Gena Showalter - [Lords of the Underworld 13]

by The Darkest Craving

  He ran his tongue over perfect white teeth. “How do you know that?”

  “Why don’t we call it...gossip.”

  “Gossip isn’t always right,” he muttered. In seconds, he had swept his gaze through the small room and refocused on her.

  She also happened to know that visual caress was a habit he’d developed through the years, one meant to take everything in. Entrances, exits, weapons that could be used against him—weapons he could use.

  This time, all he would have seen was the peeling yellow wallpaper, the scarred nightstand with the chipped lamp. The sputtering air-conditioning unit. The brown shag carpet. The trash bin filled with bloody rags and emptied tubes of medicine she’d used on his abrasions.

  “That day in hell,” he began. “You told me what you wanted, and then you made the mistake of assuming I agreed.”

  That sounded like a refusal. But...he can’t refuse me. Not now. “You gurgled your assent. Afterward, I did my part. Now you will do yours.”

  “No. I never asked for your help.” His voice lashed like the sharpest of whips, striking at her, leaving an undeniable sting. “Never wanted it.”

  “You did, too! Your eyes begged me, and you can’t deny it. You couldn’t see your eyes, so you have no idea what they were doing.”

  A protracted pause. Then, quite calmly, he said, “I think that’s the most illogical argument I’ve ever heard.”

  “No, it’s the smartest, but your puny brain simply can’t compute it.”

  “My eyes did not beg,” he said, “and that’s final.”

  “They did, too,” she insisted. “And I did a terrible thing to get you out.” Sadly, sending the Phoenix a note of apology wouldn’t fix the problem.

  As weak as Josephina had been in hell, she’d required help with Kane. Only, once she’d caught up to the Phoenix, still hacking her way to freedom, there’d been a slight problem. The girl had refused so vehemently—rot in hell, Fae whore—that Josephina had known there would be no hope of changing her mind. So, Josephina had used the ability she alone carried. A blessing in the right circumstances. A curse that had kept her locked in a world without physical contact. With only a touch, she’d stolen the strength right out of the Phoenix’s body, reducing the girl to a boneless heap.

  Yes, Josephina had draped the warrior woman over one shoulder and carried her out of hell, the same as she’d done for Kane, fighting demons along the way—a miracle considering she’d never fought a day in her life—eventually finding a way outside, but that wouldn’t matter to the Phoenix. A crime had been committed, and a price had to be paid.

  “I never asked you to do terrible things.” His voice contained the darkest of warnings.

  One she did not heed. “Maybe not audibly, but even still, I nearly broke my back saving you.” She settled to her knees, shaking the mattress and nearly bouncing the weakened Kane to the floor. “You weigh, like, ten thousand pounds. But they’re glorious pounds,” she rushed to add. Stop insulting the man!

  His slitted gaze tripped over every inch of her. The action lacked the stealth he’d used for the room, and yet, it was almost tactile, as if he’d touched her, too. Could he see the goose bumps now breaking over her skin?

  “How did a girl like you manage such a feat?”

  A girl like her. Did he sense her inferiority? She lifted her chin, saying, “An information exchange wasn’t part of our bargain.”

  “For the last time, woman, there was no bargain.”

  Tremors of dread rocked her, overshadowing...whatever he’d previously made her feel. “If you don’t do what you promised, I’ll...I’ll...”

  “What?”

  Suffer for the rest of my life. “What would it take to change your mind and make you do the right thing?”

  His expression shuttered, hiding all of his thoughts. “What species are you?”

  A question totally off topic, but okay, she could roll. Since the Fae were not a well-liked race, the men best known for their lack of honor in battle, as well as their insatiable need to sleep with anything that moved, and the women known for backstabbing and scandal—and okay, fine, their ability to sew a killer wardrobe—the knowledge might spur him into action.

  “I’m half human, half Fae. See?” She pulled back the sides of her hair, drawing his attention to her ears and the points at the end.

  His gaze locked on those points and narrowed. “Fae are descendants of Titans. Titans are children of fallen angels and humans. They are the current rulers of the lowest level of the skies.” He shot out each fact as if it were a bullet.

  Can’t roll my eyes at a star. “Thank you for the history lesson.”

  He frowned. “That makes you...”

  Evil in his eyes? An enemy?

  He shook his head, refusing to finish the thought. Then, his nose wrinkled, as if he’d just smelled something...not unpleasant, but not welcome, either. He inhaled sharply, and his frown deepened. “You look nothing like the girl who rescued me...girls who rescued me...no, just one,” he said with another shake of his head, as if he were trying to make sense of things that had happened. “Her face and hair kept changing, and I recall each countenance, yet what I see now I didn’t see then. But your scent...”

  Was the same, yes. “I possessed the ability to switch my appearance.”

  One of his brows arched. “Possessed. Past tense.”

  Even in his compromised state, he’d caught her meaning. “Correct. I no longer have the ability.” The strength—and capabilities—she borrowed from others could remain with her for as little time as an hour to as long as a few weeks. She had no control over the time frame. What she’d taken from the Phoenix had faded yesterday.

  “You’re lying. No one has an ability one day, but not the next.”

  “I never lie—except for the few times I do, in fact, lie, but it’s never intentional, and I’m totally telling the truth right now.” She raised her right hand. “Promise.”

  He pursed his lips. “How long have I been here?”

  “Seven days.”

  “Seven days,” he gasped out.

  “Yes. We spent most of our time playing incompetent doctor and ungrateful patient.”

  A dark scowl contorted his features, and oh, it was a scary thing to behold. The books hadn’t done him justice. “Seven days,” he repeated.

  “I didn’t miscount, I assure you. I’ve been crossing off the seconds in the calendar in my heart.”

  He gave her the stink eye. “You have a smart mouth, don’t you?”

  She brightened. “You think so? Really?” It was the first compliment she’d received from someone other than herself since her mother had died, and she would cherish it. “Thank you. Would you say my mouth is extremely intelligent or just slightly above average?”

  His jaw fell, as if he meant to reply, but no sound emerged from him. His eyelids were closing...opening...closing again, and his big body was swaying from side to side. He was about to go down, and if he hit the floor, she would never be able to lift him onto the bed.

  Josephina surged forward, reaching for him with gloved hands. Though he teetered backward, he slapped her arms away, wanting no contact between them. Smart man. (As smart as he thought she was?) Down he fell, slamming into the carpet with a loud thud.

  As she scrambled to her feet to rush to his side—and do what, she didn’t know—the motel door burst open, shards of wood raining in every direction. A tall, thickly muscled warrior with dark hair stood in the center of the gaping hole, his features bathed in shadows. Menace lanced from him. Maybe because he gripped two daggers—and they were already stained with blood.

  Another warrior moved in behind him, this one blond, with...oh, someone save me. Guts hung from his hair.

  Her father’s men had found her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  KANE BATTLED A tide of pain, humiliation and failure. He’d been created fully formed, a warrior to the depths of his core. Throughout the centuries, he had fought in countle
ss wars. He had slain enemy after enemy, and had walked away with many a blood-drenched injury—but he’d walked with a smile. He’d fought, and he’d won, and others had suffered for coming after him. And yet, here he was, on the floor of a dirty motel, too weak to move, at the mercy of a beautiful, fragile female who’d seen him at his worst: chained, violated and carved open after yet another round of torture.

  He wanted those images cut from her mind, even if he had to reach inside and remove them with a blade.

  Then, he would cut them out of his own. The Hunters, blaming him for every disaster they’d ever faced. Their bomb. A trip into hell. A horde of demon minions attacking, killing the Hunters and secreting Kane away. Day after day of torment.

  Shackles. The drip, drip of blood. Satisfied grins, bloodstained teeth. Hands, everywhere. Mouths, seeking. Tongues, licking.

  A soundtrack played quietly in the background. Moans of pain—his. Moans of pleasure—none his own. The slap of flesh against flesh. The scrape of nails, digging deep. A bark of laughter.

  Terrible scents filled his nose. Sulfur. Arousal. Dirt. Old copper. Sweat. The pungent sting of fear.

  One brutal emotion after another bombarded him. Disgust, rage, feelings of utter violation. Sorrow, humiliation, sadness. Helplessness. Panic. More disgust.

  He moaned, a tragic sound. Desperate to avoid a breakdown, he erected a brick wall around his screaming mind, blocking the worst of the emotions. Can’t deal right now. Just...can’t. He was free at least. He couldn’t forget that. Rescue had come.

  No, not a rescue. Not at first. Warriors had stolen him from the minions, only to tie him down for their own special brand of torture.

  Then, the girl had arrived, demanding he help her with the vilest of tasks.

  “What have you done to him?” a male voice roared. “Why were there Fae soldiers ready to sneak into this room?”

  “Wait. You’re not with the Fae?” she demanded.

  “Who are you, female?”

  Kane recognized the speaker. Sabin, his leader, and the keeper of the demon of Doubt. Sabin was a male who wouldn’t hesitate to snap a woman’s neck if he thought that woman had hurt one of his soldiers.

  “Me?” the girl said. “I’m no one, and I’ve done nothing. Really.”

  “Lies will only make it worse for you.”

  Another speaker Kane recognized. Strider, the keeper of the demon of Defeat. Like Sabin, Strider wouldn’t hesitate to harm a woman in defense of a friend.

  Kane should have been comforted by their appearance. They were brothers of his heart, the family he needed, and they would protect him, whisk him to safety, and do everything within their power to ensure he healed. But he was scabbed, bruised and emotionally naked, and they were now witnesses to his shame, too.

  “Oh, sweet heat. Why didn’t you step into the light sooner? I know who you are,” the girl gasped out. “You’re...you’re...you.”

  “Yes, and I’m also your doom,” Sabin snapped.

  The warrior assumed the black-haired girl was responsible for Kane’s condition. A mistake. He tried to sit up, but the muscles in his stomach were useless, not yet completely woven back together.

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” said the girl, “but that’s got to be the lamest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and Kane here has said some doozies. You’re a magnificent warrior known throughout all the lands for your strength and cunning. I know you can issue a better threat than that.”

  More than once, the silly things that had come out of that candy-apple mouth had made him want to smile, despite the pain relentlessly battering him. Now was one of those times. He didn’t understand it.

  “There’s a right way to take that?” Sabin snapped. “Guard the door,” he said to Strider. “I’m going to tear her from limb to limb.”

  “No can do, boss. I’m calling dibs.”

  “Does that mean we’re battling to the death?” she asked casually.

  “Yes,” both men replied in unison.

  “Oh, well. Okay, then. Let’s get started, shall we?”

  Kane stiffened.

  “Is she serious?” Sabin.

  “No way.” Strider.

  “I am,” she said. “I really am.”

  Big talk for such a tiny girl.

  A girl who confused Kane in every way.

  She had tended him gently, tenderly, and yet he had hurt from more than just his injuries. And not a good hurt, either, to let him know he was alive, but a sharp throb that rode the waves in his veins, reaching him at a cellular level, like a disease, a cancer, eating at him, demanding he get away from her as quickly as possible. And yet, inside, deeper still, where primal instinct jerked at a flimsy leash, a desire to grab her, to hold on and never let go, consumed him.

  She was beautiful, funny and sweet, and he heard one word every time he looked at her. Mine.

  Mine. Mine. MINE.

  It was a constant stream of noise, undeniable—unstoppable. It was also wrong. His “mine” would never cause him pain. And he didn’t want a “mine.” Any time he’d tried to make a go of a relationship, the evil inside him swiftly destroyed it—and the female. Now, after everything that had happened to him...

  A rise of the disgust, sizzling and blistering, tightened his hands into dangerous weapons. No, he didn’t want a “mine.”

  “You eager to die?” Strider asked, stalking a circle around her.

  “You stalling?” she said. “Don’t think you can take me?”

  The warrior sucked in a breath.

  The girl had issued a challenge—intentional or unintentional?—and the warrior’s demon had just accepted. Strider would do everything in his power to win, and Kane couldn’t blame him. Anytime the male lost a challenge, he suffered in agonizing pain for days.

  Demons always came with a curse.

  Have to stop him. Whether the girl belonged to Kane or not, she wasn’t to be harmed. Seeing a single bruise on that sun-licked skin would unhinge him, he knew it, could already feel the darkness rising, his control teetering at the edge of chilling violence.

  As he again struggled to sit up, multiple footsteps pounded, causing the floor to reverberate. Low growls erupted. The swish of clothing whispered past. Flesh met flesh, bone met bone. Metal clinked against metal. The males would destroy her.

  “Is that all you got?” the girl taunted—a taunt undercut by her heavy panting. “Come on, fellas. Let’s make this memorable, one for the history books!”

  “No,” Kane tried to shout, but not even his ears picked up the sound.

  Strider jumped over him. Another clang of metal echoed.

  “How can this be memorable?” Sabin roared. “The only thing you’re doing is leaping out of the way when we strike.”

  “Sorry. I’m not meaning to, but instinct keeps kicking in,” she said.

  To anyone but Kane, who knew her secret desire, the conversation would have sounded weird.

  The fight continued, the two men chasing the girl around the small room, leaping on furniture, bouncing off the walls, slashing out with hungry blades and missing as she darted out of the way.

  The urge to commit violence sharpened with deadly force.

  “Don’t hurt her,” he growled. “I’ll hurt you back.” He would do anything to protect her.

  Even in this pitiful state?

  He ignored the humiliating question.

  Question. Yes. He had more questions for the girl than he’d already asked—and this time, she would answer satisfactorily or he would...he wasn’t sure what he would do. He’d lost all sense of mercy and compassion inside that cave.

  The threat stopped Sabin in his tracks. The warrior lowered his weapons.

  Strider refused to give up, and finally managed to grab the girl by the hair. She yelped as he jerked, tugging her into the hard line of his body.

  Kane managed to get to his feet, intending to rip the two apart. Mine. He stalked forward, tripped over a shoe, thanks to the demon, and came
crashing down. Pain consumed him.

  Before the girl had a chance to scream for help, or curse Strider’s very existence, he knocked her ankles together and sent her propelling to the floor. He went down with her, pinning her shoulders to the floor with his knees. Though she struggled, she couldn’t work her way free.

  “I said...don’t hurt,” Kane shouted with what little strength he had left.

  “Hey. I barely touched her. I also won,” the warrior announced, a huge grin lifting the corners of his mouth.

  Sabin marched to Kane’s side, crouched, and helped roll him to his back. Then the warrior slid gentle hands under his head and shoulders. Kane flinched from the contact, his mind blaring out a protest he refused to let his mouth deliver, but still his friend held firm, easing him into a sitting position.

  “We’ve been looking for you, my man.” Tender words meant to assure and comfort him. Too bad nothing would ever assure and comfort him again. “Weren’t ever going to give up.”

  “How?” he managed to ask. Let me go. Please, just let me go.

  Sabin understood his question, but not his inner plea. “There was a story in a tabloid about a superwoman in New York carrying a hulk over her shoulder. Torin worked his magic and hacked into security cameras in the area, and boom. We had you.”

  From her trapped position on the floor, the girl looked over at him. Panting, she said to Sabin, “Hey, can’t you tell he’s not liking the physical contact? Let him go.”

  How had she known, when one of his best friends hadn’t noticed?

  “He’s fine,” Strider said. “Why are you wearing gloves, female?”

  Ignoring the question, she closed her eyes and asked, “Are you going to kill me now?”

  “No!” Kane roared. MINE! MINE!

  Strider sheathed his blades and stood. Immediately the girl climbed to her feet. Long strands of hair had fallen over her brow, onto her cheeks; she pushed the locks behind the pointed ears that had so startled him.

  Most of the Fae preferred to remain in their realm. They weren’t the most beloved of races, and immortals tended to attack first and ask questions later. Still, Kane had run into a few throughout the centuries. Each Fae had possessed curling white hair and skin as pale as milk. This one had a slick fall of jet-black silk, with no hint of a wave, and skin the most luscious shade of bronze. Marks of her humanity?