The Darkest Surrender (Hqn) Read online

  The absolute best? Kaia had only to say, “I want a dagger,” and one would magically appear in her palm.

  No wonder Bianka had decided to shack up with a goody-goody. And really, Bianka would just have to take one for the team and do a little more of that shacking to convince Lysander to buy Kaia one of these. You know, so they could spend quality sis-time together. They were twins, after all, and Bianka needed her.

  “You started stressing the moment you got that text,” Strider said. “Five minutes after we got here!”

  That text. Ugh. Her stomach cramped as worry flooded her. Not that she’d admit it. The first Harpy Game, Tag, would begin in two hours.

  Team captains were too valuable to lose so early in the games and never competed in the first event. Instead, the four strongest, most violent members were chosen, and the captain merely prayed they survived.

  But though she was captain, Kaia had to compete.

  Last night, thanks to the cloud walls, she’d kept watch on her motel room. One after the other, Harpies from every other team had snuck inside, hoping to brutalize her. As if she would stay in a room she’d rented under her own name. Please. But that’s how stupid they thought she was. Worse, they would continue to come after her unless they were taught to fear her.

  That, she had learned from her mother.

  And so today she would teach them to fear her.

  The other three going in? Taliyah, Neeka—who Kaia had never seen fight, but Taliyah had recommended her, and Kaia trusted her older sis—and Gwen. Bianka was still pouting, but bottom line, Bianka was too damn sweet.

  Once, she’d BBQed another Harpy who’d trashed her appearance. Cool, right? Well, as the girl screamed and writhed, a guilty Bianka had raced off to fetch a glass of water for her. Who did that? Marshmallows, that’s who.

  “If you won’t sit still, at least tell Papa Stridey what’s bothering you.”

  There was that rumbling voice again, caressing her, seeping past her skin to fuse with her cells, becoming a part of her. It was clear the bud remained un-nipped. “I’m thinking that only prison rules are going to apply.”

  A laugh burst from him. “What does that mean? That you shouldn’t drop the soap? What, does round one involve multiple showerheads?”

  “Would you be serious?”

  He snorted. “You telling someone to be serious. Weird. But…” He sat up, his features lighting with interest. The sheet fell to his waist, revealing row after row of muscled strength. “Tell me round one involves multiple showerheads.”

  Her lips twitched, even as her mouth watered for a taste of him. “No, you pervert. No showerheads. I have to kill the biggest and the baddest my first day on the inside. That way, all the others will leave me alone.”

  “Smart. How can I help?”

  “By sitting in the stands and looking pretty.”

  “A given. But what can I do to help you win? That’s why I’m here, right?”

  As if she’d forget. He wasn’t here because he loved her, needed her, wanted to make something work between them. He was here to help her win that damn Paring Rod.

  He didn’t know about the Rod when he arrived. He likes you. You know that. Yeah, he liked her. Just not enough. She sighed.

  “Just…I don’t know, cheer me on.” Hearing him might strengthen her. It might also distract her, but they would find out together.

  “I can do that. You’re fun to watch.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  His voice had dropped, huskier than before, all kinds of innuendo in his tone. Her nipples tightened, and she had to jump to her feet and turn away from him to prevent him from seeing the evidence of her arousal.

  He’d watched her last night, when her Harpy had simply reacted to the threat around him, determined to protect him at all costs. He’d also watched her when she… She shuddered, remembering.

  Something had happened to her while she’d fought her mother’s soldiers. Something that had never happened before. She had burned. With rage, yes, but also with actual, literal flames. They had licked inside her, searing her cells, her organs, and leaving only ash. Or so she’d thought. Yet when she had stilled, she hadn’t noticed a single smear of soot on her skin.

  Now suspicions danced through her mind, adding to the already turbulent waters.

  Phoenix blood flowed through her veins, half of her genetic makeup. She’d met her father once, when he abducted her and Bianka, whisking them to the Land of Cinder. He—and all his kind, really—were utterly heartless, completely detached from emotion, as if any softer side was burned away in their constant fires. Not even her mother could compare, and that was saying something.

  Not only were they emotionally callous, they were physically formidable, too. Poison leaked from the Phoenixes’ fangs and claws. Their wings, which looked as smooth and delicate as the clouds around her, were actually tongues of blue flame. A single brush from those flames, and an entire building could be razed.

  There was a bright side, though. When a Phoenix burned something—or someone—the resulting soot was powerful enough to bring the dead back to life.

  Her dad had hoped his baby girls would be more Phoenix than Harpy, but the opposite had proven true, and he’d released them. After torturing them with his poison, of course. He’d scratched their biceps, just a tiny scrape for each of them, and they’d felt as if they’d been injected with a mix of acid, broken glass and Napalm. They had writhed and screamed for days.

  A true Phoenix wouldn’t have hurt like that, would have been immune to the toxin, which was why Kaia had never thought she’d develop Phoenix-like tendencies. But yesterday’s burning…could she have developed an immunity, and in turn taken on their abilities?

  “Yo, Kye. We need to beat feet,” Bianka suddenly called from the other side of the door.

  Kaia blinked, realized she still stood beside the bed, but now Strider towered beside her. She hadn’t heard him move, but there he was, his heat already wrapped around her, his scent strong and sweet in her nose.

  He gripped her forearms, his head tilting to the side thoughtfully. “Where were you that time?”

  “Nowhere,” she answered automatically. Her standard reply when someone other than her sisters asked her a question like that.

  Did she lose herself in her thoughts that often? If I weren’t so entertaining, maybe I wouldn’t—

  “Kaia!” Strider rolled his blues, and she noticed the pupils had gobbled up his gorgeous irises. He’d also loosened his grip, was now caressing the length of her arms with his fingertips. “We’re really going to have to work on your lying, baby doll.”

  Did he…could he…desire her? “Here’s an idea. You want the truth from me, you’ll have to buy it.” With kisses. Or orgasms. Whatever. Yes, he’d already offered to buy her artifact-stealing services with sex, and yes, that had pissed her off. But he hadn’t truly wanted her then. He might want her now, and that changed everything. Not about the Paring Rod, of course, but about them.

  His lips curved into a wicked smile. “Who said I wanted the truth?” He stopped the caressing only long enough to tweak her nose. “You’re cute when you lie.”

  She popped her jaw. Puppies and goldfish were “cute.” I’m hot, damn it. “I lie amazingly well. Just ask everyone I know! They’ve never been able to tell.”

  “Actually, I’m probably the only one who can tell you’re full of shit. I’m observant like that.”

  “And humble, too. Meanwhile, you need to work on your man-sluttiness.” She rolled her shoulders, lifting her forearms and thereby his hands, causing his knuckles to brush the sides of her breasts. Dear gods, that felt good, lighting her up inside.

  He flashed his teeth, as if he’d experienced a jolt of pain, and his nostrils flared with the force of his breathing. “And just how will we work on that sluttiness, hmm? In bed?”

  He did, she thought, dazed. He desired her. Why else would he mention a bedding when
she’d been hinting that he was too slutty? “I like the way your mind works. We should—”

  “Kye?” Bianka called, cutting her off. “You in there? I know you’re in there. Come. On.”

  “Yeah, Bee. I’m here, but I need a minute,” she screeched. She never removed her gaze from Strider. “We’ll continue this later. Okay?” Please. She needed his touch, his intensity. His everything.

  “Uh, no, we won’t.” One step, two, he backed away from her. His arms dropped to his sides, contact severed completely. “We’re gonna keep this thing platonic.”

  Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits, his beautiful face the only thing in sight. “Platonic? When you’ve had your tongue down my throat?”

  His eyes narrowed, too. “Fine. We’ll continue this later.”

  “Really?” Happiness burst through her—followed by dread. “I’m supposed to believe you changed your mind—” she snapped her fingers “—that easily? What’s your game?”

  “No game. Your argument was solid.”

  Happiness was renewed, and gods, look how beautiful the sun suddenly was, so big and bright above their cloud. “Well, all right, then. Later.” She tried not to smile as she skipped to the door and greeted her sister.

  STRIDER HADN’T KNOWN what to expect at the first competition and after the whole elementary school thing, he’d prepared himself for anything, everything. Or so he’d thought. Just then, he found himself drowning in shock and the ceaseless, excited buzzing of his demon. The little shit had never encountered so fervent a swell of competitive spirit and was currently bouncing around like a kid on a steady caffeine shooter diet.

  Strider sat in the bleachers of a high school basketball court, about a hundred other guys surrounding him. All were strangers except for Sabin, who occupied the seat on his left, and Lysander, who occupied the seat on his right. Most were human, though some were clearly immortal. He spotted the telltale pale skin of a vampire, the dark aura of a warlock and the reptilian grace of a snake shape-shifter. Unfortunately, he didn’t see the “him” Kaia had supposedly slept with.

  On the other side were the Harpies. While the men were quiet and subdued, the females were rowdy. They were jumping up and down on the steps, throwing popcorn and even cups of soda at the court. They wore tiny, tight T-shirts that ended just under the bra line—for those who were wearing bras. And shorts so short he spotted his favorite place on a woman—the sensual curve where bottom met leg—more than once. Yeah, he spied the center of paradise, too.

  “The Falconways are going down!” someone called.

  “You wish, Eagleshield. But then, you’ve always liked a woman on her knees.”

  “Please! You couldn’t satisfy a nymph if you were cranked on Viagra.”

  “Viagra only works on men, you idiot.”

  “Hello, you and your clanswomen have mustaches, so why not dicks, too?”

  Snickers, boos and hisses blended together.

  “And I thought my Bianka was…enthusiastic,” Lysander said. “I would never have guessed she was actually considered sedate among her kind.”

  Sabin snorted. “Come on. If you aren’t revved by the lesbian jokes, you’re gay.”

  Lysander’s dark gaze swung to Strider. “Are you revved by this?”

  Angels, man. “I’ve been on low simmer since we walked through the doors. In fact, I didn’t need the jokes to crank my chain.” What he didn’t mention: it was all because of Kaia.

  His “talk” with her—one he’d tried to postpone forever, but had swiftly realized the futility of postponing as she batted gloriously long lashes at him, all kinds of desire in her eyes—would happen sooner than even she had planned.

  He’d stood in front of her, breathing her in, absorbing her body heat, peering down at that pin-up face, and he’d wanted his mouth on her, all over her. One more taste. One more, and he’d force himself to return to the friend zone.

  “Lysander!” an eager female voice called from across the court. “Lysander! Over here!”

  Strider searched the raucous crowd for Bianka. He found her at the top of the bleachers, waving a candy bar in the air and grinning like a loon. Her silky black hair was divided into pigtails that bounced against her arms. Cute, until you noticed the smoking hot Catholic schoolgirl uniform she wore. “Cute” mutated into “heart attack waiting to happen.” A white button-up top was knotted under her breasts, a tie hanging between them. The short plaid skirt left a huge gap between her thighs and her knee-high socks.

  Made him wish Kaia had opted to cheer her team to victory rather than fight. In that getup, she’d look better than a heart attack waiting to happen. She’d kill him on the spot.

  No, he was glad she’d chosen to fight. He planned to use the needed separation from her to spy on the Eagleshields, maybe search their belongings. In fact, as soon as Tag began, he was out of here. And he wouldn’t feel guilty about that. Every man for himself.

  What if Kaia’s hurt? By her own admission, she would be throwing down with “prison rules.”

  A flash of red in his eyes, his fingers clenching on his legs. Kaia was a damn good fighter, he reminded himself. If he trusted anyone on her team to succeed, it was her.

  “Lysander!” Bianka called again. “Look up, baby. I’m over here!”

  “There are too many. I can’t find—Bianka?” Lysander’s jaw dropped.

  Guess he hadn’t seen her since they’d left the heavens. Then, she had worn a scarlet robe.

  “Lysander, did you see this?” Bianka turned and lifted her shirt, showing him—and everyone else—the panties she wore. They were neon-green with the words Property of Lysandy scripted across the ass.

  Lysander stood, as if to fly over to her, then caught himself and plopped back down. “Sweet Deity.”

  “Your woman wears underwear out in public,” Sabin said. “Must be nice. How’d you manage that little miracle?”

  “Only the Deity knows.”

  Great. Now Strider couldn’t stop wondering about Kaia. What kind of panties did she—or did she not—wear?

  The girl beside Bianka must have complained about the high-pitched tenor of her voice, because Bianka’s grin faded and she leveled the girl with a scowl. An argument ensued. Then, of course, the two leapt at each other in a tangle of flailing limbs.

  “She is magnificent, isn’t she?” Lysander asked no one in particular.

  “Sure,” Sabin said, distracted now. He was stroking the bullhorn at his feet. “So where are our girls?”

  Our girls. Strider liked the sound of that. He shouldn’t like the sound of that. “Don’t know.”

  Do you truly think Kaia can bring home the victory?

  The insidious voice filled Strider’s head. Male. Familiar.

  She might be killed…

  Oh, hell, no. “Sabin,” he growled. This time, he didn’t have to wonder about the speaker. As the keeper of Doubt, Sabin fed off the insecurities of those around him.

  “Sorry,” his leader replied.

  “Get your demon under control.”

  “Believe me, I’m trying. I don’t want him going after anyone on Team Kaia.”

  Win. She must win.

  And there was Strider’s demon, who—wait just a sec. She must win? Defeat had never cared about a victory other than Strider’s before. Why Kaia? Why now? Because her triumph was (perhaps) linked to the Paring Rod? Because the demon knew—and feared—the consequences of her failure? Because, she was…his? Their personal playground? He’d wondered before…

  Can’t think like that. He wouldn’t do what needed doing.

  To Defeat, he said, First, I plan to obtain the Paring Rod before the games end. Second, she’ll win. If she didn’t…he speculated about the likelihood of Defeat hurting him, even though the loss was not his own. Strider wouldn’t have protected her, as the challenge he’d already accepted demanded. So…

  Likelihood high, he decided. He should have talked her out of this. Whatever happened next was his fault.

&nb
sp; For once the prospect of the pain he might suffer held no sway. He simply didn’t like the thought of Kaia being harmed.

  “Lysander!” Bianka called, once again drawing Strider’s notice. Her fight with the other Harpy had ended with the poor woman draped over the back of the bleachers, unconscious. “Did you like them or what?”

  Lysander’s expression softened. “I did, my love. I liked them. I like everything you wear.”

  Pathetic, Strider thought. Just because a guy was in love didn’t mean he had to pussy up.

  Oh, look, there was Kaia! Strider jumped to his feet, waving at her to get her attention. He planned to tell her to be careful, but she was too focused on the happenings in front of her as she strode from the double doors leading into the gym. Her teammates flanked her sides. They wore matching uniforms of bloodred leather, the half tops crisscrossing in back to reveal their wings, the shorts fringed at the hem to allow for easier movements.

  Kaia’s red curls were pulled back in a ponytail that swung left and right. No elbow or kneepads safeguarded her. Damn it, he wished she’d worn pads. If the girls fought on that planked floor, they were going to lose some skin, and he liked her skin how it was.

  Win!

  I know. I heard you the first time, asshole.

  The Harpies in the stands noticed the incoming team and started booing. A frown pulled at Kaia’s lips, but she gave no other indication that she cared. Popcorn rained down, showering them, a few kernels even popping members of Team Kaia in the eye.

  “Hey, Millicent,” Bianka screamed down at one of the popcorn launchers. “I see you’ve set aside this special time to humiliate yourself in public. Your aim sucks!”

  A pretty blonde whipped around, hands fisted on her hips. “Hey, there, twin-half number one. Or is it two? I can never remember. You’re both just too insignificant. If I throw a stick, will you leave to fetch it?”

  “I am not a dog, you bitch.” Bianka propped her hands on her hips. “At least, your dad doesn’t think so. This morning he told me I’m the hottest chili pepper he’s ever had. You know, as I crawled out of his bed.”