Lords of the Underworld Bundle

by Gena Showalter

  “I simply realized I cannot win against the bloodlust. I’ve given myself to it, and I’ve never been happier,” he said.

  “Liar. You hate what you are. I know you do.” Reyes sighed when Aeron didn’t respond. “Tell me where her family is. Please.”

  Aeron turned his wrist, his hand never leaving Legion as he rattled the chains that bound him. “Free me.”

  Reyes’s expression was tortured, but not in the usual way. He appeared torn apart by pain—pain for once he did not like. “You know I can’t let you go.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  Bleak, Reyes nodded. “You’re right. I won’t.”

  “Then you have your answer. You won’t, I won’t.”

  Legion slithered around him, and two small hands were soon whispering over Aeron’s back. They were scaled yet smooth. Worshipping. Massaging his muscles to loosen them. When he gained the desired results, the creature eased to a stand. His chest pressed against Aeron’s shoulders, and he peeked over at Reyes. His lips smacked hungrily.

  “Not yet,” Aeron told him. He didn’t understand why the little demon liked him and not the others, but he accepted it as fact. He didn’t understand why the demon had followed him here, but he was glad. For some reason, he needed the creature. Legion calmed him as no one else had been able, quieting Wrath, muting the bloodlust, keeping him aware. Except when Lucien and Reyes had come to take him away from the cave. Then, Aeron had gone crazy.

  He’d been so close to escape. Legion had been eating through flesh, about to eat through bone, when the fiend had sensed the warriors’ impending arrival and disappeared. Only to reappear here later when all had settled.

  “Do you know where the women are?” Reyes asked, probably unaware Legion was picturing him splayed on a silver platter, knife and fork optional. “Tell me that, at least.”

  Oh, Aeron knew where the women were. He knew every damned second of every damned day. The knowledge taunted him constantly, laughing at his helplessness, driving him to madness. When the women were dead, the laughter would stop. The madness would fade, and Aeron would stop craving the destruction of everyone he encountered.

  “Tell me,” Reyes repeated.

  “Yes,” he finally admitted aloud, knowing the boast would hit its target and slice deep. “I know where they are.” What have you become? He knew he should feel guilty, but couldn’t summon the energy. Locked deep in the earth, his emotions had seemed to wither away, leaving only hate. A need to cause death.

  Reyes’s nostrils flared and his eyes blazed with obsidian fire. Yes, contact.

  “Can I sssuck hisss blood?” Legion asked, claws sinking into Aeron’s shoulders. “Pleassse. Pretty pleassse.”

  “No,” Aeron told him. He owed Reyes a quick death—too much would the warrior enjoy a long and torturous demise. Teeth shredding his veins, blood pouring from him would be pleasurable. And Reyes did not deserve pleasure. After all, Reyes was keeping the girl from him. Such a crime deserved a harsh punishment.

  Crime? That is not a crime, that is a mercy. This is not you. Fight this.

  His eyes narrowed. There was nothing to fight. He had been given a task, and he would fulfill it.

  “What about girl?” Legion asked. “Can I drain girl?”

  A low growl rang from Reyes.

  “No,” Aeron said. “She is mine.”

  Now Reyes stalked forward, silver blade glinting in his hand. “She is mine.” He realized what he was doing in the middle of the cell and stopped, remaining just out of range.

  Too bad. “I know she’s nearby,” Aeron said silkily. “Her scent is strong, stirring me to battle even now.”

  Reyes stepped backward, guarding the only exit. Guarding her. Aeron closed his eyes, her screams of death suddenly ringing in his ears. Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me, she would say.

  He frowned as realization settled in his mind. Those screams weren’t hers. They were real, a memory, and they belonged to another. Every single cry was a heady caress that pleasured his decimated senses. Clearly, whoever he’d hurt—killed?—he’d enjoyed cutting down.

  The scent of blood filled his nose, sweet and sultry, a warm night after a bitterly cold day, gentle moonlight after too much time roasting in the harsh sun. He felt transported, as if he were standing over her body again, jeering at her weakness.

  This isn’t you. You hate this, hate what you are, what you’ve become.

  Once—an eternity ago?—he’d watched mortals, fascinated by the contrasts between their lives and his own. He often wished for death, yet he would most likely exist forever. They died a little more every day, yet they embraced vitality as he never had. They were weak; he was strong. Yet they were not afraid to laugh and love.

  Love—as if they didn’t realize that everything could be taken away in a heartbeat of time.

  Why? he’d always wondered. He had long craved an answer, though none had ever come. And here he was, enjoying the recollection of torturing one mortal and plotting the upcoming death of another.

  Even Wrath found the concept confusing and wrong.

  Aeron hadn’t forgotten that he and his demon had fought these dark urges to slaughter. At first. But the gods had won, and they’d eventually succumbed. Death now flowed through his veins, thicker than blood, and had become—with an irony not lost on Aeron—his only reason for living.

  “Would you like it if I begged?” Reyes asked him tightly.

  Would he? Aeron smiled, feeling the first true spark of amusement he’d known in weeks. He thought perhaps he would. Proud, headstrong Reyes bowed to no one. To have him do so here and now would surely be empowering.

  “I would, I would,” Legion clapped, the sound booming in Aeron’s ear.

  Reyes didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees. “Please.” The word was nothing more than a rumble. “Tell me where they are.”

  As Legion cackled, Aeron lost his smile, realizing then it was not empowering to have his friend on his knees but shaming. “You love her?”

  “No.” Violent shake of his head. “I cannot.”

  Liar! He must. Why else would he debase himself this way, something he’d never done for another? Not even for a Lord.

  Aeron and Reyes had been there the day their friend Baden was decapitated by Hunters. They’d watched in horror as the warrior was attacked from behind, stabbed repeatedly, throat slit. They’d run toward him, screaming, enraged, desperate, battle-hungry. But they had not begged the Hunters to stop. They had not begged for Baden’s life. They had simply attacked.

  Would pleading have saved the keeper of Distrust?

  Probably not, he thought, but why hadn’t they tried? They had loved Baden like a brother and his death had destroyed the small pieces of humanity they’d managed to save from their demons.

  “What are you thinking about?” Reyes asked, still on his knees.

  “The worst night of my life,” he admitted.

  “The opening of the box, then.”

  “No. Baden.” Guilt had been branded inside him that terrible night. Guilt that he’d failed to protect a friend. Guilt that he had punished only a few of the men responsible before walking away from the Hunter-Lord war, hoping to find a sliver of peace in an eternity of chaos and death when he did not deserve it.

  I’ve never loved anyone enough to fight, to war, or to beg.

  “He was a good friend,” Reyes said. “He would have hated to see us like this.”

  “He would have looked at us with disappointment in those yellow eyes of his. We would have ignored him because he’d want us to kiss and make up, and then he would have stabbed us to get our attention.”

  “Being ignored wasn’t something he could tolerate.”

  “No.”

  They peered at each other in silence. Reyes didn’t move, but remained on his knees. He would stay there until Aeron told him what he wanted to know, of that Aeron was now sure.

  But if he told Reyes where the women were, and Reyes managed to hide
them from him, Aeron would always be this way. He would never return to normal, would never again know anything except bloodlust.

  “Please.” Another rumble.

  Legion slithered over his shoulder and down his chest like a snake, then propped his chin on Aeron’s upraised knee. “Thisss not much fun. Why can’t we play? Why can’t we drink?”

  “Soon,” Aeron said. Then, to Reyes, he said, “Tell the girl to step up to the bars.”

  At last Reyes popped to his feet. He shook his head, dark hair swinging, panic flaring over his features. “No. She—”

  “Is here. I’m here.”

  At the sound of that determined, feminine voice, Aeron angled his head. Reyes jumped in front of her, remaining in the cell while she stayed out of it, but blocking his view nonetheless. Aeron scowled. “Move. I will not hurt her.” Not right now.

  The warrior seemed to debate with himself for a long while, rooted in place. Finally he stepped stiffly to the side, allowing Aeron a peek at the girl. She stood at the bars as ordered, clutching them, knuckles white.

  Wrath exploded into a frenzy of activity, pacing the prison of Aeron’s mind, drooling with anticipation. Act.

  “No,” he replied through gritted teeth.

  Act! She is here, she is ours.

  “No!”

  Legion petted his temples, and the screaming faded to a mere whisper.

  “Excuse me?” Danika said, looking from him to the little demon.

  Reyes stepped in front of her again, body tense, waiting.

  Delicate fingers settled over Reyes’s shoulder and gently pushed him aside. The warrior could have resisted, could have held his ground this time—and his taut features proclaimed that he wanted to—but he didn’t. He inched to the side.

  Once again, Aeron was staring at Danika. She was small, only reaching Reyes’s shoulder. Light hair framed her face and her green eyes sparkled like emeralds. Her nose was uptilted like a queen’s, as if she waited for her servants to grant her every desire. She was slender, a little too slender, with a face as dainty as an angel’s wing—but her expression was not soft. Harsh determination radiated from her.

  “You still want to kill me,” he said.

  “Yes.” Her lips were red and swollen. Obviously, she’d been kissed, and very recently, too.

  Aeron’s gaze settled on Reyes’s mouth. It, too, was well used. He would not have pegged the human as Pain’s type. He would not have pegged Pain as her type, either. But he had sensed the tension between them the first time she’d come to the fortress. A tension that was stronger now, more intense. Reyes had even called the woman his.

  They were enemies, yet they’d become lovers. How sweet, he mentally sneered. And yet, beneath the sneer, he could feel a tendril of…wistfulness?

  Legion licked Aeron’s cheek and then his tiny body was slithering around his neck, then down, where he perched his elbows on Aeron’s knees. A favorite position of his, apparently. That forked tongue flicked out at Danika, a rattle sounding. “You familiar. Want to play?”

  She blinked, shook her head as if dislodging a puzzling thought. “You saw me yesterday. And no.”

  “Oh.” The little fiend’s disappointment was palpable. He flattened against Aeron’s chest, his green scales fading slightly.

  “You hurt Legion,” Aeron growled, oddly offended by the fact. With the knowledge of the demon’s unhappiness, Aeron’s bloodlust threatened to explode, his tenuous control slipping. “Which means this conversation is done. Leave.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Danika rushed out, offering an apologetic glance to Legion. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Really. It was…a game. Yes, a game.”

  “Love gamesss.” Relaxing, color returning, the creature added, “Ssseen you before yesterday.”

  Aeron, too, relaxed.

  Danika shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken.”

  “You fly in flamesss. Watch minionsss torture dead.”

  The girl blinked as she had before, a mixture of horror and astonishment in her eyes. “I do, but only in my dreams. How do you know? Have you seen my paintings? Wait, that’s not possible.”

  “Don’t answer,” Aeron told Legion, an idea hitting him. He could use the information as a bargaining tool. And in the process, he could, perhaps, decipher the puzzle the girl had just presented.

  Flames. Minions. Had to be hell, Legion’s home and the only place the creature could have seen her. Aeron wasn’t sure if the girl had somehow entered hell or if Legion was playing another of his games. But for the first time since the Titans had taken over the heavens and ordered Aeron to kill Danika and her family, the terrible command began to make sense. If the girl could travel to the dark underworld, could she also access the world of the gods? Could she watch them? Maybe even divine their secrets?

  Why not smite her down themselves, though? Surely an easy task for any god. Why force Aeron to do their dirty work?

  He glanced over at Reyes, who had paled. They must have put the same pieces of the puzzle together. If Danika were to be captured by godly enemies and forced to betray heavenly secrets, the gods would never leave her alone. They would not rest until she was dead.

  There would be no saving her.

  “I don’t—I’m not—” She scrubbed a hand over her face, as if the action could jump-start her brain into understanding. When she stilled, her expression was carved from stone. “Stop trying to distract me.” Her gaze moved to Aeron and stayed. “Where is my family?”

  “We will trade information, you and I.”

  “Okay.” No hesitation.

  He watched as she slowly unwound her fingers from the bars, dropped her arm and reached for Reyes. The warrior slid his hand through the bars and captured hers, intertwining their fingers. They sought comfort from each other, Aeron realized. One silently asked for it, and the other silently gave it. Did they even comprehend what they’d done?

  “What do you want to know?” she asked, her voice shaking. Her eyes slitted, and she cleared her throat. She asked again, and this time her voice was clear.

  “Have you seen hell? And do not lie to me. One lie, and the conversation ends.”

  A moment passed before she answered, as though she were weighing her options in her mind. “Like I said, I see it in my dreams,” she finally replied.

  “Do your sister, mother, grandmother dream of hell?”

  She shook her head, blond tresses dancing. “They’ve never spoken of it.”

  There was a hitch in her voice, but he pretended not to notice. If she had lied, he had, too, for he did not want the conversation to end. “What do—”

  “We’re supposed to trade information,” she interjected with a steely edge. “So let’s trade. Where’s my mother?”

  “In the States. A small town in Oklahoma.”

  Absolute relief suddenly lit up her lovely features, and she closed her eyes. A tremor slipped through her, and several tears beaded between her eyelids before sliding down her cheeks.

  He didn’t, couldn’t, allow the sight to affect him. “Have you ever dreamed of the heavens?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you—”

  She gave another shake of her head. “No. I answered. Now it’s your turn. Where’s my sister?”

  “Thisss boring,” Legion said with a sigh, curling into Aeron’s lap and closing his eyes.

  “Your sister is with your mother.”

  “Oh, God.” Another tear of joy and relief journeyed south, streaking a crystalline path to her chin.

  Aeron thought her legs might have collapsed had Reyes not released her hand, arm snaking around the bars, as well as her waist, holding her up. She didn’t protest. No, she sidled closer to him.

  How could they trust and need each other like that?

  They were fools; he was not jealous. “What do you see when you trek these spiritual planes?” he asked.

  “I see great evil and unerring goodness. I see death and life. Darkne
ss and rainbow colors. Demonlike creatures who destroy, screams all around them. Angels who repair the damage, songs of glory humming from their wings.”

  When she did not elaborate further, Aeron frowned. None of what she described was reason enough for the gods to mark her for death. His kind of death, at that: the sins of her past cutting through her skin and bones as though they were no more substantial than butter.

  “What have you seen of the gods? What—”

  “My grandmother,” she interjected. “Where is my grandmother?”

  He pressed his lips together, his heart rate increasing, sweat beading on his temples. If he told the truth, she would leave, and he wasn’t ready for her to leave. Not yet. Thousands of questions still ran through his mind.

  “I’m not satisfied with your last answer,” he said. “Tell me if you’ve seen the gods.”

  Even though several feet separated them, he could hear her teeth gritting together. “I don’t know if I’ve seen them.”

  “Think!” he roared.

  She flinched, and Reyes growled over at him.

  “How would I know? I don’t believe in gods and goddesses, I don’t know what they look like or sound like.” Her breathing was choppy, raspy. “I could have dreamed of them a thousand times and not have known it.”

  “Help her figure it out,” he snapped to Reyes.

  Reyes looked down at her, his expression hard. Reminded Aeron of the night Reyes had asked him to fly Danika into town. She hadn’t wanted to go, Reyes hadn’t wanted Aeron to touch her, but he had stepped back and forced the players into action for the greater good.

  He’d always been like that, placing the needs and wants of his friends above his own. He’d also always been determined, unwilling to back down when someone he loved desired something—even if they began to hate him for his methods of obtaining it for them.

  “If you’re withholding information, stop,” Reyes said. He released her and left the cell, locking the door behind him before turning back to her. “Aeron will not renege on his word. Tell him what he wishes to know, and he will tell you about your grandmother. What have you seen recently? Describe it—or them—to us. What have you heard? No detail is too small.”