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  Maddox hadn’t realized Ashlyn would spend the entire night in a cell or that she would need all of this care thanks to his friends. His fingers curled into a tight fist.

  Her comfort doesn’t matter. He wasn’t sure who the thought came from—the demon or himself. He only knew it was a lie.

  “Bathe, change and eat,” he forced himself to say. “No one will bother you.” He paused. “Is there anything else you might require?”

  She walked around him in a wide half circle, turning to face him almost immediately, as if she didn’t trust him at her back. “Freedom would be nice.”

  “Besides that.”

  Her gaze scanned the room. He didn’t like how pale she was, how wobbly and withdrawn. She had not been so drained last night, even in the bitter chill of the forest. “What about wiping out my memory of the past few days?”

  “Besides that,” he repeated darkly, not liking that she wanted to forget him.

  She sighed. “No. There’s nothing, then.”

  He knew he should leave, give her a chance to relax and follow his commands, but he found himself reluctant to do so. He leaned against the side of the door. She remained in the center of the room, arms crossed over her middle, stretching the pink jacket she wore over her breasts. His mouth watered.

  “Have you done this to many women?” she asked in a conversational tone.

  His eyes snapped up and locked with hers, his body tightening. “Done what?” Entranced them? Seduced them? His throat was suddenly blocked by a hard mass.

  Now she snorted. “Locked them away. What else?”

  The mass quickly dissolved. “You are the first,” he replied, doing his best to hide his disappointment.

  “And what do you have planned for me, special girl that I am?”

  “Only time will tell,” he answered honestly.

  A shadow of concern darkened her expression. “How much time?”

  “We shall have to discover the answer together.”

  Now she flashed him a frown. “You’re the most cryptic man I’ve ever met.”

  He shrugged. “I have been called worse.”

  “I’m sure you have,” she muttered.

  Even the insult did not drive him away. Just a little longer… “I did not know what foods you would like, so I brought you a little of everything we had in the kitchen. I fear there wasn’t much to choose from.”

  “Thank you,” she said, then pressed her lips together. A flash of anger descended over her face. “I don’t know why I’m being polite to you. Look at what you’re doing to me.”

  “Taking care of you?”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away from him.

  “Do you belong to a man, Ashlyn?” he asked, hating the thought.

  “I don’t understand your question. Am I married? No. Do I have a boyfriend? No. But I do have friends, and people will worry about me,” she rushed to add, as if suddenly realizing she’d made herself vulnerable.

  Who did she hope to convince? Him? Or herself?

  “They’ll search for me. They will,” she insisted when he failed to respond.

  “But they will not find you,” he said, confident. The four last night hadn’t made it up the hill. Her other friends wouldn’t, either.

  Her hand fluttered to her throat, drawing his attention to the pulse hammering there. Why did he find himself so entranced by the beat of her heart, compelled to touch the evidence of its movement?

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he told her. He wasn’t certain which of them was more surprised by his words—Ashlyn or himself.

  “I don’t understand you,” she whispered.

  Neither did he understand himself. And the more he stood here talking to her, the less sense he made. He straightened. “Clean yourself up. I will return later.” Not giving her a chance to counter, he stepped into the hall, shutting the door without a backward glance.

  Better this way. From the moment he had asked her if she belonged to a man, the demon had begun to churn inside of him, eager for a fight. If he stayed, he would touch her. If he touched her, he would take her. But he did not want to risk tangled bodies and heated kisses turning to biting, clawing and a too-rough pounding.

  The delicate woman inside his room would not survive.

  “Damn this,” he growled. Ashlyn was, beyond any doubt, the sweetest-looking human he’d ever encountered. His mouth still watered for her; his besieged body wept for her. Hurting her was not his desire, no matter that she had admitted to knowing about the demon, as only a Hunter or Bait could. No, he wanted only to pleasure her.

  Turning, he locked the door from the outside. Switching the tumblers was something else he’d done in anticipation of her seduction. Jumping from the bedroom’s terrace would be the only other way out, and he doubted she wanted to fall five stories and land on jagged rocks. Still, he’d glued the window leading to the terrace shut, just in case.

  Maddox stalked down the hallway, praying the other warriors had not fled for the day. When he’d awakened in his already-healing body, his first thoughts had been of Ashlyn. He had prepared his room and a meal for her and sought Lucien, finding him in the entertainment room and demanding to know what happened.

  “Dungeon,” the man had muttered, a strange glint in his eyes.

  Furious, Maddox had raced from the room, desperate to assure himself that she was in the same condition he’d left her in: alive and untouched. He’d thought that at least his friends would have given her food, water and blankets. Wrong. She could have frozen to death. She could have starved. And they wouldn’t have known.

  Had they expected him to passively accept such a thing?

  Wrong again.

  One glance at Ashlyn’s dirty, frightened features and he’d wanted to kill someone. He’d barely leashed the urge, telling himself she’d soon be lying in his bed, naked, open to him. And while that had calmed him, it had not calmed the demon—had only managed to incite it further.

  Now Violence needed an outlet for its growing rage. For only then would Maddox be able to touch Ashlyn without fear of snapping that fragile little body.

  Body…Ashlyn…two words sure to arouse him when used in the same sentence. Luminous as she was, she was every fantasy he’d ever had come to life, and he planned to sate himself inside her, over and over again, taking her in every position imaginable and even some that weren’t.

  Soon she would want that, too.

  Desire had glistened in her eyes when she’d looked at him, and she had constantly reached for him, clearly hoping for some sort of physical contact. He’d even smelled her arousal, a perfume of passion, innocence and that delectable honey. He frightened her, though, and that fear overrode her desire.

  You should be happy that Bait fears you.

  Should, he inwardly scoffed. How he was coming to hate that word.

  Was she Bait, though?

  When he’d mentioned the four humans who’d followed her, she had appeared genuinely surprised. Horrified by his actions, true, but most women were horrified by war and carnage.

  More perplexing still, she had freely admitted to knowledge of the demons. He hadn’t tortured her for the information. Why would Bait willingly do such a thing? Why not pretend she thought he was human to lower his defenses?

  And so far, she had not tried to lead him from the fortress, nor had she tried to let anyone inside. But then, she hadn’t yet had the freedom to do so, he reminded himself. And she wouldn’t.

  What confused him most of all, however, was that she had tried to save him from his friends. That, he couldn’t rationalize away. Saving someone she’d meant to harm was ridiculous. She could have been harmed herself.

  She was a walking contradiction to his black-and-white world.

  Tomorrow he would deal with her true reasons for being here. Today, well, today was meant for other things.

  His boots clicked against the floor, the sound echoing from the walls. The entertainment room loomed ahead and he quickened h
is step. The spirit purred in anticipation as his bones ached for a fight.

  When he stood in the wide expanse of the doorway, he saw popcorn scattered over the floor and ground into the crimson rug. His trained eye spotted several splotches of dried blood. Obviously Reyes had been here. For once, the TV was switched off. Balls littered the surface of the pool table, as if someone had stopped a game midway through.

  But no sign of the men, not even Lucien. Where had everyone gone?

  Maddox stormed through the fortress, bypassing the luxuries they’d acquired over the years. The hot tub, the sauna, the gym, the makeshift basketball court. None of that would help him.

  He reached Paris’s room first and burst inside without knocking. The black silk-covered bed was rumpled but empty. The blow-up dolls Torin had purchased were sprawled in every direction, a rapt but useless audience. Whips, chains and a variety of sex toys Maddox couldn’t identify lined the walls. They weren’t in use, which meant Paris should be inside the fortress. Somewhere.

  Shaking his head, Maddox stalked down the hall.

  Fight. Fight. Fight.

  He tried to ignore the demon’s voice as he entered Reyes’s room. No Reyes, and no sexual toys. Instead there were weapons. All kinds of weapons. Guns, knives, throwing stars. There was a blue wrestling mat on the floor with more dried blood splattered over it. There was a punching bag, a few dumbbells. Several holes marred the walls, as if someone had punched the stone until it crumbled into sand.

  He would have to patch those up later.

  Fight, fight, fight.

  Lucien’s room was locked, and no one answered when he knocked. Aeron and Torin’s rooms were empty. Frustration rode Maddox’s shoulders. Black spots were beginning to wink in and out of his line of vision.

  Fightfightfight.

  He craved Ashlyn, but he could not have her until the urge for violence was tamped—and that could not happen until he found the men. All of which only made him angrier. He strode back into the hall, his biceps flexed, the blood rushing through them blistering hot.

  Fightfightfight!

  “Where are you?” he shouted. He punched the wall once, twice, leaving a groove identical to the ones he’d seen in Reyes’s room. His knuckles throbbed, but it was a good pain, a pain that made the spirit rumble happily.

  Maddox stopped and punched the wall again.

  He didn’t have a lot of time. Midnight would come again. Death would claim him. Before that happened, he had to lose himself in Ashlyn. Had to know every inch of her body, for the torment of not knowing was far worse than burning in hell each night.

  What if the woman doesn’t truly desire you? the demon taunted. What if she’s pretending to want you so you’ll give her information? What if she’s thinking of another man every time you’re near and her arousal is for him?

  Roaring, Maddox once more slammed his fist into the wall. More of the stone cracked and crumbled. She wanted him. She did. Do not react. Do not listen to the spirit.

  Violence shut its mouth, liking his vehemence, his sense of possession.

  “What are you doing, messing up the walls rather than fixing them?”

  Maddox heard the familiar voice and spun. Blood dripped from his hands, warm and invigorating.

  Aeron stood at the end of the hallway. Light streamed in from the windows, dancing over the man’s tough frame. One beam hit directly atop his dark hair, a bright crown that illuminated his decorated skin.

  As if it had never been stroked, never been eased, Violence howled to full life. Maddox pointed at his friend and scowled. “You left her down there.”

  “So?” The black demon tattooed on Aeron’s neck seemed to blink its red-rimmed eyes, awakening from a deep slumber. Saliva seemed to drip from its sharp-toothed mouth. “Did she talk?”

  “About?”

  “Her reasons for being here.”

  “No.”

  “Let me ask her, then.”

  “No!” She was frightened enough. An image of Ashlyn as she’d looked inside that cell flashed through Maddox’s mind. Her skin had been paler than the snow outside, the only color streaks of black-brown dirt. She’d been trembling. When that woman trembled, it should be from passion, not fear.

  Fight. Fight. Fight! chanted the demon again.

  “Where is she now?” Aeron demanded.

  “None of your concern. But someone is going to pay for the state I found her in.”

  His friend’s violet eyes—eyes identical to his, as if the gods had been too tired to create something different—widened in surprise. “Why? What’s she to you?”

  “Mine,” was the only answer he had. “She’s mine.”

  Aeron ran his tongue over his teeth. “Don’t be foolish. She’s Bait.”

  “Maybe.” Probably. He stalked forward. Seething…hungry…“At the moment, I don’t care.”

  The warrior stepped toward him, equally infuriated. “You should. And you should not have brought her here.”

  Maddox knew that, but he wasn’t going to apologize. He would do it again, if given the choice.

  “Take her back to town and figure out a way to wipe her memory,” Aeron said. “Otherwise, she’ll have to be killed. She’s seen and heard too much, and we cannot allow her to report to Hunters.”

  They were almost upon each other. Maddox hadn’t armed himself this morning, a fact that saved Aeron’s miserable hide. He would have thrown a dagger in the man’s dead, black heart had he been able. “I would rather hurt you.”

  The demon tattoo stretched its wings, fully awake now, and Aeron grinned slowly. “We do this, and you’ll have to patch up the mess.”

  “And you’ll have to clean it.”

  “Like I care. We going to get started or just talk about it?”

  “Oh, yes. We’re going to start.” Maddox leapt.

  Aeron did, too. They collided in midair.

  CHAPTER SIX

  PUNCH. GRUNT AND DUCK. PUNCH.

  Maddox landed a hard blow to Aeron’s cheek and the man staggered to the side with another grunt. But a second later, Aeron retaliated, lashing out with a strong left across his jaw. Maddox’s teeth rattled and blood filled his mouth, the taste metallic but sweet, quenching part of the spirit’s thirst.

  He was grinning as he kneed Aeron in the stomach. The warrior doubled over, wheezing. More. He needed to inflict more damage. Before Maddox could elbow him in the head, Aeron bolted forward with a savage growl, wrapping his arms around Maddox and tackling him to the ground. They rolled in a bid for dominance. Fists flew; knees knocked. Elbows slammed.

  Maddox hissed when Aeron caught him in the mouth again. He lost his smile, the inside of his cheek split. Another trickle of blood slid down his throat.

  “This what you wanted?” Aeron barked.

  He chop-blocked his friend in the throat, causing the other man to gasp and his skin to quickly color blue. “Is that what you wanted?” With Aeron struggling to breathe, he threw four more punches, all in the face. Crunch. Eye socket. Crunch. Nose. Crunch. Jaw. Crunch! Temple. No more Violence today, he chanted futilely with each strike. No more Violence.

  Are you sure? the spirit beguiled.

  Maddox’s eyes narrowed as he threw another punch.

  Kill him.

  “No!” he shouted, only then realizing he hadn’t tamed the demon at all. Not even a little. He stilled, panting for air, not knowing what else to do. He couldn’t go to Ashlyn like this, hungry for blood and even more on edge than he’d been.

  “Oh, yes.” Cut and bruised, Aeron snarled low in his throat and slammed his fist into Maddox’s right eye. Pain exploded in his head as the man’s rings nicked a vein. His vision was momentarily blackened. Something warm and wet gushed down the slope of his face and finally, finally, the sadistic voice quieted.

  Perhaps he needed the spirit beaten into submission. Happy to oblige, he splayed his arms wide, welcoming the next blow.

  Aeron did not disappoint. The warrior kicked him in the stomach and
Maddox sailed backward. The moment he hit the ground, Aeron was on top of him, strangling him, knees pinning his shoulders. Satisfaction blanketed the man’s face, but there were demons in his eyes, ugly demons, tormenting demons, so much more menacing than the tattoo on his neck.

  “Want more?” Aeron snarled.

  “More.”

  Punch. Maddox’s head flew to the left. Punch. His head flew to the right. Punch. The cartilage in his nose cracked.

  Hit me. Harder. Harder! With every blow, the spirit slunk deeper and deeper. Wrath against Violence, he mused, and Violence was cowed. The thought of vanquishing Violence was almost a sexual high. He smiled, thinking this must be how Reyes felt. Happy in pain, desperate for more.

  His teeth sliced into his tongue as another blow was delivered. His tongue swelled. Now I won’t be able to kiss Ashlyn, he thought.

  You don’t need to kiss her to fuck her, the demon lashed out, rearing its ugly head just long enough to send a lance of fury through him.

  Enough! He wanted to kiss Ashlyn. Wanted her taste in his mouth as she writhed against him. And he would have it. That’s all he had thought about while sucking back flames during the endless night.

  Another punch.

  “Aeron! What are you doing?” Maddox heard Lucien demand from across the hall.

  “Giving Maddox what he needs.” Punch.

  “Stop.”

  “No.” The next blow sank deeper and harder into his temple, rattling his brain.

  “Don’t stop,” Maddox said as Aeron backhanded him. A little more and the spirit might stay hidden for the rest of the day.

  “Stop,” Lucien repeated. “Now. Or tonight I’ll take you into hell with Maddox.”

  The punches instantly ceased. It was a threat Lucien could easily uphold.

  Aeron was panting; Maddox was, too. He almost reached out, grabbed Aeron’s wrist and forced the man to start again. He wanted, needed, more. He would take no chances. If he had to be beaten until he was too weak to do anything but crawl, he would let himself be beaten.

  He would not hurt Ashlyn.

  Not yet, at least.