The Darkest Night lotu-2 Read online

  "Did I hurt you?" Worse, "Do you regret?"

  "No and no." She smiled that radiant smile of hers, sunshine in the tenebrous recesses of night.

  "How are you still a virgin?" he asked, dazed.

  Slowly, her smile faded. Embarrassment clouded her eyes, darkening the brown to a churning black tempest. "I don't want to talk about it."

  "Please."

  She peered down at her feet, hiding the emotion, the storm. "I never should have told you to ask rather than demand. It's irresistible!"

  He would have to remember that.

  "Maybe I should have told you earlier, before we… But…"

  His stomach pitched. Should he want to hear her confession, whatever it was? Yes. Did he? No. Not now. He turned the water off and crowded her against the tile. He couldn't predict the spirit's reaction to being told this lushly beautiful creature had conspired against him. "Ashlyn—"

  "No," she said with a shake of her head. "Hear me out. Just promise not to hate me, okay, and try to understand that I can't help it." Pause. Shuddering breath. "Here goes. You're not the only one possessed by something you can't control. I hear voices. When I stand in a spot where a conversation has taken place, I can hear every word that was uttered, no matter how much time has passed." Her eyes landed anywhere but on him as she spoke.

  Maddox listened, shocked to the core. She hadn't admitted to Hunters or gods or a vendetta against him, but to voices. He knew, deep down, her words were not a lie. They were too complicated and too easily disproved; true Bait would have opted for something less refutable. More than that, what she described made sense, fitting several pieces of last night's puzzle together.

  Which meant she had tried to protect him earlier. Not for any ulterior motives, but because she had wanted to. Amazement flowed through him. Amazement and relief and joy.

  Now he understood why she hadn't been too brokenhearted when he'd admitting to killing those men. Most likely, she hadn't even known them. As he'd suspected, they could very well have hoped to capture her and use her ability to their advantage.

  His fingers itched for a knife; he wanted to kill them all over again. Calm down. They still could have worked for her Institute, and she simply hadn't realized it. No, that couldn't be right. They would have made themselves known to her, for they'd been close enough to hear and see her.

  "Why did you fear I would hate you?" he asked.

  "I hear secrets," she whispered. "It's hard to make friends, you know? The people who know what I can do want nothing to do with me and the people who don't know can't figure out how to deal with me."

  The loneliness in her tone affected him deeply. He understood. But even he didn't like the thought of her knowing—hearing—the violent things he'd done over the years. "What secrets of mine have you heard?" He tried to keep his voice light, but didn't quite manage it.

  "None. I swear." She gazed up at him with wide eyes. "When I'm around you, the world is silent."

  She'd said that before. He recalled the expression on her face when he'd first approached her. Total bliss. She'd been savoring the silence, just as she'd claimed. The knowledge humbled and baffled him, yet underneath both emotions was an unshakable pride. He had helped her. He, who was unable to fight free of his own torment, had somehow released another from hers.

  "You said you hear secrets. What have you heard about us?"

  "I've already told you. Most townspeople consider you angels. Some consider you demons. But all of them are in awe of you."

  "No plans to attack?"

  "Not that I heard."

  "Good." He splayed his hands around her waist, lifted and set her out of the tub. He climbed out beside her and palmed a towel from the cabinet. After wrapping it around her shoulders so that the material draped and warmed her, he grabbed one for himself.

  "Good? That's all you have to say to me?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  Surprise caused her mouth to fall open. "Well, now that I've told you, I'd like to call my boss and let him know I'm okay."

  Maddox shook his head. "I'm afraid that is not an option. No one can know you're here. For your safety, and for ours."

  "But—"

  "It is not up for discussion. The answer is now and always no."

  Her mouth worked open again, as if she meant to argue. But she merely said, "Fine."

  From her tone, he knew it wasn't. She probably planned to hunt up a phone the moment he turned his back. Women. For the first time, he understood what Paris meant when he uttered the word like a curse. He sighed. "I swear to you, Ashlyn, this is the best course of action for all involved."

  Turning away from him, she patted her arms dry. Her actions were a little too slow, a little too measured, as if her mind were far away.

  "What is wrong?"

  "Lots of things. I need to call my boss, and I'm going to the moment I find a phone. You can't stop me."

  "That is—"

  Now she cut him off. "And even you, an immortal, have to think I'm weird after what I just told you, so I don't know why you're denying it."

  He scrubbed the moisture out of his hair and wrapped the cloth around his neck. "You are not weird. I think you are beautiful, smart, courageous and most important, delicious."

  She anchored the towel around her torso, blocking his view. "Really?"

  Insecurity that strong had to have been beaten into her. He scowled, determined to kill whoever had wielded the verbal fists. "Really." Hands on her shoulders, he spun her around. Their gazes collided. "If you knew half the things that happen here, you—" He pressed his lips together. Damn, but he should not have said that.

  "You mean there's more than stabbings and resurrections?" she asked dryly.

  Much more.

  "So what are we going to do now?" She splayed her arms wide.

  Though he wished to spend the rest of the day with her, he knew that he could not. He still had duties, was still a warrior whose home needed to be defended, now more than ever. After ushering her into the bedroom, he dressed, gathered a shirt, boxers and a pair of sweatpants from the floor and tossed them at her. "Put these on."

  She missed every single item and had to bend to pick them up. With every movement, the white towel rode up her thighs. His cock hardened. Again. It should have been tired, but no. Not with Ashlyn. She excited him despite, well, everything.

  "There are a few things I must do," he said, more to remind himself than in response to her question.

  "And you're taking me with you?" she asked, tightening her grip on the bundle.

  "Yes and no."

  "What does that mean?"

  No sense in lying, he supposed. She would find out soon enough. "I'm locking you up with Danika while I do some…chores. That way, you will have company and there will be someone to tend you and call for me if you become sick again."

  First a look of panic shuttered over her face. Then anger. Her brows arched and the tip of her tongue traced the outside of her lips. "One, there's no need to lock me up. I said I'd stay. And two, you're telling me Danika is locked up? She's a prisoner?" The last word emerged as a screech.

  "Yes." Perversely, he hoped the affirmation would anger her further; he wanted to see that tongue again.

  "But, Maddox, you told me I was the first woman you had—"

  "I did not lock her up. Nor did I lie to you. Now, not another word. Please." If she asked him to release Danika, he would want to do it. He would want to go against the others and grant her request. "Get dressed, or I'll drag you from the room naked."

  Silently, she studied him. Silently, she begged him to… what? He couldn't tell. He said nothing. He couldn't. Time was not his friend.

  "What is it going to be? Clothed or naked?"

  She scowled at him, her first real show of temper, and offered him a view of her back. Motions stiff and jerky, she allowed the towel to fall to the floor. Elegantly sloped back… rounded ass… His mouth watered.

  "I should fight you on this, but I'm not
going to. Know why?" She didn't give him time to answer. "Not because you ordered it but because I'd like the chance to check on Danika."

  She quickly dressed, and he should have been happy those luscious curves were covered. No one else would be able to see her; no one else would have the chance to enjoy the view. But that also meant he wouldn't see, and he wouldn't enjoy.

  "They're too big," she said, facing him.

  She was right. The clothes bagged on her, but Maddox thought she looked delectable. He knew what waited underneath that material. He knew what waited for his touch—and his alone. "They're all I have. For now, they'll have to do."

  A thought arose. Torin had things delivered to a P.O. box all the time for Paris to pick up. Perhaps Maddox would have him order dresses like those he had seen on the television while watching one of those silly movies with Paris. Low cut. Maybe high heels, too, and some jewelry. And maybe the sexy—what did Paris call it?—lingerie Ashlyn had wished for.

  "We'll talk later," she said, stomping to his side. Not a question, he noticed, but a demand.

  "Yes?" He tried not to smile. "We will talk."

  "You're going to answer all my questions. No evasions." She stared up at him, eyes narrowed.

  Perhaps. "You had best behave while I'm gone. Remember how I told you it was dangerous to make me mad?"

  "What, you'll spank me if I'm a bad girl?"

  The provocative comment surprised him. Gods, where had this little firecracker come from? He'd seen her scared, shocked, sick, aroused, but not feisty like this. Amazingly, the spirit did not erupt at her defiance. Did not compel him to lash out. He thought perhaps it… No. Impossible.

  The spirit of Violence did not smile.

  "You don't want to know what I'll do," he said when he found his voice, "so do not tempt me."

  She rose on her tiptoes, her warm breath fanning his ear. The hard peaks of her nipples abraded his chest. He waited, unable to breathe as he anticipated what she would do next. He might not know where the firecracker had come from, but he knew she excited him.

  "Maybe I like tempting you," she whispered. She bit his earlobe. "Think about that while I'm locked away."

  He would. Oh, yes. He would.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ashlyn stared at the splintered door that had just been slammed in her face by Maddox, trapping her inside another bedroom. Another prison. Oh! That man was infuriating. He'd tenderly, wildly pleasured her in a way that should have embarrassed her—had embarrassed her until that first wondrous lave of his hot tongue—and then he'd become a warrior again, hard and harsh and determined.

  Yet still she'd desired him.

  He'd threatened to lock her away with another innocent woman—a woman he had already locked away. Shameful behavior, to be sure.

  Still she'd desired him. Had even bitten his earlobe and tried to tempt him to finish what they'd started in that shower. But he'd resisted, escorting her down the hallway and into this room, where he'd dumped her without a kiss or even a word.

  And still she foolishly desired him.

  She wanted him to hold her, to cuddle her as she'd always dreamed someone would. She wanted him to talk to her and get to know her. And then she wanted him to freaking make love to her! All the way, this time. Nothing held back.

  This desire she had for him was too strong and she didn't understand it. He was ruthless and cryptic and temperamental. He was spawned from hell itself. But he was also kind, caring and the best thing to ever happen to her body. Oh yeah. And he was silence. As if she could forget about that. Damn it!

  "Who are you?" a female voice suddenly asked.

  Pulled from her musings, Ashlyn whipped around. Danika and three other women, ranging in age from late seventies to twenty-something, peered over at her with equal measures of concern and fear. Dear God. Maddox had four women locked away? Was this to be an immortal's harem?

  Well, you do have the costume.

  Danika stepped forward. "She's the sick one. The one I—" she coughed "—healed."

  "Thank you for that," Ashlyn said softly, not sure what else to say to this stranger who wasn't a stranger.

  Danika nodded in acknowledgment. "You look better." Her gaze raked over Ashlyn before slitting with suspicion. "Miraculously better, to be honest."

  "I wish I could explain it, but I can't. Once the nausea passed, my strength returned. Seems those 'small pebbles' did the trick, after all."Ashlyn studied her, as well. "You look better, too. You've lost that lovely green tint."

  "Well, that was the first time I ever rode a man to fetch painkillers." Danika anchored her hands on her hips. "So what brings you to Castle Spook? Were you kidnapped, too?"

  Ashlyn wasn't given time to answer.

  "Who are these people?" a slightly older version of Danika asked. "What are they? Danika said one of them has wings."

  If they didn't already know, she wasn't going to be the one to break it to them.

  With barely a pause, the oldest of the group asked, "Do you know a way out?"

  All of the women closed in on her as they spoke, encircling her. They peered at her hopefully, as if she held all the answers and could save them from the vilest of fates.

  She held up her hands, palms out. "Everyone slow down." Kidnapped, Danika had said. Why would Maddox have done such a thing? "Are any of you hunters or bait?" Every time Maddox said those two words, there was disgust in his voice.

  "As in, do we hunt treasure? Bait a hook?" Danika's face scrunched in confusion, but there was a hard glint in her green eyes. "No."

  "As in, I have no idea. I was hoping someone here would know." Voices of the past began to edge their way into her mind. One conversation after another. "No. No, not again." She felt herself pale, heat evaporating from her skin, leaving only a cold, trembling shell. Breathe. Just breathe.

  "I think she's getting sick again," Danika said, concerned. "Can you make it to the bed?" she asked Ashlyn.

  "N-no. I just want to sit."

  Suddenly a pair of hands settled on top of her shoulders, easing her to the floor. Ashlyn went willingly, her legs becoming too weak to hold her up. Shuddering, she drew air into her lungs.

  They're going to kill us.

  We have to escape.

  How? Hysterical laughter.

  If we have to jump out the window, then we jump. They want to infect us with some sort of disease.

  We jump, we die.

  We stay, we die.

  The voices belonged to these women, Ashlyn realized. Every word they'd spoken in the room was going to play through her head. Damn it, she'd gotten used to the silence.

  Had assumed she'd have peace as long as she stayed out of the dungeon. Hopefully, they hadn't been here long enough to have too many conversations.

  I miss Grandpa. He'd know what to do.

  Well, he's not here, is he? We have to figure it out on our own.

  A buttered roll and a glass of apple juice were shoved under her nose. "Here," Danika said gently. "These might help."

  Who's talking? Who said that?

  Who are you talking to, Dani?

  Uh, no one.

  Ashlyn accepted both with shaky hands. On and on and on their exchange tumbled. Sometimes, as it had been in the dungeon, the conversations seemed one-sided. She couldn't hear who the women were talking to; she only knew they were talking to someone other than themselves.

  She heard Danika say, If—if I am a healer, will you swear to spare my mother, sister and grandmother? They haven't done anything wrong. We came to Budapest to get away, to say goodbye to my grandpa. We—

  But she didn't hear the comment before it. Or after. Why?

  The men were immortal, but she'd heard immortal creatures speak before. Vampires, goblins, shape-shifters, even. Why not the demons here? They had to be the ones Danika had been speaking to.

  Ashlyn nibbled at the bread and sipped the juice, trying to tune out each new discussion. She hummed. She meditated. The women attempted to engage her
, but she simply couldn't respond. There were too many voices vying for her attention.

  One by one, the women gave up. How many minutes or hours passed after that, she didn't know. So many times she almost called for Maddox, but she held the pleas back, biting her tongue until she tasted blood. He had chores to do, he'd said. Besides, she didn't want to be a burden. A nuisance.

  That's what you came here for, she reminded herself. To demand that these men teach you how to control your powers, even if it meant becoming a nuisance to them.

  But that had been before Maddox actually entered her life. Now she wanted him to be her lover (if he would, the jerk), not her nursemaid. Again.

  You hear a… a… voice? In your mind?

  Yes.

  And it's not your own?

  Maybe, probably. I don't know.

  Blessedly, the murmurings did stop, ending at the moment of Ashlyn's entrance. Relieved as she was, she had to admit she had learned several new tidbits of information. The first and most significant: Danika had heard of hunters—she'd told her family about them.

  "Hunters," Ashlyn said, lifting her gaze. Danika was looking out the room's only window, a window none of the women had been able to pry open. Ashlyn had heard them try and fail. "What are they? Don't lie to me this time. Please."

  Startled, Danika jumped and turned, hand over heart. "Better again, eh? Why should we trust you? You could be working for those men. They might've sent you here to learn something from us, and when you learn it, they'll storm inside and kill us."

  "True." After all, these women only knew she'd been sick and snuggled up to their enemy. "But you saved me. Why would I want you hurt?"

  Danika peered over at her but said nothing.

  "You'll just have to trust that I'm not here to trap you or hurt you. We're in the same situation, you and I."

  "But what about the angry one? Maddox. You're dating him."

  Dating wasn't exactly the word she'd use. Ashlyn tried to picture Maddox sitting across from her in some candlelit restaurant, drinking wine and listening to soft music. Her lips lifted in a smile. "Maybe. So?"