The Darkest Whisper (16 page)

A reluctant nod. “I was just a child and they were
merely playing with me, taunting me as sisters do. I erupted and tore them up pretty badly.”

“I thought you said they were stronger than you.”

“They are. They can control who they kill, even while fully Harpy.
That
is true strength.”

He thought about it a moment, tangling a hand back and forth through his hair. “I bet
I
could take your Harpy. I mean, like your sisters, I'm immortal and heal quickly.” Yeah, he remembered what she'd done to the Hunter and yeah, he remembered how swiftly she'd moved. But why had he counted himself out before, even for a moment? He had brute force, thousands of years of experience and a determination matched by few. As long as she didn't take his head, he'd recover.

“You're an idiot.” She must not have realized what she'd said until a few seconds later because she froze as the words echoed off the walls.

“Nothing you say will provoke me enough to hurt you,” he told her, torn between tenderness and exasperation.

Gradually she relaxed, but the tension between them remained.

“Do you regret what happened in the shower?” he asked, in part to turn the conversation in another direction and in part, well, because his curiosity demanded to be assuaged. She'd just made it very clear that she didn't like what he was or what he did.

“Yes,” she replied, cheeks heating.

No hesitation from her, and that seriously irritated him. “Why? You liked every moment of it.”

Hadn't she?

His hands curled into fists, the bones suddenly brittle. That damn Doubt. But he feared that for once the insecurity was his own, not the demon spreading its poison.

Her gaze skittered away from him. “It was okay, I guess.”

He popped his jaw. It was okay. She guessed. She fucking guessed. By gods, he'd give her another demonstration. He'd kiss her, every inch of her this time, just the way he wanted. He'd dance his tongue between her legs, bite her, finger her, make her beg for his cock and then, only then, would he give it to her. He'd flip her to her stomach, grip her hips and—

Make love to her if he continued down this path. Mistake, mistake, mistake. Worth it, though, he thought next. There'd be no stopping him, and she'd love every minute of it. He'd pump inside her, spill his seed, deep and hot, and—

Again hear her tell you it was okay. She guessed
. Doubt laughed, and in that moment the demon actually respected her.

“It was more than okay, but we'll table that discussion until later.” Sabin hopped from the bed, unabashed as the sheet fell away, leaving him bared to her gaze. Suddenly shy, she slapped a hand over her eyes. But if he wasn't mistaken, she was peeking through her fingers. He could feel the heat of those eyes, the smoldering desire.

He stalked to the closet. After weaponing up as was his custom—if fifteen blades strapped to his ankles, wrists, waist and back was being too careful, then give him the Too Careful award—he tugged on a pair of jeans and an
I'll See You in the Afterlife
T-shirt.

He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a plain white tee and tossed them at Gwen. “Get up, get dressed.”

“Why?” She sat up, hair tumbling around her, and gathered the clothing.

“You're going to call your sisters.” Time to get that
little chore over with. “Anya told me a bit about your culture, and if you're afraid they'll try and harm you for allowing yourself to be captured, don't be. I won't let them.” He didn't give her time to respond. “When you're done with the call, we're going downstairs to eat. And you will eat, Gwen. That's an order.” There'd be none of that only eating what she stole nonsense. He might have considered leaving things lying around so she'd feel like she'd stolen them, but he wasn't in the mood to placate her now.

“After that,” he continued, “I need to call all the men together for a meeting, tell them what I've learned about the Hunters. You'll sit in on that, too. Because you're part of this now.”

Her chin rose stubbornly. “I'm not one of your men to order around.”

“If you were one of my men, I'd be ashamed of my thoughts right now.” His gaze lowered, lingering on her breasts, her stomach…between her legs. He spun on his heel before he could do what he really wanted and stalk to her, cover her and penetrate her. “Now hurry up.”

There was a long pause, then a swoosh of material, a bounce of the bed, a sigh. “Okay. I'm ready.” She sounded resigned.

Once more Sabin faced her—and stopped breathing. Just like before, the clothing bagged on her. Now that she was clean, however, the white cotton caused her skin to gleam like a pearl. His mouth watered for a taste; a single lick would suffice. Would have to suffice, he thought, entranced, already walking to her, reaching out.

What the hell are you doing? Snap out of it, asshole!
He stopped abruptly, teeth grinding. It took a moment for him to gather his wits and recall what he'd wanted her to do. When he did, he crossed the room to his dresser and
swiped up his cell. There was a missed call and a text message. He scrolled the menu. The call had come from Kane. The text…Kane, as well. The warrior was spending the day in town but said to call if he was needed and he would rush home. It was a miracle that Kane had been able to use his phone twice in a row without frying it to hell.

After Sabin cleared the screen, he threw the phone at Gwen. She missed.

“Start dialing,” he told her.

 

G
WEN LIFTED THE PHONE
with a trembling hand, tears burning her eyes. The entire year of her imprisonment, she'd wanted to do this, had
needed
to hear her sisters' voices. But she was still ashamed about what had happened to her and still didn't want them to know.

“It's morning here, so it's nighttime in Alaska,” she said. “Perhaps I should wait.”

Sabin showed no mercy. “Dial.”

“But—”

“I don't understand your reluctance. You love them. You want them here, even made it a condition of your staying with me.”

“I know.” She traced her finger over the glowing numbers on the little black device. Her guilt was returning. Guilt for making her beloved sisters wait for news of her—or, if they didn't know she'd been taken, simple contact from her.

“Will they blame you for what happened? Want to punish you? I told you I wouldn't let them.”

“No.” Maybe. What she did know was that they'd demand Sabin allow them to join his war, just as he wanted.
They'd
want Hunter ass on a platter, served raw
and fresh. But if they were injured because of Gwen…she'd hate herself forever and still another eternity.

“Call,” Sabin said.

Get over yourself,
she thought. With a sigh, she dialed Bianka's number. Of the three, Bianka was the most kindhearted. And by kindhearted, Gwen meant that Bianka would toss a glass of water at the person she'd just lit on fire.

Three rings later, her sister answered. “I have no idea who is calling me from this number but you had better haul ass or—”

“Hey, Bianka.” Her stomach clenched painfully, the voice so hauntingly familiar and so well loved the tears that had been burning her eyes finally spilled over, rushing down her cheeks. “It's me.”

There was a pause, an inhalation of breath. “Gwennie? Gwennie, is that you?”

She swiped at her cheeks with the back of her wrist, very aware of Sabin's hot gaze on her, practically eating her up. What was he thinking? Warrior that he was, her show of weakness—more weakness, that is—probably disgusted him. And that was a good thing. Really. They'd kissed and touched in the shower and she'd been ready to go further, take more, take all,
give
all, despite the kind of man he was and the things he'd said to her, the things he would ultimately do to her.

“Hey, you still there? Gwennie? Are you okay? What's going on?”

“Yep, it's me. The one and only,” she finally replied.

“My gods, girl. Do you know how long it's been?”

Twelve months, eight days, seventeen minutes and thirty-nine seconds. “I have an inkling. So how are you?”

“Better, now that I've heard from you, but pissed as hell. You are gonna pay big-time when Taliyah finds
you. A while back we called your phone, you know, to say hi and threaten to bitch slap you if you didn't come home. No answer. So we called Tyson. He said you had moved out and he didn't know how to reach you. We searched and searched, all over the damn world, but no luck. Finally we paid Tyson a personal visit and he told us you'd been taken against your will.”

“Did you torture him?” She wasn't mad at him, didn't want him hurt. He'd merely been protecting himself, something she understood.

“Well…maybe a little. Not our fault, though. He wasted precious time.”

She moaned; then she pictured Bianka, black hair twisted around her head, amber eyes glowing, red lips lifted in a wicked smile, and she couldn't help but grin. “He's alive, though. Yes?”

“Please, girl. As if we'd lower ourselves to kill that puny little shit. I never knew what you saw in him.”

“Good. He didn't know where I was. Not really.”

“Who took you, anyway? What'd you do to them to punish them, huh, huh? They are dead, right? Tell me they're dead, baby girl.”

“I'll, uh, get to that.” Truth. “Some other time.” Again, truth. “Listen,” she added before Bianka could probe too deeply, “I'm currently in Budapest, but I want to see you guys. I miss you.” There at the end, her voice cracked.

“Then come home.” Bianka had never pleaded for anything—that Gwen knew of—but she sounded ready to beg just then. “We want you home. Not knowing where you were nearly destroyed us. Mom moved out months ago 'cause we wouldn't stop pestering her about you, so you don't have to worry about the cold-shoulder treatment.”

That she'd kept them waiting longer than necessary…guilt rose again, hotter than before, and Gwen tumbled straight into a shame spiral.
I did this. I did this to my strong, proud sister
. “I don't care about Mom.” And she didn't. Not really. They'd never been close. “But you're going to have to come to me. I'm with the, uh, Lords of the Underworld, and they'd like to meet you. You know, they're the guys that are—”

“Demon-possessed?” Bianka whooped with excitement, then grew suddenly somber. “What are you doing with them? Are they the ones who took you?” There was murder in her tone.

“No. No. They're the good guys.”

“Good guys?” She laughed. “Well, whatever they are, they aren't your usual bag o' fun. Unless your personality has undergone a huge overhaul this past year and a half?”

Not really. “Just…will you come?”

No hesitation. “We're on our way, baby girl.”

T
HE KITCHEN LOOKED
as if it had been bombed. Hungry warriors were savages, Sabin thought. Before coming down, he'd texted each of them—gods, he loved technology; he'd even brought technophobe Maddox into the twenty-first century—calling a meeting at noon to discuss what the Hunters had told him about both Distrust and the boarding school for the half-human, half-immortal children, as well as the impending arrival of Gwen's sisters.

The sisters. Tears had filled Gwen's eyes the moment one of the Harpies had answered the phone, turning the bright gold to melted bullion. Relief, hope and sadness had played across her face, and Sabin had had to fight the urge to go to her, to wrap her in his arms, offering whatever comfort he could. Every warrior instinct he possessed had been needed to hold himself in place.

He hoped the rest of the day was easier. With a flick of his wrist, he closed the refrigerator door. Warm air instantly blanketed him. He faced Gwen, who was staring down at the marble countertops. Or maybe the stainless steel sink, perhaps wondering why so ancient a home had been modernized in some places and left to age in others.

He'd had the same thought himself upon arriving in Budapest a few months ago. He'd made some improvements since moving in, and planned to have the entire monstrosity pimped out by the end of the year. It was
funny. He'd traveled all over the world, had a base of operations in many places, but this fortress had quickly become his home.

“Empty,” he announced.

Her gaze snapped to his and a moment passed before she focused. When she did, she ran a hand through her still-damp hair as though embarrassed. “I'll be fine without food.”

“No.” No way he'd allow her to go without. For a year, she'd endured the horrors of starvation. Not one more day would she do so while in his care. Her every need was his to meet. Because he desired her help and cooperation.

He was in a better mood than before, so he supposed he could placate her with “stolen” goods, after all. “We'll go into town,” he added. Paris, whose job it was to shop, was probably still jacked out of his mind. “After we cover you from head to toe.” No way he wanted people seeing that precious-gem skin.

“Makeup will take care of my face,” she said, guessing his intentions. “And anyway, Anya brought you a tray…uh, what I mean to say is that I had food earlier.”

So that's how Anya had gotten her to eat. Claiming the food was for him, ensuring that eating it was stealing it. For once Sabin applauded the goddess's trickery. “One meal won't satisfy you forever. Besides, we can grab you some clothes that fit while we're out.”

Pleasure consumed her expression and that amazing skin seemed to glint with all the colors of the rainbow. His cock hardened painfully, his blood heated dangerously and images of her naked body, wet and glistening, flashed in his mind. Suddenly he could taste her decadence in his mouth, hear her cries in his ears.

“Clothes?” she said. “Of my very own?”

Her happiness was too much for Doubt, who decided to pounce, using Sabin's distraction to its advantage and ripping free of its leash.
New clothes won't make your situation better. They might even make it worse. How are you supposed to pay for them? With your body? Or maybe your sisters will be the ones to pay. What if Sabin desires them? He didn't penetrate you, even though he was primed. What if he takes your sisters to bed instead?

Usually the demon was more circumspect, a gentle whisper, a quiet supposition, each designed to destroy the listener's confidence. Now it was using what had happened between them in the shower to ignite jealousy and feminine pique. Gwen didn't have to like him or even desire more of him for it to work, either. No one enjoyed the thought of their would-be lover in bed with someone else. Sabin was already prepared to cut out the eyes of anyone who even admired Gwen.

You knew this would happen. Knew Doubt would continue to go after her.
“Gwen,” he said, jaw clenched. “Those thoughts…I'm sorry.”
I'm going to hurt you for this, you sick fuck.
“You won't owe me anything for the clothes. No one will.”

Her pupils were thickening, black consuming gold…white…Soon she would be Harpy. Not knowing what else to do, he cupped the back of her neck and jerked her into his body. It had worked on the plane. Maybe…

His other hand snaked around her waist, fitting her against his still-hard cock. “Feel that? It's for you. No one else. I can't stop my reaction to you, crave only you.” He nuzzled the side of her neck. “It's stupid, we can't be together, but I can't make that matter. I only want you.” He'd say it a thousand times if necessary. He only wished the words were a lie.

Nothing. No response.

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, lingering, savoring. Even chaste as the kiss was, it rocked him. The feel of her…knowing the skin that lurked underneath her baggy clothes, the pink little nipples that liked to be licked.

She sucked in a breath—his breath. Ever so slightly, she arched into his touch, and her arms wound around him, holding tight, tugging him closer. Just like that, her pupils began to thin. Her breathing became less choppy, her muscles less stiff.

His words hadn't reached her; his touch had. The Harpy must calm when given physical contact. He'd have to remember that.

But with the realization came a fury so hot his organs were blistered. A year, a full year, without contact must have been hell for this girl who so hated her darker side. The Harpy must have been a screaming voice inside her head, a constant hated companion.

It was one more link between them. Although Sabin didn't hate his demon. Not all the time. He certainly enjoyed the torment it could bring to Hunters. Right now, if he were honest (and he had to be), hate could not be denied. The bastard refused to leave Gwen alone, provoking her when she deserved only peace.

“Good?” he asked.

A shuddering breath escaped her. Abruptly she released him, cheeks heating. “That depends. Have you put a muzzle on your friend?”

“Working on it. And as I've told you, the demon isn't my friend.”

“Then I'm fine now, yes.”

There'd been resentment in her tone. “Sure?” He traced his thumb along her hairline.

“Sure. You can let go of me now.”

He didn't want to; he wanted to hold on forever. And that's exactly why he released her, stepping away. He'd already marked her. Anything else was overkill. Unnecessary and dangerous to his ultimate goal.

Doubt whimpered in disappointment, receding to the back of his mind to decide on its next point of attack.

 

A
FTER SHE APPLIED
a layer of makeup to cover her skin, makeup Sabin borrowed from one of the female residents, Gwen and Sabin left the fortress. He touched her constantly. A brush of his arm here. A caress of his fingers there. She never wanted him to stop. She knew the magic he could work, after all.

She shivered. The stimulation and memories were almost—almost—enough to distract her from the beauty of Budapest. There were castlelike homes, modern buildings, green trees, bricked streets and birds eating crumbs from them. There was a murky river, an iron-enclosed bridge and a chapel that dusted the sky with its points. There were columns and statues and multihued lights.

Sabin almost managed to distract her from the townspeople, as well. They regarded him with awe, stepping out of his way but still trying to connect with him, any part of him. Some even gasped, “Angel” when he passed.

They shopped for several hours, and not once did he seem irritated with her need to try everything on, to draw every piece of material across her cheek and twirl in front of the full-length mirrors. Often she caught him smiling.

After deciding on several pairs of jeans, a handful of colorful T-shirts and glittery pink flip-flops, as well as her own set of makeup, they moved on to the food. But who cared about ever eating again? She was wearing her new clothes! A snug pair of denims and a lovely pink T-shirt.

She'd never been so happy with how she looked. After a year in that skimpy white tank and skirt, she felt beautiful and comfortable and, well, normal. Human. As they left the grocery store with their bounty, Sabin eyed her as though she was his favorite ice cream cone.

Of course, then the whispers began.

Are you sure you look okay? I wonder if your breath smells bad. How many women has Sabin been with? How many were prettier and smarter and braver than you?

Gwen's happy mood faded, edginess taking its place. The whispers continued, and soon even the Harpy's feathers became ruffled. If a total meltdown happened, havoc would invade this lovely town and Sabin would be hurt. Much as Sabin irritated her, Gwen still didn't want a single drop of his blood spilled.

Right now he was loading their groceries into the back of the car, his muscles bunching with every movement. Breads, meats, fruits and vegetables abounded. The scents were divine. Several times in the store the temptation had proven to be too great, her mouth watering, and she'd pilfered. But her skills were seriously rusty, for Sabin had caught her every time. He hadn't protested, though. No, he'd encouraged her with a smile or a wink, as if he were proud of her. That had shocked her—shocked her still.

Gwen leaned a hip against the taillight. “Your demon is very close to ruining my entire day.”

“I know. I'm sorry. For the record, you look amazing, your breath is fresh, I haven't been with that many and there are none prettier or smarter than you.”

He didn't mention braver, she noticed. “Distract me. Tell me more about the artifacts you're looking for.”

He paused, a bag suspended midair. Sunlight cascaded
all around him, dark hair shimmering, lifting in the breeze. His eyes narrowed on her—something they did a lot, she mused. “That isn't something I can discuss out in the open like this.”

Was that just an excuse to keep her in the dark?

Or was his demon rubbing off on her, and she doubted him just because?

Argh! “You can tell me. I'm working for you now.” Wasn't she? Hadn't they decided she would do the clerical stuff? She hadn't named her price, but that was because the first thing that had come to mind was room and board in his fortress. For, like, ever. How dumb was that? “I'm helping you find them.”

“And I'll tell you about them. Later.”

Okay, so maybe the demon
was
rubbing off on her.

Sabin returned to the bags, finesse gone as he tossed them inside with a flick of his wrist. She winced when she heard the eggs crack.

“By the way, we never reached an agreement about your duties,” he said.

Gwen propped her elbow above her head, resting her head in her hand, nails digging into her scalp. “Do you not think I'm capable of clerical work or do you just not respect me enough to let me prove myself in that way?”

“Wait. Did you just throw out the
R
word in a discussion about clerical work?” His jaw worked left and right, popping. “What is it with women? Make out a little, and suddenly everything you do means you lack respect for them.”

“That's not true.” He'd had to go there, hadn't he? Just talking about it, she felt the hot drops of water on her skin, felt his hands caressing her, his teeth biting at her.
He's not the kind of man you want for yourself.
It was sad that she needed the reminder. And would probably
need it again. And again. “One, I've been offering to help and you claim you want me to, but you've never actually told me how I can get started. Two, the shower has nothing to do with anything. In fact, let's make a pact never to discuss what happened in there again.”

He turned to her, bags completely forgotten now. “Why?”

“Because I don't want to physically fight your enemy.”

“No, not why do you think I don't respect you or why do I want you to do clerical work, but why don't you want to discuss the shower?”

Cheeks heating, she straightened, looked away. “Because.”

“Why?” he insisted.

Because I'll want more
. “Mixing business with pleasure is more dangerous than we are,” she said dryly.

A muscle ticked below his eye and he stared over at her, taking her measure, she was sure, and waiting for her to back down. She didn't, and that surprised her. She wasn't afraid of him, she realized. Not even a little.

“Get in the car,” he commanded.

“Sabin.”

“Car.”

A curse on domineering men!

When they were buckled inside, he started the engine but didn't pull out onto the road. He shielded his eyes with sunglasses, placed a hand on her thigh and faced her. “Now that we're alone, I don't mind telling you about the artifacts. But the moment you know, it means you're stuck with me. You're not leaving with your sisters, you're not venturing away from the fortress by yourself. Understood?”