«I–I wouldn’t be with anyone else while we were together,» she whispered, and his chest ached.
If he didn’t know better, he would think she was…vulnerable right now. But he did know better. Harpies were as hard as steel. Nothing intimidated them, nothing softened them. They wanted something badly enough, they took it, and that was that. She probably just saw him as a challenge, something to tame. Gods knew enough women had tried and failed over the centuries. Gods also knew he understood the allure of a challenge.
«That doesn’t matter,» he said, still using that gentle tone. «It doesn’t change the past.»
«You wanted to share with Amun,» she replied, trembling now. «You wanted his woman. Would have taken her if she’d wanted you in return.»
«But I didn’t, and I won’t. Why do you think I left the fortress?»
«Well,» she huffed, «just so you know, I didn’t ask you to nail me. I just wanted to go on a date with you, maybe get to know you better.»
So she could hop into bed with Paris, no preliminaries, but Strider needed to wine and dine her first?
And don’t you dare take this as a challenge, he snapped at his demon. The beast had gone quiet, ceasing that annoying humming, waiting for Strider to reply to her, waiting for Kaia’s next response.
«Let’s backtrack a little,» he said. Maybe, if he prodded her enough, her desire for him would fade. «You saw that I wanted the Hunter.»
«Yes.»
«And?»
«And I realized I didn’t like it.»
Again, he doubted she lied. «So you tracked the other Hunters because…»
«I didn’t want you distracted by them.»
«Because…»
«I wanted you focused on me.»
He was not pleased by that, either. When are you going to stop lying to yourself? «On dating you, not sleeping with you.»
«Yes.»
«Even though I wanted someone else?»
«Yes,» she snarled.
Time to go in for the kill. «I’ll be honest with you, Kaia. Ultimately, I need a woman who won’t challenge me.» Which will bore the hell out of you, common sense piped up. Strider ignored his stupid common sense. «I hate what happens when I lose, and with you, everything would be a challenge.» And exciting. And nerve-racking.
«No, I wouldn’t—"
He held up his hand for silence. «You wouldn’t be able to help yourself. Look where we are, think about what we’re doing. You challenged me to kill more Hunters than you do, for gods’ sake.»
«That was for your own good,» she protested. «You were depressed or something and not taking care of business, which placed you in all kinds of danger. I was helping you, damn it!»
Maybe. Maybe not. «Well, your help has ensured that I slaughter anyone who’s foolish enough to track me. Your help ruined my much-needed vacation.»
Silence.
Finally he allowed himself to look at her. She was still watching him, those beautiful gray-gold eyes wide and glassy, as if she was fighting tears. A Harpy, cry? Not bloody likely. She was just disappointed that she wasn’t getting her way, he rationalized, but that didn’t stop the ache from blooming in his chest again. Didn’t stop a wave of guilt and remorse from winding through him. He had hurt her.
«Kaia,» he began, then paused. He didn’t know what else to say.
In the distance, a twig had snapped.
Both he and Kaia stilled, not even daring to breathe. They waited…waited…but no other sounds were forthcoming. Neither relaxed their guard, however. They knew.
The Hunters had finally arrived.
How many men had Haidee’s man brought with him?
Defeat started humming again, prowling through Strider’s head as he focused on the battle. Win. Win, win, win.
Strider leaned into the rifle he’d propped at his side, studying his surroundings through the night-vision scope. Night-vision was both a blessing and a curse. Using the scope cut through the darkness, sure, but afterward, he wouldn’t be able to see shit without it, even in the light.
There. He spotted…six men inching toward the camp. A slight adjustment of his alignment, and he saw…six more men doing the same on the other side. Twelve soldiers, then. Unless there were more behind him, of course, and he would bet his ass there were.
His heartbeat quickened with a hot surge of excitement. Much as he’d chastised Kaia, he really did love to fight. He loved the adrenaline rush, the knowledge that he was one step closer to finally winning the war with the Hunters.
The branch he perched upon suddenly shuddered the slightest bit. His jaw clenched as the leaves rattled together, announcing his location. Kaia had just jumped down. No one seemed to notice her, or him, however.
Win, Defeat said. Win!
I know. I will.
A shriek rent the air. A Harpy’s high-pitched shriek.
A second later, he heard a pop and a whiz. The sounds of silencers, bullets. Next he heard a crack. The sound of a target being hit. The lawn chair shook, the dummy’s body jolting.
Strider lined a target of his own in his sights — chest, dead center — and softly squeezed the rifle’s trigger. There was a scream, then a grunt, and his victim tumbled down, face-first in the dirt.
The rest of the Hunters rushed into the camp, a few attacking the dummy.
«It’s a fake,» someone snapped.
«Ambush?» someone else said.
«Maybe.»
«Stay on alert.»
«Always.»
«Spread out. Anything moves, anything at all, shoot to kill. I don’t give a flying fuck about setting some crazed demon free. I want the host dead. The keeper of Defeat deserves to die.»
«Hate that bastard,» another murmured.
There was another scream, this one shrill and desperate. Kaia must have struck — with her claws. Damn it. He couldn’t allow her to best him.
Strider angled his gun. Fired. Hit someone else in the chest. Angled. Fired. Hit again. Over and over he repeated the process, quick, so quick, before anyone realized what he was doing or where he hid. Bodies piled around his tree.
Finally the Hunters gained their bearings and spotted him. They peppered his branch with round after round. Strider jumped, only one bullet grazing him as he fell. Fire lanced through his arm, but it wasn’t enough to slow him.
Win!
As anticipated, he only had one good eye, the other shrouded with black. He could see there were quite a few Hunters left standing, and they’d already ferreted out his new locale. They converged, firing as they approached; he fired back. Before meeting them in the middle, he was struck twice, once in the shoulder and once in the stomach. He mentally blocked the pain.
WIN!
Guns were dropped and knives grabbed. This close together, bullets were simply too risky. Strider slashed. Someone screamed. He slashed again. Someone else screamed. A blade slicked through his wrist, but he maintained his grip and ducked, punching, tip extended. Contact. He hit all the way to the spine.
On and on the lethal dance continued. He was bleeding profusely but still energized. He was winning. He even managed to toss someone into the fire. Screams, grunts, groans and whimpering abounded. But by the time the last Hunter fell, Strider was losing strength fast.
He was also grinning.
He had done it. He had won.
«Who’s your daddy, bitches?»
Defeat chortled inside his head, jumping up and down, glorying in the victory. Heat filled his veins, pumped him up. In a little bit, he would feel the sting of every slice, the rest of his energy gone, but for now, he felt invincible.
«Strider?» Kaia stepped into his line of sight. Firelight licked at her, illuminating her beautiful skin. The makeup she always wore must have sweated off, because she glimmered with every color of the rainbow.
In seconds, his cock was painfully hard. It’s just the sexual high, he told himself. You don’t want her. Not really. Gods, her skin…his mouth watered for a
taste.
Concentrate, he had to concentrate. He hadn’t seen her fight, but he had heard the results. Now her hair was in tangles, and blood was splattered over her cheeks and arms. «Well?» he demanded. «How’d you do?»
Frowning at his waspish tone, she gestured behind her. He wanted to curse when he spied the pile of men she’d defeated. He didn’t have to count to know she’d won their challenge. His stomach tightened with dread as he waited for his knees to buckle and acid to fill his veins, destroying the pleasure.
One minute passed, then another. Nothing happened.
«I didn’t kill any of mine,» she said, buffing her claws. «I just knocked them out. So feel free to do the honors yourself.»
Wait. What? She’d let him win? Surely not. That was as un-Harpylike as, shit, baking an apple pie with ingredients she’d purchased — with money she’d actually earned. «Kaia—"
«No, don’t say anything. The main guy, the one who wants you a lot more dead than even these guys did, isn’t here. I checked. I told you he was wily, so there’s no telling where he is or what he’s doing.»
«Kaia,» he repeated, trying again. What he would say, though, he didn’t know.
She spun away from him, as if she couldn’t bear to look at him a second more. «I’ll leave you to it, then. Goodbye, Strider.»
Before he could say another word, she was gone, the tiny wings on her back giving her a speed he could never hope to match.
He stood there for the longest while, peering down at the mound of unconscious men she’d left for him. He’d won, she had made sure of that, yet in that moment, he’d never felt more like a loser, and he didn’t know why.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Haidee knew she was dreaming. How else would she be seeing flashes of Amun’s life? How else would she hear what he was thinking? Currently, she saw him pacing through a sunlit bedroom she didn’t recognize, his hands alternating between scrubbing over his eyes and pressing into his ears as he fought to subdue the many voices chattering inside his head. Voices that whispered one human memory after another.
He could deal with them, he knew, but his friends could not. They had enough to agonize over and didn’t need to know the vile things people thought about them, the atrocities committed every day in the homes around them.
He shouldn’t have patrolled the city for Hunters tonight. Strider and Gideon could have handled the duty, no problem, despite their recent injuries. They’d offered; he’d turned them down, already sensing trouble on the outside and wanting to keep them safe.
Thankfully, he’d only found three enemy soldiers, and killing them hadn’t been a hardship.
The Hunters hadn’t planned to engage. Amun’s demon had sensed that right away. The men had wanted their female, their Bait, on the inside first. They thought she had succeeded, but they were waiting for confirmation. The moment he’d realized that, Amun knew he’d have to wipe one of the Hunter’s minds to find out who «she» was and when and where she would contact them. He’d have to absorb memories, perhaps even memories of mutilating his own friends. ’Cause yeah, he’d see through Hunter eyes, as if he was a Hunter.
«Amun, man,» someone called from outside his room. It was Sabin. «Chow time.»
He walked to the door and knocked, signaling he’d heard. Just as soon as he cleared his head, he’d join them. The memories were still unfolding, even though he’d already uncovered the information he’d wanted. The «she» belonged to Kane, keeper of Disaster.
The warrior rarely dated, too afraid of hurting those around him, but the human female had captured his interest. He’d have to be told. Amun would have to be the one to tell him.
Amun was always the one to break the bad news.
First, there would be denials. Then rage. Then sorrowful acceptance. But damn it, they shouldn’t have to live like this! They shouldn’t have to suspect everyone they encountered of using them.
For a moment, Amun’s image faded from Haidee’s mind and his thoughts quieted. She was shrouded in darkness and thought she might be lying down. What was that tickling her belly? she wondered.
Before she could discover the answer, those images of Amun returned, shifted. Now he was whaling on a human male, knuckles drilling into bone. The human was average height, on the thin side, and begging for mercy Amun refused to show.
Haidee didn’t have to wonder why. Like Amun, she somehow knew what this man had been doing to his little girl. And when Amun was done, when the man was dead, he used his demon to find the little girl a safe, loving home.
Images, fading again. Voices, quieting again. Seriously. What was tickling her belly? Whatever it was brushed whisper-soft heat over her sensitized skin. But again, before she could reason out what was happening to her, the images in her head returned, shifted and claimed her full attention.
This time she saw a shirtless, cut-up and bleeding Amun playing basketball with his friends. He was grinning, laughing silently and slapping each of his buddies on their backs between cheap shots.
The boys shouted good-natured insults at him. Insults he could only return with the lifting of a single finger. No one stuck to any rules, so there was lots of tripping, elbowing and even punching, and Amun loved it. No one could beat him because he knew every move everyone planned to make before they actually made it. Only, any time Strider went for the ball, Amun let him have it, even slowing his steps and pretending to stumble.
His past was as varied as hers, Haidee mused. But while she had always been a Hunter, driven by hate, he was so much more than a Lord of the Underworld. Which should not have been possible. A demon should be a demon. Evil, ruined. Amun cared, though. He uplifted.
He shouldered such a heavy burden. A burden he shared with no one because he would rather suffer forever than cause one of his friends to suffer a single moment more. That was love, not evil.
Love.
The word echoed through her mind. Maybe because she felt utterly connected to Amun just then, she couldn’t keep secrets, even from herself. She loved him, she realized. There was no denying it now, no questioning it. For all that he was, all that he’d been and all that he would be, she loved him. He was a warrior to his very soul, would always fight for what he believed in, would never buckle under pressure. When he cared, he cared deeply, intensely, and nothing and no one could shake that affection from him. Oh, yes. She loved him.
How did he feel about her?
She wanted him to care for her. Desperately. Because if they were going to be together, and she prayed that they were, his friends would be angry. Actually, «angry» was too mild a word. She doubted there was a word to accurately express the rage they would unleash upon him. But if he loved her in return, he could bear it.
How could she ask him to bear it? Even if he did, in fact, love her?
How could she ask him to carry yet another burden?
God, what a mess. If they were together, her friends — no, that wasn’t the right word. They’d never truly been her friends. Her coworkers would fume at her, too. They wouldn’t understand how she could adore a demon. They would attack Amun; they would punish her. And she knew that was exactly why Amun had pushed her away. He didn’t want her to suffer. Didn’t want her to have to «bear it,» either.
That bespoke caring, right?
What he didn’t know, however, and what she had to somehow show him, was that nothing would cause her more suffering than trying to live without him. For him, she could bear anything.
Perhaps he would one day feel the same for her. If he did, losing their friends wouldn’t be something to bear because they would have each other, could rely on each other, comfort each other…cling to each other.
They had shared each other’s blood all those centuries ago, creating a bond far more powerful than the hatred always simmering inside her. They belonged together; she knew it. She’d have to show him that, too.
Yes, she had loathed his kind for centuries. Yes, she had hurt him, and yes, he had hurt her. But that
was in the past. Now, she only wanted to look ahead.
Look ahead. Again, the words echoed through her mind, and she was forced to face a hard truth. She couldn’t ask Amun to give up his friends. She couldn’t allow him to cut those friends from his life, whether he could bear the loss of them or not, whether he would cling to her or not. How could she expect such a thing? Those warriors had helped shape Amun into the wonderful man he was. He needed them, and they needed him.
If Amun would just give her a chance, she would do everything in her power to smooth things over. After a time, if his friends still couldn’t accept her, no matter what she did, she would leave.
So many ifs…so many possibilities.
Leaving would kill her, but for Amun, for his happiness, she would do it. All she needed was that chance.
Haidee. Wake up for me, sweetheart.
Amun’s deep voice reverberated inside her head, much louder than in her dreams, jolting her into awareness. She blinked open her eyes. Several seconds passed before she was able to orient herself, and when she did, she took stock. Muted light filled the cave. In the distance, she heard the drip, drip of water. She was sprawled flat on her back, practically…sweating?
Haidee, sweetheart. Can you hear me?
Amun again. «Yes,» she drawled. She stretched her arms over her head, back arching. The ground beneath her was soft, as if she rested on pillows.
Finally. Now look at me.
«Where are you?» Something tickled her belly again, causing goose bumps to sprout in every direction. Her gaze descended, and what she found left her gaping. A shirtless Amun was on his knees in front of her, her spread legs braced on his thighs. He wore pants. She wore panties. Only panties.
Both of his hands rested on her stomach, his fingers tracing designs around her navel, on her hips, just above the tiny patch of curls guarding her where she already ached.
«You have hands,» was the first thing she thought to say. She’d been so afraid, so uncertain.
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