The Darkest Lie lotu-7

by Gena Showalter

  Stop...her...

  Another grunt. Black winked over his vision. Shut up! We have to stay strong. Stop...

  The sweat poured from him, little rivers all over his body. "Don't give me...a couple days...to learn more about...what's going on and do...what I can to help...so I can't leave with...a clear conscience." He could barely get the words out.

  She leaned out of the closet, brow furrowed. "What's wrong with you?"

  "Nothing."

  A moment passed as she waited for him to elaborate. "Are you in pain?"

  "No."

  Again she waited. Again he offered nothing more. He didn't want her pity. Didn't want her having to take care of him. He wanted her to view him as the warrior he was.

  She frowned, looked away. "Listen. We both know the truth. You can't leave this place with a clear conscience. No matter how long I give you. And no, I'm not doing this to be cruel. Please believe that," she whispered, then ducked back inside, disappearing from view.

  Stop...stop...

  Shut up! Panting, almost wheezing, he said, "I have slept...with very few women." Many. "All of them made me feel...utterly satisfied." He'd been pleasured, yes, but always hollow and lonely. "But with you, it's all physical." It wasn't. "I don't admire your strength...and your courage and fuck, I don't want...to see your smile." He did. More than anything.

  "You don't know me," she called, but there was a tremble in her voice.

  "And I don't...want to." Fuck. He wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer. Took every ounce of strength he possessed to get to his feet.

  "Shut up! Just shut up. I have to leave." A pause. A sniff. "I have to." Another whisper.

  No! A scream.

  Gideon roared as more of that awful pain raged through him. "Morning won't...arrive soon. Don't wait another day at least." Stay forever.

  "Damn it, Gideon. What's wrong with you? Tell me this time." Soft black material hanging from her fingers, she once again leaned out. "Please."

  "Don't stay," he gritted out.

  A frustrated sigh met his words. "The moon is high. I've got several hours to find someplace safe. I'll be fine, so there's no need to worry about me if that's what you're doing."

  Maybe he could stall her. Keep her talking until the sun rose and she drifted to sleep. "How did your demon...know I love spiders...so much?" It was the first question that popped into his head.

  "My demon just knows. My demon always knows. Why are you afraid of them? I've wondered."

  He liked that she'd wondered about him. Even about that. "Before my possession —" after "—and never...at random times—" always "—I wouldn't feel them...crawling all over me. I wouldn't bat them away...and many more wouldn't take their place."

  She disappeared back inside the closet. Something clanked. There was a muttered curse.

  What else could he ask her? His brain was fogged, clouded by the pain, but surely there was something. "So why..." Damn it. What? "Why—"

  "Stop. Just stop. You've never been this talkative before, so I know what you're trying to do." A gun clicked, metal slid against leather, and then she finally emerged fully.

  Her hair was anchored in a ponytail at the base of her neck. She wore another of his T-shirts and a fresh pair of his sweatpants. Both were rolled to fit her shorter, smaller frame. In several places, there was a telltale bulge. Looked like she was stealing...four of his weapons. Not that he cared.

  Gideon wanted to close the distance, grab her up and remind her of just how good it was between them. Weakened and hurting as he was, though, his knees finally gave out and he collapsed to the ground.

  With a cry of concern, she stepped toward him. Just before contact, however, she stopped herself. Backed away. "Please understand, Gideon." Cold, so cold, and that was far worse than her lack of emotion. "It has to be this way. Being with you...hurts. There's just too much in the way. I'm too much of a liability to you. And I know that isn't your fault, it's mine, but that doesn't change anything."

  Every instinct he possessed yearned to tell her she wasn't a liability. But he couldn't. Truth or lie, she would know his meaning. NeeMah influenced her too easily. That didn't mean Scarlet wasn't worth the risk.

  She was worth every risk.

  But he wanted her to be happy, even if that meant upsetting himself, and she didn't think she could be happy with him. It hurt her.

  The thought of her hurting utterly destroyed him. She'd endured far too much already.

  "Besides," she continued in that cold, detached way. Frowning, she rubbed her temple, as if her head were aching. Or perhaps, as he'd suspected, her demon was as loud and upset as his own. "Like I told you, I'm going to do everything in my power to ensure my memory is wiped clean. If I have to break into Tartarus and abduct the Greek god of Memory, I will. And when it's done, I won't remember you, so there's no reason to start something that has no future."

  No, no, no. From the demon and Gideon. And yet...

  Cringing at the effort required to move, he waved his arm toward the door. "Stay, then." If she needed to leave to find happiness, so be it. But when he healed, when the fortress was fortified, he would go after her. Somehow, some way, he'd prove he could make her happy, too. Wiping her memory, though, wasn't going to happen. Ever.

  "Goodbye, Gideon," she said, then hesitated only a moment before walking away from him and out of his room.

  No! No! Mine. Come back! Lies shouted, and that was the last thing Gideon knew.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THE OLD MATTRESS squeaked as the punked-out female thrashed atop it, lost in what was probably a bloody, violent nightmare. I'll have to thank Gideon's woman later, Strider thought, just in case she was responsible. And he didn't feel bad for the lack of compassion.

  He had studied his bounty while she'd slept. Every inch of her, even peeling back her clothes for a look at all the hidden places. Weapons could be stored anywhere. Some would say he had no scruples, and he would agree. He didn't. Not with this woman. Never with this woman.

  He now knew who she was, and she didn't deserve leniency from him. She deserved the sting of his blade.

  There, lying on the small motel bed, locked with him in this tiny room, was Hadiee, the woman who had led Baden, keeper of Distrust, to his slaughter. She helped destroy my best friend!

  The beheading had taken places thousands of years ago, and she'd been human. Or so he'd thought. Yet here she was, as young as she'd been back then. Which meant she was now immortal. Right? How it had happened, he didn't know. But he would find out. He would be finding out a lot of things from the bitch.

  It had taken him a few hours to place her, 'cause yeah, the tattoos, piercings and pink streaks in her hair had thrown him. She hadn't looked like this back then. Her hair had been several shades lighter, a tumble of snowfall, and her skin glowing from the sun's kiss. She'd dressed in the rough, conservative garb of a servant, but that hadn't detracted from her prettiness.

  He never would have placed her if not for the scoreboard tattooed on her back.

  Lords: IIII Haidee: I

  She'd split her back in two, one side for the Lords, one side for herself. He'd known exactly what the marks meant, too, because Baden had marked himself that way, as well. Bitch.

  The four he and his friends had supposedly killed, he couldn't name. And yeah, he'd probably slain them. In all his many centuries, he'd slain thousands. The knowledge of that should have dulled his anger toward this woman. It didn't. Baden had been the best man Strider had ever known. The kindest to his friends, the most supportive and caring.

  Being possessed by the demon of Distrust had changed him, of course, just as being possessed by such a dark force had changed all of them. But he'd been the first to come back to his senses. The one who had led everyone else to the light. He'd felt the guiltiest for the destruction the Lords had caused. He'd been the first to reach out, to try and make amends with humans.

  He had also hated what he'd become more than any of the others. He'd ha
ted that he distrusted himself, everyone around him, even his friends. Especially his friends. But that had only made Strider love him more. Baden had been Strider's salvation. Strider had wanted to be Baden's salvation.

  Hadiee had destroyed that chance.

  As the girl continued to thrash, eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading over her skin, arms and legs jerking at their ties, her cell phone rang. Strider grinned. He'd been hoping this would happen and didn't have to guess who was calling. The boyfriend. The leader of the Hunters who had been chasing him.

  Strider reached out, swooped the cell from its perch on the table beside him and flipped it open. "Sorry," he said into the mouthpiece, "but your girlfriend's a little tied up right now and can't come to the phone."

  There was a pause. A ragged breath and crackling static. "She's mine, you sick bastard! If you hurt her..."

  Oh, yes. The boyfriend. "If?" Strider laughed with genuine amusement. "That's cute. Really it is."

  Now there was a roar. "Which piece of evil shit are you?"

  "Doesn't matter. All that matters is that this evil shit has your woman. And he isn't giving her back. Not unless it's in pieces."

  More of that static crackled over the line, followed quickly by a loud boom, a curse. Loverboy must have punched the wall. "What do you want with her? What will you trade?"

  "One thousand Hunter hearts. Oh, wait. Hunters don't have hearts. So I guess there's nothing I'm willing to trade for her."

  "You dirty, filthy—" The human stopped himself, as if only then realizing Strider could punish his woman for everything he said. "She's a good person. She has a family. She—"

  Anger blasted through him. "I'm a good person. I have a family." He could just imagine how the Hunter was gritting his teeth at that. "And yet she would have taken my head without hesitation. It's only fair that I reciprocate."

  "You aren't good, and you know it. You're selfish and dark and ruined. You belong in hell."

  Selfish? Dark? Yeah, no question. But ruined? Hardly. "I've done nothing but try to protect myself for thousands of years."

  "And in that protecting—" the Hunter sneered "—you've killed my friends."

  "Just as your woman killed mine." Now it was Strider's turn to punch something. He slammed a fist into the side table, splitting the wood. Boom!

  A feminine gasp had his gaze moving back to his charge. He stilled. She'd stopped thrashing, was staring over at him through blazing gray eyes. "And believe me," he added calmly, "she will pay for that."

  No reaction from Hadiee.

  Her boyfriend, however, exploded. "She hasn't killed anyone! But I have. Trade her for me."

  Did he not know her history? It seemed unlikely that the one person who'd succeeded in killing a Lord of the Underworld wouldn't have become the stuff of legend among her cohorts. "No, thanks," Strider said. "I like the hostage I've got."

  The Hunter's fury overtook him, obliterating his common sense. "I will find you and I will kill you, you motherfucking son of a bitch!"

  Slowly he grinned. "Now that sounds like a challenge. Good news is, I accept." Inside his head, his demon jumped up and down with excitement. "Find me and we'll have a little party."

  Without removing his gaze from the girl, Strider closed the phone, reveling in the fact that he'd had the last word. He stood. Hadiee's murderous expression didn't change as he walked to the bathroom. He knew phones could be traced and tracked and wasn't going to allow that to happen here. Whistling, he crushed the plastic and wires into as many pieces as he could and flushed them down the toilet.

  When he rejoined her, reclaiming his chair at the foot of the bed, he stretched out his legs and anchored his hands behind his head, a pose of smug relaxation. "Feeling better after your rest, darling Hadiee?"

  Surprise darkened those gunmetal eyes. "You know who I am." A statement, not a question.

  He answered anyway. "Yes."

  "Well, no one calls me that anymore. I'm Haidee now. A minor change in spelling, but a big stride in modernization, don't you think? Defeat."

  So. She knew who he was, as well. How did she, but not the boyfriend?

  "Or you could just call me Executioner," she added, a taunt.

  Rather than strike her as he wanted, he arched a brow. "I'll just call you Ex, then. Since you and I are going to be intimate, an endearment seems appropriate."

  Surprise was replaced with anger. Once more, she began thrashing atop the bed, jerking at her ties. Her lips pulled back from her straight, white teeth, and she hissed over at him.

  "Touch me and I'll peel the skin from your body."

  "As if I'd touch you that way." He shuddered. He was not attracted to this female. Not in any way.

  "Like I'd be stupid enough to believe a demon."

  "No, you're only stupid enough to murder one."

  No shame. No regret. Only a smile, dark and wicked, that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You say stupid. I say brave."

  "But as I was saying," he continued past his sudden surge of rage, determined to scare her again, "I plan to intimately acquaint you with my weapons."

  Funnily enough, that seemed to calm her. "You can try" was all she said.

  "I'll do more than that." Before she could reply, probably to him again, he switched the direction of their conversation. "You've changed."

  Her gaze raked over him, and she grimaced in distaste. "You haven't."

  "Aw. Thank you." He flattened a palm over his heart. "That means so much to me."

  "That wasn't a compliment," she snapped.

  Good. He was getting to her. "Of course it was. I'm gorgeous."

  "You're also a coward," she snarled. "A real man would have fought someone his own size."

  He almost grinned. He'd been called worse. Maybe that was why insults like that never affected him. "Actually, I'm a very smart warrior. I took the weak link, yes, but now the rest of the chain will wither. Think about it. With your death, the men will go crazy. They'll be ruled by their emotions. They'll make mistakes. Fatal mistakes. All I'll have to do is wait, swoop in and kill them."

  She didn't flinch at his words. Either she didn't believe he would actually kill a woman, which was stupid, since he'd done so before and as a Hunter, she had to know that, or she thought herself infallible. Which was...possible, he realized with a sudden blast of dread.

  "I know you're more than human." His head tilted to the side as he ran his gaze along her compact little body. "What I don't know is what you are and how you got that way."

  "And you'll never know," she replied, staunch once again.

  "Doesn't matter, I guess. Even immortals can be cut down."

  A smile curved the corners of her lips. Smug and satisfied and taunting. And this time, the amusement reached her eyes. "I know."

  Two simple words, but they built a fire inside him that crackled and smoldered, spread and raged. So badly he wanted to stand, stalk to her and choke the life from her. He wanted to hurt her, make her suffer endlessly.

  And he would.

  He'd always been a possessive man. What he considered his was his. Women, cars, weapons, didn't matter. He didn't share. Ever. And right now he considered this woman his property and her misery his mission.

  She was his to do with whatever he willed.

  Whatever we will, his demon interjected.

  So. Defeat wanted a piece of her, as well. Maybe Strider could share, just this once.

  He schooled his expression to reveal nothing but calm. He thought perhaps there were red flickers in his eyes, showing just how close to the surface his demon now was, because Hadiee, no, Haidee, no, Ex, paled, blue lines becoming visible beneath her skin.

  Inside his head, Defeat laughed, almost giddy, loving that the woman had been intimidated.

  "Capturing you was the easiest thing I've ever done," he said. "Not a challenge at all. You're not much of a warrior, are you? Which makes me wonder why the men keep you around. Because they like to pass you around? Because you managed to kill a Lord, so
mething none of your kind has been able to do again?"

  Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe I let you capture me. Maybe I'm still Bait, and now that we're together, I'll lead you into slaughter. But let the men use me? No. I'm with one, and he will punish you for this. You have my word."

  "The word of a Hunter? Sorry, but that means nothing to me."

  "If you think I'll beg you to let me go, you think wrong. If you think I'll cower at your feet, you think wrong. I will prevail."

  "You can try," he said, parroting her earlier words to him.

  Her teeth flashed in a scowl. "I'll do more than that. I'll give my man your head as a birthday present."

  Most would have been crying by now. She was brave, as she'd claimed, he would give her that. "Clearly you don't know me well enough. To think you'll be alive for your lover's next birthday...well, you are a Hunter. I shouldn't have expected you to be intelligent."

  Tendrils of mist drifted from her nostrils. At first, he thought he was mistaken. But no. That really was mist, crystallizing in front of her face. "Oh, I know you," she said. "You're Strider, keeper of Defeat. I've seen your picture, heard tales of your exploits. You burned cities to the ground, tormented innocents then destroyed their families."

  The reminder caused a muscle to tick below his eye. "That was a long time ago."

  She wasn't done. "You thrive on challenge. You can't lose without pain. Well, guess what? I don't think you can keep me in this room without having to tie me. I don't think you're strong enough."

  What. A. Bitch. She wanted to challenge him, did she? She'd soon learn the error of her ways. He stood, stalked to the bed and withdrew a knife. Surprisingly, she didn't flinch as he lowered it toward her. She looked...eager. Ready to die.

  What an odd reaction.

  With quick precision, he cut each of the ties. Immediately she tried to bolt toward the door, but he caught her by the waist and flung her back onto the bed.

  As she gasped, he jumped on top of her, weight smashing her down. She struggled, oh, did she struggle, teeth snapping at him, hands pounding at him, knees whipping a direct pathway to his shaft. Fuck!

  He held on through the pain and dizziness and nausea and soon she tired, panting, sweating, more of that mist wafting from her.