The Darkest Surrender lotu-9

by Gena Showalter

  At first, confusion reigned. Then anger that they’d been ejected from the heavens—anger they’d hoped to take out on each other. A fight would have broken out if Kaia’s mother hadn’t declared this neutral ground. Apparently whatever Tabitha the Vicious wanted, Tabitha the Vicious got. So, instead of attacking, instead of going their separate ways and awaiting the third competition, the Harpies had decided to stay and party.

  Stolen beer abounded, hard rock blasted through the night and vehicles commandeered from the nearest town shot bright headlights into the ice-laden valley. Many of the combatants were still bruised and bloody from the earlier battle, and some were still unconscious, but that didn’t discourage the revelers.

  A few hours earlier, someone had stolen Kaia’s coat and she had no doubts as to the culprit. Juliette probably expected her to issue a private challenge over it, ruining everyone’s good time. Well, Juliette could suck it. The thing had been dirty as hell anyway.

  “Hey, baby doll,” a sexy male voice said.

  Strider. Her Strider. He smelled like cinnamon and looked like paradise, his cheeks pink and his hair disheveled, framing his face in a vivid halo.

  Did she love him? She hungered for him, was amused by him and delighted in his attention. But love? Trusting him with all that she was? Her sisters were the only members in her Faith Circle and she’d never thought to welcome another. Especially someone who did indeed have an agenda different than her own.

  He plopped beside her and held out a frosted glass. “This is mine. Not yours. Don’t touch.”

  Maybe trusting him wasn’t so bad. She took the glass from him with a muttered, “Thanks,” and sipped. Despite the coolness of the drink, her body temperature continued to rise.

  “I talked to Sabin and Lysander. They’ve set up camp about a mile away and are doctoring Bianka and Gwen.”

  So he hadn’t been searching for the Rod? Wonder of wonders. “What about Taliyah, Neeka and the others?”

  “They took off without a word.”

  “They’re always doing that,” she grumbled.

  “Well, this time I followed them.”

  Her gaze swung to him. His navy eyes were bright, his lips curled seductively. Her heart skipped a beat. He wore a leather jacket, jeans, boots. Typical Strider attire. The man was always ready to give an ass-kicking.

  “Really?” she asked. “And they didn’t sense you?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  She considered him anew. There were fresh cuts on his palms, nicks on his fingers. “What happened? Did they hurt you? Because if they hurt you, I will personally—”

  “Easy, Red.” Those lips curled farther until he was grinning. “They just warned me away. Anyway, they had no idea I was behind them at first. They snuck through a few of the tents of warring teams.”

  “Searching for the Rod?” But why would they do so?

  “I don’t think so.” He stroked his chin in thought. “In the woods back there,” he hiked his thumb behind him, “they met a group of guys I didn’t recognize. Warriors, though. Immortal. Taliyah scented me out before I could get close enough to listen to their conversation.”

  Taliyah. With men. Interesting. And unusual. Her older sister usually kept her distance from the opposite sex, never wanting to chance finding her consort. Not that Taliyah was a man-hater. She wasn’t. She just liked her space, liked doing her own thing. Liked having no ties, able to leave anyplace, anytime with no hindrances.

  “Something’s up,” Kaia said.

  “True, but I don’t think it concerns us or the games. The men were mostly interested in Neeka. Almost…proprietary toward her. So. Speaking of the Rod,” he went on, “I’ve been thinking. What if Juliette doesn’t have it? What if she’s got a fake?”

  A possibility, though a dim one; Kaia recalled the power she’d felt emanating from the spear when Lazarus had walked on stage with it. One way or another, though, she would discover the truth.

  Drunken feminine laughter cut off any reply she might have made. Good thing, too. There were too many possible eavesdroppers for them to have this conversation here. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Nope. Now. We’ll just be more circumspect.” Strider wound his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. He didn’t release her, but whispered straight into her ear, his warm breath caressing her. “Couple questions are plaguing me. We didn’t know where the Paring Rod was. How did she? And how’d she get her hands on it without alerting anyone in our world? And why hasn’t she used it? Why would she give it away? Okay, that’s more than a couple.”

  Kaia’s nipples had hardened at the contact and moisture had pooled between her legs. This was circumspect? Didn’t matter. She’d play. “Rhea could have given it to her, I suppose,” she whispered straight into his ear. Then she couldn’t help herself and had to lick the shell.

  He pushed out a breath. Tempted to eat him alive, Kaia returned her attention to the dancers. Juliette and her mother were gone, she noted distantly.

  “But why would she?” He saw her lick and raised her a warm puff of air. “There’s no reason good enough. Rhea hates my kind, wants us dead. She wouldn’t want us to get our hands on such a prized possession. She would have given it to the Hunters. To Galen.”

  Goose bumps broke out over Kaia’s entire body. “Maybe Juliette stole it from her. Rhea’s missing, after all, and no one’s heard from her. Maybe Juliette killed her and assumed control of the Hunters.” She nibbled on his lobe before showing him her profile, eager for him to have his next turn.

  He didn’t disappoint. He kissed along her cheekbone while his fingers caressed their way to the underside of her breast. “If that were the case, Cronus would be dead. The two are bound, so when one dies, the other will, as well. And Cronus is very much alive. Amun has been meeting with him.”

  She leaned into his touch, her nerve endings sparking to dazzling life. “Juliette could have her locked up, then.” To find the Rod, Kaia knew she’d have to snatch up Juliette and torture her for information. She’d already considered and accepted the necessity. Now, she’d ask about Rhea and the Hunters, too.

  Strider circled her nipple once, twice. “If so, she’s more powerful than we realized.”

  Sweet fire, that felt good. She flattened her palm on his thigh, not surprised to find her claws sharpened, ready to dig into his flesh. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle her. Besides, I owe her.”

  No matter the answers Kaia might force from Juliette, it was clear the bitch had somehow orchestrated this whole thing. To steal Strider, perhaps, as she’d first suspected. Not that Juliette had made much of an effort on that front, but she’d definitely wanted to taunt Kaia with what she could never have. Victory. Respect from her fellow Harpies. But also from Strider, if she failed him?

  And if she did fail him, would he still love her?

  She didn’t want to contemplate the answer, was already chilled to the marrow by the mere possibility.

  “For future reference,” she said, no longer whispering, “you should know that I don’t get mad. I get even.”

  “Good.” He placed a soft kiss at the edge of her mouth. “’Cause that’s how I like my candy and my women. Hot and spicy.”

  The comment roused an unexpected chuckle from her. “Anyway, like I said, we shouldn’t discuss this here.” No matter how much she enjoyed the exchange of information.

  He sighed. “You’re right.”

  “Of course I am.”

  He reached up and ruffled her hair. “Braggart.”

  “Just being honest. So what happened to your hands?” she asked, changing the subject before she launched herself onto his lap and had her way with him right here, right now.

  “Nothing.” There was a note of finality in his voice. A note that dared her to press—and lose.

  A lie. She knew it, but still she let it slide. Now wasn’t the time to argue with him. They needed to display a united front.

  “Lucky me,” another sexy male
voice said, this time from behind her. “If it isn’t my favorite Harpy.”

  Strider stiffened and they turned in unison—united, yay—and pushed to their feet. Lazarus stood before them, thick arms crossed over his middle. Like Strider, he wore a jacket and jeans. Unlike Strider, he did not make her heartbeat quicken.

  “Hey, there, Tampon. Where’s your master?” Kaia asked him.

  The obsidian in his eyes swirled menacingly. What? No more amusement for his pet name? “She’s having a private meeting with your mother about all the ways they plan to destroy you. I’m supposed to keep you occupied—a task that is no hardship. Would you like to go someplace private with me? I could at last meet all your needs.”

  Strider growled low in his throat and the sound reminded her of a countdown clock. Tick, tock, tick, tock, someone’s about to die.

  “Thanks,” Kaia said, “but I’d rather be on an island, a millionaire hunting me so he can kill me and drape my skin in front of his fireplace.”

  “You and I will play that game later, baby doll,” Strider said. “You, on the other hand,” he threw at Lazarus, “can go someplace private with me now.”

  Cold fingers of dread ran down Kaia’s spine. Please, please, please don’t challenge him.

  “Thanks,” Lazarus replied, “but you’re not my type. So, if you won’t leave with me, sweet Kaia, why don’t we stay here and chat?”

  The words earned another savage growl from Strider.

  Oh, gods. The two were going to come to blows and there would be no stopping them.

  She knew how powerful the immortal in front of her was. He’d ripped through a camp of Harpies, escaped unscathed and remained hidden for…well, she didn’t know how long, just that he had. Strider was powerful, too, but he had a handicap. His demon.

  Like that’ll slow him.

  The thought was immediately followed by another. You can use this. She needed to know what her mother and Juliette were planning and a fight between Strider and Lazarus would serve as the perfect distraction, allowing her to slip away unnoticed to accidentally on purpose overhear something.

  Strider must have considered the same thing—and his demon must have accepted the challenge of finding out—because he launched himself at the warrior without another word. The two flew to the ground in a tangle of limbs. And knives. The silver tips glinted in the moonlight.

  Yeah, Strider wanted to kill the warrior, but that wasn’t why he’d started the fight and she knew it. He’d given her the cover she needed to find the women in question, but damn it! She hated to leave him.

  As the warriors grunted in pain, dashed and ducked, threw punches, kicked and slashed, the Harpies around the campfire noticed. A second later, the cheering and betting began.

  Kaia worked her way through the throng, her gaze remaining on Strider until the last possible second. He and Lazarus were now rolling in the snow, leaving pools of blood in their wake. Her stomach clenched.

  Don’t worry. He can take care of himself.

  That didn’t stop her from trembling as she crouched on the fringes of the crowd and sniffed, searching for her mother’s familiar scent. Nothing. She inched forward. Still nothing. To the right. Nothing. To the left—there!

  She propelled in that direction, staying in the shadows as much as possible. All too soon the mountain’s incline stopped her forward progress. She glanced upward. Ice, jagged rocks. A ledge.

  A ledge that most likely led to a cavern.

  How cliché. Harpies could jump higher than humans, and even hover in the air for short periods of time, but because their wings were so small, they couldn’t fly. She had to do this the hard way and climb. She placed her hands and feet precisely, lest a pebble or ice chunk fall. If the women were up there—and she thought that they were, the unimaginative villains—the slightest noise could alert them. Oh, she didn’t doubt that they heard the chaos below, but that was something they’d expected.

  The clenching in her stomach worsened when a voice she recognized as belonging to an Eagleshield whooped and shouted from below, “That’s the way, cowboy. Beat his face in!”

  Who was the cowboy? Strider or Lazarus? Her money was on Lazarus because Juliette was an Eagleshield, which meant her clan would prefer him to Strider. Even though Strider was a delicious Lord of the Underworld. Idiots. They made her ashamed to call herself a Harpy.

  “Holy hell, I think you broke his nose. Sweetest punch ever. Do it again! Do it again,” someone else chanted.

  “Gut him!”

  “I get to nail the winner!”

  “No way. I do.”

  You can’t afford to look.

  Up she continued to climb, not pausing until she reached the ledge. Her arms shook and her thighs burned, but she held herself steady, listening. There was a murmur of voices, yes, but they were whispered and she couldn’t tell if they were male or female. Couldn’t even guess how many were speaking.

  To find out, she’d have to go in.

  If they spotted her, they’d fight her. But a fight was better than a secret meeting, where plans were made and enacted. At the very least, she’d prevent the attendees from solidifying any goals.

  She inhaled a measured breath, reached down, dangling from the ledge by one hand and palmed a dagger. Then she did the same with the other hand, until she was two-fisting weapons and ice. Then she hauled herself over.

  A mistake. One she knew she would regret forever.

  She’d been set up, she immediately realized with dread.

  There was no time to act. Manacles shot out from the bottom sides of the cavern and latched around her ankles, metal teeth digging so deep they hit bone. She stifled her cry of pain, even as her knees buckled. Can’t distract Strider.

  Her mother and Juliette hadn’t met in private. They hadn’t met at all. They’d simply assembled a group of murder-minded Hunters. And those Hunters were staring at her, smiling, as if they’d been waiting for her all along.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  WIN, WIN, WIN.

  As Strider fought the strongest immortal he’d ever encountered, his demon chanted excitedly, nervously. That wouldn’t have been so bad, or so distracting, if there hadn’t been another voice inside his head. Tabitha’s. Prodding him toward a raging darkness he’d never felt before.

  They want to kill her. They will kill her.

  He damn well knew the Harpies wanted to kill her. Would they succeed, though? Hell, no. But if Tabitha was talking to him, she couldn’t be meeting with Juliette. And if she wasn’t meeting with Juliette, why the hell had he accepted a challenge he might not be able to win, just to distract the ranks, giving Kaia time to infiltrate her enemy’s camp?

  WIN!

  You aren’t helping. Hard knuckles connected with his mouth, his teeth shredding the bastard’s skin. Not quite the silver lining of his dreams. His brain banged against his skull and for a moment, he saw stars. He hated stars. Blood coated his tongue, slid down his throat. Lazarus rolled on top of him, pinning his shoulders with firm, bony knees. Punch, punch, punch.

  Bone cracked. Broke. Shattered.

  WIN!

  I damn well know, he mentally sneered. And he would win this. Just as soon as he found his knives in the blood-stained snow. Bastard was going to lose his head. Maybe. Hopefully.

  Surely.

  At the very least, Lazarus was going to spill his guts. He was a threat to Kaia. Threats to Kaia were not allowed to live.

  She will die. Tonight. There is nothing you can do to save her. Tabitha again.

  Punch, punch, punch.

  More stars, riding the coattails of pain. Rage stormed through him, lightning caged too long, finally released. He bucked with all his strength, sending Lazarus crashing behind him.

  Strider was on his feet in an instant. Through swollen eyes, he saw Lazarus smile with delight as he, too, stood. In the back of Strider’s mind, he knew Lazarus could have done a lot worse to him. Could have sliced and diced him. Could have gone for his man-business
. Instead, the child of a god and a nightmarish monster had used his fists. What was up with that?

  As the Harpies cheered, the warriors circled each other.

  “How predictable you are,” Lazarus tsked under his tongue. And wasn’t that weird. He’d spoken in the language of the gods, used so long ago. A language the Harpies probably didn’t understand.

  Strider replied using the same harsh tones and nearly forgotten words. “How pathetic you are. Lazarus the Lapdog, Juliette’s bitch.”

  Bye-bye smile. Gold star for Strider—and suddenly, he really liked stars. Go figure. Defeat chuckled.

  “You think you’ll be any different? Juliette will enslave you the same way she has enslaved me. What else do you think this competition is about? Not the idiotic games these females like to play. This is simply about punishing the redhead.”

  “For what you did, the way I hear it.”

  Lazarus shrugged, unconcerned. “She freed me. The blame falls on her.”

  “She was a child.”

  Another shrug of those wide shoulders. “And I was worked into a fury over my circumstances. I cannot control myself when the fury hits.”

  Which meant he wasn’t worked into a fury right now. Or, if he was, the chains tattooed around his neck and wrists prevented him from doing anything about it.

  “Start fighting again already,” a Harpy called.

  “Seriously. Bor-ing!” This speaker tossed an empty beer bottle at him and the glass slammed against his stomach.

  WIN!

  Stupid Defeat.

  You talk. She dies. And there was Tabitha yet again.

  He gnashed his molars. He knew the bitch was simply taunting him, trying to distract him, to work him into a lather, convincing him to walk away from this altercation and purposely lose. Then he’d be out for the count and Kaia vulnerable.

  “If Juliette’s so powerful, why hasn’t she tried to enslave me yet?” Strider demanded. Answers first, ass kicking second. “Tit for tat.”

  Lazarus’s gaze was pitying. “Haven’t you learned anything? The Harpies enjoy drama and theatrics more than any other race.”