Page 11 of Tortured Soul (Soulless #1)

Lola

A rc 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, but Arc was. 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.

I was almost certain the guard behind me groaned in annoyance as he walked out.

Arc tilted his head in a sharp nod and said guard left, abandoning me here alone. With Arc.

Last time—the only time—we interacted, we had an audience. It was not a cordial exchange then, so I assumed it could only get worse now.

“Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the comfortable looking sitting area that I desperately wanted to sleep in the night before.

He reached it in a few strides. My legs were less cooperative.

“Come on, we don’t have all day.”

What was with the men and their obsession with time here?

Once I was comfortably seated, but still ready to pounce if needed, he leaned to the side, his eyes holding mine.

My body tensed as I held myself from instinctively reaching for my hair to check for the hundredth time that my ears were hidden, until I saw the little lunch bag he retrieved and my stomach grumbled.

“I believe that’s yours?” he said. I nodded.

He placed it on the table and pushed it toward me.

“Eat. We’ll be going to the Archives afterward.”

I felt like arguing, self-conscious to devour my small portion of leftovers in front of him.

Only until I realized I didn’t care, so I ate it quickly as he went through the documents with a focused frown.

“Does your face ever relax?” I asked after a minute, placing the container back into the bag. He lifted his head then, brows not relaxing. I gestured to his face with my hand. “The constant frowning. Must be exhausting to keep your face so…scrunched up.”

Too many emotions lingered in his eyes. None that I understood.

The smell of cinnamon became thicker. I tried to keep track of the variations in my mind. Mist and embers when Carter was there. Mostly mist with a hint of cinnamon when he handed me my lunch box. Overpowering cinnamon and growing embers right now…

Damn confusing.

“Let’s go over the contract, shall we?” he said, ignoring me. “Then I’ll show you the archives and we can stay out of each other’s hair.”

I wasn’t sure what their problem was.

Carter had been nothing but an asshole from the start and, I admit, I’ve pushed his buttons a little.

And even though he tried, Arc did a poor job hiding his loathing of me. Every time the distance between our shoulders shortened, his nostrils flared and eyes snapped close, his whole body tensing. Apparently, the shower I took this morning might not have been enough and I smelled like a dying rat.

Lovely.

When we rounded a corner to get to the stairs, his knuckles brushed my forearm. Knuckles because his hands were fisted by his sides. The contact lasted about point one second, and I nearly coughed in surprise from the sudden spike of cinnamon smell.

Usually, sweet, spicy, and warm scents were associated with Hellrisers. Floral and fresh were more of a Divine smell.

If cinnamon didn’t scream that he was some kind of demon, I would have believed that it spiked when he felt disgusted or appalled by something—me, in that particular case. So more of a Divine trait…

I was still confused when we stopped at the top of the stairs and he pushed open an unlocked door, indicating for me to step inside first.

The entrance was narrow and even though I slid inside from the side, my breast brushed against his dark shirt and his chest rumbled with some kind of growl.

I gritted my teeth, crossing my arms over my chest as he closed the door behind us.

Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe I was misinterpreting things, and he was just busy and annoyed to play tour guide.

I could let it slide. But if he acted like I had the plague one more time…

My whole body froze as my eyes took in the place.

Books.

Rows after rows after rows of them.

Towering shelves filled with boxes and files.

The ceiling was a huge dome made of stained glass, twenty feet above the floor, casting multicolored light above the room and everything in it.

“Everything we keep in here is priceless,” Arc said, the sound of his voice echoing around us as he stopped at arm’s length next to me.

“It goes from books written by Immortals that date back to when the first humans walked the earth, ageless journals that talk about old prophecies and history, and correspondences between powerful Immortals that were retrieved and restored. Over there you’ll also find our resident’s files,” he added, pointing at a row of shelves, farther away.

I nodded, mouth gaping at the beauty of the room. The hundreds of bookshelves were massive. If it weren’t for the ladders attached to them, I didn’t think anyone could reach the top.

“The computer is over there.” We walked between rows to reach the center of the room where a lone desk sat, surrounded by small couches and study tables.

“Every single book and file is listed in the database. And don’t worry, when the room does its little trick and rearranges everything, the software is updated accordingly. ”

He leaned over the chair and started typing on the keyboard, unaware of my confusion.

“What do you mean ‘ rearranges’ everything?” I pressed.

He turned his face toward me, just enough for me to notice the surprise in his dark eye.

“Kai didn’t mention the spell?”

I knew it .

“ What spell?”

He muttered a curse and I was almost certain that someone— something —laughed in a far away row. My arms tightened around myself.

He seemed to notice the worry pulling at my face.

“It’s nothing and I’m sure Kai just forgot to mention it.

” A wince. Liar . “The archives are…alive. Kind of. And it likes to move things around every once in a while. Just be careful not to upset the strange but kind spirit that lives here.” Arc paused and looked around us warily.

Was the big scary Immortal afraid of whatever was in here?

“You said it was a spell, why are you talking about a spirit now?” I asked.