvious tells as to how he was feeling.

Nothing apart from how still he was, that is. Noah was as rigid as a statue, nodding at me stiffly as I slid his drink in front of him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I took the seat opposite him and wondered what it was that was making him so uncomfortable. “Is being here with me bothering you?”

Noah’s eyes flicked over me and away. “No. But you only have fifty-three minutes of time remaining.”

“You’re counting down?”

“Yep.” He wrapped his lips around his straw and sucked. I shifted in my seat, trying desperately not to imagine other situations where he might do that.

That wasn’t what this was about. Sure, I wanted to fuck Noah. But I’d wanted to fuck a lot of people over the years. And I had.

This was different. Fate had determined that Noah was meant to be mine. If that were true, then I was going to follow this to its inevitable end .

And I’d just have to hope Noah didn’t leave me before we got there.

“Are you going to talk or…?” Noah arched a brow and looked pointedly at his watch. “I’m happy if you want to stare into space for another ninety seconds, but I got the impression that you had things you wanted to say.”

My lips twitched. Fuck, he was fiery. I loved it. I’d grown up playing with fire—nothing excited me more. “I do. I have lots I want to say. Forgive me though, seeing you up close is…it’s thrown me off.”

“Didn’t the first time you saw me,” he muttered darkly, scowling as he sucked up more coffee.

I reached across the table to touch his chin. My fingers barely grazed his skin, lingering only long enough to get his eyes to meet mine, but the invisible mark it left behind?

I’d be feeling the burn for days.

“The first time I saw you was the first time I truly understood the difference between angels and demons,” I confessed quietly. “A being as beautiful and precious as you could never exist downstairs.”

Noah scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Please. Have you met Ferenc?”

I smirked at his mention of the former Grim Reaper. I’d only seen him without his hood once—after we’d both left Hell. Down there, he’d never revealed his face to a soul.

Noah was right.Ferenc was undeniably a beautiful man.

But so was he.

“I have, and believe me, he has nothing on you.”

“Your flattery will get you nowhere,” Noah drawled. “Nor will your assumptions. Believe me, I’d be more than capable of surviving Hell.”

I remembered the deep well of power I’d felt emanating from him that day with Gloria.

“I’m sure you would, but there’s a quality about you that wouldn’t survive.

It doesn’t matter who you are or what kind of strength you have, there’s something about Hell that erodes a part of you.

It tarnishes the good in you. You can try and keep yourself whole, but it’s no use.

Hell takes part of you and offers no apology. ”

I gave him a grim smile. “That’s how I knew you were different.

You’re so… whole . I can’t even explain it, but I looked at you and saw someone full of light.

I don’t envy you for it. If anything, I’m grateful.

Fucking delighted that you’ve not been subjected to the darkness that fills every corner of Hell.

Believe me, Noah, no one walks out of there unscathed.

It takes and takes and takes, until you’ve got nothing left to give. ”

For the first time, interest flared in Noah’s gaze. He pushed his drink to the side and leaned his forearms on the table. Having his full, undivided attention was almost too much. It was like my lungs had doubled in capacity, needing far more oxygen than usual.

A strand of his lilac hair fell across his face as he tilted his head to the side. “Tell me, Jeremiah, what did Hell take from you?”