and wrapped both arms around her in a tight hug.
Emma held him close as he rested his cheek on her hair. Long minutes passed. “Did something happen?” she asked tentatively.
He nodded. “I tried to kill Seth yesterday.”
Shock seized her. “What?”
“I tried to kill Seth. Or someone I thought was Seth. Or both.”
“Seth—the leader of the Immortal Guardians—Seth?” she asked, trying and failing to keep the alarm out of her voice. No wonder Mr. Reordon had thought Seth’s appearance would increase Cliff’s anxiety.
“Yes.” Sighing, he loosened his hold enough to place a little space between them. He looked so damned weary and pained it broke her heart.
Instead of bombarding him with the many questions that desperately want to pour forth, she sought a response he wouldn’t expect. She’d learned early on that catching him off guard, particularly with something he might find amusing, could sometimes diminish the voices.
Arching a brow, she cast him an admiring look that caressed his muscled body from his head to his boots and back up again. “Damn,” she said, infusing her voice with awe. “That was ballsy.”
A startled chuckle escaped him, chasing away some of the darkness.
“How’d he respond?”
A wry smile lingered on his lips as Cliff took her hands. “The bad Seth? He cut me and hurled me into a tree. I broke several bones.”
She scowled. “What a total asshole!” she blurted, outraged on his behalf.
That drew a full-fledged laugh out of him, pleasing her despite her concern for him. “Yeah. He’s an asshole all right.”
Squeezing his hands, she sat on the comfy sofa and tugged him down next to her. “Tell me everything.”
A little bit of the tension in his rigid form eased as he wrapped an arm around her and tucked her up against his side.
It was a fantastical tale. An ancient immortal by the name of Gershom who apparently was determined to launch freaking Armageddon had posed as Seth—so well he could pass for his twin—and attacked Aidan. What the hell?
“Did you attack the asshole before or after you found out he wasn’t Seth?”
“Before. Then I attacked the real Seth when the fake one fled.”
“Well, you’re just all kinds of ballsy, aren’t you?”
He shook his head as he toyed with her hand, one knee bobbing up and down again. “I didn’t really see him. Either one of them. I just knew someone was trying to hurt Aidan and… lost it.”
“How did the real Seth react?”
He looked down, his chin nearly touching his chest. “With kindness I didn’t deserve,” he murmured.
Biting her lip, Emma cupped his stubbled jaw in her free hand. “You know that’s bullshit, right?”
Turning his head, he buried his lips in her palm and said nothing.
“Cliff?”
Still nothing. Just his lips in her palm and his knee bobbing up and down.
“Look at me, honey,” she ordered gently.
For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t. Then he regarded her with a now familiar, haunted look in his luminescent eyes. The one that told her he feared he was the monster he’d been trying so hard not to become.
“Do you remember me telling you that sometimes you wear blinders? That you’re so focused on the bad that the good eludes you?”
He nodded reluctantly.
“Well, that’s what you’re doing right now. You’re wearing those damn blinders again. You’re so focused on the fact that you attacked Seth that you don’t seem to realize you played an integral role in helping Aidan, Ethan, and Heather keep this Gershom asshole busy until Seth and Zach could arrive. You did exactly what you intended, honey. You kept the bad guy from killing Aidan. You leaped in and had his back before anyone else did.” She shook her head. “Don’t you think Seth appreciates that?”
Rising, he strode away from her. “Aidan, Ethan, and Heather could’ve handled Gershom without me. I was a hindrance.”
Emma stood. “Again, I call bullshit on that, honey. Because Ethan and Heather didn’t jump in to defend Aidan until they were absolutely sure the asshole he fought wasn’t Seth. If you hadn’t helped in their stead, who knows what might have happened? For all you know, he might’ve gutted Aidan.”
Upon reaching the far end of the room, he swiveled and started back. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he shook his head the way he did when he was arguing with himself… or with the voices. When he was a few feet away, he spun and headed back to the far end of the conference room again, reminding her of a caged panther. His hands