Lords of the Underworld Bundle

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Lords of the Underworld Bundle Page 43

by Gena Showalter


  Seeing him like that, bloody from battle, angry and ready for more, turned her on. Her knees did that stupid weakening thing. You hate weakness. But damn, it felt good. Would he always have this effect on her?

  Silly girl.

  When the wind hit him, she knew he experienced a moment of miserable suspension, where blood and oxygen froze inside him. “Anya,” he growled.

  “Nice to see you again, Flowers.” She didn’t waste another moment. Using all of her strength, she shoved him into the water.

  He could have grabbed hold of her to stop his fall, but he didn’t. He allowed himself to tumble backward, rather than risk taking her with him. How…sweet. Bastard! He had no right to be sweet now.

  He gasped when he hit, the sound a blend of rage, shock and icy torment. A few droplets splashed onto her thigh, and she gasped at the cold.

  “Anya!” he shouted when he sputtered to the surface.

  “No need to thank me for the bath. I mean, the least I could do after bloodying your chest was to help you clean up the mess. See ya!”

  “Don’t leave,” he rushed out. “Please.”

  Unable to help herself, she paused. “Why not?”

  Rather than flash to the boulder, he treaded water and glared up at her. “You do not want to anger me.” A cloud moved and thicker golden beams poured from the silky, inky sky, straight onto him.

  “Or what? You’ll turn into a hulking green beast? Hate to disappoint you, Flowers, but that kind of revs my engine. Have fun defrosting.” Laughing, she gave him a finger wave and flashed to her favorite private beach in Hawaii.

  Warmth and sunlight instantly enveloped her, melting the sheen of ice that had glazed her skin. Usually when she came here, she stripped and lounged on the sand, soaking in the tranquility. Sometimes she barricaded herself inside the house a quarter mile up, surrounded by towering palms, where she vegged out and watched movies.

  This time, she stayed on the beach and kept her clothes on, dropped her lollipop and withdrew two more daggers from her boots. She held them at her sides and waited.

  A scowling, shivering Lucien entered her line of vision a moment later. His lips were tinted blue and thinned in displeasure. His hair was frosted around his head, his skin glistening with crystallized moisture.

  “Thank you. For the beach,” he said through chattering teeth.

  “How the hell are you following me?” she demanded, raising her chin and returning his murderous glare with one of her own.

  Finally, for whatever reason, he deigned to answer. “You leave traces of energy everywhere you go. I simply follow them. Had you not revealed yourself inside the club, I never would have been able to lock on you.”

  Great. Now she’d never be able to lose him. Stupid urges, prompting her to dance with him. She should’ve stayed in the shadows. I must be more like my mother than I realized. “I won’t make this easy for you,” she told him.

  He lost some of his anger, his lips twitching into the semblance of a smile. “I suspected as much.”

  How dare he show an irresistible sense of humor now, softening his face and adding all kinds of sexy. Where had this amusement been yesterday or the day before?

  “I told you once but I will tell you again,” he said. “I do not want to hurt you.”

  “Oh, well.” She shook her head, pale hair dancing over her shoulders. “That makes this okay, then. Go ahead and kill me.” Sarcasm dripped from each word.

  “Anya.”

  “Hush it. I’ve been nothing but nice to you, helped you and your friends, and this is how you thank me?”

  A muscle ticked under his eye. Had she, perhaps, hit a nerve?

  “I would change the circumstances if I could. I would—”

  “You have a choice. You can walk away.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Whatever, Flowers. Let’s just get this over with, ’kay. All this talking is giving me a headache.”

  His brows arched into his forehead. “You are going to let me take your soul, then?”

  “Hell, no. I thought I made it clear I’m going to fight you to the death. Yours, in case you need more clarification. Here and now. I’ve killed an immortal before. Doing it again should be no hardship.”

  “Yes, Reyes mentioned Aias.” Lucien made no move in her direction. “Why did you slay him?”

  She lifted one of her shoulders in a casual shrug. Inside, though, she was anything but serene. The memory of her clash with Aias was not a pretty one. What could have been, what could have happened, still sometimes haunted her. “He wanted to fuck me, and I didn’t want him to. He decided to go ahead and do it, anyway, so I decided he’d look good with a hole in his chest.”

  Lucien popped his jaw. “I hope you inflicted pain.”

  Her eyes widened. Okay, back up. An immortal—a former Captain of the Guard at that—was glad she’d killed an elite warrior? First time that had happened. The knowledge twisted through her, profoundly affecting everything it touched. Finally someone, and a virtual stranger at that, was taking her side.

  “No worries there,” she managed to work past the sudden lump in her throat.

  Lucien’s hands curled into fists. Why? Didn’t matter, she supposed. She was just proud of herself for noticing because it meant she wasn’t staring into those otherworldly eyes like a lovesick puppy.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way,” he said, his tone stiff, flat.

  “You said that already. But news flash—yes, it does. I’m not going to bend over and take it just because new gods are running the show and they don’t like how I do business. I’m not going to bend over and take it because the big cheese is greedy and wants to steal from me.”

  Lucien’s gaze sharpened. “What does he hope to steal?”

  Her lips pursed. Damn her runaway tongue. Of course Lucien had latched on to that last bit of her speech. “Don’t listen to me. I spout all kinds of nonsense when I’m scared. Remember when I told you I liked to lie?”

  “You are not scared of me or anything, I would bet, and I doubt you were lying this time.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. “So you did not spurn Cronus or cheat on him?”

  “Does that matter?” She twirled the end of a lock of hair, making sure the point of her dagger glistened in the sun. “Does it make a difference in what you’re planning to do to me?” “No.”

  “Then I see no reason to answer.” If he wouldn’t give an inch, neither would she.

  He raked a hand down his face, looking utterly exhausted all of a sudden. “I can give you a day, perhaps, to say goodbye to your loved ones.”

  “Oh, that’s so sweet,” she said drily. Her sarcasm didn’t last long, though. Her short list of loved ones played through her mind, sparking a pang inside her chest. Her mother. Her father. William, her only friend. If Lucien managed to defeat her, they would most likely never know what had happened to her. They might look for her, worry. “Do you extend the same courtesy to all your victims?” Do not think like that. You aren’t and won’t be a victim.

  Again, “No.”

  “So I’m just a lucky girl?”

  His lush lips once more thinned in displeasure. No matter how scarred his cheeks were, nothing could detract from the beauty of those lips. Maybe because she knew how soft they actually were. Maybe because they’d branded her all the way to her soul and she’d forever bear their imprint.

  “Yes,” he finally said.

  “I’m going to decline your oh so generous offer, lover. I think I’d just prefer to kill you now rather than wait. See, your presence is really starting to offend me.”

  He stiffened, and if he’d been anyone other than the (nearly) unemotional warrior she knew him to be, she would have suspected that she’d hurt him. “Now who is rude?” he said flatly.

  Did he think she was talking about his scarred appearance? Dummy. Answering him would have opened the topic for discussion, however, so she said, “How shall we do this, hmm?” She gave her blades a little toss,
caught the hilts and twirled them in her hands.

  He leveled a frown of resignation at her, as if anything else in the world would have been preferable to this inevitable showdown. “Just remember. You chose this. Not me.”

  “You followed me, sugar. You chose it.”

  She’d barely finished the sentence when he materialized two inches from her face, placing them nose to nose. She gasped, sucking in a deep whiff of his rose scent. He slapped one of the knives out of her grip then quickly moved to take the other.

  The first action caught her unaware, but she was prepared for the second. She flashed several feet behind him and knocked his skull with a sharp, upward kick. Why she didn’t just stab him in the back, she didn’t know.

  He stumbled forward, caught himself and whipped around to face her, eyes slitted.

  “I’ve seen you kill,” she said, trying not to sound impressed. “I know your moves. Taking me down won’t be easy.” She flashed behind him again, but he was smarter now, on to her tricks, and spun, banding one of his arms around her waist the second she materialized and finally whacking the other blade from her hand.

  She almost moaned at the heady sensation of being back in his embrace, the violence somehow only adding to her arousal. She lingered far longer than she should have, savoring the feel of his…erection? Oh, baby, yes. So he liked their sparring, too? Interesting. Exhilarating. And absolutely delicious.

  “So strong my little Lucien is. I’m almost sorry I have to fight dirty,” she added, just before kneeing him between the legs.

  Howling, he doubled over.

  A chuckle escaped her as she flashed a few feet away. “Bad, naughty Anya would have been a lot nicer to that area of your anatomy if you’d come after her for different reasons.”

  “For the last time, woman, I do not want to hurt you,” he gritted out. “I’m being forced.”

  She gazed down at her nails and yawned. “Are you going to put up a fight or not? This is becoming boring. Or, wait. Are you always this weak?”

  Perhaps she shouldn’t have taunted him. Light a fire, get burned. He was in front of her a moment later, kicking at her ankles and shoving her to the ground. Her back hit and breath wheezed from her lungs, momentarily cutting off her air supply and leaving her dizzy.

  Next his weight pinned her down. Her arms were free, so she balled a fist and slammed it into his nose. His head lashed to the side as cartilage snapped and blood poured. But the cartilage realigned in seconds and the blood ceased flowing.

  He glared down at her. “Fight like a girl, for gods’ sake,” he said between shallow breaths, struggling to grab her wrists. Then, finally, he caught them.

  That easily, he had her restrained. Aias had held her down like this, but only for a moment. She’d quickly managed to buck him off. Lucien, she couldn’t budge no matter how hard she tried. And yet, she wasn’t filled with the same sense of murderous rage. She was excited. “You’re hurting me,” she lied.

  He made the mistake of releasing her wrists. She punched him again, this time in the eye. The bone cracked from the impact, swelling—she laughed; turning black—she laughed harder. Healing—she pouted.

  “You are not going to flash,” he ground out. His gaze was boring into her and that rose-fresh scent was clouding her mind, urging her to relax, to stay where she was and not fight him any longer.

  She softened into the ground and licked her lips. Two could play the seduce-me game. Not because it would be fun, she assured herself. “No, I won’t flash. I’m too busy imagining my thighs wrapped around your waist.”

  His pupils dilated, and he groaned. “Stop that. I command you.”

  “Stop what?” she asked innocently.

  “Stop saying things like that. And stop looking at me like that.”

  “You mean, like you’re going to be my dinner?”

  He gave a single jerk of his head.

  “Can’t,” she said with a slow grin.

  “Yes, you can. You will.”

  “When you stop looking so edible, then I’ll obey.” But as she issued the sultry promise, her mind was racing. You’re a fighter, Anarchy. You’ve battled immortals stronger than Death. Playtime is over.

  Forcing herself from Lucien’s erotic pull and drawing on the instincts that had kept her alive through the darkest days of her existence, she flashed behind him. Without her body to hold him up, he smashed facefirst into the sand.

  It has to be this way. As he came up sputtering, she kicked him, swiftly sending him back down. Then she leapt on top of him, straddling his hips and wrapping her fingers around his jaw to twist and break his neck.

  But he, too, flashed, appearing in front of a palm tree several feet away from her. Her knees hit the dirt before she was able to right herself and stand. He made no move toward her. Panting, she brushed the sand from her legs. The gentle breeze was filled with the mockingly serene aroma of coconuts and salt water. Roses. I almost killed him, she thought, shaken.

  “At this rate, neither of us will win,” he said.

  She pasted a cocky grin on her face. “Who are you trying to fool? I’m totally winning.”

  He slammed a fist into the tree, knocking several pieces of red fruit to the ground. “There must be another way. Surely there is a way around your death.”

  His vehemence made her tingle; his sudden willingness to try to save her made her ache. She sighed. The man could shove her from one end of the emotional gauntlet to the other in seconds. “If you’re thinking of petitioning Cronus, don’t. He won’t change his mind, and he’ll punish you for attempting it.”

  Lucien splayed his arms wide, the very picture of exasperated male. “Why can’t he kill you himself?”

  “You’d have to ask him.” She shrugged as if she didn’t know the answer.

  “Anya,” Lucien said, a warning. “Tell me.”

  “No.”

  “Anya!”

  “No!” She could have flashed to her knives, but didn’t. She could have flashed to him, but didn’t do that, either. Instead she waited, curious as to what the warrior would do or say next.

  He expelled a sigh, the perfect mimic of her own, as his arms fell back to his sides. “What are we going to do about this, then?”

  “Make out?” she suggested cheekily. She’d meant the words as a taunt, a jest, hating that she would have gone to him in a heartbeat if he’d given her any encouragement. I’m pathetic.

  He blanched as if she’d struck him.

  Irritated, she ran her tongue over her teeth. Was the thought of kissing her again that abhorrent? “Why do you hate me?” she found herself asking before she could stop the words. Damn it. She sounded ashamed, as if the woman she was didn’t deserve to be loved. Sorry, Mom. Dysnomia had taught her better.

  “I do not hate you,” Lucien admitted softly.

  “Oh, really? You look ready to vomit at the thought of touching me.”

  A wry smile greeted her words, there one moment, gone the next. Anya nearly fell to the ground in awe. Finally, a true smile from him. She should have known it would be sensually potent, decadent. Addicting. Already she craved another. His grin was as radiant as the sun.

  “And yet I have an erection,” he said in a tone as wry as his expression.

  Okay. Who was this man? First a smile, and now he was teasing her. Her blood heated and her nipples hardened (again). “A man doesn’t have to like a woman to want her.” He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. “Just hush it, okay. I don’t want to hear your response.” He would ruin the happy buzz she had going, she just knew it. “Stand there and look pretty while I think.”

  “You’re purposely trying to provoke me, are you not?”

  Yes, she was. A foolish move on her part, really. He’d been ordered to render her death blow. Every time she incited him, she probably made the thought of it a little easier for him to bear. But she couldn’t help herself. That smile…

  “Have you no answer for me?”

  “Not one
I’m willing to share.” Why did he have to look so sexy standing there? The sun was acting like his lover, caressing him, weaving an angelic halo around his dark head. Yes, angelic. He was a fallen angel just then, causing her pulse points to throb and her stomach to quiver.

  Why couldn’t they have been simply a man and a woman?

  Why couldn’t he have wanted her the way she wanted him?

  Why wouldn’t her obsession with him wane, now that he was bound to snuff her out for eternity?

  “You are making this difficult.”

  “You won’t break the rules for me?” she asked, batting her lashes. “You won’t do me this one teeny-weeny favor? You owe me.”

  “No. I can’t.”

  He hadn’t even hesitated in the delivery of his answer and that pissed her off. The least he could have done was take a few minutes to think about it. Bastard. She scowled. “I’m giving you one more chance to agree. We’d be even, the chalkboard clean.”

  “I am sorry. I must again decline.”

  Fine. That meant there was only one way to end the madness.

  Finally she did flash to her knives. She did flash to him. His eyes widened in surprise as she materialized in front of him. With the hilt facing him, she chop-blocked him in the throat, spun while he struggled to breathe and slammed the other hilt into his temple to render him unconscious.

  Contact.

  Only, he didn’t sink into unconsciousness. He fell to his knees with a groan. Didn’t matter. Either way, the outcome was the same. Disappointed that it had come to this, she twirled the daggers in her palms so that the sharp tips pointed directly at him.

  Her hands trembled as she stared at the top of his head. Everything inside of her was screaming not to do this, but she swung the blades into a crisscross, anyway. There were only a few ways to kill an immortal permanently and decapitation was one of them. Do it…no other way… She’d already placed the blades at his neck, needing only to slam her wrists together. Do it before he flashes!

  Oh, gods, oh, gods. She did it. Moved to cut him. Instead of flesh, however, her weapons encountered only air.

 

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