Free Darkness Rising: The Dark Angel Series: Book Two by Keri Arthur

softly. “An Aedh doing his own dirty work?
That’s
likely.”
    For a man who was all but a slave to an Aedh, he was pretty damn critical of them. “Do you have a contact number for this new handler of yours?”
    He nodded as well as he could with my hand pressed against his throat. “On my phone, in my top pocket.”
    I reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his cellphone, and shoved it into mine. “What name is your handler under?”
    “Handberry. I figured it was as good as any.”
    Fair enough, I thought, and then hit him, as hard as I could, with my free hand, knocking him out. Then I let him drop to the floor.
    For several seconds I did nothing more than stand there staring at him, my fists clenched and body shaking. Then, gradually, the rage eased and I dropped down beside him, hugging my knees to my chest as I squeezed my eyes shut and fought the urge to cry.
    Goddamn it, what had just happened?
    Warmth surrounded me, then strong hands caught mine and squeezed them gently. “Risa,” Azriel said softly. “Look at me.”
    I didn’t want to. I really didn’t, but there was a note of command in his voice that I couldn’t ignore. I opened my eyes and stared into the blue of his. Saw the understanding there, the compassion.
    It shook me almost as much as the rage.
    “The events of the last few months have not only threatened your physical well-being,” he said softly, “but also damaged your emotional safety and security. It is natural that, sooner or later, you will experience trauma-induced incidents such as this.”
    “But I was moving on, I was
coping.
Why would the rage hit
now
and not before, when it all first happened?”
    “Because you did not seek help for—or even talk about—the events. You bottled it up inside and forced yourself to go on as normal—”
    “But I
didn’t.
I was useless to everyone for weeks—”
    He squeezed my hands again, his gaze searchingmine—and, I suspected, seeing far more than anyone else ever had. “That was grief, and natural given what had happened. But we are connected through our chi, and I know the fury, self-loathing, and uselessness that burn inside you, even now.”
    Tears tracked their way down my cheeks, cold against my skin. I didn’t dispute his words, though. How could I, when they were true?
    I hadn’t dealt with the anger at
all.
I’d merely pushed it down, pushed it away, and tried to function as normally as I could.
    “The rage had no outlet until these men—who may or may not be involved with your mother’s killer—reentered your life.” He released one hand and touched my cheek lightly, and I closed my eyes against the compassion in his eyes and the sense of caring in his touch.
    He was a reaper. He
couldn’t
care.
    It was dangerous to even think that, because he was only here for the same reason as everyone else—to find my father.
    “Yes,” he agreed softly, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand what you are going through, or sympathize with the rage. I have felt such rage myself.”
    I opened my eyes again. “But you’re a reaper—”
    “I’m a Mijai,” he corrected. “And as a warrior, I have experienced more than my fair share of loss.”
    My gaze searched his. “Someone close to you?”
    “A friend,” he said, then released my hand and rose.
    The compassion and understanding disappeared in an instant, and I knew I’d get little more out of him.But that didn’t stop me from asking, “So what did you do?”
    He raised an eyebrow. “I did exactly what you are attempting. I tracked down and killed those responsible.”
    “And did it make anything any better? Did it make
you
feel any better?”
    His mouth twisted bitterly. “No. But at least I could rest easier with the knowledge that they would not be able to destroy anyone else.”
    And that’s what I wanted. While it was undoubtedly true that I wanted vengeance so badly I could almost taste it, I also wanted to stop these people from doing to