The Darkest Kiss (9 page)

The chances of that happening were as slim as those of Lucien's face returning to its former glory. Not that he wanted it to. He'd earned every one of his scars. They were a part of him now, a permanent reminder that loving a woman equaled pain and suffering.

He had never needed the reminder more.

He could not put off thinking of Anya's death, he decided. She would haunt him until he figured this out.
Get it over with
. How should he kill her? He didn't want to hurt her, so it would have to be quick. When should he do it? At night, while she slept? His stomach churned with acid. What exactly would the Titans do if he failed? Like Aeron, would he be driven mad with bloodlust? Would his friends fall, one by one? Fury stabbed at him with the thought.

Lucien withdrew one of the candies he still carried in his pocket, discarded the wrapper and sniffed. Instant arousal obliterated his anger as strawberry fragrance filled his nose. Why had he done such a foolish thing? The anger returned, but now it was directed at himself.

Scowling, he pitched the lollipop over the railing. Heard a splash as it hit the water. Ripples disrupted that smooth tranquility.

Behind him, a door opened. Closed. Male voices and snickering laughter suddenly reverberated. Lucien turned, unconcerned. There was Paris, tall and pale and perfect, radiating sexual contentment. The warrior had just bedded a woman, that much was obvious.

Beside him was Amun, silent, dark and simmering with untold secrets.

Strider, whose ruthlessly handsome face glowed with amusement, was punching Gideon in the shoulder. “You know you're jealous,” he was saying.

“Don't hate the player,” Paris said, grin widening. “I can't help it if
both
flight attendants wanted to see to my needs midair.”

Lucien strode inside the spacious home, warm air replaced by cool. “We paid for a private jet, not a private bedding for Paris.”

All four men withdrew a weapon as his voice cut through their good-natured ribbing. As soon as they realized who had spoken, they relaxed. Even smiled.

“Private is the wrong word,” Strider said, blue eyes twinkling. “They did it in front of everyone. And I'm not complaining. The movie was crap, so their performance kept me entertained.”

Lucien rolled his eyes, doing his best not to appear envious. “Take a look around. Pick a bed.” Because he could flash, he was the only one who had been here before. He hadn't yet picked a room because he'd wanted to give the others first choice. He was happy to take whatever was left.

Bags were suddenly thrown aside as the men toured their temporary new “digs,” as Paris would say.

“Nice,” Paris said after choosing the room in back. “Chicks will certainly love it.”

“Sucks,” Gideon said, but everyone ignored him as usual. Everything out of his mouth was a lie. He'd taken the room closest to the front door.

“How long have you been here?” Strider asked Lucien as he came back into the living room.

“Only a few minutes.”

“How is that even possible?” Strider and Lucien had only been reunited a month ago, Strider part of the group who had remained in Greece to fight the Hunters after Lucien's men had departed for Budapest. Hundreds of years had since passed, and they were only now getting to know each other again. “You didn't fly out before us, and you damn sure didn't fly with us.”

Paris swung an arm over the wide expanse of Lucien's shoulders. “My man here did a little something called flashing.” He proceeded to explain how Lucien could enter the spirit world and travel from one location to another in the blink of an eye. “Learned it a few years after we arrived in Buda.”

Before then, he hadn't had enough control over the demon to master the ability.

Strider nodded, clearly impressed. “Cool skill. But why didn't you just flash all of us?”

Again, Paris answered for him. “Last time he spread the flashing love, Reyes threw up all over his shirt. I never laughed so hard in my life. Lucien, though, has no sense of humor and vowed never to take us again.”

“I'm surprised you didn't mention the part where you fainted,” Lucien said wryly.

Strider chortled. “Oh, man. You fainted? What a baby! Shit, look at that view,” he added with barely a pause, catching sight of the terrace. “Reminds me of Olympus.”

“Hey,” Paris said, frowning at Lucien. “I told you I hit my head midflash.”

“That doesn't make you any less of a baby,” Strider tossed over his shoulder. He braced his arms on the balcony frame and leaned forward. “No matter how many times I see this place, it feels like the first time.”

Paris wasn't letting the subject drop. “Let's see your reaction to a flash, Defeat. I bet you—”

“Stop,” Lucien interjected with a raised hand. Paris knew better than to issue any type of challenge to Strider. Once the man entered into a competition, be it a knife fight, boxing or even the human game he and Paris liked to play, Xbox, he could not lose without suffering intense, debilitating pain. Needless to say, he did anything necessary to win at everything. “We have work to do.”

“Work sucks,” Gideon said.

Lucien ignored him. “We need to better secure the building in case any Hunters managed to follow us. After that, we'll prepare for our outing tomorrow.”

They had the first done in an hour, placing sensors on the windows and around the building. They were sweating when they reentered the living room.

“I had Torin look a few things up before we left,” Paris said, digging weapons from his boots and placing them on the nearest tabletop. “He thinks the temple we're going to search is the Temple of the All Gods. Ever heard of it?”

Lucien shook his head. Anya had not mentioned names.
Anya…
He ran his tongue over his teeth, his blood heating. In arousal for the woman, in fury at the god who wanted her dead.

“What do you think we'll find?” Strider asked, his features pensive as he peered at Lucien. “And why the hell do you now look capable of murder? These last few weeks the only expression you've given us was bored. I mention the temples and hello, demon.”

The others whipped to face Lucien and were obviously shocked by what they saw. “Hopefully we'll find the box,” he said, disregarding the other question. “Or at least a clue as to its whereabouts.” Unfortunately, he would have to deal with Anya while looking.
Anya.
Fighting. Dying. Dead.

“Shit. His eyes are red. I've never seen that happen to him before.” Paris.

“I remember what he was like back in the demon days, and it wasn't pretty.” Strider. “Should we, I don't know, chain him?”

“Yeah, that'll be fun,” Gideon said.

“Give me a minute, and I'll be fine.” Before they could do anything, Lucien flashed back to Antarctica, right into the frigid water. He gasped, suddenly chilled to the bone. Yet while the icy liquid helped cool the fierceness of his anger, it did little to quench his desire for the woman currently taking up prime real estate inside his head.

He was beginning to think nothing could.

A
NYA STAYED AWAY FROM
Lucien for twenty-four hours. By the end, she seethed with nervous energy, constantly wondering if he'd appear. Every unexplained noise made her jump. Made her gasp. Made her heart kick into overdrive.

She'd paced the floors of her beach home, had tried to watch a movie but couldn't even recall what disc she'd shoved into the DVD player, and then had locked herself in her favorite room. Her treasure room. Usually rifling through the things she'd stolen over the centuries delighted her. Today, not so much.

She'd draped herself in Queen Elizabeth's jewels and played darts with King George V's dagger. She'd sipped strawberry-kiwi juice from an Episcopal chalice and drawn a mustache on the original
Mona Lisa.
Having spent a little time with Leo, she knew he wouldn't have minded.

What would Lucien think of her treasures? she wondered. Would he stumble back, horrified by the glittering sea of contraband? Probably. He was such a downer sometimes. Or maybe he would have understood, she thought, hopeful. Maybe, after battling his demon for so long, he would have realized that theft was her way of protecting humans from the darker side of her own nature. Well, that, and she liked pretty things.

Anya sighed and returned to the glistening sand outside.
He isn't coming,
she thought with disappointment, staring into the pristine ocean waves. The sun had long since set, then risen, then set again. Now violet and amber glowed on the horizon, glinting off the azure water. Sand squished between her bare toes, and coconut and orchids scented the air.

She'd both fought Lucien and kissed him here, the most action she'd seen in hundreds of years, so was loathe to leave. Was it dumb to miss him?

“Probably,” she muttered, flinging sand with a flick of her ankle.

A little while ago, she had donned a skimpy sapphire bikini with ties on each side of her waist. If he had returned as she'd anticipated, they would have rumbled hardcore and one of her breasts might have “accidentally” popped out. He would have started sweating, the fighting would have turned to loving and they would have kissed again.

They would have touched again.

She sighed.
Not going to happen.
The gentle breeze whisked a strand of pale hair over her eyes. She hooked it behind her ear and frowned. What was he doing? Did he miss her? Even a little?

Was he plotting the best way to kill her, even now?

The bastard was probably happy to be away from her. “And that just won't do.”

Her eyes narrowed as her hands tightened into fists. If he wouldn't come to her, she'd just have to go to him.

 

H
UNTERS HAD BEATEN THEM
to the Temple of the All Gods.

The tiny island had only begun to rise from the sea a few weeks before, and so far, the rest of the world did not seem to know about it. Not even with their satellites and other technology. Therefore, Hunters
should
not have known about it.

Who, then, had told them?

What Lucien knew, he knew because of Anya. When she had helped Maddox, she had helped them all by revealing the location of the ruins and explaining the new gods' intention for them: to bring the world back to the old ways of worship and blood sacrifice. Had she told the Hunters, as well?

Perhaps she'd done so to spite him, he thought. He'd tried to kill her, after all.

And a worse attempt I've never seen. Disgraceful!

His jaw locked in irritation.
Now is not the time to think of her.

When
is
a good time?

Later.

He could almost hear Death clapping happily in his mind, and he didn't think it was because the demon was eager to take Anya's soul. He didn't understand why the demon cared to see her, but he had no time to reason it out.

The Hunters were camped in the surrounding foliage and they had to be disposed of quickly, surely. Once, he had turned away from this war. Once, but not again. Everything the Hunters did, every move they made, was meant to harm and destroy his friends.

Lucien hadn't noticed them this morning when he flashed to the island to look around before bringing the others here. But then he'd only been here a few minutes. Death had begun to pull at him, a spiritual pull that often became a physical tearing if he resisted for long.

He'd ended up spending the day ushering one human after another to their final destination, only returning at twilight, at last able to search as he'd hoped and make sure all was safe for the others.

That was when he'd caught a glimpse of the Hunters. He'd been shocked. Was still shocked. Not only because they'd beaten him to the temple, but also because they had rallied their forces so soon after the plague. Their determination was greater than he'd realized.

Only a little while ago, they had walked away from the ruins and headed back to their camp. A camp they had hidden extremely well, using leaves as roofs and tunnels they'd either dug or found as shelter.

How long had they been here? Whatever the answer, he already knew what they had planned.

“We'll kill them all,” he'd heard one of them say as they'd walked. Lucien had been in the spirit world, so they hadn't seen him.

“Make sure they suffer first,” another had cackled.

“When those demons are locked up, I think I'll wear one of their keeper's teeth as a necklace. Every time they take a breath, exhaling their evil onto the world, it seems like someone I know or love is struck with sickness or misfortune, and I'm tired of it. If they'd been disposed of years ago, my Marilyn wouldn't have died of cancer. She'd still be here. I know it.”

“World won't be right until they're gone. They might have fooled the people of Buda into thinking they're angels, but history has proven otherwise. You guys see the portrait of Death in ancient Athens?” Shudder. “Not a single survivor.”

Block his words.
Obviously they were searching for the box. For all he knew, they might already have found a trace of its location. He hated that they wanted it, but knew why they did. After they had killed Baden, the demon of Distrust had sprung from the lifeless body and even now wandered the earth, more crazed and destructive than ever before.

That was when the Hunters realized they could not kill the Lords
and
their spirits. And so, to rid the world of both, they had to capture and subdue the Lords, then secure the demons back inside the box. If they found it.

Time was more of an enemy than ever. Lucien flashed to the warriors, who were watching a movie inside the rented house, waiting for him.

“Finally,” Strider said, spotting him. “Was getting worried.”

“Hunters,” he said, and they instantly sat up.

Paris jumped to his feet, whipping up his weapons in a blink. “How many?”

“I counted thirteen above ground. There could be more in their tunnels, coming and going. Since I can't watch more than one location at a time, my count could be off.”

Amun withdrew a semiautomatic from the waist of his pants and checked the magazine.

“There is
not
going to be a bloodbath tonight,” Gideon said with a grin.

Rather than take a boat as originally planned, Lucien flashed them all to the island, one at a time. He would rather prance around Anya in a dress than wait. To everyone's amusement, Paris passed out during their journey and it took several minutes to revive him. Strider handled his first flash with ease, grinning the entire split second required to move from one location to another. Amun didn't show any reaction at all. As Reyes had once done, Gideon vomited but quickly pulled himself together.

All the while, Lucien could feel Anya's eyes on him. The soul-deep burn had returned, stripping him bare. Death even started purring again.

Knowing she was there caused Lucien's muscles to tighten with strain. Not because he thought she'd attack—he expected that, but didn't fear it—but because he could not forget how she felt in his arms. He could not forget the way she moaned when the hot tip of his tongue ran over her throat. The way her nipples hardened, begging for his mouth. The way her legs parted, welcoming him as close to heaven as a man like him could ever hope to get.

Right then, he wanted off the island. He wanted her naked and in his bed. He wanted his hands on her body, and
her
hands on
his
body. Wanted his mouth between her thighs, and her mouth on his cock. He just…wanted.

And he could not have.

Concentrate!
Crouching in moonlight and dewy foliage, water rushing all around, he muttered, “Do not interfere.”

“What?” Strider asked, confused as he crouched beside him.

“Never mind.” The moon was high and laced with golden ribbons, caressing the sand and greenery. Insects sang happily. He could have taken the Hunters down on his own. Simply flashed inside their tunnels and attacked, but he did not want to risk one getting away.

“Are you sure they're Hunters?” Paris asked, squatting in the leaves on Lucien's other side.

“Yes. I saw their marks.” Every Hunter sect branded themselves with a symbol of Infinity on their wrists. “Infinity without evil” was their credo.

Lucien did not consider himself completely evil. At one time, yes, he had been. His demon had constantly compelled him to take lives, not just souls, and he had. Gladly. But no longer. The desire to kill had thankfully been tamed. Now, he fought only for peace and protection.

Regret struck him that he could not have more, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Were he merely a mortal, he would have married long ago. He and Mariah would have had a dozen children. He would have spent his days caring for his family and his nights loving his wife. And when he died he would have been welcomed into paradise.

But he had not been created to enjoy life. He had been created to guard the god king and to defend the heavens. And then, once he and the demon had joined, even that had been taken from him.
You deserved it, you know you did.

“This could be a trap,” Strider said, drawing his attention.

“They did not know I was here, nor did they seem to be preparing for any type of battle.”

Paris gripped the hilt of a dagger. “How should we do this?”

“We'll encircle their camp. On my signal, we'll rush the tunnels silently, locking them inside with no chance of escape. There are four entrances. I looked earlier. Paris, double with Strider and take the west. Gideon, the east. Amun, north. I'll take south.”

Each man nodded and silently obeyed.

“Oh, goodie. A battle.” Anya laughed softly, suddenly materializing at Lucien's side. She, too, crouched, every bit the warrior.

He was instantly enveloped by that strawberries-and-cream scent. His blood heated—sizzling, blistering. “Quiet,” he growled, refusing to look at her. That might prove to be his undoing.

“Aren't you going to attack me?” she asked, and he would swear he heard a pout.

“I have not the time for you right now.” He meant the words as an insult, but they emerged dripping with disappointment rather than rancor. “We can fight later.”

“You've been neglecting me, and I don't like it.”

“You should be grateful for my neglect.”

“Don't flatter yourself.” She didn't leave in a huff as he'd half expected. Instead, she shifted closer to him. “Can I help you fight the Hunters? Please, please, please, can I?”

“No. Be silent.” If the warriors heard him from their positions, they gave no indication. He could just make them out in the bushes, only the tips of their heads visible as they waited for his signal.

“But I'm an expert fighter.”

“I know,” he replied drily. His chest still ached where she'd stabbed him. Should have been illegal for a woman who looked like her to be so sexily bloodthirsty. And he should not have found that bloodthirstiness so attractive. “Did you tell these Hunters about the temple?”

“Ugh. Why would I help the Hunters?”

“So that they would kill me, and you would no longer have to worry about being killed by me.”

“I don't worry about that now,” she said matter-of-factly.

Gods save him. Had women always been this way? “What are you doing here, Anya? I left you because I needed space. Time. Is that too much to ask?”

“Yes.” She shifted in the grass, angling even closer to him. “I just…I can't get you out of my mind. I missed you.”

Hearing that was almost painful. A lie? “Anya.”

“No, no. Don't say anything. You'll only make me mad and then bad things will happen. Oh, my gods,” she added with a quiet laugh. “I sounded just like you. Look, let me help. I won't get in the way. Swear. Scouts honor. Witches honor. Or whatever kind of promise you want.”