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The Darkest Craving
Gena Showalter
New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter is back with a breathtaking Lords of the Underworld tale about a warrior trapped by darkness and the woman determined to save him. Having endured weeks of torture in the bowels of hell, Kane wants nothing to do with his beautiful rescuer, Josephina Aisling. The half-Fae female threatens to awaken the demon of Disaster inside him—a beast he’s determined to kill, no matter the price.Josephina is hunted by a brutal enemy—her royal family—and Kane is her only source of protection. He’s also the only male to ever set her aflame, and even he succumbs to the heat. But as they navigate the treacherous world of the Fae, they are forced to make a choice: live apart…or die together.�One of the premier authors of paranormal romance.’—New York Times bestselling author Kresley Cole�Showalter at her finest.’ —New York Times bestselling author Karen Marie Moning on The Darkest Night
Praise forNew York TimesandUSA Todaybestselling author GENA SHOWALTER’S
LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD
The Darkest Night
�The Darkest Night is Showalter at her finest and a fabulous start to an imaginative new series.’
—New York Times bestselling author Karen Marie Moning
�Amazing! Stupendous! Extraordinary!’
—Fallen Angels reviews
The Darkest Kiss
�Talk about one dark read … If there is one book you must read this year, pick up The Darkest Kiss … a Gena Showalter book is the best of the best.’
—Romance Junkies
The Darkest Pleasure
�You will not be sorry if you add this to your collection.’
—Mists and Stars
The Darkest Whisper
�If you like your paranormal dark and passionately flavoured, this is the series for you.’
—RT Book Reviews, 4 stars
The Darkest Passion
�Showalter gives her fans another treat, sure to satisfy!’
—RT Book Reviews, 4 stars
The Darkest Secret
�It is difficult to keep a long-running series compelling, but Showalter manages it wonderfully!’
—RT Book Reviews, 4 stars
The Darkest Seduction
�Showalter shows her skill, and redeems the irredeemable, by crafting a beautiful love story that is both humorous and touching.’
—RT Book Reviews, 4 stars
Lords of the Underworld
In a remote fortress in Budapest, immortal warriors—each more dangerously seductive than the last—are bound by an ancient curse none has been able to break.
When a powerful enemy returns, they will travel the world in search of a sacred relic of the gods—one that threatens to destroy them all.
Gena Showalter’s
LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD
continues with
THE DARKEST CRAVING
Also available in this series
THE DARKEST NIGHT
THE DARKEST KISS
THE DARKEST PLEASURE
THE DARKEST WHISPER
DARK BEGINNINGS
THE DARKEST PASSION
THE DARKEST LIE
THE DARKEST SECRET
THE DARKEST SURRENDER
THE DARKEST SEDUCTION
The Darkest Craving
Gena Showalter
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First, to my editor, Emily Ohanjanians. Your insight never ceases to amaze me. Thank you so much for all your hard work and dedication.
Second, to my agent, Deidre Knight. I am so blessed to have you in my corner. No matter what I throw at you, you’re always there to help me!
To Carla Gallway, for all that you do! You are generous with your time and resources and so wonderfully kind, and I’m so thankful to know you!
To the winners of the blog contest: Sabrina Collazo, Lizabel Rivera-Coriano, Charlayne Elizabeth Denney, Seemone Washington and Joni Payne. I hope you love Kane’s story as much as I do.
To Michelle Renaud and Lisa Wray. You’re my girls and I couldn’t ask for a better team!
To my favourite restaurant, The Stuffed Olive, for feeding me while I was on deadline!
No dedication would be complete without mentioning my beloved Jill Monroe. You’re stuck with me, because I won’t ever let you go!
“I’ve been told I’m almost as dangerous as a tsunami.”
—Kane, Lord of the Underworld
“I’ve been told I’m a tsunami.”
—Josephina Aisling
CHAPTER ONE
New York City
Present day
JOSEPHINA AISLING PEERED down at the male splayed across the motel room bed. He was an immortal warrior, beautiful in a way no mortal could ever hope to be. Silky hair of jet, chestnut and flax spilled over the pillow, the multicolored strands forming a flawless tapestry, inviting the eye to linger a minute, then a minute more … sweet mercy, why not forever?
His name was Kane. He had long, boyish lashes, a strong nose and a stubborn chin. At six feet four, he was cut with the kind of muscle only earned on the bloodiest of battlefields. Though he wore stained and dirty pants, she knew a large butterfly tattoo dominated the right side of his hip, the ink thick and black, a little jagged. The tops of the wings stretched over the material and every so often tiny waves rippled through them, as though the insect struggled to lift from his skin—or burrow deeper.
Either was possible. The tattoo was a mark of absolute, utter evil, a visible sign of the demon contained inside Kane’s body.
Demon … she shuddered. Rulers of hell. Liars, thieves. Murderers. They were darkness without any hint of light. They lured and tempted. They ruined, tortured and destroyed.
But Kane wasn’t the demon.
Like all of her race, the mighty Fae, she had spent a good portion of her life studying Kane and his friends—the Lords of the Underworld. In fact, at the command of the Fae king, spies had spent countless centuries following the warriors, watching and reporting back. Scribes had then printed books with stories and pictures of what they’d witnessed. Mothers had bought those books and read them to their children. Then, when those children had grown up, they had made their own purchases, the need to know what happened next too strong to ignore.
The Lords of the Underworld had become the stars of the best and the worst soap opera in SГ©duire, the realm of the Fae.
Josephina always ate up every detail. Especially those about the ultra sexy Paris and the devastatingly lonely Torin. Kane, the beautiful tragedy, was a close third. She could probably recite his life history better than she could her own.
He was thousands of years old. He’d only had four serious girlfriends in his lifetime. Although, for a while, he’d had a string of meaningless one-night stands. He’d fought in bloody battle after bloody battle with his enemy, the Hunters. Three times, they’d managed to capture and torture him—and she’d waited, breathless, to hear of his escape.
Going back even further, to the beginning, he and his friends had stolen and opened Pandora’s box, unleashing the demons from inside. The Greeks had been in power at the time, and they’d decided to punish the warriors by turning their bodies into receptacles for the very evil they’d freed. Kane carried Disaster. The others carried Promiscuity, Disease, Distrust, Violence, Death, Pain, Wrath, Doubt, Lies, Misery, Secrets and Defeat. Each creature came with a nearly debilitating curse.
Promiscuity had to sleep with a new woman every day or he weakened and died.
Disease couldn’t touch another living creature without starting a plague.
Disaster caused catastrophes everywhere Kane went, a fact that sliced at Josephina’s heart and resonated deep. Her entire life was a disaster.
“Don’t touch me,” he muttered, his voice a sharp, callous rasp. Powerful legs kicked the already battered sheets away. “Hands off. Stop. I said stop!”
Poor Kane. Another nightmare plagued him.
“No one’s touching you,” she assured him. “You’re safe.”
He calmed, and she released a relieved breath.
When she’d first stumbled upon him, he’d been chained to a dais in hell, his chest cavity split open, his ribs spread and exposed, his wrists and ankles hanging on by fraying tendons.
He’d looked like a slab of beef at the local butcher’s.
I’ll have a two-pound rump roast and a pound of ground chuck.
Gross. Just gross. I’m thoroughly disgusted with you. Over the years, she’d spent so much time alone, conversing with herself had become her only source of amusement … and sadly, companionship. I would have ordered four pounds of pork loin.
Despite his condition, finding him was the best thing to ever happen to her. He was her ticket to freedom. Or possibly … acceptance?
Princess Synda, her half sister and the Fae’s most bestest female ever born, wasn’t a Lord, but she carried the demon of Irresponsibility. Apparently, there had been more demons than naughty, box-stealing warriors, and the excess had been given to the inmates of Tartarus—an underground prison for immortals. Synda’s first husband had been one of those inmates, and somehow, when the male had died, the demon had wormed its way inside her.
When the king of the Fae had learned of it, he’d launched a hunt for details about the cause—and the solution. So far, everyone had come up empty.
I could bring Kane to a meeting of the Fae High Court, show him off, let him answer any questions the congregation has, and my father might see me, really see me, for the first time in my life.
Her shoulders drooped. No, I’m not ever going back.
Josephina had always been, and would always be the royal whipping girl, there to receive the punishments Synda the Beloved was due.
Synda was always due.
Last week, in a fit of temper, the princess had burned to the ground the royal stables, and all of the animals trapped inside. Josephina’s sentence? A ticket to the Never-ending—a portal leading into hell.
There, a day was like a thousand years and a thousand years like a day, so, for what had seemed like an endless eternity, she had fallen down, down, down a blackened pit. She had screamed, but no one had heard. Had begged for mercy, but no one had cared. Had cried, but had never found an anchor.
Then, she and another girl had landed in the center of hell.
How startling to realize she’d never actually been alone.
The girl had been a Phoenix, a race descended from the Greeks. Every full-blooded warrior possessed the ability to rise from the dead, time and time again, growing stronger after every resurrection—until the final death came, and there could be no more bodily restoration.
Kane began to thrash and moan again.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” she told him.
Again, he stilled.
If only the Phoenix had responded to her so well. When the girl had first seen her, hatred had lanced at her, hatred going far beyond what the children of the Titans—like Josephina—and the children of the Greeks usually felt for each other. But even still, the Phoenix hadn’t tried to kill her, had instead allowed her to follow her through the cave, searching for the exit, without having to exert any of her own waning energy. Like Josephina, she’d just wanted out.
They had stumbled past crimson-splattered walls, inhaling the fetid stink of sulfur. Grunts and groans had reverberated in their ears, creating a terrible symphony their deprived senses hadn’t been ready for. Then they’d stumbled upon the mutilated warrior. Josephina had recognized him, despite his condition, and stopped.
Awe had filled her. There, in front of her—her!—had been one of the infamous Lords of the Underworld. She hadn’t known how she could help him, when she could barely help herself, but she’d been determined to try. Whatever proved necessary.
A lot had proven necessary.
She looked at him. “You were my first and only opportunity to achieve my new greatest desire,” she admitted, “something I definitely couldn’t do on my own. And as soon as you wake up, I’m going to need you to make good on your promise.”
And then …
She sighed, quieted. She brushed her fingertips over his brow.
Even in his sleep, he flinched. “Don’t,” he snarled. “I’ll destroy you, piece by piece. You and your entire family.”
He wasn’t bragging, wasn’t issuing a hollow threat. He would ensure it happened, and he would probably smile the entire time.
Probably? Ha! He would. Typical Lord.
“Kane,” she said, and again, he calmed. “I think maybe it’s time to wake you up. My family is out there, and they want me back. While a thousand years passed for me inside that pit, only a day passed for them. Since I failed to return to Séduire, Fae soldiers are probably hunting me.”
To add to her bowl of miserypuffs, the Phoenix was definitely hunting her, determined to enslave her and avenge the wrong Josephina had done her during their escape.
“Kane.” She gently shook his shoulder. His skin was shockingly soft and exquisitely smooth, yet also feverishly hot, the muscles beneath as tight and firm as grenades. “I need you to open your eyes.”
Long lashes flipped up, revealing gold-and-emerald irises glassed over and dulled. A second later, big masculine hands wrapped around her neck and tossed her to her back. The mattress bounced, even with her slight weight. She offered no resistance as Kane rolled on top of her, pinning her in place. He was heavy, his grip so tight she couldn’t breathe in the rose scent she’d come to associate with him. An odd fragrance for a male, and one she didn’t understand.
“Who are you?” he snarled. “Where are we?”
He’s speaking directly to me. Me!
“Answer.”
She tried to reply, couldn’t.
He loosened his hold.
There. Better. Deep breath in. Out. “For starters, I’m your amazing and wonderful rescuer.” Since receiving compliments had died with her mother, she’d decided to give them to herself at every opportunity. “Release me, and we’ll work out the particulars.”
“Who,” he demanded, squeezing her tighter.
Black winked through her line of sight. Her lungs burned, desperate for air, but still she offered no resistance.
“Female.” The pressure eased again. “Answer. Now.”
“Caveman. Free. Now,” she retorted as she sucked in oxygen.
Could you watch your mouth, please? You don’t want to scare him away.
He jerked away from her to crouch at the end of the bed. His gaze remained on her, watching intently as she slowly sat up. A red flush colored his cheeks, and she wondered if he was embarrassed by his actions or simply struggling to hide the weakness still pumping through him.
“You have five seconds, female.”
“Or what, warrior? You’ll hurt me?”
“Yes.” Determined. Assured.
Silly man. Would it be totally gauche of her to ask him to sign her T-shirt? “Don’t you remember what you promised me?”
“I didn’t promise you anything,” he said, and though his tone was confident, his features darkened with confusion.
“You did. Think back to your last day in hell. It was you, me and a couple thousand of your worst enemies.”
His brows drew together, and his eyes glazed with remembrance, comprehension … then horror. He shook his head, as though desperate to dislodge the thoughts now swirling through his mind. “You weren’t serious. You couldn’t have been serious.”
“I was.”
He popped his jaw, an action of frustrated aggression. “What’s your name?”
“I think it’s better if you don’t know. That way, there’s no emotional attachment and you can more easily do what I require.”
“I never actually said I’d do it,” he gritted out. “And why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m … a giant box of chocolates.”
“I’ve heard of you,” she said, and left it at that. Truth, without explanation.
“Hardly. If you’d heard anything about me, you’d be running away in fear.”
Oh, really? “I know that during the many wars you’ve fought, your friends often left you behind, afraid you’d cause some kind of travesty for them. I know you often keep yourself shut away from the world, terrified of the same. And yet, still you’ve managed to slay thousands. Dare I say bazillions?”
He ran his tongue over perfect white teeth. “How do you know that?”
“Why don’t we call it … gossip.”
“Gossip isn’t always right,” he muttered. In seconds, he had swept his gaze through the small room and refocused on her.
She also happened to know that visual caress was a habit he’d developed through the years, one meant to take everything in. Entrances, exits, weapons that could be used against him—weapons he could use.
This time, all he would have seen was the peeling yellow wallpaper, the scarred nightstand with the chipped lamp. The sputtering air-conditioning unit. The brown shag carpet. The trash bin filled with bloody rags and emptied tubes of medicine she’d used on his abrasions.
“That day in hell,” he began. “You told me what you wanted, and then you made the mistake of assuming I agreed.”
That sounded like a refusal. But … he can’t refuse me. Not now. “You gurgled your assent. Afterward, I did my part. Now you will do yours.”
“No. I never asked for your help.” His voice lashed like the sharpest of whips, striking at her, leaving an undeniable sting. “Never wanted it.”
“You did, too! Your eyes begged me, and you can’t deny it. You couldn’t see your eyes, so you have no idea what they were doing.”
A protracted pause. Then, quite calmly, he said, “I think that’s the most illogical argument I’ve ever heard.”
“No, it’s the smartest, but your puny brain simply can’t compute it.”
“My eyes did not beg,” he said, “and that’s final.”
“They did, too,” she insisted. “And I did a terrible thing to get you out.” Sadly, sending the Phoenix a note of apology wouldn’t fix the problem.
As weak as Josephina had been in hell, she’d required help with Kane. Only, once she’d caught up to the Phoenix, still hacking her way to freedom, there’d been a slight problem. The girl had refused so vehemently—rot in hell, Fae whore—that Josephina had known there would be no hope of changing her mind. So, Josephina had used the ability she alone carried. A blessing in the right circumstances. A curse that had kept her locked in a world without physical contact. With only a touch, she’d stolen the strength right out of the Phoenix’s body, reducing the girl to a boneless heap.
Yes, Josephina had draped the warrior woman over one shoulder and carried her out of hell, the same as she’d done for Kane, fighting demons along the way—a miracle considering she’d never fought a day in her life—eventually finding a way outside, but that wouldn’t matter to the Phoenix. A crime had been committed, and a price had to be paid.
“I never asked you to do terrible things.” His voice contained the darkest of warnings.
One she did not heed. “Maybe not audibly, but even still, I nearly broke my back saving you.” She settled to her knees, shaking the mattress and nearly bouncing the weakened Kane to the floor. “You weigh, like, ten thousand pounds. But they’re glorious pounds,” she rushed to add. Stop insulting the man!
His slitted gaze tripped over every inch of her. The action lacked the stealth he’d used for the room, and yet, it was almost tactile, as if he’d touched her, too. Could he see the goose bumps now breaking over her skin?
“How did a girl like you manage such a feat?”
A girl like her. Did he sense her inferiority? She lifted her chin, saying, “An information exchange wasn’t part of our bargain.”
“For the last time, woman, there was no bargain.”
Tremors of dread rocked her, overshadowing … whatever he’d previously made her feel. “If you don’t do what you promised, I’ll … I’ll …”
“What?”
Suffer for the rest of my life. “What would it take to change your mind and make you do the right thing?”
His expression shuttered, hiding all of his thoughts. “What species are you?”
A question totally off topic, but okay, she could roll. Since the Fae were not a well-liked race, the men best known for their lack of honor in battle, as well as their insatiable need to sleep with anything that moved, and the women known for backstabbing and scandal—and okay, fine, their ability to sew a killer wardrobe—the knowledge might spur him into action.
“I’m half human, half Fae. See?” She pulled back the sides of her hair, drawing his attention to her ears and the points at the end.
His gaze locked on those points and narrowed. “Fae are descendants of Titans. Titans are children of fallen angels and humans. They are the current rulers of the lowest level of the skies.” He shot out each fact as if it were a bullet.
Can’t roll my eyes at a star. “Thank you for the history lesson.”
He frowned. “That makes you …”
Evil in his eyes? An enemy?
He shook his head, refusing to finish the thought. Then, his nose wrinkled, as if he’d just smelled something … not unpleasant, but not welcome, either. He inhaled sharply, and his frown deepened. “You look nothing like the girl who rescued me … girls who rescued me … no, just one,” he said with another shake of his head, as if he were trying to make sense of things that had happened. “Her face and hair kept changing, and I recall each countenance, yet what I see now I didn’t see then. But your scent …”
Was the same, yes. “I possessed the ability to switch my appearance.”
One of his brows arched. “Possessed. Past tense.”
Even in his compromised state, he’d caught her meaning. “Correct. I no longer have the ability.” The strength—and capabilities—she borrowed from others could remain with her for as little time as an hour to as long as a few weeks. She had no control over the time frame. What she’d taken from the Phoenix had faded yesterday.
“You’re lying. No one has an ability one day, but not the next.”
“I never lie—except for the few times I do, in fact, lie, but it’s never intentional, and I’m totally telling the truth right now.” She raised her right hand. “Promise.”
He pursed his lips. “How long have I been here?”
“Seven days.”
“Seven days,” he gasped out.
“Yes. We spent most of our time playing incompetent doctor and ungrateful patient.”
A dark scowl contorted his features, and oh, it was a scary thing to behold. The books hadn’t done him justice. “Seven days,” he repeated.
“I didn’t miscount, I assure you. I’ve been crossing off the seconds in the calendar in my heart.”
He gave her the stink eye. “You have a smart mouth, don’t you?”
She brightened. “You think so? Really?” It was the first compliment she’d received from someone other than herself since her mother had died, and she would cherish it. “Thank you. Would you say my mouth is extremely intelligent or just slightly above average?”
His jaw fell, as if he meant to reply, but no sound emerged from him. His eyelids were closing … opening … closing again, and his big body was swaying from side to side. He was about to go down, and if he hit the floor, she would never be able to lift him onto the bed.
Josephina surged forward, reaching for him with gloved hands. Though he teetered backward, he slapped her arms away, wanting no contact between them. Smart man. (As smart as he thought she was?) Down he fell, slamming into the carpet with a loud thud.
As she scrambled to her feet to rush to his side—and do what, she didn’t know—the motel door burst open, shards of wood raining in every direction. A tall, thickly muscled warrior with dark hair stood in the center of the gaping hole, his features bathed in shadows. Menace lanced from him. Maybe because he gripped two daggers—and they were already stained with blood.
Another warrior moved in behind him, this one blond, with … oh, someone save me. Guts hung from his hair.
Her father’s men had found her.
CHAPTER TWO
KANE BATTLED A tide of pain, humiliation and failure. He’d been created fully formed, a warrior to the depths of his core. Throughout the centuries, he had fought in countless wars. He had slain enemy after enemy, and had walked away with many a blood-drenched injury—but he’d walked with a smile. He’d fought, and he’d won, and others had suffered for coming after him. And yet, here he was, on the floor of a dirty motel, too weak to move, at the mercy of a beautiful, fragile female who’d seen him at his worst: chained, violated and carved open after yet another round of torture.
He wanted those images cut from her mind, even if he had to reach inside and remove them with a blade.
Then, he would cut them out of his own. The Hunters, blaming him for every disaster they’d ever faced. Their bomb. A trip into hell. A horde of demon minions attacking, killing the Hunters and secreting Kane away. Day after day of torment.
Shackles. The drip, drip of blood. Satisfied grins, bloodstained teeth. Hands, everywhere. Mouths, seeking. Tongues, licking.
A soundtrack played quietly in the background. Moans of pain—his. Moans of pleasure—none his own. The slap of flesh against flesh. The scrape of nails, digging deep. A bark of laughter.
Terrible scents filled his nose. Sulfur. Arousal. Dirt. Old copper. Sweat. The pungent sting of fear.
One brutal emotion after another bombarded him. Disgust, rage, feelings of utter violation. Sorrow, humiliation, sadness. Helplessness. Panic. More disgust.
He moaned, a tragic sound. Desperate to avoid a breakdown, he erected a brick wall around his screaming mind, blocking the worst of the emotions. Can’t deal right now. Just … can’t. He was free at least. He couldn’t forget that. Rescue had come.
No, not a rescue. Not at first. Warriors had stolen him from the minions, only to tie him down for their own special brand of torture.
Then, the girl had arrived, demanding he help her with the vilest of tasks.
“What have you done to him?” a male voice roared. “Why were there Fae soldiers ready to sneak into this room?”
“Wait. You’re not with the Fae?” she demanded.
“Who are you, female?”
Kane recognized the speaker. Sabin, his leader, and the keeper of the demon of Doubt. Sabin was a male who wouldn’t hesitate to snap a woman’s neck if he thought that woman had hurt one of his soldiers.
“Me?” the girl said. “I’m no one, and I’ve done nothing. Really.”
“Lies will only make it worse for you.”
Another speaker Kane recognized. Strider, the keeper of the demon of Defeat. Like Sabin, Strider wouldn’t hesitate to harm a woman in defense of a friend.
Kane should have been comforted by their appearance. They were brothers of his heart, the family he needed, and they would protect him, whisk him to safety, and do everything within their power to ensure he healed. But he was scabbed, bruised and emotionally naked, and they were now witnesses to his shame, too.
“Oh, sweet heat. Why didn’t you step into the light sooner? I know who you are,” the girl gasped out. “You’re … you’re … you.”
“Yes, and I’m also your doom,” Sabin snapped.
The warrior assumed the black-haired girl was responsible for Kane’s condition. A mistake. He tried to sit up, but the muscles in his stomach were useless, not yet completely woven back together.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” said the girl, “but that’s got to be the lamest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and Kane here has said some doozies. You’re a magnificent warrior known throughout all the lands for your strength and cunning. I know you can issue a better threat than that.”
More than once, the silly things that had come out of that candy-apple mouth had made him want to smile, despite the pain relentlessly battering him. Now was one of those times. He didn’t understand it.
“There’s a right way to take that?” Sabin snapped. “Guard the door,” he said to Strider. “I’m going to tear her from limb to limb.”
“No can do, boss. I’m calling dibs.”
“Does that mean we’re battling to the death?” she asked casually.
“Yes,” both men replied in unison.
“Oh, well. Okay, then. Let’s get started, shall we?”
Kane stiffened.
“Is she serious?” Sabin.
“No way.” Strider.
“I am,” she said. “I really am.”
Big talk for such a tiny girl.
A girl who confused Kane in every way.
She had tended him gently, tenderly, and yet he had hurt from more than just his injuries. And not a good hurt, either, to let him know he was alive, but a sharp throb that rode the waves in his veins, reaching him at a cellular level, like a disease, a cancer, eating at him, demanding he get away from her as quickly as possible. And yet, inside, deeper still, where primal instinct jerked at a flimsy leash, a desire to grab her, to hold on and never let go, consumed him.
She was beautiful, funny and sweet, and he heard one word every time he looked at her. Mine.
Mine. Mine. MINE.
It was a constant stream of noise, undeniable—unstoppable. It was also wrong. His “mine” would never cause him pain. And he didn’t want a “mine.” Any time he’d tried to make a go of a relationship, the evil inside him swiftly destroyed it—and the female. Now, after everything that had happened to him …
A rise of the disgust, sizzling and blistering, tightened his hands into dangerous weapons. No, he didn’t want a “mine.”
“You eager to die?” Strider asked, stalking a circle around her.
“You stalling?” she said. “Don’t think you can take me?”
The warrior sucked in a breath.
The girl had issued a challenge—intentional or unintentional?—and the warrior’s demon had just accepted. Strider would do everything in his power to win, and Kane couldn’t blame him. Anytime the male lost a challenge, he suffered in agonizing pain for days.
Demons always came with a curse.
Have to stop him. Whether the girl belonged to Kane or not, she wasn’t to be harmed. Seeing a single bruise on that sun-licked skin would unhinge him, he knew it, could already feel the darkness rising, his control teetering at the edge of chilling violence.
As he again struggled to sit up, multiple footsteps pounded, causing the floor to reverberate. Low growls erupted. The swish of clothing whispered past. Flesh met flesh, bone met bone. Metal clinked against metal. The males would destroy her.
“Is that all you got?” the girl taunted—a taunt undercut by her heavy panting. “Come on, fellas. Let’s make this memorable, one for the history books!”
“No,” Kane tried to shout, but not even his ears picked up the sound.
Strider jumped over him. Another clang of metal echoed.
“How can this be memorable?” Sabin roared. “The only thing you’re doing is leaping out of the way when we strike.”
“Sorry. I’m not meaning to, but instinct keeps kicking in,” she said.
To anyone but Kane, who knew her secret desire, the conversation would have sounded weird.
The fight continued, the two men chasing the girl around the small room, leaping on furniture, bouncing off the walls, slashing out with hungry blades and missing as she darted out of the way.
The urge to commit violence sharpened with deadly force.
“Don’t hurt her,” he growled. “I’ll hurt you back.” He would do anything to protect her.
Even in this pitiful state?
He ignored the humiliating question.
Question. Yes. He had more questions for the girl than he’d already asked—and this time, she would answer satisfactorily or he would … he wasn’t sure what he would do. He’d lost all sense of mercy and compassion inside that cave.
The threat stopped Sabin in his tracks. The warrior lowered his weapons.
Strider refused to give up, and finally managed to grab the girl by the hair. She yelped as he jerked, tugging her into the hard line of his body.
Kane managed to get to his feet, intending to rip the two apart. Mine. He stalked forward, tripped over a shoe, thanks to the demon, and came crashing down. Pain consumed him.
Before the girl had a chance to scream for help, or curse Strider’s very existence, he knocked her ankles together and sent her propelling to the floor. He went down with her, pinning her shoulders to the floor with his knees. Though she struggled, she couldn’t work her way free.
“I said … don’t hurt,” Kane shouted with what little strength he had left.
“Hey. I barely touched her. I also won,” the warrior announced, a huge grin lifting the corners of his mouth.
Sabin marched to Kane’s side, crouched, and helped roll him to his back. Then the warrior slid gentle hands under his head and shoulders. Kane flinched from the contact, his mind blaring out a protest he refused to let his mouth deliver, but still his friend held firm, easing him into a sitting position.
“We’ve been looking for you, my man.” Tender words meant to assure and comfort him. Too bad nothing would ever assure and comfort him again. “Weren’t ever going to give up.”
“How?” he managed to ask. Let me go. Please, just let me go.
Sabin understood his question, but not his inner plea. “There was a story in a tabloid about a superwoman in New York carrying a hulk over her shoulder. Torin worked his magic and hacked into security cameras in the area, and boom. We had you.”
From her trapped position on the floor, the girl looked over at him. Panting, she said to Sabin, “Hey, can’t you tell he’s not liking the physical contact? Let him go.”
How had she known, when one of his best friends hadn’t noticed?
“He’s fine,” Strider said. “Why are you wearing gloves, female?”
Ignoring the question, she closed her eyes and asked, “Are you going to kill me now?”
“No!” Kane roared. MINE! MINE!
Strider sheathed his blades and stood. Immediately the girl climbed to her feet. Long strands of hair had fallen over her brow, onto her cheeks; she pushed the locks behind the pointed ears that had so startled him.
Most of the Fae preferred to remain in their realm. They weren’t the most beloved of races, and immortals tended to attack first and ask questions later. Still, Kane had run into a few throughout the centuries. Each Fae had possessed curling white hair and skin as pale as milk. This one had a slick fall of jet-black silk, with no hint of a wave, and skin the most luscious shade of bronze. Marks of her humanity?
Her eyes belonged to the Fae, though. Large and blue, like the rarest of jewels, the color lightened and darkened with her moods. Right now they were crystalline, almost lacking any color at all. Was she frightened?
The demon of Disaster liked the thought and purred his approval.
Shut up, Kane snarled. I’ll kill you. Kill you so dead.
The purrs became chuckles, and Kane had to force himself to breathe, in and out, in and out, slow and measured. He wanted to cut off his ears in the hopes of silencing all that sickening amusement. He wanted to tear the room apart, destroy every piece of furniture, take down every wall, rip up every inch of carpet. He wanted to … grab the girl and carry her away from this awful place.
His gaze met hers, and she offered the sweetest of smiles. A smile that said, It’s going to be okay, I promise.
The rage dialed down to a simmer.
That. Quickly.
How had she done that?
Of all the faces she had flashed, this was by far the prettiest. She had the longest lashes he’d ever seen. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, her nose perfectly sloped and her lips heart-shaped. There was a slight point in her chin.
She was like a little girl’s doll come to dazzling life, and she smelled of rosemary and spearmint—a fresh-baked bread paired with an after-dinner mint. In other words, home.
Mine.
Never, the demon snipped, and the ground began to shake.
Stupid demon. Like any other living creature, Disaster experienced hunger. Unlike others, fear and upset were his favorite foods. So when he yearned for a meal—or just wanted dessert—he caused some sort of catastrophe for Kane, as well as those around him.
Sometimes, those catastrophes were small. A light bulb would short out, or the floor would crack at his feet. Too many times, those catastrophes were large. A limb would fall from a tree. Cars would crash. Buildings would crumble.
Hatred scraped at his chest. One day, I’ll be free of you. One day, I’ll destroy you.
The shaking stopped as the demon laughed with glee. I’m a part of you. There’ll be no getting rid of me. Ever.
Kane pounded a fist into the floor. Long ago, the Greeks had told him only death would separate him from the demon—his death—but that Disaster would live on forevermore. Perhaps that was true. Perhaps not. The Greeks were famous for their lies. But either way, Kane wouldn’t risk death. He was twisted enough to want to witness Disaster’s defeat, and just cold enough to want to be the one to deliver the final blow.
There had to be a way to have both.
“—right? Yes?” the girl was saying.
Her lilting voice brought him back to the present.
“Uh, Kane,” Sabin prompted. “Did you promise to do that?”
She had been speaking to Kane, then, and he could imagine what she’d said. He shook his head, his neck almost too weak to support the action. “No. I didn’t.”
“But … but … his memory must be impaired.” Her gaze swung to Strider, cerulean flooding her irises, becoming an ocean of anger. “What about you? Will you carry out his end of the bargain?”
“Me?” Strider thumped his chest.
“Yes, you.”
“And just how do you want me to proceed, hmm?”
A violent tremor swept through her, but she said, “I want … I want you to take your dagger and … stab me in the heart.”
The warrior blinked, shook his head. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You actually want to die.”
“I don’t want to, no, but I need to,” she whispered, the anger giving way to defeat.
Kane swallowed a roar, remembering her words in the cave.
I will take you to the human world—and in return, you will kill me. I’ll have your vow first.
Maybe he hadn’t believed her then. Maybe he’d been too lost to his own pain to care. But now, the fact that she wanted to die … not just no, but hell no. He would die first.
“Why did you dodge my blows?” Strider demanded of the girl.
“I told you. Instinct. But I’ll do better next time, I promise.”
Mine, Kane heard again, a deep, rumbling growl rising … rising … escaping. “Mine! Touch her and I’ll kill you.”
Both Sabin and Strider stared at him with astonishment. Kane had always been the calm one, and had never before raised his voice to his friends. But he wasn’t the man he used to be—wouldn’t ever be that man again.
“Please,” she begged the warrior, those eyes swirling with flecks of baby blue. How desperate she sounded.
How much more hotly his rage burned.
Something terrible had to have happened to her to make her feel death was the only option available. Had someone … had she been forced—he couldn’t finish the thought. He would erupt. Or bury his head in the hollow of her neck and sob.
He peered up at Strider. Big, blond Strider, with his navy eyes and warped sense of humor. “Bind her. Gently. Bring her with us.” He would help her.
“What?” She held up her hands, palms up, and backed away from the warrior. “No way. Just no way. Unless you’re planning to take me to an undisclosed location, so no one will see the blood.”
He could have lied. Instead, he remained quiet as Sabin assisted him to his feet. Broken bones that had only recently been reset screamed in protest, and his knees nearly buckled, but he held steady. He wouldn’t allow himself to go down. Not again. Not in front of his min—the girl.
“Sorry, honey cakes,” Strider said, “but you don’t get a say in what happens next. You’re gonna live and not die, and that’s that.”
“But … but …” Her gaze found Kane and pleaded. “I’ve wasted so much time with you. I have no one else to ask for help.”
“Good.” Any man who thought to give her what she asked for would die the worst of deaths.
“Good? Good! Oh!” Anger overshadowed everything else, and she stomped her foot. “You heartless, overgrown lout!”
“Because he won’t hurt you? That’s a first.” Strider reached out, intending to grab her.
In a snap, she kicked out her leg, nailing the male between the legs. As Strider hunched over, gasping for breath, she bolted for the door, tossing over her shoulder, “I’m so disappointed in you, Lord Kane!”
She vanished into the night.
He tried to follow after her, but curse his weakness, his knees buckled. “Come back, female! Now!”
She never reappeared.
Kane experienced a tidal wave of rage that made a mockery of what had come before. He would get her back. He would stalk through the night, grab everyone he spotted, and, if they couldn’t point him in the right direction, rip their spines out of their mouths. He would leave an ocean of blood in his wake, and she would have only herself to blame. He would—
Do nothing, Disaster finished with a laugh.
It stung all the worse because Kane could only remain crumpled on the floor.
“Bring her back to me,” he shouted to Strider.
Moaning in agony, the warrior toppled to the floor. He’d just been bested by a puny little girl; his demon would be throwing out pain for the next several days.
“Go!” Kane commanded Sabin.
“No. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“Go!” he insisted. “Bring her back.”
“Yelling at me isn’t going to change my mind.”
Kane tried to crawl to the door, but dizziness crowded into his mind, stopping him. He spit out a mouthful of curses.
Could nothing go right for him? Not even once?
Disaster started laughing all over again.
CHAPTER THREE
The Realm of Blood and Shadows
A week later
KANE ROSE FROM the king-size bed and padded to his private bathroom. Already naked, he stepped into the shower. Hot water beat against newly healed skin, all the bruises and scabs finally gone. And yet, his muscles had yet to unknot.
The fury he’d experienced at the loss of his rescuer had yet to fade, and hatred for Disaster was a constant burn in his chest. And his memories … they were the worst.
They came during the day. They came during the night. He could be lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and all of a sudden he would be transported back to hell, his wrists and ankles bound. He could be in the shower, like now, with the water raining over him, and all of a sudden he would see the dirt, blood and … other things once caked on his skin, and no amount of scrubbing would make him clean.
He was pretty sure the wires in his brain had gotten cut during his torture. And as he’d healed physically, those wires had been reattached in the wrong places. Darkness had become a perfume that constantly wafted from his pores. Hungry anger now simmered inside him, desperate for a target.
No one was safe.
He’d lost his appetite. He could no longer sleep. Sudden noises made him scramble for a weapon.
Once, he’d rolled with the punches life threw at him. Once, he’d been a softer, nicer guy. Now, there would be no more rolling. Now, he was a raging bull, at times too violent to contain. Any wrong was punished immediately—no one would ever think him weak enough to challenge again.
The shambles of his room proved it.
He soaped up, rinsed off and towel dried, every action stiff, forced. Standing in front of the mirror, he studied his foggy reflection. His skin was pale. Dark hair dripped water down his shoulders and chest. Because of the weight he’d lost, his cheeks had yet to fill out. His lips were compressed into a thin line, as though they’d never known a smile. Maybe they hadn’t. Any memory with an accompaniment of amusement no longer seemed to belong to him. Everything positive had happened to someone else. Surely.
But the worst thing about him? His eyes were no longer a mix of brown and green. They were a mix of brown, green—and red. Demon red.
A sense of repugnance grew. Disaster was attempting to control him. And the demon was actually succeeding, whispering reminders about what had happened inside that cave.
A hand here … a mouth there … so helpless …
How dirty was Kane now? How tainted?
A whip across your legs. A dagger along your ribs.
How much of a failure was he?
Hot breath on your wounded skin … kisses … tongues …
Fighting to breathe, Kane flattened his hands on the edge of the sink. He hardly cared when the porcelain cracked. He wanted to rip Disaster out of his chest, and strangle the creature with his bare hands.
Yes. That’s the way his tormentor would die.
Soon.
If he could get his mind right, at least a little, he could figure out a way to make it happen. But any time he wasn’t plagued by gut-wrenching memories, he was plagued by thoughts about the girl from the motel. The Fae. He ached as he’d done when she’d touched him. He tensed. He cursed.
He yearned.
He remembered the adoration painted on her face as she looked at him, as if he were someone special. A look he still didn’t understand—but wanted to experience again.
He replayed the silly words she’d spoken to him.
I never lie—except for the few times I do, in fact, lie, but it’s never intentional, and I’m totally telling the truth right now, I promise.
You weigh, like, ten thousand pounds. But they’re glorious pounds.
I’ve been crossing off the seconds in the calendar in my heart.
He wanted to know what else she would say.
Who was she? Where was she? What was she doing?
Were memories she’d rather not recall afflicting her? Was she hurt? Alone? Scared?
A few times, fear had wiped away her adoration and sass, leaving her with nothing but tremors.
He understood all too well the difficulty—the desperation—of an inescapable past.
Had she found someone to end her? Had she ended herself?
Or was she still alive?
His arms dropped to his sides as his hands fisted. She was his. She—
Wasn’t his.
Still, he wasn’t going to take care of his problem until he’d taken care of hers, was he? He couldn’t leave her out there, desperate and afraid, possibly in danger. The girl had saved him from the most horrific situation of his life. Even though she’d run away from him, he had to step up and save her from what had to be the most horrific situation of hers.
She was right, after all. He owed her. And he would pay up. Just not the way she wished. He would fix her life the way he couldn’t fix his own. Then, one of them would be happy.
She deserved to be happy.
If she still lived.
He sucked in a sharp breath. She had better still live, or he would … he would … He punched the mirror, shattering the glass. The sound of tinkling bells filled the small enclosure. Several pieces arrowed into his leg, cutting into his thigh. A gift from Disaster, he was sure. Gritting his teeth, he removed the shards.
After he helped the girl, he could concentrate on killing the demon. He wouldn’t give up until he succeeded. He couldn’t take this anymore, and he didn’t want his friends to have to take it anymore, either. He was too much of a danger to those around him, and there were too many innocents here.
He would leave today, he decided, and he wouldn’t ever come back.
Sorrow settled heavily on his shoulders, weighing him down. He couldn’t talk to his friends about his decision. They wouldn’t understand. They would try to talk him into taking another path. They might even lock him away for his “own good.”
They’d done it once before.
Kane wouldn’t sneak away, but he wouldn’t admit the truth, either. He would say his goodbyes, as if he meant to return after his rescuer had been saved. Only he would know this was it. The end.
Jaw locked, Kane strapped weapons all over his body. There were multiple blades, two Sigs and several clips. He dressed in a black T-shirt and camo pants, then tugged on his favorite pair of combat boots. He stomped from the bathroom, glass crunching under his feet, his mind a field of evil laughter.
Stupid demon.
During Kane’s absence, his friends had moved into a fortress in the Realm of Blood and Shadows, a kingdom hidden in a pocket between earth and the lower level of the skies. He strode down the hall, his gaze on the walls covered with pictures of a beautiful blonde female in various outfits and positions. Lounging on a velvet-lined couch, standing in a rose garden, dancing on a table. Blowing a kiss. Winking.
Her name was Viola, and she was a minor goddess of something or other, as well as the keeper of Narcissism. He couldn’t help but compare her to sperm: she had about a one in three million chance of becoming a human being with actual emotions. The girl irritated the fire out of him.
He pounded down the stairs, then down another hallway, this one littered with ridiculous portraits of the warriors wearing ribbons and lace and smiles—and nothing else. They’d been painted by a dead man, if ever Kane met the guy, and had been commissioned by Lucien’s fiancée, Anya, the goddess of Anarchy, without permission.
Finally Kane reached his destination. Maddox and Ashlyn’s bedroom. His first stop on the Tour of Goodbyes.
Maddox was the keeper of Violence. Ashlyn was the new mother of the warrior’s twin babies.
For a long while, Kane watched Ashlyn, silent. She was a delicate beauty with honey-colored hair and skin, and she swayed in a rocker, singing to the bundle of joy clutched lovingly in her arms. Beside her, Maddox swayed in a second rocker. He was a brute of a man with black hair and violet eyes, and seeing him kiss the tiny fingers wrapped around his pinky did something to Kane’s insides. Twisted and knotted them, until he experienced the same lance of pain his pointy-eared rescuer had caused.
What was that?
William the Ever Randy—aka the Panty Melter, Kane thought with an eye-roll—sat at the edge of the king-size bed, a pink comforter plumped around his battle-honed body. Somehow, the feminine coverlet failed to diminish the savage intensity of his strength. He wasn’t demon-possessed. No one knew what he was, exactly. All they knew was that he had a temper rivaled by few, and a mean streak longer than any Kane had ever before encountered. He smiled when he killed his enemies—and laughed when he stabbed his friends.
“When’s it gonna be my turn?” William whined. “I want to hold my preciouses. Preciousees? Whatever. I want!”
O-kay. That was new.
“They aren’t yours,” Maddox snapped, doing his best to whisper for the sake of the babies.
“They kind of are. I delivered them,” William pointed out.
“I conceived them.”
“Big deal. Most guys can do that. Not many have the know-how to slice a woman from hip to hip and dig the little creatures out of her … uh, never mind,” William said as a fierce growl rose from Maddox.
Expecting a fight, Kane stepped inside to claim the baby.
William’s electric blues swung his way. “Disaster. Couldn’t stay away from the most delightful darlings ever born? Oh, yes, you are,” he cast at the children. “Yes, yes, you are.”
Baby talk. Disgusting.
The negative reaction surprised him. Once, he would have been right there beside William, saying the same things, in the same manner. In the dark of night, he used to dream of such a happily ever after for himself. A loving wife. Adoring children. Then the minions had tried to steal his seed and he … he …
“Don’t call me by the demon’s name,” he snarled, then realized his fervency had caused the children to jolt awake and cry. Shame coursed through him. “Sorry. But I’m not that disgusting piece of—” Yelling again. “Sorry. Just watch your mouth, okay?”
“Hush now,” William said sternly, and Kane had no idea who the command was for.
Didn’t matter, really. Everyone quieted.
Ashlyn glanced over at Kane, her amber eyes welcoming. She looked nothing like Kane’s woman—no, not his, he quickly amended—and yet she reminded him of the girl. The delicacy of her bone structure, perhaps. Or the depth of her concern for those around her, maybe. “Do you want to hold Urban?”
“No, thank you,” he replied at the same time Maddox said, “No, he doesn’t.”
A stilted moment of silence elapsed.
Kane ignored the hurt the words caused. The refusal was justified. He was a danger to everyone he encountered. Had his mind not been such a mess, constantly feeding the demon the tastiest of meals, light bulbs would have been shorting out and the walls and floors would have been cracking.
“I just wanted to get a look at them before … Well, I’ll be leaving a little later today. I’ve got a female to help.” He cleared the clog of emotion from his throat.
“Well, come on, then,” Ashlyn said. “Sabin and Strider mentioned the pointy-eared woman from New York. I like the sound of her.”
“She’s …” Magnificent. Lovely. Witty. “Something.” His insides tightened as he approached the rockers.
William stood to do the same, remaining by his side, stiff, his hand poised over the hilt of a dagger. To protect the babies from Kane’s affliction? Yeah. Probably.
Can’t blame him.
“You gettin’ so close to me ’cause you’re trying to taste my flavor, Willy boy?” he said to the warrior who had yet to back off. Teasing was better than raging. Or worse. Crying.
“Maybe.” William allowed a few more inches of space. “But you just ruined it. Flavor? Seriously? I like my conquests with a little more maturity.”
“I’m mature. I’m even old enough to plow your mom.”
“Please. She would eat your liver for lunch and your kidneys for dinner.”
“Could you guys be any more disgusting?” Ashlyn asked.
“Yes,” they said in unison.
Urban chortled, as if he understood. The kid had a full head of black hair, and his eyes were the same shade of violet as his father’s—though they were far more serious and too intelligent for a newborn. As Kane looked him over, two horns rose from the baby’s skull, and black scales appeared on his hands.
“Defensive actions?” he asked.
“We think so,” Ashlyn replied, sounding somewhat embarrassed. “He doesn’t mean any insult.”
“I know.” He shifted his gaze to Maddox. The female child, Ever, had the honey-colored hair of her mother, the strands wound into tight little curls. Her eyes swam with orange and gold flames, and a mouthful of teeth peeked out from under her lips.
The twins had been born a little over a month ago, and yet they appeared quite older.
The boy stared at Kane as if plotting his murder.
The girl looked him over and dismissed him, concentrating on William and holding out her arms. Grinning, William claimed her from her father. She nuzzled against the warrior’s neck, resting her head on his shoulder and sighing with contentment.
“Isn’t she the best?” William said, his grin widening. “She used to have claws, but they shrank. Didn’t they, princess? Oh, yes, they did, but they’ll come out to play if some dumb loser ever tries to take what you don’t want to give, won’t they?”
Another sharp pain tore through Kane’s chest. “The children are beautiful,” he told the beaming parents, and he meant it. He removed a bejeweled dagger from the sheath at his side, and handed it hilt first to Maddox. “This is for Ever, from her uncle Kane.”
Maddox nodded his head in acceptance.
He palmed the matching dagger, and placed it on the small table beside Ashlyn. “This is for Urban.”
She offered a soft, sweet smile in thanks. “How wonderfully thoughtful. The children will love them, I know it.”
“Well, I don’t. Put those dangerous things away,” William chided. “My darlings can’t play with knives for another couple of months. And why are you giving them presents now? Why can’t you wait until the appropriate time and—” His gaze zeroed in on Kane, and he pressed his lips together.
Did he suspect the truth—that Kane was leaving for good?
Whatever. Kane ignored him, slapping Maddox on the shoulder. “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Words cannot express what you mean to me.” He didn’t wait around for the warrior’s reply; he couldn’t. The backs of his eyes were burning. He must have gotten dust in them.
He strode from the room, intending to hunt down the remaining warriors he loved more than life. Torin, Lucien, Reyes, Paris, Aeron, Gideon, Amun, Sabin, Strider and Cameo. Over the centuries, they’d fought together, avenged each other, saved each other. Yes, for many years they’d been split into two different groups, one determined to battle the Hunters, the other determined to exist in peace. But at heart, they’d always been together. And in the end, the war had boiled over, bringing them back to the same purpose. Survival.
Each warrior would be devastated by his departure. He knew that for a fact—because they’d once lost another of their brethren. Baden, the keeper of Distrust. They had mourned for centuries, and still hadn’t truly recovered. But Kane didn’t have a chance to hunt down a single person. William swept up to his side, keeping pace.
“You’re leaving,” the warrior said.
“Yes.” He’d already admitted that much.
“Forever.” A statement, not a question.
He wanted to lie. William could try to stop him. William could tell the others, and they could try to stop him. Still he said, “Yes.” Demons loved lies, and while there wasn’t much Kane could do to deny Disaster pleasure, telling the truth was one of them.
“Well, I’m going with you,” William announced.
Kane stopped and faced the male, irritation hanging in the air as heavily as shackles.
Shackles.
Breathe. “Why?” His tone lashed with more force than he’d intended. “You don’t even know where I’m going or what I’m planning.”
A shrug of those wide shoulders. “Maybe I could use a distraction. I’ve been hunting a Sent One, some punk kid named Axel, but he’s proven to be wily and it’s starting to annoy me.”
Sent Ones policed the skies, killing demons. They were winged, like angels, but as vulnerable to their emotions as humans. Right now, the Lords and the Sent Ones were on the same team.
Everyone knew that could change at any moment.
Kane narrowed his eyes. “Maybe you think I need a babysitter.”
“That, too.” As always, William was utterly unabashed.
“Well, no thanks. I don’t need you, and I certainly don’t want you nearby, bugging me all the time.”
William clutched his heart, as though offended. “What’s wrong with you? You used to be so sweet.”
“People change.”
“Not me. I’ve never been sweet, and I never will be. Your needs and wants don’t matter to me. I’m more concerned with saving my babies. I have to make sure you live up to your word and stay away from the fortress. Have you forgotten you’re destined to start an apocalypse?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Los Angeles
APOCALYPSE. THE WORD echoed in Kane’s mind for days. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t escape it.
Right before he was captured by the Hunters and escorted into hell, the Moirai had summoned him to their realm in the lowest level of the skies.
The three keepers of fate were neither Greek nor Titan. He thought they might be witches, but he wasn’t sure. They’d told him three things—one for every witch. He could marry the keeper of Irresponsibility. He could marry another female—William’s daughter. And lastly, he would cause an apocalypse.
He believed them. To his knowledge, their predictions had never been wrong.
He knew there were two definitions for the word he would love to forget. The first: to uncover or reveal. More specifically, to give revelation, especially concerning a cataclysm in which the forces of good permanently triumphed over the forces of evil.
That, he liked.
The second? Not so much. Universal or widespread devastation.
With the demon of Disaster living inside him, he had to assume he would be responsible for widespread devastation.
“You won’t regret a pit stop like this,” William said, pushing his way through the crowded nightclub. He had to yell to be heard over the erratic pulse of rock screaming from large speakers. “It’s just what the doctor ordered—that, and a pair of testicles, but I can only deliver on the first.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said drily.
Kane had made the mistake of sharing a motel room with William, and apparently he’d thrashed and moaned in his sleep, giving Detective William a few hints about what had happened in hell. Now the warrior was convinced a night with a woman of Kane’s choosing was the only way to ever really heal.
“By the way,” William added, “you can call me Dr.
Love.”
“I’d stab you in the heart before I called you that.” He stayed on William’s tail, already wishing he’d said no to this. He should be hunting his Fae. And he would have been, if he weren’t just desperate enough to try anything.
What William told him this morning made sense, in a sick, twisted way. If Kane could be with a woman of his choosing … if he could control how things went down … if he could use someone the way he’d been used … maybe the dark cloud of his memories would finally dissipate. Maybe he would stop hurting when he neared the Fae. Without the pain, he would be stronger, more alert. He would have a better chance of helping her with her problems.
At least, for tonight, he didn’t have to worry about her. She was alive, holed up, and safe. With some fancy computer work, illegally tapping into satellite feed, Torin had found her in Montana. Kane had only to swoop in and grab her.
Soon I’ll be ready.
Disaster banged against his skull. A second later, the floor cracked at Kane’s feet.
Apparently, the mire of Kane’s emotions no longer satisfied the demon. Since leaving the fortress, any time Kane even considered helping the Fae, Disaster worked himself into a frenzy.
Hate her, the demon snarled.
The person passing by him tripped and fell, and bone snapped. A howl of agony blended with the pulse of music.
Grinding his teeth, Kane followed William up a flight of stairs, thankfully leaving the bar and dance area behind. Almost to the top, the step under his boot broke, and he fell to his knees.
Disaster laughed, proud of himself.
Kane blanked his mind before he erupted, stood and stomped the rest of the way up. He spotted a big red door at the end of a long hallway, with an armed guard posted in front. The male was tall and muscled, but human. Hardly a threat, even with a weapon.
The guard grinned with genuine happiness when he spotted William. “Willy! Our best money-maker is back.”
William grinned, saying to Kane, “Sometimes, when I’m bored, I do a little Magic Mike show for the ladies. Very tasteful. I’ll get you tickets.” He returned his attention to the guard. “My boy here needs the private room.”
“Sure, sure. Anything for you.” The guy opened the door, but Kane couldn’t see past the thick cloud of shadows. He heard gasping, the slap of skin against skin, moans and groans, and then curses as the guard “helped” the couple stop and dress. A moment later, the pair was tripping past the entrance, red-faced as they pulled on their clothes.
The guard reappeared, his grin wider than before. “All yours, Willy.”
William pushed Kane inside. “Did you see anyone you wanted on the way up here?”
“Anyone will do.” A woman was a woman, as far as he was concerned.
Just as soon as the thought registered, some part of his mind spit and hissed at it. The Fae wasn’t just—whatever. No thinking about her. Anyone was better than a demon minion, and that’s all his sense of choice cared about.
“Give me five minutes,” William said. “I know the working girls. I’ll find you someone who will let you take her any way you want her.”
Crude, but necessary.
The door shut, sealing Kane inside. The pungent smell of sex thickened the air and his stomach filled with acid. He hated the dark, and quickly flipped on the light. In front of him was a wet bar, and beside it a couch, the cushions askew. On the coffee table was a box of condoms. At the other end of the room was a small bathroom with only a toilet and a sink, and beside it a queen-size bed with the covers tangled in a heap at the end. There was a condom stuck to the top.
After pouring himself a shot of whiskey—then another and another and another, then deciding to take the entire bottle with him—Kane settled on the couch.
By the time the door opened a short while later, the bottle was empty. Alcohol never affected him as strongly as it did a human, and only served to dull out the fiercest of his emotions. That dullness was desperately needed now. His limbs were trembling, and sweat had beaded over every inch of his skin. He expected to melt—or shatter—at any moment.
William walked in with a pretty blonde tucked into his side. She wore a short red dress and lipstick to match, and she was smiling at something the warrior had said.
“This is my friend.” William motioned to Kane with a tilt of his chin. “The guy I was telling you about. He’ll pay you whatever you want. Just make sure you do whatever he wants.”
Kane set the bottle on the ground, pretending he wasn’t about to vomit.
“Of course.” She bit her lip as she studied Kane. Interest lit her dark eyes. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
“Good,” William said, chucking her under the chin. “You have nothing to worry about. He won’t bite—unless you ask him real nice.” With that, the warrior took off, leaving Kane alone with the girl. The stranger.
His lungs constricted, nearly blocking his airways.
A moment of silence passed as she shifted from one high-heeled foot to the other. “You’re even more gorgeous than William promised.” There was a bead of excitement in her tone.
She was talking. Why was she talking? He didn’t want to have a conversation with her. He would begin to wonder what kind of life she’d led, what had brought her to this point, and he would feel sorry for her. He didn’t want to feel sorry for her.
Disaster hummed with contentment.
Contentment? Why?
Just get this over with. “Come here,” Kane said.
The female obeyed, slipping into the spot beside him. Her scent hit him, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. A cloying perfume, laced with the scent of cigarette smoke. Nothing like the Fae, who had smelled as though she’d spent the day in the kitchen. Like a wife.
Maybe he shouldn’t do this.
A gust of wind burst through the room, lifting the bottle of whiskey off the ground and slamming it into the woman’s chest.
“Ow!” she cried.
Kane cursed the day he’d stolen Pandora’s box.
She rubbed her chest, saying, “What just happened?”
“Could have been an air vent.” It was possible.
“Why don’t you kiss me better?” She inched closer to him.
“No kissing.” Harsh words. Even harsher tone.
“What about sucking? I’m really good at sucking.” She leaned over to unfasten his pants, but Kane flipped her over. He pressed her stomach into the cushions of the couch, holding her down. He didn’t want anyone’s lips on him.
“We do this my way.” Bile rose as he lifted the hem of her dress and tugged down her panties. Though he would have rather sawed off one of his limbs, he unbuttoned his pants, undid the zipper. The trembling of his hands magnified. Acid rose from his stomach and collected in his throat, scorching him. He paused.
What was the problem? He’d done this before. When he’d realized relationships weren’t feasible, he’d lived off one-night stands. At least for a little while. But none of them had ever broken him down like this….
“Am I doing something wrong?” she asked.
Gritting his teeth, he sheathed himself in a condom and … and …
Do it! Disaster commanded.
He took her.
He was rough, ragged, utterly without sensuality and carnal ambition. He had no focus, no desire to watch her reach climax. His mind despised this. And yet, his body liked it. But then, his body was a traitor. It had liked what the minions had done, too, and that’s what haunted him most. That a part of him had enjoyed his own violation.
This had been a mistake.
He didn’t want this woman, didn’t know her, might not even like her if he did. She wasn’t … her, the Fae his instincts craved so desperately.
Disaster cursed at the direction of his thoughts.
And as the female groaned to encourage him, images began to fill his head. Hands here … mouths there … minions everywhere …
Nearing panic, Kane somehow, some way, managed to finish. He wasn’t sure whether or not he’d gotten her off, and at the moment, he didn’t care.
The demon’s curses tapered into statements of approval.
Fighting a tide of self-disgust, Kane discarded the condom and fixed his clothing, then threw a few hundreds on the couch cushions beside her. He walked to the door, and motioned her out. First thing he saw was William taking a woman against the wall. The guard was nowhere to be seen.
“But … don’t you want my number?” asked the blonde. “In case the urge strikes again? I’ll make myself available to you any day, any time.”
“No,” he said, being blunt to be kind. He would never call her, and he didn’t want her hoping for the impossible.
“Was I not what you were looking for?”
“No. You weren’t. Now leave.”
Sighing, she straightened her dress and strode out of the room, the hall.
“All done?” William called. He hadn’t pulled from the woman, but he’d stopped moving at least.
More, Disaster said.
As much as Kane hated the words brewing at the back of his tongue, he said, “Bring me another one.” The sex hadn’t done what he’d wanted. The memories and all that came with them were still knocking at the door of his mind, ready to pounce. But Disaster was happy. So, Kane would take a second woman. And a third. However many proved necessary, until the demon was so saturated with satisfaction, he forgot what had happened.
Kane received an unapologetic and shameless thumbs-up before he shut the door, stalked to the bathroom and vomited. When he finished, he cleaned his mouth with the contents of another bottle of whiskey.
And not a second too soon.
A knock sounded at the door. William and a brunette strutted inside.
“How about this one?” the warrior asked.
“Whatever,” Kane said. “She’ll do.”
Before the night was over, Kane took twelve women. He used different positions, and different types of females. Girls in their twenties, women in their forties, more blondes, more brunettes and even two redheads. He hated every second, even hated himself. He vomited every time.
Disaster loved it all, and yet he never stopped tossing out images of Kane’s torture.
He hated the demon a thousand times more.
His time’s coming … soon …
The mountains of Montana
KANE HACKED THROUGH the foliage in front of him. Branches continually slapped at him, courtesy of Disaster. The satisfaction the creature had experienced during the sexual marathon hadn’t lasted long. Now, rocks rolled in his way, tripping him. Insects snapped at him.
He had to reach the Fae before the demon did any major damage … or Kane’s mind finally snapped. Whichever came first.
His head was even more unfamiliar terrain, with dark valleys and impossibly high mountains he could never hope to climb. Or maybe he could. When he’d left the club, he’d realized the Fae had become a source of light to him. His only source of light. She had made him want to smile during the worst period of his life. For that alone, she was a miracle.
He could really use a miracle.
Perhaps she could do what the parade of women had not: wash away the worst of his memories. Bring peace, if only for a little while.
Perhaps. But perhaps not.
Either way, he had to know. Had to see her, talk to her. Save her.
Deep inside, where instinct still demanded she belonged to him, he suspected she was his only hope of survival.
So, he would find her.
Would she smell the stale cigarettes and old perfume he hadn’t been able to wash from his skin? Would she demand he leave her alone?
Probably.
Would he obey?
No.
I’m disgusting. Cruel. A user and a whore.
I didn’t used to be this way, he wanted to shout.
What was the Fae’s name? The fact that he didn’t know was starting to irritate him. He would call her … Kewpie? No. Those big, gorgeous eyes fit, but nothing else. Tinker Bell, then. Yeah. Tinker Bell worked. She was such a delicate little thing, with her pointy ears and sharp little chin, and she flittered from here to there, always out of reach.
According to Torin’s surveillance, she was staying in a cabin in these woods. About an hour ago, Kane had found the cabin but not the girl. However, he had discovered fresh tracks. Human. Female. Size six feet. She couldn’t have much of a head start on him, and she couldn’t be moving very fast. As deep as her prints were, she was carrying a heavy load. Plus, night had fallen.
The half-moon lacked its usual glow, allowing an almost suffocating darkness to reign. The air was cold, the breeze wafting from the snow-capped mountains and chasing away any hint of warmth. Trees knifed toward the blackened sky.
“What’s got your panties in such a twist?” William asked from behind him. “It’s not my fault the pleasure train failed to work for you. You must not have done it right.”
Kane ignored him.
“What’s so important about this girl, anyway? I mean, really.”
Again silence.
“Does she have a magic pu—”
Kane spun around and punched him in the jaw. “Enough!” Fury bubbled in his blood, molten, acidic—poisonous. “Don’t go there. Don’t ever go there. Not with her.”
William rubbed the wound. “So why are we hunting her?” he asked as if Kane hadn’t just resorted to violence.
Could nothing shut the warrior up? Kane jolted back into motion. “She says I owe her.” And it was true … if not the full truth.
“And you always pay your debts? What kind of craziness is that?”
“Some people would say it’s honorable.” Maybe the only honor Kane had left.
“Some people are stupid.”
“And there’s the number-one reason I’ll never do anything for you.”
“Because you’re stupid like everyone else? That’s being a little harsh on yourself, don’t you think? I mean, sure, if you ever entertained a bright idea I’d have to say it was beginners’ luck, but you have your moments.”
I can act like I’m a calm, rational being. Kane stalked past a wall of green and entered a clearing. He stopped and breathed deeply. The air was clean here. Pure and untouched. Also kind of annoying. He wanted to catch a hint of rosemary, mint and maybe even smoke, indicating Tinker Bell was still here and warming herself in front of a fire.
He could swoop in and grab her. She would probably fight him, but he wasn’t worried. She lacked skill. And strength. Was probably fatigued. But she’s got heart, he thought, a now familiar ache lancing through his chest.
“Well?” William prompted.
“We set up camp.” Not because they’d been on the move since leaving the club and needed to rest—though they had and they did—but because he could tell they were being followed and he didn’t want to lead his shadow to Tinker Bell.
He doubted the Hunters were after him. Apparently, during Kane’s forced stay in hell, a battle had been waged in the skies, Hunters against Lords, Titans against Sent Ones.
The Lords and Sent Ones had won, utterly destroying the Hunters and severely weakening the Titans.
Kane gathered stones, twigs and dried leaves to build a fire. He cared little about warmth. He wanted the one following him to see the smoke and assume he was relaxed, unprepared. Was the culprit immortal? If so, what race? And why was he after Kane?
Doesn’t matter. He withdrew a dagger and sharpened it against one of the stones he’d set aside. His reflection caught on the silver metal, and firelight illuminated the image. The red in his eyes had intensified.
Disaster had grown stronger, Kane far weaker. Disgusted, he set the weapon away.
“You know we’ve got a female Phoenix on our tail, right?” William asked.
A Phoenix? He’d never messed with the fire-happy race. “I do. Of course I do.” Now. “How did you know?”
“I can smell her. How else?”
“Right.”
“The plan?”
“To wait.”
“And slaughter her on our own turf,” William said with a nod, black hair shagging around his supermodel face—or whatever he insisted on calling that ugly mug. “I like it. Simple, yet elegant.” He eased onto the only rock in front of the fire he hadn’t helped build, and dug through his backpack. He withdrew a pistachio nutrition bar he’d stolen from Kane, tore off the wrapper—and ate every bite, never offering Kane a taste.
Typical.
“That was good. You should have brought one.” William brushed his hands together. He wore a T-shirt that read I’m a Jenius, and that pretty much encapsulated the male’s entire personality. Silly, unconcerned, irreverent. Misleading.
Kane dug through his own pack. He withdrew three daggers, two Sigs and the parts to his long-range rifle. What could a female Phoenix want with him? He knew the race lived for the enslavement of others. He knew they were nearing extinction, many having met their final end. Like cats with nine lives. He knew they were bloodthirsty and war-hungry … but they usually only picked battles they could win.
So confident. Disaster chuckled with evil glee. So wrong.
Kane ignored him. He’d tried engaging the fiend, snapping retorts, issuing threats, but look where that had gotten him. Now, he wasn’t going to waste his time or energy. And why should he? This was a full-on case of dead demon talking.
Suddenly sparks flew from the fire, shooting out white-hot streams in every direction. Grass sizzled, and black smoke billowed. Heat licked over Kane’s pants, blistering his calves.
William scrambled around, patting out the flames. “You’re a menace. You know that, right? Everywhere we go, something terrible happens.”
“I know.” And the worst was yet to come. “To your knowledge, have the Moirai ever had a wrong prediction?”
“Oh, yes,” William said. “Definitely.”
Hope bloomed. “When?” He fit the rifle’s barrel on top of the frame, and the scope on top of that. He inserted the screws and gently tightened. “How?”
“When—too many times to count. How—free will. Our choices dictate our future, nothing else.”
Intelligent words from a Jenius. Go figure. “They think I’m destined to marry the keeper of Irresponsibility.”
“So do it. Hunt her down and marry her.”
William made it sound so easy. Just snap his fingers, and boom. Done. Only one little problem. He had yet to meet the keeper of Irresponsibility.
“I’m not sentencing a woman to an eternity with me.” He attached the bipod and rested the entire weapon on a thick stump.
“What about White?” William grumbled. “I happen to think you’ll end up with her, whether I like it or not.”
White was William’s only daughter, and, if Kane had to take a guess, one of the reasons William had followed him out here. William wanted Kane to stay away from the girl.
“I know you do,” he said. “What I don’t know is why.”
“Simple. I was once told her husband would cause an apocalypse.”
“By the Moirai?”
“One of the Moirai. I slept with Klotho. And both of her sisters.”
“I so did not need to hear that. Dude, they’re ancient.”
“They weren’t at the time,” William said with his classic wanton grin.
“Whatever. What about your whole free-will over fate spiel?”
“I believe you’ll choose her.”
“I hate her.” He remembered how, in hell, she had stood over his bound and mutilated form. Silent. Uncaring. Then, she’d left him to his suffering.
Actually, hate was too soft a word for what he felt for her.
“Maybe I’ll just avoid both women,” he added, “and save myself the trouble.”
“You? Avoid trouble? Ha!”
He gnashed his molars. “I can try. And what will you do if White and I do end up together, huh? You don’t think I’m good enough for her.”
“I certainly don’t. You just slept your way through a baker’s dozen.”
“At your urging.”
“And your point? I didn’t hold a gun to your head.” In some ways, Disaster had.
“If you two hook up, I’m moving back to hell. I don’t want to clean up her mess,” William said. “And I know she’ll make one. She won’t be able to help herself. It’s her nature.”
William, the adopted brother of the underworld’s king, Lucifer, had once lived in hell. Eventually, the hate, greed, envy and wickedness living in his soul had mated with the vengeance living in his heart. White, as well as her brothers, Red, Black and Green, had spewed from him.
He’d heard demons call them the four horsemen of the apocalypse. But these four were not, not really; they were more like shadows of the originals.
Actually, that’s exactly what they were. Shadow warriors.
They had been birthed in evil, and prophecy claimed they had futures to match. White was to conquer anyone she encountered, before somehow enslaving herself. Red was to bring war, Black famine, and Green death.
Little wonder Kane wanted nothing to do with White. He had enough problems, thanks.
And yes, he knew being conceived in evil had no bearing on the girl herself. He knew those in darkness could find their way to the light. He knew something beautiful could come out of something terrible. After all, diamonds were formed in the mantle of the earth, with horrendous heat and bone-crushing pressure.
He knew. But he didn’t care.
It wasn’t White he longed to see. It wasn’t White he yearned to scent.
It wasn’t White his mind pictured and his treacherous body suddenly responded to, shimmering need flash-flooding him, riding on bolts of lightning. It was Tinker Bell. Sweet, sexy Tinker Bell, with her—
Hands wandering … hot breath fanning over him … moans, groans …
Scowling, he tossed a handful of dirt into the fire. The flames sputtered and died. “You don’t need to worry about me. Like I said, I don’t want to marry anyone.”
“You would be lucky to win White!” William huffed.
The words penetrated Kane’s blooming rage and actually calmed him. One of his brows arched. “Now you want me to make a play for her?”
“No. But you should want me to want you to make a play for her. She’s highly desirable.”
“Well, I don’t want and I won’t ever want.”
“Why? Are your ovaries swollen?”
A bead of amusement rose in his chest, surprising him. “How has no one ever killed you?”
There was a pause as William opened another stolen nutrition bar, stuffed half into his mouth and swallowed. “Like anyone would want to see me dead. I’m too pretty.”
Pretty could only aid a person so long. “How many women have you been with?”
“Countless. You?”
“Not so many I can’t count them.”
“That’s because you lack skill.”
“Maybe, but at least I can control my desires. Your lust is too strong and your willpower too weak to allow you to resist anyone with a pulse.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been with plenty of people without a pulse. More than that, I say no to Gilly every day.”
Gilly, his best friend. A human girl Reyes, the keeper of Pain, had rescued. She was only seventeen years old, and for some reason, she’d developed a crush on William. A crush that had deepened every time the warrior had come to visit the Lords, whom she lived with. She’d doctored him every time he’d gotten hurt in battle, and he’d comforted her every time she’d cried out from bad dreams, the horrors of an abusive stepfather rising to haunt her.
Now, she called the male every morning at 8:00 a.m. to make sure he was “all right.” Translation: alone.
He always was.
William might take a new woman—or ten—whenever the mood stuck, but he never let the females stay the night with him. Not anymore. He didn’t want to hurt his precious Little Gilly Gumdrop’s feelings.
Kane wasn’t sure why William took such care with the girl, when he’d never done anything sexual with her. At least, Kane didn’t think he had.
He better not have.
Eyes narrowed, William threw the rest of the food into the ashes. “Just remembered something. As I was packing, Danika showed up and asked me to give you the most important painting of your life.” He dug through his pack and withdrew a small, wrapped canvas.
Danika, Reyes’s woman, possessed the ability to see into heaven and hell, past, present and future, and paint the images. Like the Moirai, her predictions had never been wrong—that he could prove.
About ten yards away, a twig snapped.
The Phoenix had decided to close in, he realized.
Kane grabbed the canvas from William and stuffed it inside his own pack, then swung the whole thing over his back, using it as a shield, and lay flat on his belly. Closing one eye, he pressed the other against the night-vision scope on the rifle. In an instant, the world around him became painted with bright green.
The Phoenix was … there. She had climbed one of the taller trees and was currently walking across one of the thicker limbs … nope, she was hopping to another limb on another tree, coming closer and closer, clearly trying to sneak up on him.
Mine, Disaster said with a possessive growl, and Kane frowned.
Another mine?
The female looked to be five foot nine and scantily dressed, considering the weather. She wore a bralike top and tiny shorts, and there were two daggers tied to her calves, two sheathed in her combat boots.
Kane tracked her for a moment, watched as she paused and reached for one of the hilts. Never bring a knife to a gun fight, sweetness. You’ll lose every time. He squeezed the trigger.
Boom!
He was a great shot and knew he’d grazed her thigh before he even heard her shriek of pain. He leaped up and started running. By the time she hit the ground, gasping for breath, he was there, in her face. She was pretty. Blonde. Bold. Though he would have rather bathed in acid, he pressed his arm into her throat, making it even more difficult for her to take in any air, and patted her down to discard all of her weapons.
There were more than he’d realized. Eleven daggers. Two guns. Three throwing stars. Two vials of poison. A bag of pills. Detachable metal claws. And the makings of a bomb hidden in the soles of her shoes.
He tried not to be impressed.
Working quickly, he bound her wrists with a rope of chain he’d been using as a belt and tied her to the base of the tree. The moment he finished, he jolted away from her, severing contact. Already his stomach was churning, sickness brewing. But at least he didn’t experience the pain Tinker Bell caused.
A swarm of bees darted from the trees, circling Kane’s head. Disaster laughed.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
The girl kicked out her uninjured leg, swiped only at air. “Let me go!”
“I doubt that’s your name. Try again.”
“I had no plans to hurt you,” she snarled, her struggles increasing. Heat radiated from her, such intense heat, and it was only getting stronger. Any moment now, she would catch fire with flames as hot as those in hell and melt the metal links. “I only want to hurt Josephina. Now, I’ll kill you and enslave the girl.”
“Josephina?” A sting in his neck. He slapped at the wound, and a bee stung him on the wrist.
“As if you don’t know the girl you’re following. The Fae.”
His rescuer’s name was Josephina. Pretty. But he liked Tinker Bell better. “You want to enslave her, do you?” Was that why the girl had a death wish? She feared what the Phoenix would do to her?
Buzz, buzz.
Sting. Sting.
“Argh!” Again she kicked out. Again she missed. “I refuse to answer any more of your questions. Let me go or I’ll make you regret it before I slay you!”
“Did someone mention a lay? For the right price, I’m willing to make myself available.” William strolled into the area, chewing another nutrition bar. “And do you think she’s talking about the Fae female who just raced through our camp?”
“What!” Kane got in the warrior’s face. “When?”
“Just now.”
“And you let her go?” he roared.
Buzz. Sting.
“Well, yeah. Our chase would have ended, and I’m not ready to go home. She told me to tell you hi, though. Or maybe she said to tell you to do what you promised or leave her alone since you’re drawing the wrong attention to her. It’s so hard to tell when you’re not really listening.”
Battling an urge to slice the warrior to ribbons, and waste time, Kane gritted out, “Don’t let this one escape,” and bolted into action.
CHAPTER FIVE
JOSEPHINA SPRINTED THROUGH the forest, twigs beating at her, leaves sticking to her. She pumped her arms and legs with all her might and began to pant, the night air burning her nose and throat. In one terrible swoop, all of her enemies had found her—yet none of them wanted to kill her.
A Fae army was here, determined to escort her home.
The Phoenix was here, determined to enslave her.
Kane was here, determined to … finally do as he’d promised? Or did he plan to hand her over to her family and collect a reward?
Probably the reward. Some of the Lords were wily like that.
What had she done wrong? How had she been spotted? She’d been so careful, sneaking here, hiding there. Only twice had she spoken to a human, and only to ask the males to run her over with their cars.
Both men had looked at her as if she were insane.
Maybe she was.
All she knew was that death—any death—was preferable to life with her family. The pain and suffering that came with Synda’s punishments was bad, but the agony of not knowing what the next punishment would be was far, far worse.
Her own father hated her, and rejected her at every turn. For centuries, she’d just wanted someone to love her. To see value in her.
Of course, then there was Leopold. Her own half brother wanted her in his bed, and wouldn’t stop pressing until he got her there.
Every day was a new stress. Josephina would wake up feeling as if she were standing on top of a mountain, screaming for help, but no one cared enough to listen. Tension never left her. And by the end of each day, her nerves were so frayed she feared she would have a nervous breakdown.
It was too much. She was tired, so very tired. She craved an end. Needed an end. Finally.
Sadly, she couldn’t kill herself—and how morbid was a thought like that? Other Fae could end their own lives, but not her. To purposely injure herself was to suffer with that injury, no matter how severe, for weeks, sometimes months. Eventually, she would heal. Even from a beheading. Yes, her body would grow back. Her father had made sure of it, using an ability she would love to steal, but couldn’t. The guards protected him too diligently.
Something hard slammed into her back, tossing her down. She hit the dirt and twig-laden ground with a loud crash, her lungs momentarily deflating. As she struggled to breathe, she was flipped over. Panic overwhelmed her, heating and freezing her at the same time. Tiny black dots winked through her vision, yet she managed to make out the shape of a man looming over her.
“Josephina,” he gritted out.
Kane. She recognized the low, gruff quality of his voice, and the panic receded. “Jerk! Just because you’re a star doesn’t mean you can act that way. A simple �stop’ would have sufficed.”
“I did say stop. You ignored me.” The weight of him lifted from her, allowing her to pull herself into a sitting position. She drank in as much oxygen as possible, and her eyesight finally cleared.
The warrior crouched in front of her, slivers of moonlight dancing over him. His hair was disheveled, but that hardly mattered. The strands of flax glowed as if they’d been sprinkled with stardust, reminding her of gorgeous ribbons of gold only the Opulens—the Fae upper class—could afford. The darker strands blended into the night. Red eyes watched her intently, angrily … with the barest glimpse of sizzle?
“Your eyes,” she said, unsure whether she shivered or shuddered. She recognized that bloodlike color, had seen it glowing from Synda’s gaze too many times to count. But the princess had never caused her every pulse point to flutter wildly.
He looked away, as though shamed. “They’re red. I know.”
Poor Kane. “What happened?” What had caused the demon to become so strong?
Without thought, she reached out to brush her gloved fingers against the skin underneath. He caught the motion and stiffened, reminding her of his dislike of contact; his air of anger intensified. But he didn’t flinch, as he’d done with Sabin.
“Is this okay?” she whispered.
He gave a stiff nod.
Gulping, she continued reaching.
At contact, his pupils expanded, gobbling up every bit of color. Even the red. His breathing changed, from slow and even to deep and shallow. The very air around them seemed to charge with electrical impulses, little sparks dancing over every inch of her.
I … like him?
No. Surely not. She’d had crushes before, but this was something else entirely. More intense. Almost overwhelming.
“That’s enough.” He grabbed her by the wrist, moving with lightning-fast reflexes, and she realized he was trembling. “Forget my eyes,” he bit out, setting her hand away from him. “Every time I’m near you, I hurt. Why?”
Deep down, part of her mourned the separation with him. The other part of her wanted to cry over this brand-new rejection.
You’re angry with him. This is silly.
“How should I know? You’re the first person ever to complain.”
“You’re not doing anything to me?”
“Of course not. Now, how did you find me? How do you know my name?”
“The answers don’t matter. I came to help you.”
“Help me?” Hope opened as sweetly as a rose in sunlight, bright and beautiful. “Really?”
He nodded.
“Oh, Kane. Thank you!” He planned to kill her, the darling man. No longer would fear be her constant companion. No longer would she have to endure her half sister’s punishments. No longer would she have to avoid Leopold’s advances. “How do you want to do it? A dagger? Your bare hands? Poison? My vote is quick and painless, but I’ll be satisfied with whatever you choose. Really. You won’t hear a single complaint out of me.”
Kane flashed his perfect white teeth in a scowl. “I’m not going to kill you, Tinker Bell.”
Wait. What? “But you just said you’d help me.” And had he really just called her freaking Tinker Bell? I’m not a thumb-sized sprite, dang it!
“I will. I’ll take care of your problems. That way, you’ll want to live.”
Every ounce of the hope withered. He had no idea what he was saying, or how impossible such a task would be.
“Where have you been?” she asked, ignoring his offer. Had he gone home to a girlfriend? The last story she’d read about him had claimed he was single, but a year had passed since then. Or, in her case, a thousand and one years. Had he pampered this nameless, faceless female?
I’m the one who saved him. I deserve to be pampered.
“Respond to my promise,” he growled.
She sighed. “Why do you want to help me, Kane?” Beautiful Kane, with his rainbow of colors.
“I can’t not help you.”
“But … why?”
“You’re min—” A muscle ticked below his eye. “I owe you.”
He’d only get himself killed, and she didn’t want that. “Well, I release you from your debt. How’s that?”
He shook his head. “I’m your new constant companion, Tinker Bell. It’ll be better for both of us if you get used to the idea.”
Kane … with her every second …
A blessing and a curse, just like her strength-stealing ability. “Either kill me, get me out of the forest, or get lost. Those are your three choices.”
“I’ll get you out of the forest,” he said, standing, circling her with all the predatory intent of a ravenous beast, “and while I’m doing it, you’ll tell me how many people I need to kill to make you feel like your life is worth saving.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle lest she be tempted to reach out again. “Too many.”
“So the problem is people.” He stopped in front of her.
“Yes, but did you hear me? There are too many of them.”
“Too many is my specialty.” Hesitant, he held out his hand to help her up.
More contact? Freely offered this time?
She licked her lips and stretched out her hand.
He recoiled, as though startled, even though he’d been the instigator, and his arm dropped to his side. He made a fist, a dark, frightening need springing to life in his eyes. But … a need for what?
Trembling, she labored to her feet under her own steam. Which, to be honest, wasn’t much. Her adrenaline must have crashed. Her knees knocked together, struggling to hold her up.
“I’m sorry,” Kane said, his voice low and quiet, yet somehow far more undisciplined than she knew him to be. “I should have helped you.”
Clearly, he hadn’t gotten over his aversion to touch. Especially hers. “Yes, well, I’m not going with you, and I don’t want my problems murdered. An attempt would only create more problems.”
“I’m afraid your days of making your own decisions are over. I’ve got problems of my own, and I can’t see to them until I’ve seen to yours.”
She backed away from him.
He shook his head. “Don’t you dare run, Tinker Bell. I’m strong enough to chase, and I don’t think you’ll like the results.”
Her stupid body tingled, a clear disagreement. Did he wield some strange ability she’d never before encountered?
Stop thinking and move! She faked a pass to the right. He followed, and she darted to the left. Then, she ran at full steam.
He slammed into her, knocking her down. He wasn’t even winded when he said, “Consider this your final warning,” his warm breath caressing the back of her neck.
Oh my…. His weight was as heavy as before, pressing her into the ground, but this time, because she knew the culprit, she didn’t feel threatened. She felt … achy, her nerve endings sizzling with undeniable awareness.
“Let me go. I’ll hurt you if you don’t.”
He stood, dragging her with him. He held on tightly, surprising her, his arms steel bands she couldn’t break—didn’t want to break. But he was still shaking, as if touching her was somehow more painful to him than he’d claimed her nearness was. It shouldn’t be. Not yet.
“Kane,” she said. “I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Sweetheart,” he replied, practically breaking her heart with the sudden thread of gentle kindness in his tone, “this is for your own good. I promise.”
No, it wasn’t. He simply didn’t understand. She tugged off one of her gloves. Her hands were her only weapons; he would hate her for what she was about to do to him, would never again come near her, but he’d left her with no other option. “Last chance.”
“I told you. I’m not letting you go.” He hefted her over his shoulder and trudged forward, shouldering his way through tree limbs determined to slap him. “I’m saving you.”
“You can’t save me.” Fighting wave after wave of guilt, Josephina reached out and gripped his forearm. “Please don’t make me do this.”
“And just what is it you think you’re doing, hmm?”
Leaving you helpless. Tears welled in her eyes. No other choice. She tightened her grip on him. Instantly, her pores became tiny vacuums, sucking the strength out of him and into her.
He stilled, gasping. “What are you doing, Tinker Bell? Stop that.”
“I’m sorry.” Warmth flooded her; warmth and the fizz of energy … so much energy, lighting her up. No, not lighting, she realized a second later, but darkening. Then, utter blackness gobbled up the light, cloaking her, sending her tumbling straight into a spiraling pit of despair.
Kane set her on her feet.
A terrible scream cut its way through her throat. Her knees buckled, but he was no longer able to hold her up. She slammed into the ground, contact finally severed. What was happening? What was wrong with her? And the screams—hers, and someone else’s, someone sinister—argh! Growing louder and louder.
And yet, through it all, a single whisper managed to claim her attention. I hate you. Hate you so much. Want to kill you. Will kill you. Soon, soon, so very soon.
I don’t understand, she thought, panicked.
You deserve pain, and I’ll make sure you get it if you go near him again. He’s mine. Mine. I won’t share him with you. Never you.
Nearing hysteria, she drew on every reservoir of strength she possessed, lumbered to her knees and crawled forward, away from Kane. Yes, she had to escape Kane. All of this had come from him. Belonged to him. The more distance, the better. Please.
Rocks sliced at her palms and knees, but she didn’t care. In the distance, she heard the snap of breaking wood. The whoosh of air. Something hard slammed into her, knocking her feet out from under her and planting her face first in the dirt.
When the daze cleared, she realized the culprit wasn’t Kane this time, but a tree.
She fought her way free, tears streaming down her cheeks, and continued her journey forward.
“Josephina,” Kane called. “Tinker Bell … what did … you do? To me?” His voice was weak, rasping.
A spark of light dashed across her small line of vision, followed by another. Soon, colors formed, taking shape. Bushes, tree roots and trunks, piles of leaves, a coyote stalking past—only to stop and bare its teeth, as if preparing to attack her. But another tree fell, slamming against her and scaring the animal away.
Hate you. Hate you, hate you, hate you.
Pain momentarily stunned her, her abused back threatening to shatter.
Before she could fight her way free, a pair of boots appeared in front of her. Boots she recognized.
Josephina swallowed a groan. No. No! Anyone but him.
“Well, well,” the owner of those boots said. “What do we have here?”
She recognized the voice, as well. Leopold, her half brother, had found her. He would ensure she returned home … back to her own personal hell.
KANE HEARD TINKER Bell screaming, and battled a rage unlike any other.
Mine, he thought. No one was allowed to hurt her, not even him, not even as angry as he was with her for what she’d done to him.
What had she done to him?
He wanted to stand and help her, whatever was wrong with her. He did. Yet, his body was too weak.
He’d vowed never to be weak again. Or, barring that, to kill the cause.
Tinker Bell was the cause, somehow, but he wouldn’t be killing her. He would be … he wasn’t sure, and didn’t like that he couldn’t decide.
One second he’d been as normal as a man like him could be, carrying her over his shoulder. The next, he’d felt warm silk pressed against his arm, and he’d begun to weaken. He’d set her down as his limbs began to tremble. Then, he’d crumbled.
But then, so had she.
The darkness he’d carried for so long had thinned, but instead of strength taking its place, he’d experienced extreme fatigue.
He’d watched, helpless, as Tinker Bell curled into herself. Her skin had gone pallid, and horror had consumed her features. She’d looked … haunted. He’d reached for her, but she’d managed to crawl away. He hadn’t managed to follow. Soon she’d disappeared beyond the line of trees.
Must help her.
“So, it’s safe to say this night isn’t going according to plan.”
William’s voice hit him, and he struggled to sit up.
“The girl.”
“Escaped. Burned me, too, the little—”
“Not the Phoenix. The Fae. Go get her.”
“I’m too hungry to run.”
Rage gave him enough strength to hurl a rock at the warrior’s fat, ugly head. “Go!”
“Fine.” Footsteps echoed. “But you’ll owe me.” Swaying limbs, swishing leaves, then … nothing.
In and out Kane breathed. There was something else happening inside him, something stranger than the sudden weakness, and he needed to figure out what it was. And it should be easy. For the first time in centuries, his mind was silent. Thoughts were easy, without any kind of dark filter. Emotions were pure, without any kind of terrible guidance. He was—
Alone, he realized.
Realization knocked him flat on his back. In that moment, there was no hint of the demon’s presence. No sickness in the pit of his stomach. No icy fingers of dread crawling all over his skin. No terrible whispers in the back of his mind.
But … how could that be? Kane was alive. And if he was alive, the demon was with him. Right?
Or, had the Greeks lied to him and his friends the first day of their possession, as he’d hoped? Gideon had once survived several minutes without his demon. Of course, the creature had still been tethered to him, and had returned.
Kane thought back. He’d never actually seen a possessed warrior killed simply because the demon had left his body. His friend Baden had died from a beheading. Cronus and Rhea, former king and queen of the Titans, had been demon possessed and had died from a beheading, too.
What if Disaster was gone? Permanently? But where could the demon have gone? With Tinker Bell?
Was Disaster the reason she’d screamed?
Or had she somehow killed the creature?
Had Kane finally experienced something good?
He rolled his shoulders, the muscles knotted and protesting as if he’d never really used them. He and Tinker Bell were going to have a long talk. He would ask questions and she would supply answers. If she hesitated, he would spank her. Yes. That’s what he’d do to her, he decided.
Part of him wanted her to hesitate.
He’d never thought to experience sexual desire again—not true desire—and yet, when he’d tackled her, her softness beneath him, and he’d had her scent in his nose, and her panting breaths in his ears, he’d yearned to strip her, to see her, all of her, and take everything she had to give.
She might have let him. But just how would his body, and his mind, have reacted?
Now, the need for her was still there, a thorn in his side. He didn’t like it, had to get rid of it.
A frowning William returned—without the girl.
Kane growled low in his throat. “What happened?”
“There was no sign of her,” the warrior said. “And don’t get your panties in a twist, but, uh, there was evidence of a struggle.”
CHAPTER SIX
The Realm of Blood and Shadows
LONG AGO, CAMEO had been cursed to host the demon of Misery and oh, the creature’s presence had never been more apparent than now. A deep sense of sorrow pressed heavily against her. Despair burned the center of her chest. Corrosive whispers drifted through her mind.
There’s no hope …
Life will never get better.
You’ll never succeed at anything. Might as well give up now.
She hated the demon of Misery with every fiber of her being. He was the essence of evil, darkness without any hint of light, yet she couldn’t survive without him. Problem was, she knew she couldn’t survive with him, either.
But what could she do?
Nothing, that’s what. Always nothing. Forever nothing.
And so, for the rest of her existence, tears would always burn at the backs of her eyes. If ever she laughed, she wouldn’t remember it. Her friends claimed she had, upon occasion, smiled, but she couldn’t recall a single instance—and never would.
But. Yes, but. While she couldn’t make her life better, she could make Kane’s better. Surely. Hopefully.
A few days ago, she’d visited him in his room. He’d worn anguish like a second skin, though he’d tried to mask it. He probably would have succeeded with anyone but Cameo. The misery of others delighted her demon.
For a moment, only a moment, she had felt better. Lighter. Finally free. Then, she had felt a thousand times worse as her own misery had merged with Kane’s.
Kane hadn’t seemed to notice. Distracted, he had played with the ends of her hair, the dark strands pretty against the bronze of his skin. “Silver Eyes,” he’d said, using his favorite nickname for her. “I missed you more than I can say.”
Lovely words. True words. They always missed each other when they were parted. But then he’d stood, not giving her a chance to reply, and padded to the bathroom, shutting himself inside. He hadn’t looked back.
He always looked back when he walked away from her.
He always winked at her.
She always blew him a kiss. Sometimes, when she was mad at him, with bite. He always chuckled.
Then, he’d left the fortress without saying goodbye to her. He always said goodbye.
They’d fought together for centuries, and never once had they deviated from their traditions. Traditions that had started because, after they’d first met, they had briefly dated. But his demon, Disaster, and her demon, Misery, had caused far too many problems and they’d eventually broken up. He’d become her best friend. Her confidant. Their traditions were all they had.
Since his return, something had changed.
He had changed.
She should have expected it. He’d spent several weeks in hell, bound and chained and tortured. He hadn’t spilled the details, and she hadn’t needed them. She could guess—and knew the worst of her imaginings wouldn’t even come close to what he’d suffered. She’d wanted only to make him feel better, at least for a little while.
As if you can do anything to help anyone.
Gritting her teeth, she blocked her mind to the demon’s manipulations. I can help him, and I will.
Cameo stood in the center of a bedroom emptied of all furniture. The walls were made of crumbling stone, and peppered with cameras. Torin was fierce about security. The marble floor was cracked—Kane had been here, and recently. The air was cool, but dry, and coated with dust.
She studied the four artifacts in front of her. Wars had been fought for them. People had killed to find them, to protect them, to steal them. She and her friends had done all of that and more to obtain them.
Somehow, some way, these seemingly useless things would lead the way to Pandora’s box. To the Lords’ freedom. And their ultimate doom.
The Cage of Compulsion was a rusted four-by-four cell. However, when trapped inside, a person was compelled to do whatever the owner commanded.
Then there was the Cloak of Invisibility. A simple piece of fabric. However, when a person draped the material over their shoulders, no one could see them.
Then there was the Paring Rod, a long, thin spear with a glittering crystal rounding out the top end. When touched, it could steal a spirit from a body, leaving only an empty shell.
Finally, there was a painting from the All-Seeing Eye, given to Cameo only this morning.
Danika, the Eye, could sometimes see into the skies and sometimes the abyss. Sometimes the past. Sometimes, as a gift from the Most High, the future. In this painting, Danika had obviously seen into a man’s office—in the present? At the far right wall, there were treasures locked inside a glass case, and one of those treasures was a small box made of bones.
Could it be Pandora’s box? A container hidden for centuries. A dangerous weapon supposedly constructed from the bones of the female incarnation of oppression. When opened, the box would suck the demons from Cameo and the other Lords, trapping the evil inside.
Ending their lives.
Cameo had sensed Kane’s hatred for Disaster. She had sensed his desire to rid himself of the creature’s influence, in any way necessary—she had sensed, because it was a mirror of her own yearnings. If he couldn’t find a way, he might decide to hunt down the box and use it.
She couldn’t let him die.
So, she would just have to eliminate this method of deliverance. She nodded. Yes. That’s how she would help him.
But … how was she supposed to put each of the artifacts to use at the same time? Because that was the key to finding the box. Should she climb into the cage while wearing the Cloak and holding the painting and the Rod?
“What’cha doing?”
The voice came from beside her. Cameo cut off a groan as she turned to face Viola, the keeper of Narcissism and the newest bane of her existence. Seriously. Dealing with a pack of rabid wolves on a steady diet of dark-haired, silver-eyed females would have been way easier.
Curling blond hair cascaded over Viola’s dainty shoulder, and eyes the color of cinnamon twinkled. She wore a skimpy, skintight dress with enough ruffles and bows to put Christmas morning to shame, and she held her pet Tasmanian devil in her arms. Princess Fluffy … something was his name.
Yes. The princess was a he.
“I’m spending time alone,” Cameo finally replied. Hint, hint.
“Well, I hate being the bearer of bad news almost as much as I love it, but spending time alone isn’t a good look for you. Your face is all scrunchy. It’s quite frightening. You should try to be more like me and look good no matter who you’re with. Or not with.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“I know! I’m so smart it should be criminal.”
Gotta find that box. Cameo wouldn’t destroy it right away. She would run a test, just one, and shove Viola near it. Then, she would find out exactly what happened when a demon-possessed immortal approached it. Maybe Viola would survive. Fingers crossed she wouldn’t.
As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Princess Fluffy whatever lunged out and sank his fangs into Cameo’s wrist, a quick in-and-out job that left her bleeding. Viola continued chatting about nothing, unconcerned.
Cameo bent down, doing as Super Nanny had taught her, and as she’d often had to do with the men in her life, looking the little cretin in the eye. “If you do that again, I’m going to have he-princess for breakfast. I doubt you’ll taste very good, you’re too bitter, but that’s what mustard is for.”
The devil-dog yelped, jumped from his mistress’s arms, and raced out of the room.
“I wonder what’s wrong with him,” Viola said.
Talk about having a megawatt attention filter. If something didn’t revolve around Viola, the female never noticed.
“Do you recognize any of these artifacts?” Cameo asked her. Might as well make use of her while she was here.
“Of course I do. I can recognize anything. I’m quite gifted.”
Gotta find it real soon. “Tell me what you know.”
Viola puffed up, saying, “Well, the pieces are quite old. And ugly. Except for the painting. It’s new and ugly.” She traced a fingertip along the canvas and her expression of self-love melted away. “Be very careful.” How serious she suddenly sounded. How dire. “If you fail to use each artifact properly, you’ll find yourself trapped. Forever.” Then she traced her finger over the Cloak, grimaced, and returned to her old, annoying self. “It’s not very soft, is it? I prefer soft. My skin is very delicate. And perfect.”
“How do I use each artifact properly?” Cameo insisted.
“What are you talking about? How should I know? I’ve never used them. And besides, while I know everything, I sometimes like to be appreciated for more than my magnificent brain.” As she spoke, she bent down to peer into the crystal at the end of the Rod. “Oh, a pretty,” she breathed, appearing entranced by her own reflection.
She reached out. Made contact.
One second she stood beside Cameo, the next she was gone.
Silence filled the room.
“Viola,” Cameo said, spinning, but there was no sign of the girl.
Heartbeat picking up speed, Cameo focused on the camera in the far right corner. “Did you see that? Did what I think just happened really happen?”
There was a crackle of static before Torin’s voice flowed from strategically placed speakers. “Yeah. The moment she made contact with the Rod, she was adiosed.”
“What should I do?” she demanded.
“Nothing. I’m going to do a search for info and see what I can find.”
No. She wasn’t content to do nothing. Besides, he’d been searching for info since they’d gotten the thing, and hadn’t found anything.
Moving swiftly, Cameo unfolded the Cloak.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Torin demanded. “Stop that right now.”
“Make me.” He was the keeper of Disease. One touch of his skin against another’s and a plague would start. The poor guy spent most of his time alone in his bedroom, watching the world from a distance.
In a moment of weakness, they had begun a handsoff relationship, but just like with Kane, the sparks had quickly fizzled and they’d realized they were better off as friends.
“Cameo. Don’t.”
He was concerned for her. She knew that. She also knew he liked to think before acting. To plan. To test. Most of the warriors living in the fortress were like that. Not Cameo. The longer she waited to do something, the more useless she became, the demon’s misery filling her, consuming her.
More than that, Viola could be in pain. Cameo didn’t like the girl, but she wasn’t going to let her suffer—no matter what she’d planned to do to her. She had to try to extract her.
Cameo reached out with a shaky hand.
“Don’t you dare do what she did,” Torin shouted over the speakers.
She paused. Maybe there was another way. Maybe—
“Maddox!” Torin’s voice boomed. “You’re needed in the artifact room. Now! Reyes, you, too. Anyone. Cameo’s about to make a huge and possibly fatal mistake.”
No time to reason things out.
Trembling, Cameo set the painting in the cage, grabbed the Cloak, and entered. She shut the door, and the lock automatically engaged. The moment she heard the soft click, she felt as though a heavy ring of metal had wrapped around her neck, wrists and ankles. But when she looked, she saw only the tan of her skin.
“I’m commanding you to stop, Cameo,” Torin said.
The Cage clearly didn’t consider him its owner, because she felt no compulsion to obey him.
She wrapped the Cloak around her shoulders and reached through the bars, intending to latch onto the Rod. Just before contact, her gaze locked on the painting. She froze. In an instant, insignificant details were wiped away. She saw the box, and in the shadows behind it, a man. He was of average height, with a thin build.
She couldn’t make out his features, could only see the red glow of his eyes. Who was he? What was he? Would he be friend or foe? Was he guarding Pandora’s box? Trying to prevent her from destroying it?
With so little muscle mass, he’d never stand a chance.
Find Viola. Find him.
Footsteps echoed inside the room. Hinges on the door creaked.
Maddox stormed inside, violent anger radiating from him. “Don’t you dare—”
She grabbed the Rod before he could finish his sentence, just in case, and felt the coldness of the crystal against her skin.
And then she knew nothing more.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SГ©duire
CURRENTLY, JOSEPHINA WAS the ketchup in a beefcake sandwich. Two palace guards held her in a viselike grip, preventing her from running away. They were beautiful men, tall and strong—though not as tall and strong as Kane—with looks typical of the Fae. Each had white hair, blue eyes, pale skin and red lips. They wore fitted violet overcoats, and had several medals pinned along their shoulders. Their pants were white, without a speck of dirt, and practically painted on. Black boots stretched to their knees.
Oh, yes. They were beautiful men, but they were the proud owners of cold, dead hearts. They knew what would happen to her, but wouldn’t let her go. They held her all the tighter.
So close to freedom, she thought, fighting a wave of despair. And yet here I am.
At least the hatred and evil she’d borrowed from Kane had left her and returned to him.
The royal dais loomed in front of her. King Tiberius sat upon a lavish throne carved from a single block of the purest gold, his hand curled around the center of a bejeweled scepter. On his right was a smaller throne, and perched there was the elegant Queen Penelope. On his left was yet another throne, this one for the flawless Princess Synda.
Behind the trio was a higher tier. Higher, yet still it seemed the area was nothing more than an afterthought. There sat Prince Leopold. Even as much as he claimed to want her, he’d wasted no time escorting Josephina to the guards and abandoning her to their “care.”
The Opulens stood behind her. Dressed in their finest, they had gathered here to watch her newest chastisement. The women wore elaborate gowns with fitted bodices and wide, flaring skirts. Bold makeup decorated their faces, the colors dusted with diamond powder. Their hair was partially hidden by large, bejeweled headdresses that fanned out to form half-moons. Metal necklaces circled their throats and dripped beads down their shoulders and cleavage.
The men wore velvet jackets in every color imaginable, metal pieces sewn into the shoulders, elbows and hem. Their trousers were looser than what the guards wore, but still managed to mold to hard-won strength.
In SГ©duire, beauty mattered more than brains and clothing mattered more than food. Political intrigues were always in full swing. An open mouth was a lying mouth. Power was just as valuable as cash. Lust, greed and torture were always on the menu.
Josephina hated it here.
Every Fae wielded some type of extraordinary ability—though she actually wielded two—but some were better than others. The king was doubly gifted, like Josephina, able to bequeath abilities to others, as well as form a protective shield around his body. The queen had the power to touch an object and know its complete history. Leopold could cause pain in others with a single spoken word.
Any ability Synda possessed had been buried when she’d obtained the demon. Josephina had heard stories, though, and thought her half sister had once been able to turn any inanimate object into gold.
The king looked Josephina over with those eyes of crystal blue. Oh, how she despised the color. She much preferred Kane’s eyes, jade and amber—and she had to stop thinking about him, didn’t she? Their association was over. She wouldn’t be seeing him again. He wouldn’t want to see her. Not after what she’d done to him.
Regret clawed at her. Already she mourned the loss of him. The strong, beautiful warrior who’d come to save her.
A small cry parted her lips.
“Have you nothing to say for yourself, Servant Josephina?” King Tiberius demanded. “You caused us all kinds of trouble.”
“Yes, you should be on your knees right now,” Queen Penelope said, flicking an invisible piece of lint from the skirt of her dress. “Begging for our forgiveness.”
Ignoring the burn of rejection accompanying those words, Josephina kept her gaze on her father. Though he was hundreds of years old, he looked almost as young as she was. He had silver-white hair, unblemished skin, and enough muscle to snap the bones of any man.
“I’m angry with you, girl. You didn’t return on your own. You had to be hunted, wasting time, energy and resources.”
“I was being chased by demons.” It was the truth.
He flicked his tongue over an incisor. “Excuses aren’t to be tolerated.”
She gulped, and wisely kept her mouth shut.
“However, I am feeling benevolent, and will not punish you. This time. But if you ever again try to deprive my precious daughter of her blood rights, whatever the reason, I’ll be forced to hobble you for the rest of your life.”
I’m your precious daughter, too, her heart cried. The only difference was, the queen wasn’t her mother.
Murmurs of excitement erupted behind her. The people wanted to see her hobbled.
The queen petted the ribbon of fur hanging from the collar of her gown. “We sent guards to await you at the exit to hell. Did you kill them?”
“No. The demons must have done it, because there was no one waiting for me.”
“Ugh. Demons,” said Princess Synda.
Josephina met her sister’s gaze.
The girl blinked. All innocence. Zero remorse.
A quintessential Fae, Synda had her white curls twined with a wide, arching headdress of crystal spears. Her luminous eyes were framed by sharp sweeps of sapphire shadow, and currently without any hint of the red the demon caused when it acted up. Her cheeks were brushed with the dust of rubies, and her lips with the flakes of diamonds.
She displayed moments of utter sweetness, like now, followed by looong stretches of utter nastiness. She obeyed no rules, not even her own, and always acted without thought or concern for anything or anyone.
Josephina was younger by several hundred years, and at the time of her birth, Synda already contained the demon. The stories she’d heard about the princess’s past, about what the female had been like before the possession, had shocked her. Apparently, there had been no one more kind, concerned and happy.
How much had Disaster changed Kane?
You’re thinking about him again.
Tiberius slammed the scepter into the floor, a loud boom shaking the entire room. “You will concentrate on the proceedings, Servant Josephina, or I’ll have to make an example out of you.”
“Maybe she likes it when you punish her,” the queen said with an evil grin. “Maybe that’s why she tempts you to give her more.”
Josephina shuddered. “Just … let me go. Please.”
The king leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Have I not been good to you? Have I not given you a home? A worthy purpose?”
The queen smirked.
Synda selected a pastry from the tray beside her.
Leopold shook his head in regret.
I won’t cry. Not again.
Tiberius sighed. “Take her to the dungeon. I can see the desire to run in your eyes, girl. You will be locked away until you’ve realized how well I’ve treated you—and how much worse it can be for you.”
The Opulens cheered.
She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it with a snap. Speaking after judgment had been handed down would only earn her further chastisement.
As she was dragged away, she heard another guard say to the king, “Two immortal warriors were following Servant Josephina. We left them in the forest, but placed a tracker on their equipment. What would you have us do with them?”
Though she didn’t hear the king’s answer, Josephina mewled with dismay.
THE WHOOSH OF a whip sounded, followed by screams of pain. Josephina flinched as every blow landed on the man on the other side of the crumbling stone wall.
Her poor arms were chained over her head, her fingers ice-cold from pitiable circulation. Once again she was sandwiched between two men. Only, these two weren’t guards. They were prisoners, like her, and they’d made the grievous mistake of owning land the king wanted for himself.
They, too, had their arms chained over their heads, but they were either unconscious or dead. They had been deprived of food for so long, their bodies were emaciated. And they had gone unwashed for years. Oh, the stench …
Footsteps pounded, and the dungeon master stalked around the corner. Prince Leopold smiled at her, genuine affection gleaming in his crystalline eyes. Like Princess Synda, he had curling white hair. Unlike Synda, he was tall, taller than their father, and leanly toned. Eligible Opulens were always drooling and panting for him.
He stopped in front of Josephina and pinched a lock of her hair between his blood-splattered fingers. “Did you miss me, little flower?” he asked, warm breath fanning over her face.
“Not even a bit,” she replied truthfully. “If you want the brutal truth of the matter, it was my hope we’d never see each other again.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, a testament of his anger. First point, Servant Josephina. “Give yourself to me, and the king will no longer use you as Synda’s substitute.”
I’d rather die—obviously. “Even if that were true, which it’s not, my answer would be the same—never. Does that work for you?”
His lashes fused together, leaving only tiny slits. “Why don’t you want me? I’m desirable.”
Where to begin? Oh, yeah. “You’re my brother.”
“Only by blood.”
Was that all? “Well, you disgust me. How about that?”
He leaned in. “I would be good to you. Very, very good.”
She stiffened, gritting out, “Stop. I’m not interested.”
“Just give me a chance.”
Josephina turned her head away. Her body ached in the worst way. Her mind was foggy from hunger. She couldn’t deal with him right now.
He took her chin in a firm grip and returned her attention to him. “I could force you. You know that, don’t you?”
If he’d wanted her that way, he would have taken her years ago.
She remembered the first day they’d come into contact outside the throne room. She’d been walking through the royal garden, plucking the prettiest of the flowers for her mother. Back then, her mother had been the king’s favored concubine and Josephina had been free to do as she pleased—when she wasn’t being punished for Synda’s crimes, of course.
Yes, the king had used her that way even then, despite her mother’s protests.
Leopold had just achieved his immortality, never to physically age again, and he had been celebrating in the garden with two female slaves. Josephina had stumbled upon the group, seen them doing things that still made her blush; he’d heard her startled gasp and looked up. She’d backed away, afraid he would tell his mother she was a spy, and the queen would have her whipped. Again.
But Leopold had smiled, commanded Josephina to stay where she was, then righted his clothing and sent the females on their way. He’d gently teased her about her blush, picked up the flowers she’d dropped and gallantly presented them to her, as if she were an Eligible and worthy of his attention.
For the next few years, he’d met with her often, purposely, talking with her, laughing with her, and for the first time in her life, Josephina had felt a kinship with someone other than her mother.
But the day Josephina had achieved her own immortality, though so much more fragile than those of full blood, the focus of Leopold’s attention had changed. He’d gone from brotherly to amorous, charming to persistent, and had even tried to kiss her. At the time, she’d run away from him.
He’d been chasing her ever since.
Things had never been the same between them, and never would.
“You won’t,” she said, confident.
The prisoner across from her snickered over her continued rejection.
Leopold’s cheeks reddened the slightest degree. He released her and stomped over to the offender. Rather than rain his fists in a fury of punishment, he tilted his head to the side and said, “Agony.”
The man screamed in sudden anguish, his entire body shaking. Blood soon leaked from his eyes, his nose, and the corners of his mouth.
“Stop!” Josephina cried. “Stop it, Leopold! Please.”
He did. When the man was dead.
Bile burned her chest, and collected in her throat.
Leopold spun to eye every male in chains. “Anyone else have anything to say?”
Only the rattle of chains could be heard.
The scowling prince locked gazes with Josephina, spit on the ground at her feet. “It’s only a matter of time before Princess Synda commits another crime. You’ll be whipped in her place. Or worse. Let me protect you.”
“Even if you could save me, I’d never consider you the better choice,” she replied raggedly.
“We’ll see about that. I leave to capture the men hunting you. One of the imperial guards will be in charge of your care. I doubt he’ll be as gentle.” With that, he stalked from the dungeon.
A bitter laugh escaped her. Kane had wondered why she wanted to die. Kane had wanted to know what he could do to help her. Well, here was why. And clearly, there was nothing he could do. Just as she’d known.
There was nothing anyone could do.
But I can help him, she thought. She could use the second ability she possessed and warn Kane about the tracker the guards had placed in his equipment. That way, when they found him, he wouldn’t be caught unaware. He could fight. And he could win. Or run.
It was the least she could do, and had nothing to do with the fact that she wanted to see him again. Really.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Texas
The Teaze
ROCK MUSIC POUNDED through the nightclub, shaking the floor, rattling the walls. Strobe lights flashed all the colors of the rainbow and spun, creating a dizzying kaleidoscope that somehow lowered inhibitions. Immortal men and women flailed on the dance floor, walked the aisles in search of fresh prey, or sat at the tables, flirting in between throwing back shots of the beauty maker.
The world might be ugly before you drank a glass of ambrosia-laced whiskey, but it sure was beautiful afterwards. At least for a little while.
Kane wanted to leave, memories of the last time he’d been inside a nightclub playing through his mind, sickening him, but he’d texted Torin for information about Tinker Bell, and for some reason, the warrior had sent him here.
As usual, William was off trolling for women.
Kane pushed a vampire out of the chair he wanted, and claimed a place at the bar. The guy didn’t protest, just took one look at him and rushed away. Kane ordered a shot of the beauty maker. Anything to dull his riotous emotions.
Where was Tinker Bell?
Was she okay? Safe?
She no longer had custody of Disaster—if that’s what had happened, and he suspected it was. There was no other explanation. The demon had come roaring back to Kane a few hours after he’d left the forest. He’d been disappointed for himself, but relieved for her. He didn’t like the thought of such a delicate half immortal going against such evil.
But at least he had an answer to one of his questions now. The Greeks had indeed lied. The demon wasn’t as much a part of him as his lungs and his heart. Kane couldn’t survive a single moment without the organs, but he could survive a few hours without Disaster. Maybe more.
Hate you, Disaster growled.
Assure you, the feeling’s mutual.
One of the legs on his chair snapped, and he nearly hit the floor. He brutally kicked the broken stool out of the way, and decided to stand.
“About time you got here,” a female said.
His gaze snapped to the left, where a tall, lithe blonde stood. She was exquisite, with long hair that tumbled to a perfectly curved waist and snow-white skin covered in makeup to mute its luminous power. Blue eyes held his stare without wavering or fear.
She’s mine, Disaster shouted. All mine.
Kane ground his molars together. Just how many “mines” were they supposed to have?
“Taliyah Skyhawk,” he acknowledged. She was Sabin and Strider’s sister-in-law, as well as a Harpy known for her cold-as-ice demeanor. “You knew I was coming?”
“Torin gave me a heads-up.”
His focus sharpened on her. Well, okay, then. “You got info for me?”
She motioned to the bartender, and waited, silent, for a bottle of vodka to be slid in front of her, as if Kane weren’t suddenly vibrating with impatience. “This belongs to him,” she said, hitching her thumb in his direction.
Knowing Harpies couldn’t eat or drink anything without stealing or earning it, he threw a few bills on the counter without complaint. “Anytime would be great, Tal.”
She drank straight from the bottle, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and faced him, her expression impassive. “There’s a Phoenix chasing your Fae. Her name’s Petra, and she’s a vicious little troll.”
Not exactly a news flash. “So, how did you know that?”
“You remember when my friend Neeka the Unwanted was given to the Phoenix, even though she’s a Harpy, to save my sister? Well, little Neeka keeps getting stolen from different clans—everyone wants a piece of her, which is so wonderfully ironic, considering her name. She gets bored between travels and spies for me. I knew the stuff about Petra would be important to you because my sisters told me about your encounter with the Fae.”
Sabin and Strider were such pansy blabbermouths.
“Anyway,” Taliyah continued. “The rest of the information is going to cost you.”
He arched a brow, saying, “How much?” Whatever the price, he’d pay it.
“I want the fortress in the Realm of Blood and Shadows.”
A thirty-thousand-square-foot monstrosity for a few words? A fair exchange, in his opinion. He wasn’t sure his friends would agree. “There’s a problem. The place isn’t mine to give.”
Taliyah drained the rest of the bottle with a grace matched by few. “Too bad. It would have been nice doing business with you, Kane. See you.” She walked away from him without another word.
Coldhearted. As always.
Kane leaped into action, dragging her back to the bar—and she let him. She had more at stake than she wanted him to believe, then. “It’s yours,” he said to her. “The fortress is yours. When do you want it?”
Winter-blue eyes sparkled triumphantly. “Three months and two days from now. No sooner, no later.”
“Fine. I’ll kick my friends out myself.”
“Even my sisters?”
“No,” he said, thinking that was what she’d want to hear. “They can—”
“Deal’s off. Sorry.” Once again she walked away, and once again he had to drag her back.
“Fine,” he rushed out. “I’ll kick them out, too.” They’d want to stay with their husbands, anyway.
She nodded, satisfied.
“Why can’t you stay there with everyone else?” he grumbled. She had before.
“You’re not going to tell anyone I’m there. You do, and I’ll hunt you down. Immortal races will be talking about the things I did to your entrails for centuries.”
Harpies, man. They actually had the strength and stomach to back up their threats, and that was a serious downer when the women weren’t on your side. “What do you need the fortress for?”
“None of your business. Now, do you want the information I’ve got or not?”
“I do.”
“Okay, so, apparently, a Sent One—Thane, I think his name is—suddenly appeared in one of the Phoenix camps a few weeks ago. He threw a big fit, and killed lots of the warriors. One of them was the king. The Sent One was eventually subdued, and a new king took the throne. This new king was finally able to claim the woman he’s been craving for centuries—the dead king’s wife.”
“What’s this got to do with anything?”
“I’m getting there. The new king took the widow as his concubine, but only a few days later, this Petra girl killed her. As punishment, she was cast into the Never-ending. And now that Petra’s on the loose, the new king wants her back. Like, bad. The things he’ll do to her when he finds her … it’s going to be legend—wait for it—dary. Oh, and the concubine was Petra’s sister. Meaning, there’s no line this troll won’t cross. If your Fae is on her radar, she’s in trouble.”
He would get to her first.
The glass shattered in his hand, cutting his skin.
Stupid demon.
He dabbed at the wounds with a napkin.
He waited, but Taliyah said nothing more. “That’s all you have for me?”
“As if Neeka is that poor of a spy. I was just waiting for you to digest. So get this. Petra was seen buying a key to Séduire.”
SГ©duire. The kingdom of the Fae, though many humans lived there, located in a realm between realms. Some immortals could flash there, moving from one space to another with only a thought. Most could not. Kane was among the could-nots, so, for people like him, a special key was needed to open one of the invisible doorways.
“If this Petra is following Tinker Bell’s scent, and she bought a key, Tinker Bell must have returned to Séduire,” Kane said, thinking out loud. Finally, he had a location.
“Tinker Bell?”
Disaster growled.
William scooted into the seat beside him, saving him from having to answer. The warrior was without his usual random woman (or six) and scowling. “What are you doing here, Ice Witch, and how did you find us? We’re on a boys-only vacay.”
Taliyah rolled her eyes. “I just answered those questions for Kane and won’t do it again for the likes of you. And what a way to say hello, Man Whore.”
So. The two hated each other now. Interesting.
William looked at him, and Kane could see the excitement banked in his eyes. “You’re just going to let her talk to me like that? I should pack my bags and leave you.”
“I should be so lucky.” Kane signaled for another whiskey. The glass shattered as he downed the liquid inside it, and he choked on a shard. Coughing blood, he stood. “I’ve got to find a key. Don’t call me if you need me.”
What are you doing? Disaster demanded. Don’t leave the Harpy. She’s mine. I want her.
Taliyah reached out and grabbed his wrist. He … felt no pain, he realized, and no desire, either. Apparently no one’s touch affected him like Tinker Bell’s. “Remember what I told you.”
Yeah. He remembered. No one could know she wanted the fortress.
“What did you tell him?” William demanded. “You might as well confess. I’ll just bug the answer out of him if you don’t.”
Kane rolled his eyes, knowing he’d be dodging William’s annoying prods for weeks, but walked away before the Harpy could respond and never looked back.
THE MOMENT HE was outside, Kane whipped out his cell phone. Yesterday, he’d taken a snapshot of Danika’s painting and saved the image as wallpaper.
In it, he was on his knees, tears streaming down his face, hands lifted toward the heavens. A blonde female lay in front of him, a hole the size of his fist burned into her chest. Her face was turned away from him, so he had no idea who she was—and wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
The painting was a problem that would have to wait.
He called every black market contact he had, looking to buy a key to SГ©duire. He would also need a guide, since he had no idea where to find a doorway. But one call after another proved unfruitful. No one was able to help him.
A sense of urgency drove him, and he paced toward the darkened alleys about a mile from the club. There, immortals would be peddling their wares. Drugs. Sex. Anything and everything. Even if he couldn’t find a key, he could find someone who knew someone else with the contacts to help him.
A thick white fog suddenly rolled in, and he paused. Through the density, he could just make out the shape of a … woman? Oh, yes, definitely a woman. She glided toward him, and he could see she was wearing a glowing white dress. Long, dark hair fell over one delicate shoulder, reminding him of …
“Tinker Bell?” he asked, shocked to his core.
Disaster banged against his skull.
Kane raced to her, tried to grab her despite the pain it might cause him, the unwanted desire, and whatever she’d done to him in the forest, but his hands ghosted through her.
Her eyes were as white as the fog and as luminous as the most expensive diamonds. “Would you please stop calling me that?” she said, exasperated. As freaky as she looked, the normalcy of her voice surprised him.
“What’s going on? Are you … dead?” Even uttering the question made him want to kill someone.
“I’m not dead. I’m simply projecting my image into your mind.”
Relief was like a gentle rain, dousing the budding rage—and the overwhelming sorrow he didn’t want to explore. “Exactly how many abilities do you possess, woman? And what exactly did you do to me in that forest?”
“There’s no time for that. I’m weakening, and must hurry.”
Weakening? In a snap, the rage returned. “Why?”
“Doesn’t matter. Listen, Lord Kane. I know I’m not your favorite person right now, and you probably don’t trust me, but please believe me when I say you’re in grave danger.”
Him. Not her. Better. “More danger than usual? And don’t call me Lord Kane. I don’t need a title.” Not from her. “I’m just a man.” Your man.
The thought hit him with the force of a tsunami, and he fisted his hands. His body was suddenly rock-hard, ready to prove the claim, to strip her and take her as he’d longed to do in the forest. A temptation he found as exhilarating as it was frightening.
Can’t touch her.
But if he could …
What would she do? How would she react?
How would he?
Would her skin be as soft as it appeared? Would her curves create the perfect cradle for him?
A few feet away, the lid to a trash bin flew open. As the wind picked up, debris propelled toward Kane, most assuredly courtesy of Disaster.
Tinker Bell stomped her foot. “I can’t concentrate when you look at me like that,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Like I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like you want to strangle me or something.”
Or just wanted to get his hands on her. But he got what she was saying, knew his desire was tangled with darkness.
He nodded, ashamed of himself. “I’ll stop.”
She licked her lips, and said, “My people know you’re looking for me, and now they’re hunting you.”
“Your Fae family or your human one?”
“Fae.”
“And that’s who you’re with right now?” he asked, wanting to verify the information Taliyah had given him.
“Yes. I don’t know what you’ve heard about the race, but the Fae can be brutal, bloodthirsty and without a shred of compassion. They’ll haul you before the king and he’ll sentence you to death just for looking at me. No matter how star-struck he is by you!”
He wasn’t sure what the star-struck comment meant, and wasn’t going to waste time finding out. “Why would he want to kill me?” The only viable answer slammed into him, and the patent stillness of a predator came over him. “Are you his lover?”
She gave another stomp of her foot. “Would you be serious?”
“Answer me.” The words were nothing more than a hiss.
“Of course I’m not his lover! What a disgusting prospect!”
He relaxed—and he had no desire to ponder why he’d reacted so fervently to the thought of her with another man when he wouldn’t be taking her for himself. “I’ve been hunted by brutal, bloodthirsty people before.”
“Yes, I know, but the Fae are gifted with special abilities. Like, say, causing you pain with only a word.”
Like the pain she caused him? But then, she’d never needed to speak for him to feel it. “Can you do that?”
“No, but my brother can,” she said.
“You can project your image, as well as rip the demons out of people.”
Her jaw dropped. “So that’s what happened. I took your demon?”
“You mean you didn’t know?”
She hooked several tendrils of hair behind her ear, the action feminine and sweet and somehow more erotic than a striptease from another woman, and if he didn’t get his thoughts and his body under control right now, he would self-destruct.
“I take abilities and strength for a few hours, maybe a few days or weeks,” she said, “but not … that. Never anything like that.”
“You can. You did. You must take weaknesses, too.” And that’s exactly what the demon was. “Don’t do it again,” he stated flatly. Already her life was so miserable she wanted to die. How much worse would it be for her with Disaster hanging around? And what if she got stuck with the creature forever, rather than temporarily? Was that possible?
Kane didn’t want her to risk it. This girl, she was … he didn’t know what she was to him. He only knew he couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering.
Her nose went into the air, making her look sullen and defiant and utterly adorable. “Don’t get any ideas about rescuing me. I’ll do what I want, when I want.”
Want me.
The ground cracked beneath his feet. He didn’t care.
“Can you control the ability?” The words croaked from him.
“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “I’ve never gotten to test my limits with people I didn’t want to borrow from.” Her gaze lowered to his lips, and she shifted from one foot to the other.
She’s not thinking about kissing me. She can’t be thinking about kissing me. “You need skin-to-skin contact?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll help you with that, too.”
Her eyes brightened, the clouds rolling out to reveal endless oceans backed by glorious sunlight. The brightness didn’t last long, however. She glowered, and the clouds returned. “You can’t help me, Kane, not without putting yourself in danger. So will you listen to me and either prepare for battle or run for your life?”
“No to both. Why would the king of the Fae want to kill me for looking at you?”
She was desperate to argue; he could see it in those narrowed eyes. But she must have realized he was stubborn enough to wait all night for the answers, and just messed up enough to get physical with her the next time they were truly together.
No telling what would happen then.
“He feels he must dispose of anyone who threatens to take me away from the kingdom.”
“Does he plan to have me brought into the kingdom or have me executed on sight wherever I’m found?”
“The kingdom. He likes to watch.”
Good. “I’m glad they’re coming.”
“You’re glad?” she choked out.
“They’ll do the work for me.”
She sputtered for a moment before finally deciding on a verbal path. “What work?”
“Finding you. I will, you know.” A promise.
One that came with razor-sharp desire.
The crack in the ground widened, dropping Kane several feet.
“I just told you not to—argh! Kane, don’t be foolish! Please.”
The sound of pounding footsteps caught his attention. On alert, he palmed a dagger and looked around, but all he saw was more fog and trash. Then, three … no, five … no, eight bodies broke through, stopping a few feet away from him.
“I found him,” a hard male voice called.
If anyone could see Tinker Bell, they gave no indication.
“But … this is Lord Kane, a warrior of the Underworld,” someone else gasped.
Murmurs of awe arose. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I’m standing in the presence of Lord Kane.”
Questions were thrown at him.
“Will you tell us about the battle that took place in the skies? Our men weren’t able to attend, so details are sparse.”
“Did you really chop off a Hunter’s foot and stuff it in his mouth, just because he called Cameo an abomination?”
Tinker Bell paled, backed away. “Oh, Kane. They found you. I’m sorry.” She vanished.
CHAPTER NINE
BRUTAL? KANE THOUGHT. Bloodthirsty? Hardly.
“I’m sorry for the need for this, Lord Kane, but I must bind you, as ordered.” The soldier appeared grief-stricken by the thought. “I’ll be slain if I refuse.”
“Do it, and don’t even think about being gentle about it,” snapped the tallest of the bunch. “And you,” he said to Kane. “Where’s the other man? The one traveling with you.”
“There’s a good chance I killed him.”
The guards nodded their agreement, as if they knew him and expected nothing less. All but the one who’d asked the question. He had to be the leader. Nothing else would explain the great waves of entitlement bouncing off him. I’ll call him Evil Overlord.
“The shackles!” Evil Overlord proclaimed, and the soldier raced to obey.
Kane hated being bound, would rather die than endure it again. And yet he allowed the Fae to cuff his hands behind his back without protest.
Hands … all over him …
Mouths … biting at him …
Nails … scraping at him …
As the memories took center stage, he felt as if thousands of tiny needles were being injected into his skin. A loud ring erupted in his ears, and his heart kicked into a dangerously fast rhythm. His lungs constricted, the tissues burning.
Breathe. Nice and slow. In. Out. Good. That was good. And this was necessary. He had to get to Tinker Bell, and this was the fastest way.
Evil Overlord stepped to the side and waved a hand through the air.
That was it, a wave, and yet a doorway from one realm to another appeared. At the edges of the opening was the red brick of the club, the trash bin and cardboard boxes. Through the narrow opening, Kane saw a darkened landscape with multiple torches lining a cobbled pathway. That pathway led to a wide, towering palace comprised of gold-veined marble and bright, sparkly diamonds.
The soldiers formed a circle around Kane and urged him to march forward. One second he was in the city of cowboys, the next the land of the Fae. The night was crisp and damp, the torches giving off little heat. The scent of a thousand floral perfumes saturated the air, and he gagged. Sweat beaded over his skin. More fireflies than he’d ever seen in one place twirled and danced through the sky, creating what appeared to be a shower of glowing raindrops.
Playing his part, he snapped, “Where am I? Who are you?”
“Silence, Lord Kane.” Evil Overlord wasn’t as tall as Kane, nor was he as muscled. None of them were. “What were your plans toward Servant Josephina?”
Servant? For some reason, that irritated him. “Would you like me to be silent or give you the answer? I’m happy to give both a try, but I don’t think you’ll like the results.”
The male scowled at him.
Disaster growled inside his mind. Leave this place.
Screw you.
Hate the girl, Josephina. Want to kill her.
You touch her, and I’ll …
What? One of his daggers fell from his boot, and the demon laughed. You want to stay here? Fine. But you’ll do it without your weapons. Even as the creature spoke, another dagger fell away.
“You guys seem to know a lot about me, considering we’ve never met,” Kane said, ignoring the demon. His hands were weapons enough.
Evil Overlord smirked. “We do. You’re Kane, a Lord of the Underworld. Disaster. Supposedly undefeatable. Wicked. The worst of the worst enemy to ever have.”
“And I touched him,” said the guy behind him, his tone overjoyed. “My wife won’t be able to get enough of me tonight.”
“Then your wife is a fool. This man is nothing. A no one. Look at how easily we were able to subdue him.”
Evil Overlord thought he had Kane beat, and that’s what Kane had wanted, but hearing that sneer really irked him. How many times had he been left behind during the war with the Hunters because his friends couldn’t risk the damage Disaster would cause? Countless.
Kane had always felt like the weak link—had always been the weak link—and he was tired of it.
He jumped up, swinging his feet through the circle his arms provided, placing his arms in front of him. The moment he landed, he elbowed the leader in the face, breaking the guy’s nose. He threw the weight of his skull into the Fae next to him, knocking the warrior to the side. He kicked out a leg and nailed the male on his other side. As the soldiers stumbled for purchase, he reached out and grabbed the hair of the male in front of him, jerking backward.
The male hit the ground and Kane stomped on his face to get to the guy in front of the line, wrapping his bound hands around the guy’s neck and choking. Everything had happened so quickly, no one had realized what was going on—until then. The others sprang into action, leaping at Kane, but he kicked out one leg and then the other, sending two warriors rearing backward. He spun the guy in the chokehold, knocking his body into the others and sending them flying backward.
“Pain,” he heard.
Just like that, the sharpest of pains tore through him. From the top of his head to the soles of his feet. His knees buckled, and he hit the ground with a heavy thud.
Tinker Bell’s brother? he wondered, remembering what she’d said.
“That all you got?” he gritted.
That earned him a meet-and-greet with the hilt of Evil Overlord’s dagger.
Two soldiers grabbed him by the armpits and dragged him forward.
“Lord Kane beat me up,” one said with a grin. There was blood on his teeth. “Did you see?”
“Best. Night. Ever.”
Evil Overlord—definitely Tinker Bell’s brother—glared at Kane through eyes a slightly darker shade of blue than his sister’s. “The king will order your death, despite who you are, and I’ll take great pleasure in delivering it.”
“Now why would your king want to kill me, hmm?”
“Because you dared lust after the princess’s blood slave.”
Tinker Bell was a blood slave on top of being a servant? What exactly did that mean?
Kane was hauled up a wide set of ivory steps, the railing shaped like a winged dragon. At the top, the guards passed through open double doors of dark wood and twisted iron. And then, Kane was inside the palace. The spacious foyer had a floor of mosaic tiles and was surrounded by life-size statues. Velvet-lined walls were covered by paintings of elaborately dressed Fae.
There was another staircase, and past it, a long, narrow hallway. Chamber after chamber whizzed by. The guards entered the last—what had to be the throne room.
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