The Darkest Kiss (7 page)

Doesn't matter what you want. Strike at him before he strikes at you.

“One last chance to pay up the favor you owe me by protecting me from Cronus,” she told him.

“I'm sorry.”

“All right, then. Now that we've cleared the air,” she said, using her sultriest tone, “let's get this party started.” She licked the lollipop and shifted her weight to the left, causing her skirt to ride up on the right and drawing his gaze to her bared skin as she'd hoped.

There was the faintest flicker of desire in his eyes, desire he couldn't hide.
Too late.
She tossed the dagger.

Silver metal flew end over end and embedded in his heart before he even guessed her intentions. His body spasmed and his eyes went wide as saucers.

“You stabbed me,” he said, incredulous. Grimacing, he jerked out the now-bloody dagger and rubbed a hand over the wound, then looked down at his drenched, crimson-stained fingers. Anger overrode the incredulity.

“Feel free to keep the dagger as a souvenir.” She blew him a kiss and flashed to an icy boulder in Antarctica, knowing he'd follow her and wanting him to suffer for it. Frigid wind instantly slammed into her, cutting through the flimsy clothing she wore. Past skin, past muscle and straight into bone. Her teeth chattered.

Penguins waddled by, scampering to get away from her. Water swirled and churned all around her. Mile after mile of black night greeted her eyes, the only light provided by golden moon rays reflecting off the glaciers.

If she'd been mortal, she would have frozen to death in seconds. Goddess that she was, Anya simply felt miserable. “Worth it, though,” she said, breath forming a thick mist in front of her face. If she was miserable, how much worse would it be for the injured Lucien when he—

Materialized right in front of her, so clear to her the sun could have been shining.

He was scowling, his perfect white teeth bared. He'd removed his shirt, and she saw that rope after rope of muscle lined his stomach. He had no chest hair, not even the happy trail that most men possessed. His skin was the shade of pearlized honey, smooth on one side, like velvet over steel, and jagged and scarred on the other. Both sides were so lickable her mouth watered.

His nipples were tiny, brown and hardened like arrowheads. They would feel amazing against her tongue. His chest was smeared in blood, and a long wound marred the skin just over his heart. The tissue had already begun to weave itself back together.

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

Silly girl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anya.”

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

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

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

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

“I can't.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does that matter?” She twirled the end of a lock of hair, making sure the point of her dagger glistened in the sun. “Does it make a difference in what you're planning to do to me?”

“No.”

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

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

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

Again, “No.”

“So I'm just a lucky girl?”

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

“Yes,” he finally said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Howling, he doubled over.

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

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

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

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