Lords of the Underworld Bundle

by Gena Showalter

  You don’t really think you can beat these men, do you? The uncharacteristic doubt whispered through Aeron’s mind, quickly solidifying and raking sharp claws in his thoughts.

  “We are not the same warriors we used to be,” Cameo said, drawing attention to her sad eyes. “Hear us out, at least.”

  Everyone cringed. She spoke as if every sorrow in the world rested on her delicate shoulders. Probably did. Listening to her, Aeron wanted to sob like a human baby.

  “We do need your help. We’re looking for dimOuniak. Pandora’s box. Do you know where it is?” Sabin asked tightly.

  “After all these years, you want the box?” Lucien seemed bathed in confusion. “Why?”

  If you engage them, you might be killed. Or maimed. Why not give them what they want and return to life as normal? Aeron’s fists tightened. Damn it. He was strong and capable. There was no reason to doubt himself like this. Doubt…

  A growl rumbled in the back of his throat as he recalled his former friend’s ability. “Get out of my head, Sabin.”

  “Sorry,” the warrior said with a weak smile. “Habit.”

  He should have launched his dagger then and there. “So you’re the one who tried to lure us to the cemetery unarmed.” Not a question. “I thought you didn’t want to fight us,” he added dryly.

  Sabin’s smile became sheepish. “Wasn’t sure of my welcome and didn’t want to tempt Fate. And since I failed to draw you there, Kane’s going to have a boring night with the corpses. What are you doing here, by the way? Did you hear the Hunters would be here, too?”

  “We sent Torin to the cemetery, so Kane’s night will be anything but boring,” Lucien told him, gaze scanning the club. “And yes, we tracked the Hunters here, though I don’t see them.”

  “Disease is with Kane?” Frowning, Sabin whipped a black box from his pocket. Even as he did so, Reyes had a knife pointed at his neck, obviously thinking the man was going for a weapon. When Reyes realized it was a walkie-talkie, he lowered his blade.

  Frown deepening, Sabin raised the radio to his mouth and said, “Kane. Stand down. Friendly fire.”

  “Roger that. I know,” was the staticky reply.

  Sabin returned the radio to his pocket. “We good now?”

  “Not even close,” Aeron snapped.

  Strider stood there shaking angrily, his blistering gaze circling the area. Several people had begun dancing again, high on alcohol and lust as they writhed against each other. “Do you know about the Titans?”

  Lucien looked at Aeron before nodding. “Yes.”

  Cameo bit her lip. “Any idea what they want from us?”

  Gods, Aeron wished the woman would keep her mouth closed. “No,” he answered before someone could speak for him. He didn’t want anyone else knowing what he had been commanded to do.

  “Listen, old friends, I know you hate us,” Sabin said. “I know we want different things. But one thing we all have in common is a will to live. About a month ago we learned that Hunters are searching for Pandora’s box. If they find it, our demons are in danger of being sucked inside. That means we’re in danger of dying.”

  “How do you know it hasn’t been destroyed already?” Reyes asked with a frown.

  A moment passed, the erratic pulse of muscle the only sound.

  “I don’t, but I’m not willing to take a chance that maybe it’s gone forever.”

  All these years, Aeron had given the box very little thought. His demon had been inside of it, now it wasn’t, and he’d accepted the consequences of his actions, end of story.

  Now he thought back to the fateful night of his demon’s release, trying to remember what had happened. He had helped fight off Pandora’s guards while Lucien had opened the box. The demons had sprung out, seemingly unstoppable as they flew at the guards, devouring their flesh.

  The scent of blood and death had infused the air, blending with the screams. Something had wrapped around Aeron’s neck—a demon, he knew now—and he’d lost his breath. He’d fallen to his knees, no longer able to hold his own weight, and crawled through the entire chamber, searching for the box, desperate to find it. But he never had. It had vanished as if it had never been.

  Lucien ran a hand through his midnight hair. “We don’t know where it is. All right?”

  A woman suddenly smashed herself into Paris, licking at his neck. Paris closed his eyes and Reyes shook his head. “We should take this conversation elsewhere.”

  “Let’s go to your fortress,” Sabin suggested. “Perhaps, together, we will remember something about the way it was taken.”

  “No,” Aeron and Reyes said simultaneously.

  “Well, I could happily stay here all night,” Gideon said, obviously irritated.

  Aeron had forgotten how quickly Gideon’s lies could rub his nerves the wrong way.

  “Your fortress?” Sabin prompted. “I’m ready to leave when you are.”

  “No,” Aeron said again.

  “Fine. We’ll stay here. Just give me a moment to send everyone home.” Sabin closed his eyes, expression growing intense.

  Aeron watched him carefully, gripping his dagger, not knowing what to expect. The music stopped abruptly; the dancers ceased moving. Uncertainty fell over each of their features as they began muttering and walking toward the doors. In a matter of minutes, the entire building had emptied out.

  Sabin’s shoulders slumped and he expelled a long, exhausted breath. His eyelids cracked open. “There. We’re alone.”

  Amun, who hadn’t spoken a single word during the entire exchange, tilted his head to the side and stared at Aeron intently, his eyes like a laser beam into his forehead. Amun’s face was unreadable, and that made Aeron uneasy. Possessed as the warrior was by Secrets, could he guess what Aeron guarded deep in his soul?

  Amun’s gaze suddenly met his, and there was regret and knowledge in his dark eyes. Aeron stiffened. Oh, yes. He could guess.

  Sabin’s chest expanded as he clearly fought for patience. “Why don’t we strike a deal? We’ll take care of the Hunters who have invaded your city if you’ll help us find the box. It’s a fair exchange. We’ve battled them for years and know just how to strike.”

  “I found one earlier and interrogated him,” Strider said. “That’s how we knew to come to the club, but so far we’ve seen no trace of the rest.”

  Aeron caught a flash of movement in the far shadows and frowned. “Someone stayed behind,” he muttered. Everyone stiffened.

  That’s when Aeron saw the outline of four more humans, all male and all well-muscled, even in silhouette. His frown deepened as he drew in a whiff of gunpowder. “Hunters,” he growled. “How’s that for a trace?”

  Even though they had killed Baden, Aeron had been prepared to leave them alone. He’d caused them just as much pain centuries ago, after all. But they had come here. They would start a new war if given the chance.

  Realizing they’d been spotted, one of the humans stepped forward.

  The strobe light was still spinning, spitting those fractured beams of light in every direction. They danced over the mortal’s young, determined face. He was smiling. He rubbed his right wrist with his left thumb, and in the wild light Aeron could just make out the symbol of infinity he traced.

  “Who would’ve thought we’d get all the world’s evil together in the same room at the same time?” The man held up a small black box, two wires hanging from its sides. “Seriously, is it Christmas?”

  Several of the warriors growled. Some withdrew guns, some preferred their sharpest daggers. All were ready to battle. Aeron didn’t wait—he found that he couldn’t, didn’t want to, was eager to act. Wrath had already judged this man and found him guilty of the crime of killing innocents in his quest to kill Lords.

  Aeron tossed his blades, end over end, and both embedded to the hilt in the man’s chest.

  His eyes bugged and that white-toothed grin froze on his face. He didn’t die immediately, as he would have if this had been one of Paris’s mo
vies. He fell to his knees, panting, in pain. He’d live for a while yet, but there was nothing anyone could do to save him. “You’ll pray for death when we’re done with you,” he gasped.

  “Burn in hell, demon!” one of the other mortals shouted, tossing a dagger of his own.

  One of the warriors fired his gun as the blade pierced Aeron’s chest. Aeron frowned. Gazed down at the pearl handle winking in the light. His heart continued to pump, slicing open with every beat. Ouch. They had quick reflexes. He would have to remember that.

  Lucien and the others sprang forward.

  The Hunter didn’t back down. “I hope you enjoy the fire,” he said, swiping up the black box his fallen friend had dropped. Boom!

  An explosion rocked the entire structure, blasting through stone and metal. Aeron was lifted off his feet and thrown into the air like a sack of feathers.

  Defeated by humans. Unbelievable.

  It was the last thought to drift through his mind before his world went black.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MADDOX BECAME AWARE of his surroundings with a jolt. Dead one moment, fully conscious the next. Ashlyn slept in the crook of his arm, her pliant body curled around him.

  He glanced down at himself. She must have cleaned him and even managed to change the sheets despite his chains because the blood was gone. His scabs were back and stretched across his stomach and his ribs.

  Ashlyn’s soft honey-colored hair ticked his chin; her warm exhalations fanned his skin. Alive and here. With him. He hadn’t imagined it. Straight from hell into heaven.

  Come morning, he usually felt the need to destroy something. To fight. To forget the flames and the pain by giving in to the numbness and darkness of the spirit. Not so right now.

  He felt—dare he believe it?—at peace.

  Ashlyn looked so relaxed, he was loath to awaken her. No, not relaxed, he realized on closer inspection. Tearstains were evident on her cheeks and teethmarks marred the lushness of her lips, as if she’d bitten down hard and repeatedly.

  He longed to caress a fingertip over the curve of her cheek, but couldn’t. Damned chains. “Ashlyn. Beauty. Wake up for me.”

  A soft moan parted those lips.

  Sunlight caressed her as he craved to do himself, bathing her luminous skin and paying her absolute tribute. Her lashes were feathered, still damp from her tears, like strands of ribbon covered with dew.

  She’d cried at his suffering. When was the last time someone had cried over him?

  “Ashlyn.”

  She moaned.

  He lowered his head and kissed the tip of her nose. As always, spears of electricity slammed into him. She must have experienced it, too, gasping out his name and jolting upright. The cover fell to her waist, revealing the baggy T-shirt she wore. His T-shirt. He liked her in his clothing, liked that she was covered by material that had once covered him. Lock after lock of hair fell down her shoulders and back.

  When her gaze landed on him, she released a trembling sob and threw herself into his wide-open arms. “You’re alive. You came back from the dead again.”

  “Unlock me, beauty.”

  “I don’t have the key.”

  “It’s under the mattress.” Lucien had stopped carrying the key years ago when Maddox managed to snap it from its chain around his neck. “Why didn’t they take you?”

  “Torin hid me. Oh.” She hurriedly dug under the springs, found it and released him. She fell back into his side, the scent of her skin distracting him from wondering why Torin would have done such a thing. “I’m so glad you came back to me.”

  He wound his arms around her waist, rubbing his hands up and down her back, soothing, calming. His joints protested, but he didn’t stop. “I came back. I’ll always come back.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said on a shaky breath. Her body trembled. “Why do they keep doing this to you?”

  “Another curse.” His voice cracked with emotion. “I killed a woman, and now I must die as she died.” He had not wanted Ashlyn to know what he’d done, but it wasn’t fair to keep her in the dark when she’d revealed all her secrets.

  Ashlyn gripped him tightly. “Who was she? Why did you kill her?”

  “The woman I told you about. The warrior, the one given the task I desired for myself. Pandora.”

  Her eyes stretched wide. “The Pandora?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s the box you opened? Dear Lord, I don’t know why I didn’t piece this together before. Why didn’t the gods just put the demons back inside the box?”

  “Punishment. But more than that, the box was gone, with no way to be re-created.”

  “How did you kill…”

  “My demon had overtaken me, and—” Again he could hear the torment in his own voice, and wondered what Ashlyn thought. “I lost control, became Violence completely, and my sword did irreparable damage to her. I have regretted the action ever since, doubt me not.”

  “But immortals can’t be killed eternally. Right? I mean, you’re proof of that.”

  “Most can be killed. Not easily, but it is possible.”

  “Well, everyone makes mistakes, and you’ve paid for yours,” she said, her understanding surprising him. Warming him. Felling him. “I sort of wish you’d killed those gods who cursed you, too, because they’re vile, disgusting—”

  Wincing, he plastered a hand over her mouth, cutting off her words. “She did not mean it,” he said, eyes traveling ceilingward. “I will willingly take any punishment meant for her as my own.”

  Lightning did not strike them. The earth didn’t rumble. Locusts didn’t swarm, eating at their flesh. Maddox slowly relaxed. “Never curse the gods. They hear all.” Unfortunately.

  She reluctantly nodded and he removed his hand.

  “I’m not bait,” she said.

  “I know you’re not.”

  “Really?” she asked hopefully. She angled her head, peering up at him.

  “Really.”

  Her features softened; she even smiled. “What convinced you?”

  “You.” He looked at her in wonder because it was still a surprise to him. “Your sweetness, your ability. Your virginity.”

  “So you…wanted me?” she asked, unsure now. “Not because you desired answers from me but because…”

  “But because,” he assured her. “You make me burn.”

  Happiness sparkled in her eyes, like rays of sunshine stamping out the night. She snuggled still deeper into his side, breasts meshing into his chest. “I’m glad the Institute brought me to Budapest.”

  His body had begun to stir, to ready, to desire more. Until the Institute was mentioned. Violence growled. “You are not going back to them.”

  “You and your demands.” Not realizing his sudden turmoil, she continued blithely, “You know, I’ve heard a few tidbits about Pandora’s box here and there. Did I tell you that the Institute is always interested in tracking down supernatural relics mentioned throughout history in myth and legend?”

  He stiffened. “Will you tell me what you heard about the box?”

  “Let’s see…” She tapped her chin. “I heard that the box is hidden. Where, I don’t know. But supposedly it’s guarded by Argus and even the gods themselves can’t get to it.”

  Maddox absorbed this news with shock. Argus was a huge beast with over one hundred eyes, enabling it to see everything that happened at all times. Legend claimed it had been killed by Hermes, but legend was often a lie told by the gods to fool mortals.

  “I also heard a conflicting story,” Ashlyn continued, “that the box is actually guarded by Hydra, not Argus. The common denominator in both stories, though, was that the—” She gave another gasp.

  “What?”

  “If the box ever resurfaced, the demons would be sucked back inside. That’s good, right?”

  He shook his head. “For the world, perhaps, but not for me. Without the demon, I will die.”

  “How can you know that? I mean—”
/>   “I know it,” he interrupted, thinking on what she had said. Hydra. A poisonous serpent with multiple heads. If that was true, the box was buried deep in the ocean. But which story was he to believe? One or both or neither? If the rest of what she had heard could be believed, that the demons could be sucked back inside if the box were found…

  “I could, I don’t know, do a more thorough search for the box. Make it my top priority.”

  “No!” That would entail having her leave the fortress, placing her in danger. “I know I told you to tell me everything, but now we must choose a less volatile topic.” Violence was prowling his mind, more agitated with every word. While Maddox now believed the demon did not want to hurt Ashlyn, he wasn’t willing to take a chance. He would talk about flowers and moonbeams—he cringed—if it meant maintaining this delectable inner peace.

  “Is there a way to break your death-curse?” Ashlyn asked. So much for flowers and moonbeams.

  “No.” He shook his head. “There is no way.”

  “But—”

  “No.” He would not allow her to try and bargain with the gods, hoping to find a way to save him. He was not saveable. More than that, he was not worth the effort. He was more monster than man, even if he sometimes tried to convince himself otherwise. “That is a subject best dropped, as well.”

  She trailed a fingertip down his sternum, deliciously warm breath fanning him. “What subject can we talk about, then?”

  He splayed his fingers over her bottom and squeezed. “Have you heard any more voices during your time here?”

  “Unfortunately.” She arched slightly, the action nearly imperceptible, in an effort to be closer to him. “I heard every word spoken by those four women. Who, by the way, should be released immediately.”

  “They stay.”

  “Why?”

  “That, I cannot tell you.”

  She drummed her fingertips. “At least tell me what you plan to do with them. They’re nice. They’re innocent. They’re scared.”

  “I know, beauty. I know.”

  “So you’re not going to hurt them?” she insisted.