The Darkest Kiss (10 page)

A gentle, salt-kissed breeze swept past them, and a lock of her hair brushed his cheek. He experienced an instant and unwanted hard-on as he swatted the silky strands away. “I told you to be silent. I need to study the land.” Not that he could concentrate on anything but Anya as her hair continued to stroke him. “And for gods' sake, do something with your hair.”

“Cut it?”

“Shave it.” Sadly, he doubted even that would lessen her physical appeal.
Concentrate!
he reminded himself. The Hunters had been inside the tunnels for over an hour now. They'd had time to settle, to relax. There was no movement around the entrances, no hint of a watchman.

“Really?” Anya asked with surprise. “You want me to shave it like that sexy warlord Vin Diesel?”

Who was Vin Diesel? And why did Lucien suddenly want to slay him? Lucien popped his jaw. “Yes.”

“If I do, will you let me help tonight?”

There was so much eagerness in her voice that he suspected she truly would do it, would shave her head completely bald. Obviously, her hair meant nothing to her. The complete lack of vanity surprised him.

Why did that endear her to him even more?

“No,” he finally told her.

“You're such a pain,” she grumbled. “Well, guess what? I've already flashed inside those tunnels, and the Hunters have obviously been here a while. They even have prisoners.”

Every muscle in his body stiffened. “First, you went inside without my permission, endangering yourself and my purpose?”

“Listen, sweetness.” Anger now laced her voice. “Despite what you seem to think, I am a powerful being, and I choose whether or not to endanger myself. Besides, you should be happy I went inside. If I'd gotten caught, they could have saved you the trouble of taking my head.”

“Second,” Lucien continued as if she hadn't spoken. He could barely get the words out, his throat was so constricted. “They have prisoners?”

“Mmm-hmm. Two of 'em.”

Finally, he looked at her—and immediately regretted it. She wore a white gossamer gown with gold threaded throughout, and was even lovelier than he remembered. With the golden glow of moonlight crowning her and emerald plants framing her, she was an ancient queen straight out of a storybook.

The top layers of her pale hair were piled on her head, the rest tumbling down and begging for his touch. Hard fists of desire beat through him. “Who are they?” he forced himself to ask.

“Not a word about my appearance?”

“No.”
Looking at you is like finally entering those gates to heaven.
His chest tightened, nearly squeezing his heart to an agonizing stop.

“Seriously, why do I bother?” she grumped. “I could weigh nine hundred pounds, smell like a sewer and wear garbage bags and I'd get the same response from you.”

“The prisoners,” he prompted grimly.

She shrugged one delicate shoulder and the wispy material of her robe fell to her elbow, revealing inch after inch of creamy skin. Was that…gods in heaven, it was. He could see the plump underside of her breast. He wanted to taste it so badly his teeth actually hurt.

“What about them?” she asked. “They're humans.”

He was tempted to offer his own soul to Cronus if the god would spare her and allow Lucien to lick her. A single flick of his tongue. That's all he needed.
Please.
“And?”

Her full lips curled into a slow smile. “They are people who might possess the very knowledge you seek. Don't ask me anything else, though, because I'm not telling. You didn't even comment about my dress and I went to a lot of trouble to steal it.”

“Stealing is wrong. But it is…pretty.” An understatement. A lie. It was exquisite on her. Would look even more exquisite on his bedroom floor.
Foolish thought
. “Do they know about Pandora's box?”

“I told you, I'm not telling,” she huffed. “You weren't supposed to tell me it's pretty. You were supposed to tell me to take it off because I'd look better without it. Lucien, I swear to the gods I'm this close—” she pinched two fingers together “—to giving up on you. This close!”

Do not consider her words
. The prisoners knew something about the box, he would bet. Yes, much safer topic. Why else would Hunters have them locked up? His eyes narrowed on the tunnels. He couldn't risk hurting the captives. Not only did he want to protect innocent lives, but whatever knowledge they possessed,
he
wanted to possess.

“You are so frustrating! I'd rather have you try to kill me again than have you ignore me.”

With a sigh, he peered at the surrounding foliage. The warriors were still waiting for his signal, most likely wondering about the delay. Without a word to Anya, he flashed to Paris and Strider, told them to be careful of the human prisoners and that he needed a few minutes more. Then he followed suit with Amun and Gideon. Except for the predictably silent Amun, the warriors grumbled.

Then he flashed back to Anya. On top of her, to be exact, trying not to delight in the feel of her warm body pressed to his or the curve of her breasts against his chest when he flipped her over.
You could have landed beside her
. Yes, he could have; he just hadn't wanted to. This ensured she would not run. At least, that was the reason he gave himself.

“Why you little…mmm.” Her voice trailed off and she moaned in delight. Her eyes closed to half-mast, the lashes casting spiky shadows over her cheeks. “You want to make out?”

Yes. “No. Wait here.” He flashed to his bedroom in Budapest, her exasperated sputtering in his ears. During the seemingly endless span of Maddox's death-curse, they'd had to chain him to his bed every night to keep him from erupting into a fit of unrestrained violence, his control gone, his friends in danger.

Maddox had wanted the metal destroyed once his curse had been lifted, but nothing they tried had melted or broken the godly links. Unable to get rid of them, refusing to use them on Aeron and afraid Hunters would find and use them against a Lord, Lucien had stored them in his bedchamber.

Right now, he swiped them from the closet, pocketed the key and snapped two ends to his bedposts, leaving two ends open and ready. Determined, he flashed back to Anya. She hadn't moved, and he once again settled on top of her.

When she realized he had returned, she wound her legs around his waist and laved her hot tongue up the length of his throat. “Whatever brought about this naughty streak of yours, I heartily approve.”

His cock surged, filling and swelling, catching him on fire. Suddenly he was desperate, needier than he'd ever been. The woman he craved and now constantly daydreamed about was writhing against him in truth, running her hands all over him, as eager for more as he was.

One kiss. That's all.

Whether he thought it or the demon spoke it, Lucien didn't know. He only knew that if he kissed Anya, he would not be able to stop. Kissing this woman had proved to be more arousing than making love to another. And even if the time and place were appropriate, he knew better than to indulge with a woman he would soon be forced to kill.
Do not let history repeat itself. End this.

“Lucien,” she gasped. “Kiss me.”

“Soon,” he vowed, and it was the truth. Depraved as it was, much as he knew better and had just tried to convince himself not to, he would not be able to render that final blow until he'd taken her mouth again.

Remaining on top of her, he flashed them both to his bedroom and onto the bed. When the cool mattress met Anya's back, he swiped up her hands and locked them inside the chains.
Clink.

She didn't protest as he'd expected.

She glanced around, muttered, “Mmm, your bedroom. I've wanted an invitation real bad.” Grinning, she arched her lower body into his—dear gods—and purred straight into his ear. The delicious sound blended with the demon's approving hum. “Is this a kinky new game?” She even bit his earlobe. “What happens in Buda, stays in Buda. Promise.”

His erection throbbed as pleasure, so much pleasure, drove into his skin, his muscles. A shiver stole through him, hot and hungry. Again his blood heated; more than burning now, more than blistering. It was lava in his veins, singeing every part of him with desire. His mouth was opening, preparing to ravage her with the kiss he'd promised her, promised them both, but once again he managed to stop himself.

No contact. No kissing. Not yet. There were Hunters to kill.

No falling for her, either. No craving more. Sooner rather than later, she would die. To be her lover, as well as her executioner, would make him as despicable as the demon inside him.

“Aren't you going to play with me?” she asked in that husky voice of hers. “Aren't you going to kiss me? Soon is now.”

“Anya.” He didn't know what else to say. His heavy weight pinned her down and her legs parted farther, causing him to sink deeper. He was still impossibly hard, and his erection was rubbing at her of its own damn accord, their clothing adding to the electric friction.

She bit the cord of his neck and rocked into him, prolonging the contact. He gripped her hips to still her, and the action cost him dearly. He had to grit his teeth against the wild surge of denied lust.

“I like this game,” she said breathlessly. “Any rules?”

“Just one,” he forced past a clenched jaw.

“Tell me.” Her knees rubbed his sides, beckoning him even deeper.

“The only rule…” He raised his hands and cupped her cheeks, his thumb caressing her velvet-soft skin. Oh, that he could stay here forever. Or that he could bask in her, if only for a little while. “The only rule is that you are to stay here.”

“Mmm, I love to break—hey. What?” She frowned up at him. “Stay here with
you,
right?”

“No.” He rose from the bed, severing all contact. His body screamed in protest; his demon cursed at him. Of all Lucien's crimes, leaving her like this suddenly seemed the worst.

Her frown deepened. “Lucien? What—” She tried to raise her arms but couldn't. Her narrowed gaze slid to the headboard, lingered for a moment as she gave another jerk, then returned to him. “I don't understand.”

“The only pleasure you will receive in that bed is the pleasure you give yourself.”
For now.

Gods, don't think like that.

“I'm down with that. But if you want to watch me pleasure myself, you'll have to remove the chains.”

Again not the response he'd expected; he wanted to groan. Anya…hand between her legs…rubbing her clitoris…bringing herself to orgasm…If imagining was wholly erotic and utterly breathtaking and caused his knees to weaken like a human's, what would actually witnessing the event be like?

“Stay here,” he choked out, “and stay quiet. I'll come back for you. You have my word.”

“Come back for me?” Now her eyes widened. “Where are you going? And you had better say to get a whip and a spiked collar because you want nothing more than to be my bitch or you'll regret it.”

“I'm going back to the temple. I'll return as soon as the Hunters have been defeated.”

A shocked gasp slipped from her. Perhaps there was hurt mixed in, as well, but he didn't want to acknowledge it. “I can flash with you. Chains can't hold me.”

“These can. They were made for immortals.”

A second passed. Another.

She stared over at him, mouth drawn tight. He much preferred that mouth soft—and all over his body. Any chance of that had been ruined by his actions today, he would not doubt. It was better this way, he told himself, but he couldn't halt a surge of bitter regret.

“You're saying I can't flash?” she gritted out.

“That is exactly what I am saying.”

“And you're going to leave me like this?”

“Yes. Behave,” he said and left her, materializing in the exact spot he'd abandoned.

The moment those lush blades of grass surrounded him, guilt and need flooded him. Guilt because he'd left her helpless. Need because, well, he had the memory of being on top of her inside his mind, fresh, taunting. Wondrous.

And she had seemed to want him. Until he'd ruined it.

What was he going to do with her? The woman was tying him into knots!

She probably hated him now. She would never forgive him. She—appeared right beside him and punched him the eye.

“Bastard,” she snarled.

Amazement and pain pounded through him as he gazed at her. Damn, but she was strong. She'd managed to crack the bone, he suspected, the injury swelling. “How did you get free?” Those chains had been unbreakable for centuries.

“I have my ways.”

“How?” he insisted.