by Unknown
But at least she wasn’t being tortured.
Yet.
What am I going to do?
Pick up her dagger, which she did, and wait. She grimaced at the amount of blood on it. It looked like she’d hit an artery. And he hadn’t even reacted to her stab. Obviously, he was an immortal. One who liked to be in pain.
I am so dead.
What else would he do with her, other than kill her?
The obvious answer to that terrified her even more than the thought of dying. I won’t be raped. She might not be able to kill him, but she could geld him and that she would definitely do if he laid a hand on her.
With that thought foremost in her mind, she went to the corner and sat on the floor with her back against the wall. Now she was ready for him and she would renew their battle whenever he returned.
* * *
“Where’s Lydia?”
Seth paused at Solin’s belligerent tone. So that was the woman’s name.
Lydia. It was pretty … like a song. But he wasn’t a poet.
He was death, and she was nothing but a pawn to get what he needed. Narrowing his gaze, he went to the table that held Solin in place by chains. All too well, he knew how much it hurt to be pinned that way.
How humiliating. There was no worse feeling than to be at the mercy of someone else and to not be able to fight back or even protect yourself. To lay there with no clue as to when the next round of torture would begin.
To have no dignity.
No hope of escape …
Deep inside, a part of him felt sorry for Solin.
Don’t you dare! his mind snarled at him. It was that very thing that had gotten him punished to begin with. And if he didn’t get what he needed, he would be there again.
No one ever came for you. He must never forget that. No one had ever tried to help him. He’d never had a single ounce of compassion from anyone.
Not even his own mother. The memory of her brutality was as fresh today as it’d been when he was child, cursing her for intentionally leaving him to die.
Unprotected.
Alone.
But Lydia had come for Solin. She’d risked her life trying to help him. Jealousy plowed through his heart. What about Solin was so special and deserving that he warranted such concern and loyalty? Such personal sacrifice?
How dare you proclaim that pathetic backwash as my divine offspring! How dare you name him after me, you bitch! You both sicken me. Get it out of my sight before I gut you both. Those had been the last words his father had said to him. It was what everyone since had seen him as. Nothing but worthless garbage to be used and discarded.
Walked over.
And that set fire to his temper.
He closed the distance between them and grabbed Solin by the hair. His nostrils flaring, he forced Solin to meet his gaze. “Tell me what I want to know or I’ll kill her.”
Solin looked down at the blood on Seth’s armor. “How do I know you haven’t already?”
Seth sneered at the question. It was his own blood staining his armor, not Lydia’s. Blood brutally taken from him because he had yet to break the Greek.
Only Solin had the ability to end Seth’s suffering and the stubborn bastard wouldn’t. Damn him for it.
So he tormented the Greek in turn—not nearly as badly as Noir had him, but enough to make Seth feel better. “What would be the fun in that? It’s more torturous for you to know that I have her at my disposal. I can do anything I want with her and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. Nothing.”
Solin exploded into a string of profanity so foul, it was a wonder his mouth didn’t spontaneously combust.
Seth tightened his hand in Solin’s hair. “If you want her safe, tell me where the key is.”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit! I know for a fact that you’re the only one who has access to it.”
Solin shook his head in denial.
Seth wanted to crush his skull. Noir was growing more impatient by the heartbeat. If Solin didn’t break soon, Noir would return him to his hole and bolt his mouth shut again.
This time, it would be permanent and he’d never be granted another reprieve from it.
May the gods help Solin then. Noir would never take the pity on him that Seth had. As badly as the idiot thought he was suffering now, it was a walk in paradise compared to what was coming for him.
He knew from personal experience that the worst place to be was between Noir and whatever it was Noir wanted.
C’mon, you stupid bastard. Give me what I need to save us all. “One word from you and I’ll let you both go.”
“Fuck you.”
“Not the word I wanted.” Growling, Seth released him. This was the same as it’d been for two weeks now. And he was through with being Noir’s scapegoat. With being blamed and punished for Solin’s obstinacy. Given what they were doing to him, he might as well be pinned to the table beside Solin.
But no more.
“Fine. I’ll go question Lydia. Let’s see what she knows.”
Solin let out a scream so loud and pain-filled that it had to come from the deepest part of his soul. “Don’t you hurt her. Don’t you dare! I’ll get you whatever it is you want if you’ll release her.”
For once he believed him. The emotion in Solin’s voice and eyes was too real to be faked, and that scream …
It was one born of desperate love. Seth had absolutely no concept of that word. But he’d seen mothers who had died protecting their young. Of men who sacrificed themselves for friends, family, and women.
Did Lydia really mean that much to Solin?
“Would you give me your life for hers?”
Solin didn’t hesitate with his answer. “Yes.”
Fascinating. What could make a god want to die to keep another safe? “Do you think she’d do the same for you?”
“She came for me.”
Those words stung him. Solin was right. She’d risked everything to try and rescue the dream god. “You love her?”
Solin didn’t answer. Rather he did the one thing he’d never done throughout any of his torture.
He begged. “Please, please don’t hurt her. I swear if you keep her safe, I will bring the key to you and put it in your hands.”
Relief coursed through him as he finally heard the words that would save his ass and spare him more degradation.
Provided Solin wasn’t lying to him. Did Lydia really mean so much?
Trust was not in his nature. Whenever he’d made that mistake, the repercussions had been shoved down his throat and stomped into his stomach. The only thing he had faith in was other people’s willingness to lie and screw him over.
But in this, he had no choice. He had to have that damn key. Sooner rather than later.
He glared at Solin. “You have three days to return. If I don’t have the key then, I’ll send you her remains.” Stepping back, Seth snapped his fingers.
The chains melted away.
Solin lay there, panting and weak. Just like he’d done when Noir had finally freed him. A part of him was remorseful for his part in it. He hated to see someone else in pain. But better it be Solin than him. At least he hadn’t bolted Solin’s mouth shut. He rubbed the back of his hand under his chin as a phantom pain reminded him of how much that had hurt. Nor had he violated the private parts of Solin’s body. The stupid bastard thought he knew what torture was. He had no idea how gentle Seth had been compared to the others who called this hell home.
Solin should be down on his knees in gratitude.
Seth held his hand out and returned Solin’s clothes to him. “Three days, Olympian. Do not fail me.” Then he used his powers to send Solin back to the mortal realm he’d stolen him from.
How he wished he could go with him. But Noir had taken his ability to leave the moment he first brought him here. He could only pull others out of the human realm or return them.
Never himself.
But right now, that didn’t
matter.
Seth let out a relieved breath at the thought of handing the key of Olympus to Noir. It would make his overlord happy. Or at least as happy as the miserable son of a bitch could be.
Maybe then he’d be forgiven and allowed to remain without chains.
And with luck, Solin would be back in a few hours.
In the meantime, he wanted to understand what about the woman was so special that a god like Solin would give his life for her.
Was Solin out of his mind for putting her safety above his own? People lied and they betrayed. Especially where love was involved. It was only a tool the strong used against the weak.
He knew that better than anyone.
I love you. He sneered at the thought. Cheap, meaningless words bandied about by selfish asses incapable of understanding the meaning of it.
Lydia was just like all the others. She would turn on Solin.
And he would do the god a favor.
He would prove it.
CHAPTER 3
When he returned to his room, Seth expected to find the woman alert and crouched, ready to tear into him again. Instead, she sat in the corner with her arms crossed over her knees and her head lying atop her forearms. The soft, gentle snore let him know that she was sound asleep.
How could that be?
He hadn’t been able to do more than nap since he’d been freed. And even those came in very short spurts. Spurts where he jerked awake at the slightest sound or merest stirring in the air. Real or imagined.
Yet here she was in the middle of enemy territory, and …
She slept.
Deeply.
You’re such a fool.
Most of all, she was a curiosity wrapped by enigma and contradiction. Why? Why would she risk her life and body for someone else? Why would she come here?
Really?
Before he even realized what he was doing, he’d closed the distance between them and knelt on the floor by her side. His armor creaked ever so slightly from his movement. Her long black hair spilled around her shoulders and legs, forming a shining weblike mantle. In that position, she looked even more frail and tiny than she had before … Like a little dark rose on his floor. And she smelled like beauty. Most demons had an odor to them, but not her.
She smelled like the summer sunshine he hadn’t seen since he was a boy … back in the days when he’d believed in beauty and decency. When he’d looked forward to a future he’d stupidly believed would be bright.
Back before his innocence had been so violently torn from him, and then thrown in his face.
Hesitant, but too curious to stop, he touched a lock of her hair that dangled by her side. The softness of that one fat curl startled him. It was like touching a rose petal. At least this was what he remembered them feeling like.
Slowly, he lifted it to his nose so that he could breathe in the pleasant, sweet smell that seemed to be a part of her. Oh yeah … It made him think of a home he’d never known or had.
He closed his eyes to savor the scent as it ran through his blood like fire. Against his will, his thoughts turned to what she might look like naked. How she’d feel beneath him as he tasted her tanned skin and took her.
No, better yet, on top of him. Yeah, that was the image he coveted. With this soft hair tickling his skin while she rode him like no one ever had before. Slow and tender. With gentle kisses that didn’t draw blood.
Like he meant something to her.
Don’t be stupid. Since when did you become an old woman? Sex was sex. It was a meaningless animalistic act that the body needed from time to time. Only an absolute imbecile would drag emotion into it.
And since when was sex ever tender? Especially for something as disgusting as he was? Hell, he was lucky any female would lower herself to screw him.
Lydia would never do so.
That thought stung deep. But it was true. The first thing he’d done after his strength came back was find a demon lover to sate what he’d missed most—the only pleasure Noir hadn’t taken from him. He’d needed release in the worst sort of way. But the she-demon’s pale gray skin had been cold and dry, her touch rough and demanding as she’d clawed and bit him until he bled. She’d even knocked loose some of his teeth. And her hair had been rough and brittle. Nothing like the warm softness of his little flower.
Open your eyes, sšn.
As if she heard his innermost wish, she let out a low sigh and rubbed her cheek against her folded arms. She blinked once, then jerked as she realized he was right beside her. She immediately scooted away from him with panic in her topaz eyes. To his dismay, her actions caused her hair to fall out of his grasp. Her entire body tensed for battle, as if she expected him to break into violence for no reason whatsoever.
“I…” he caught himself before he promised not to hurt her. He refused to give her that power.
Better to be feared. Always.
So instead, he moved to confront her.
Lydia pushed herself up after he rose only to realize it didn’t really matter. He still towered over her and made her feel as if she’d fit into his pocket. May the gods help her if he did turn violent. It wouldn’t be much of a fight on her part. She’d already done her best and stabbed him, and he’d pinned her so fast and easily that it still staggered her. But she would fight. So long as she breathed, she wouldn’t give in without one.
That being said, he made no moves toward her at all.
She stared at the demon, wishing she had some way to question him. If only she had her powers. Then she could send out her thoughts.
As it was …
Her best action remained staring her hatred in his general direction.
She tried signing to him again. But all that did was cause him to frown. Something made twice as sinister by the black and red lines on his white face.
“Is that how you speak?” he asked her.
She nodded.
He cursed under his breath.
Using Charade movements instead of sign language, she tried to tell him that if he could return some of her powers, she’d be able to talk to him.
His frown deepened. “What? The ceiling? What about it?”
She let out a frustrated breath and tried to think of another way to illustrate her powers. She waved her arms around like smoke.
He grimaced in distaste. “This is annoying.”
The demon had no idea.
She stopped as she tried to think of something else to try. There had to be a way she could write …
Before she could blink, he manifested in front of her. The sheer size of him, and shock at his sudden appearance in her face, made her gasp. At a distance, he’d been fierce. Up close like this, she could literally feel his powers. They were like an electrical current in the air that made the hair on the back of her neck rise.
He absolutely dwarfed her and it wasn’t due to the armor bulking him up. He was this large.
Those blue eyes scorched her with a coldness so frigid, it was a wonder she didn’t have frostbite.
In the next heartbeat, he wrapped one well-muscled arm around her and pulled her into his arms. His eyes glittered an instant before he lowered his lips to hers.
For the merest nanosecond, she was stunned by the warm softness of his lips. The gentleness of his embrace as he swept his tongue against hers in the sweetest kiss she’d ever known.
Until she remembered he was a demon who’d been torturing Solin. Her fury igniting, she bit his lip with everything she had.
He pulled back with a curse.
“You bastard!” Lydia froze, wide-eyed, as those words flew out of her mouth instead of the empty breath she normally spoke. Shocked, she clamped her hands over her lips and throat.
Had that really been her? Was that what her voice would sound like? It was alien and foreign, and …
Unbelievable.
The demon’s eyes turned deadly as he wiped the blood away from his lips with the back of his hand. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you for that.
”
But that wasn’t her greatest concern. What had he done to her? How could he have given her a voice when no one else had been able to do it?
No one.
Not even Solin.
With a sinister snarl curling his upper lip, he licked the area where she’d bitten him. “You can speak now.”
“How?” The sound of her own voice made her jump.
He rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, then grimaced at the pad that was coated red from his still-bleeding wound. It matched the red lines bisecting his face. “I have all kinds of powers. That’s just one of them.”
“Is that why you kissed me?”
His gaze turned even more glacial. “Not at all. I had yet to have my lip busted open today so I thought I’d better see to it. Thank you so much for being kind enough to oblige me.”
His sarcastic humor caught her off guard. For a moment, she didn’t see him as a terrifying demon. He almost seemed …
Human.
Disturbed by that thought, she looked around nervously. “What other powers do you have?”
Her question brought the scary right back to him—with interest. When he spoke, he growled out his words like the demon he appeared to be. “Pray you never find out.”
Fine. If he wanted to play that game …
“Why did you bring me here?”
His gaze drifted in the direction of the bed.
Heat scorched her cheeks. “You can forget it. Unless you’re into necrophilia, it ain’t ever gonna happen.”
“Necrophilia?”
She steeled herself for the probability of his attack. “I’d kill myself before I let you touch me.”
Seth went completely still at those words as they struck him harder than a blow and took him straight into the past. You rotten piece of filth, you’re beneath me. She didn’t say that, but her tone and indignation implied it. Suddenly, he was a young man again, being laughed at for his ineptitude.
Rebuffed.
Humiliated.
Not good enough even to keep.
He felt now, just as he’d done then. Raw and sore from a truth he couldn’t help. He hadn’t asked to be born, and he damn sure hadn’t asked to be immortal. He’d tried to be decent. Once. And what had it gotten him?
Tortured for centuries.