The Darkest Secret (13 page)

“And so you think someone else created Micah? Someone who saw you?”

Yes.

“Then how is he human?”

There are gods, humans, demigods, and then creatures in between. He could be any number of things.

“Well, maybe Zeus saw past, present and
future
faces, and picked from those. Or hey, maybe Micah's your son, and you just don't know it. I'm sure you've picked up a few humans in your time.”

Not possible.

“Why? Accidents happen, even with immortals.”

I haven't been with anyone in a long time. Like, a century. And if he looks to be my age…

She couldn't hide her relief. He hadn't been with anyone in over a hundred years. Same with her. “Oh. Well, maybe he's a descendant of yours. Maybe it's just one of those strange, unexplainable things. Or hell, maybe—”

Okay. Maybe you're right,
he allowed.
Doesn't matter, anyway. We're on opposing teams.

“Very true.”

So why did you change your name?
he asked, switching gears.

“The simple change of spelling helped me blend in as society changed around me,” she said. “Plus, there are more Haidees than Hadiees, and I didn't want to be spotlighted for any demons that happened to be looking for me.”

If you wanted to blend in, you shouldn't have done so much to stand out.
His gaze raked her hair, her tattoos.

She stiffened at his obvious censure. What did she care if he found her appearance lacking? Except for the ache in her chest, she didn't care at all, she told herself.

How are we connected?
he demanded, switching the subject again. Bye-bye distraction. He'd asked an excellent question. How
were
they connected in mind and body?

“I—I don't know.” Her cheeks flamed when she heard the stutter. She had fought and won too many battles to count. This man would not intimidate her.

Why can't I harm you?

Had he tried? The thought unsettled her. “Maybe for the same reason I can't harm you.”

And that is?

You're the sweetest form of temptation. I know the spicy decadence of your kiss. I've ridden your fingers and want to ride them again.
Not that she'd make such an admission aloud. “I don't know. I've had the opportunity, though,” she reminded him. “Several times.”

A sigh slipped from him, easing some of his tension.
But you soothed me instead. Protected me.

She nodded. “As you did for me.”

For a long while, only the pattering of the water against the porcelain could be heard. Part of her was glad they knew about each other. That she didn't have to wonder
what would happen when he discovered her secrets. The other part of her had never been more frightened.

They knew, but if they pursued each other anyway…there could be no excuses for their actions. For their stupidity. Their friends would blame them, perhaps begin to hate them. And for what? No matter what they did, there could never be a happily ever after for them.

She must have retreated into her mind—a shocking discovery, that, since she never allowed herself to drop her guard—because she never saw him move, but suddenly his hands were clamped onto the flare of her hips. Another gasp escaped her as their gazes tangled anew.

Amun backed her up, pushing her under the waterfall, then walked through the spray himself, not stopping until she was smashed against the tiled wall. And even though they weren't touching anywhere but her waist, the heat of him wrapped around her, sinking past skin into bone. Her nipples hardened, aching for contact.

He looked capable of anything just then. Most especially of driving her to the brink of passion, of madness.

Stop this before it's too late,
she commanded herself. A single brush of his lower body against hers, and “too late” would happen. She knew it. After their last kiss…

She flattened her palms on his chest, felt the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat. A harried rhythm that matched her own. “I can't be with you this way. Until I've spoken to Micah.” Oh, God. Had she really said that? Had she really just pushed the qualification out of her mouth, trying to pave the way for them to be together? Even for a little while?

Seriously. What the hell was wrong with her?

Amun's eyelids narrowed, hiding his irises. That should have lessened the dangerous magnetism of him. It didn't. She doubted anything could.

Why?
The single word was snapped, demanding an immediate response.

“I have to tell him it's over between us.” That was the only honorable thing to do. For all her faults, she truly wasn't a cheater. But God, even talking about this, she was undermining everything she'd already decided, not to mention her resolve to leave Amun alone.

You would end your relationship with him in favor of me? A demon-possessed warrior you've sworn to murder?
He laughed without humor.
I'm not as foolish as you apparently think I am.

She was the foolish one. They would never be able to trust each other, and with good reason. That still didn't stop her from saying, “Yes.” See? Foolish. She wanted to be with him. Despite everything, even her reasons for pushing him away, part of her needed him and that part clearly would not be denied.

His false laughter died quickly.
Your relationship didn't stop you from kissing me before.
Now his voice was a growl of frustration.

“I didn't know who you were then.”

He pondered that for a moment, then nodded.
Fine. I'll give you that. But how do I know this isn't a trick?

Nope, no trust. Not that she blamed him. “You don't.”

And how do you plan to speak with this Micah?

“I'll call him.” How else?

Water droplets rained down Amun's hard expression.
And during the conversation, I'm positive you won't speak in code and inform him of your location. I'm equally positive he won't try to swoop in and save you. Of course, that means I'm positive he won't then try to capture everyone inside this fortress.

“No.” She shook her head to emphasize her denial. “I would break it off with him. No more, no less.”

Intense need flickered over his expression. Need blended
with possessiveness and primal instinct, with hope and helpless indecision.

No one had ever looked at her like that. As if she were a treasure, wanted in the most primitive of ways—as if she were a bundle of dynamite that could detonate at any moment.

So badly she wanted to glide her hands to his back, lock her fingers together and jerk him into the soft line of her body. Then she'd feel his hands settle on her bottom and heft her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around him. She'd grind against the long, thick length of his erection until they were both screaming from the pleasure. Already she was close to begging for it.

Amun's hands fell away from her, dropping heavily to his sides, and he straightened. The water cascaded over him without mercy, shielding his features from her view.

Never going to happen, Haidee,
he said flatly.
A simple fuck isn't worth the consequences.
With that, he left her alone in the shower.

His crudeness and cruelty shouldn't have surprised her, but they did. They hurt her, too. She'd been willing to try to make something work between them; he hadn't. He never had. His eyes had been cold, distant as he'd reduced her to “a simple fuck.” She'd never been more to him, would never be more. There were too many obstacles between them.

She wanted to hate him. God, did she want to hate him.

Instead, Haidee did something she hadn't done in hundreds of years. She sobbed like a baby over the cruel fate she'd once again been dealt.

A
MUN STRIPPED OUT OF HIS WET
sweatpants, toweled off, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, then waited for Haidee to emerge from the bathroom. He didn't have to wait long, yet the time apart seemed infinite. When she entered the bedroom, he saw that her features were annoyingly blank, though her eyes were pink and a bit puffy. Had she…cried? His chest constricted painfully at the thought, and he nearly stalked to her, nearly took her into his arms. To soothe her.

His hands curled into fists. She couldn't have cried. To do so, she would have had to care about him. She didn't care about him. Therefore, he couldn't allow himself to believe a single tear had fallen from her beautiful eyes.

So why did his chest still ache?

He forced his thoughts to clear and his gaze to move away from her face. A fluffy white towel was wrapped under her arms and hit just above her knees. Obviously she had removed her bra. He saw no telltale straps. She'd probably removed her panties, too. They'd been so wet. So wonderfully wet.

The constriction in his chest migrated south. He knew what she looked like under all that cotton. Breasts that would fit in his hands. A soft though concave stomach. Hips that flared perfectly. He'd desperately wanted to grip her there and force her to rub against his erection, over and over again. Even now, she tempted him. Even? Hell, especially now.

Clothes are on the bed,
he told her, turning away before he forgot the reasons he'd left her alone in the shower. Even in his mind, his voice was rough. And yeah, it still shocked him every time he “spoke” to her without having to sign the words.

The connection between them was the very reason he'd opted to tell her the truth about himself, about what he knew concerning her past. He'd decided to show most of his cards before she glimpsed them on her own, hoping she'd then reveal her own cards.

He hated that his demon had gone silent the moment he'd touched her and hadn't spoken up again. Secrets was always either quiet or agitated around her, and he never knew which he'd get. What bothered him most was that the demon probably could have discovered everything about her. Except, though Amun could cast his voice into her head, he couldn't read her the same way he read everyone else. He would've liked to chastise Secrets for that, but didn't. He chastised himself. What was the use of having a demon if a man couldn't use the damn thing's abilities?

Wasn't like he could use the other demons, either. They'd experienced the opposite reaction when he touched her, shrieking and scrambling for a new hiding place.

Behind him echoed a light patter of footsteps, then the rustle of clothing. He wanted to watch Haidee dress. He was desperate to see those curves again. All of her curves this time. Through the white cotton of her bra, every bit of fabric drenched, he'd seen those firm breasts crested with rosy nipples perfect for sucking. And those matching panties…

His spine went rigid as another hot blistering wave of need savaged him. Between her gorgeous legs, at the apex of her thighs, she'd had a little tuft of hair slightly darker than the flaxen mass above. He'd almost dropped to his knees, almost dove in and feasted, shoving those unwanted
panties out of the way and tasting the essence of her femininity. Gods, he remembered the sweetness of her. Knew the heaven that awaited him.

He needed to think about something else before he cut the tether of his control and fell on her and took her. He couldn't take her. As he'd promised her, he would not allow himself to touch her again.

He blanked his mind. There was one thing guaranteed to piss him off and keep his hands to himself. Her tattoos. Just the thought had him biting his tongue until he tasted blood.

In the shower, he'd gotten a peek at the travesty that was her back, and each marking had turned portions of his desire into boiling rage. If any part of him had ever doubted who she was, the tattoos there convinced him otherwise.

She kept score, Baden's death proudly etched into her flesh. And the four Hunters the Lords had supposedly killed? He didn't know, but he would. How he would acquire the information when her secrets were her own, he didn't know, either. But again, he would.

Perhaps he'd seduce the information out of her.

Seduce.
Instantly, his mind and body returned to lusting after her. Seducing would involved touching.

Perhaps his “no touching” vow had been premature.

Really, why handicap himself? He should have her. Often. As many times as the urge struck him. Until he obtained the answers he craved. Until he worked her from his system. Until he realized that she hadn't called him
baby
while he'd held and cleaned her because the endearment was clearly reserved for her precious Micah.

Red suddenly dotted Amun's vision, just as it had done in the shower when she'd spoken the bastard's name, and he drew in a deep breath. Hold…hold. Slowly he pushed the oxygen through his nostrils.

Micah could very well be a descendant of his, as Haidee had said. The idea intrigued him. He'd never thought to have a blood-related family. However, the idea of that blood-related family being his enemy, well,
that
he didn't like. Wasn't like he and Micah could sit down and have a heart-to-heart, either. Besides the good versus evil thing, there was Haidee.

They both wanted her.

Amun should have taken her in the shower, despite her fragile protests, and pounded the worst of his emotions straight into her. And those protests of hers
had
been fragile. So fragile he could have bent his head and blown on the hammering pulse at the base of her neck and her reasons for denying him would have snapped beyond repair.

There were no doubts in his mind that she'd hungered for him, too. Her pupils had been blown, her lips parted as she'd struggled for air. She probably hadn't realized that her nails had sunk into his pecs the moment she'd flattened her trembling palms on him, fingers curling, some part of her desperate to be connected to him, eradicating all hint of distance.

The action, small though it was, had been a claiming, and he'd reacted violently. Not that he'd shown her. That boiling rage had been his only link to sanity.

Over the years he had pampered the few women he'd been with, and given them what time he could, as well as attention and fidelity. Even when they hadn't given him the same—and had then tried to hide their actions from him. As if they could. But he liked seeing a female light up because of his special treatment. He liked knowing he was the cause of their happiness.

He knew his friends considered him calm, without a temper. Normally he was. But when he looked at this woman, this supposed enemy, this unexpected savior, something hard and primal seethed inside him, knocking
at the door of his restraint. He felt like a godsdamn caveman, wanting to carry off his woman and hide her from the rest of the world. Wanting to put his body between hers and anyone who dared threaten her. Wanting to tie her to his bed, keep her there forever, keep her ready for him.

Wanting to soothe her even as he ravaged her.

The desires were dark and sultry, insidious as they snuck past his defenses and wrapped around his every cell, changing the very fabric of his being. He was Amun no longer, but Haidee's man.

That title was not something he could tolerate. Not for long, at least.

Still. He was on the right path, he decided. If he had her, he would tire of her. How could he not, when she was who she was? And when he tired of her, when the newness of her touch and taste and scent wore off and he no longer needed her to beat the demons back to maintain his good sense, he could do his duty and slay her. But until then…

He would just have to continue protecting her.

The rustle of clothes died, and he pivoted on his heel, facing her. A smart man would never have given an enemy his back in the first place. But then, a smart Lord would never have allowed a Hunter to live long enough to dress.

Haidee stood by the side of the bed, arms hanging at her sides, her hands empty. His gaze raked her, and he told himself the perusal was necessary, that he needed to check for hidden weapons. The pink T-shirt and jeans she had donned belonged to Gwen, another petite female, but still they bagged on little Haidee. Despite her feminine curves, she was too thin.

Irritation joined his other emotions. Over the past however long Strider had been in charge of her care, the warrior had most likely given her enough food to survive. No
more, no less. She'd probably lost pounds she hadn't been able to spare. That would change now that Amun was in charge. Causing needless suffering wasn't his style.

She had toweled off her hair as best she could, but still the blond-and-pink locks dripped onto her shirt, wetting the material covering the delicate frame of her shoulders.

“What now?” she asked in her raspy voice.

She hadn't shifted under his scrutiny, he realized. She had stood still, allowing him to look his fill. Perhaps she'd studied him, too, because tiny flickers of the mating heat had returned to those distracting eyes.

He liked that she liked the look of him. Usually, with Paris and Strider and, hell, Sabin around him, women found the roughness of his features too…well, rough.

Sit down,
he told her.
Now we talk.

“More talking?” She didn't sound enthused.

Yes, more talking.
He would not allow her to irritate him into forgetting what needed to be said, he vowed.
Sit.

With only the barest hint of hesitation, she obeyed. She perched at the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap.

Thank you.
Now, it was time to show her the rest of his cards. Her reaction would dictate their next course of action. Amun spread his legs, braced his knees and prepared to defend himself from attack.

“What are we going to talk about?”

Me. You guessed my identity, but I doubt you know exactly what that means. So here it is, flat out. I'm possessed by the demon of Secrets.
He waited for a reaction; he didn't get one. In the shower, he'd merely played with the details, never actually admitting he was possessed.

“And?” she demanded.

No, he would not allow her to irritate him.
And you know about immortals, but do you know anything about the heavens and hell?

“I know they exist.”

That was a start.
Recently I ventured into hell to rescue a friend.

She gulped. “You rescued another demon?”

In a way.
Legion had been demon, but had bargained with Lucifer for a human body. A human body she still possessed.
She wasn't—isn't—evil. Well, not totally—and she was being tortured.

“She?”

Did he detect a note of jealousy or was that wishful thinking on his part?
Yes. During the few days I spent down there, I was…overcome by demon thoughts and urges.

When he offered no more, she nodded.

Those thoughts and urges are a part of me now, driving me…

“Insane?”

Now he was the one to nod, though his was stiff.
Only when I'm with you do those things become manageable.

Wariness fell over her lovely features like a curtain, but she didn't attack. “Why me?”

I have no idea.

“Guess.”

He released a sigh.
Perhaps for the same reason I can project my voice into your head.

“That tells me nothing,” she said, pursing her lips.

How adorable she was, just then. A pouty princess. The thought made him frown.
Whether we like it or not, there is something between us. Maybe, because of that, the demons know what I know, and they're afraid of you. Afraid of Hunters.

“Maybe. So…you hate these thoughts and urges?” Her question was soft, almost hopeful.

Why hopeful? Because she wanted to believe the best of him?
Yes. Beyond anything.

She peered down at her lap, where her fingers were linked and now twisting together. He hadn't expected such calm. Not from her, a demon-hater, when he'd just admitted to being poisoned by all kinds of evil.

Was she playing him? Lulling him into a false sense of relaxation? If so, what was her ultimate goal?

He should know; his demon should know. More than ever he hated that he couldn't read her. Hated that the two times he'd peeked inside her mind, he'd seen her smiling. Heard her laughing.

Hated, because the images were branded inside him, a part of him, haunting him. Hated that even so, he craved another glimpse.

“Why did you tell me this?” she asked.

Because of my affliction and your affiliation, we can't stay here. I'm a danger to my friends,
he told her, expecting her to argue. If she remained in one location, her associates had a better chance of finding her.
And you, well, you're a danger to them, too. As much a danger as they are to you.

He didn't want either group to find her. Plus, his twenty-four hours were almost up, and every noise outside the door had him stiffening. Sabin was liable to burst into the room with a flamethrower at any moment.

“Yes, we need to leave,” she replied, thick lashes finally lifting. “So where do you propose we go?”

Such pragmatism was admirable. Combine that with the
we
and the heat of her gaze, and she presented a powerful aphrodisiac.
You wish to stay with me?

“Of course.”

There was no “of course” about it.
Why
did she want to stay with him? His suspicious soul floundered for an answer, and found only one: she
was
playing him. Perhaps she even meant to lead him to her fellow Hunters, just as she'd done to Baden.

Amun's hands curled into fists. Fists so tight and hard his already damaged knuckles cracked from the strain.