The Darkest Warrior Read online

  Unhampered by a need to fight fair, he slammed his knee between Hades's legs. Testicles, enjoy your meet and greet with your master's throat. As the king hunched over, gasping for breath he couldn't catch, Puck coldcocked him in the jaw.

  Hades stumbled back, his infuriated bellow echoing through the realm. When he straightened, his gaze landed on Puck and narrowed.

  As Puck's stab wounds healed, he checked his cuticles. Huh. They could use a trim.

  Now Hades laughed a sound of genuine amusement. "You think you've got me beat, do you? Hate to break it to you--who am I kidding? I love to break it to you, just as I'll love breaking you. I was winning battles when you were soiling your diapers. You cannot defeat me. Especially when I know Indifference better than you ever will."

  A taunt meant to elicit fear, and knock Puck off his game? Too bad.

  Utilizing the preternatural speed he'd been born with, he closed the distance and punted Hades in the stomach. The king stumbled, and Puck dived at him, knocking him down.

  They toppled. Midair, Hades attempted to claim the superior position--and failed. Boom! Impact. Air gushed from the other man's lungs, momentarily rendering him immobile.

  Puck suffered no such impairment and took full advantage, yanking a razor from his hair and slicing through his opponent's eyes, temporarily blinding him.

  With a roar, Hades whaled on Puck, shattering his cheekbone, jaw and trachea. He'd experienced worse a thousand times over and fought through fresh waves of searing pain, repeatedly swiping at the king's face. Blood poured from multiple lacerations.

  At the same time, Puck used his free hand to steal back the dagger Hades had stolen. But the king expected that action, too, and angled the blade to slash through Puck's palm. Flesh and muscle tore. Bone cracked.

  Hades power-drilled a fist into his jaw. Newly healed joints dislocated. Stars winked through his vision and more waves of searing pain joined the party. But not by word or deed did Puck reveal it. He simply maneuvered to his feet and slammed a boot into Hades's nose, shattering cartilage. A reprieve. He forced his jaw into place. Better.

  When he raised his foot to deliver a second stomp, Hades caught his ankle and flipped him over. Upon landing, Puck flipped backward and glided to his feet a good distance away.

  "I can do this all day," he said. "Come. Give me your worst." He gave an exaggerated wince, a taunt. "Or did you give me your worst already?"

  Standing with far more grace than anyone should exhibit after taking a foot to the face, Hades offered him another amused laugh. "You want the girl, fine, she's yours. Because, no matter what my son thinks, she isn't the one for him. According to Keeleycael, he'll die if he weds Gillian. So. Tomorrow, I'll keep him busy, allowing you to do a little romancing. Or a lot of romancing. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You're going to have to work a lot for a little tail. Bond to her--it's the only way to save her--and take her far away from here."

  Marriage to Gillian would cause William's death? Interesting. Maybe that was why Puck had to wed the one the underworld prince would live or die for, so that William survived long enough to dethrone Sin.

  Maybe Gillian would cause William's death after Puck returned her.

  Not my problem. Once William fulfilled the prophecy, Puck didn't care what happened to him. But he kept his lips zipped. No way would he admit he planned to take Gillian away from William only temporarily.

  Let Hades think what he wanted to think. He--

  Bond to her, he'd said. Not marry. The only way to save her.

  Realization and shock hit Puck with enough force to topple an elephant. Bonding would unite their souls, allowing Gillian to draw on his strength and finish her transition into immortality. She would be more than his wife. She would become his other half.

  Mine!

  Slight problem. As weak as she was, she might act as a siphon and drain him completely, killing them both. An outcome William must fear. Otherwise he would have bonded to his ladylove already, aye?

  Worth the risk.

  He would propose, and she would agree, if only to save William heartbreak and guilt--or stop him from taking the same risk. She wouldn't want to jeopardize the life of her precious.

  Advantage Puck.

  Her unrelenting loyalty to the male should have pleased Puck--it would ensure his victory. So why was he grinding his teeth and squeezing his fists so tightly his knuckles attempted to tear through his skin?

  Didn't matter. Potential dilemma: divorce would no longer be possible. Separation would mean death.

  William would never agree to--

  Puck sucked in a breath. The shears. Of course. He could use Ananke's shears to free Gillian from their bond, allowing her to return to William alive, free of her husband's claim.

  Every action dictated by the Oracles had a reason, and finally those reasons made sense.

  Puck readjusted his tasks. Bond to Gillian. Escort her to Amaranthia. Return for William.

  Bond. Escort. Return.

  Cold grin back in place, Hades saluted him. "Excellent. I see the wheels turning in your head. I'll leave you to your schemes. Good luck, Pucker. You're going to need it." After blowing him a kiss, the underworld king vanished.

  Alone, Puck stared up at Gillian's balcony, waves of determination spilling over him, antagonizing Indifference all over again.

  Inhale, exhale. Hades had promised to distract William tomorrow. Puck didn't trust him. Or anyone. Sin had taught him better. But doubt and worry were currently beyond him. He would continue on, as planned, and whatever happened, happened. He would deal.

  What he wouldn't do? Give up.

  Lass, you're as good as mine.

  7

  Puck spent the night appeasing Indifference by refortifying every layer of ice around his heart and mind. Feel nothing, want nothing. War before women, always.

  When next he faced Gillian, he would be ready. Her beauty would not affect him, nor would possessive instincts lead him.

  So it was decided, so it would be.

  As the sun rose, Puck positioned himself in a bank of shadows, watching as Hades tried--and failed--to convince William to leave the realm. Hours passed, the sense of impatience returning.

  Time wasn't his friend. Time was not Gillian's friend.

  Finally, Hades told William he had a lead on a cure for Gillian, and William happily abandoned ship, granting Puck an opportunity to meet with Gillian unencumbered. Unless the king of the underworld intended to ambush him?

  No matter. I'll be ready.

  Puck prowled through an oasis of palm trees, his gaze locked on his target. She lounged on the beach in a cushioned chair, a wispy white canopy providing shade. Already she'd lost weight she couldn't afford to lose. The shine in her hair had dulled, and the lovely tint of rose in her cheeks had abated.

  How much time did she have left?

  Protective instincts surged. Ice cracked as his butterfly tat traveled from his shoulder to his thigh.

  Breathing deeply, searching for calm, he closed in on Gillian. A golden sun set in the horizon, painting the sky with a rainbow of different colors and reflecting off the water--and her eyes. Such a beautiful, tranquil setting, perfect for seduction. He almost smiled. William had set the stage for his own downfall.

  Around her, eight armed guards.

  Only eight?

  My future wife--rephrase. The girl deserves better. Must teach William the error of his ways.

  "Do you need anything, Miss Bradshaw?" one of the guards called.

  Bradshaw--one of her aliases. Did William not want anyone to know her true identity?

  "No, thank you," Gillian rasped, her voice little more than a whisper.

  So weak. So close to the end. Crack, crack. If the demon were to take out Puck before he'd secured a bond with her... Must act faster.

  Moving at a speed neither mortal nor immortal could track, he felled the first four guards. As the others realized an enemy lurked nearby, weapons were cocked. Too late. Puck de
feated them just as easily and swiftly.

  Brushing his hands together in a job well done, he stalked to Gillian's side. The scent of poppiberries filled his nose, deliciously intoxicating and as magical as home, urging him closer, closer still, and--

  Snarl.

  Puck nearly lost his footing. And I considered myself prepared? The girl wielded some sort of strange enchantment over him, able to do in seconds what most people couldn't do in months: affect him.

  Spotting him, she gasped. Then she looked down, as if she couldn't bear the sight of him. Panic radiated from her, the very emotion he hadn't wanted her to feel--and he hadn't yet spoken a word!

  Why would she fear his presence when he hadn't hurt her last time? Why would--

  Her gaze darted to him, lingering on his loincloth, before she once again looked away.

  The material was damaged, frayed, and revealed more than it concealed. Easily remedied.

  Should he remedy the situation, though? Perhaps she feared her reaction to his body. Perhaps she liked the sight of him too much.

  A man could dream.

  In a blink, Puck returned to a fallen soldier, stole a shirt and fit his arms through the holes. The man's pants were too small. Every pair of pants proved too small. Very well. At least the shirt was long enough to cover his shaft as it grew...and grew.

  As he returned to Gillian, he buttoned the lapels, not realizing until too late that he'd aligned the two sides incorrectly.

  "Better?" he asked.

  "Did you kill them?" she demanded in her broken voice, ignoring his question.

  He settled next to her chair and peered out at the water, giving her a moment to adjust to his presence, doing his best to convince her--and Indifference--that he wasn't aware of her every move. "I merely put them down for a nap. But I can slit their throats, no problem. Just say the word."

  Her wish, his command.

  "N-no. Please. No." She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

  Upset by the thought of a few murders? Adorable. "Very well, then." See how accommodating I can be, female? I'm perfect for you.

  As she studied him more intently, taking his measure, her panic receded. Excellent. He stole a quick glance at her face to judge how long it might take to get her from calm to intrigued--the way he'd left her during their last visit--and frowned.

  She wasn't just calmed. She was grateful. Poor lass. How low were her standards for male decency?

  Not that Puck cared. Of course he didn't care.

  "Why are you here? Truly?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

  He needed an excuse, something believable yet interesting, perhaps even steeped in truth rather than lies. "I told you I am the keeper of Indifference, and that you can help me. You can help me feel." Or rather, feel without consequence. Once Puck had claimed the Connacht crown, killed Sin and united the realms, he would risk using the shears on Indifference.

  "I promise you," she said, utterly earnest, "I can't make you feel anything."

  You already have. More than anyone else ever had.

  As necessary for my goals as she is dangerous... One day, he might be better served to kill her.

  This! This was the danger of the ice.

  Unaware of his thoughts, she shifted to be closer to him, reminding him of a kitten seeking more warmth. How he longed to reach out, comb his fingers through her hair, trace his knuckles along her jawbone and bask in her softness.

  Bask? Me? Resist her allure. "You can. You will," he said, dismayed by the huskiness of his tone. He should have no problem remaining detached.

  Time to lie. "I was told your situation is so sad, I'll come to care. And I so want to care..."

  The fairer sex liked bad boys--or rather, projects--who melted for only one special woman. Don't you see, lass? You are the only one with the power to save me...

  "Who told you this?" she asked. Her gaze took on a faraway cast, as if her mind had wandered even as she next spoke. "And why would you want to care? Take it from me. Caring for someone else is highly overrated." She fretted her bottom lip. "Do you care...about anything?"

  He pretended to mull over his thoughts, and sighed. "Not even a little." Though she appeared lost in her thoughts again, he added, "The Oracles in my home-realm are the ones who told me about you. And I want to care because it is my right." More truth, harder tone, the words escaping unbidden. Caring without punishment was a right for everyone, human and immortal alike.

  If she heard the last part of his speech, she gave no notice. "Do you ever feel?" she asked, something akin to envy pulsing from her, and confusing him.

  "Only very rarely, and then..." He pursed his lips. There was no good reason to tell her about the weakness the demon inflicted upon him, and every reason to keep the info secret. Knowledge was power, and Puck would never willingly grant someone else power over him.

  "Lucky," she muttered. She was envious of him. What a strange creature.

  But then, she didn't know the price of an apathetic existence. How she would lose loved ones and friends, hearth and home. How her favorite foods would become tasteless. How living would equate to surviving. How beloved hobbies would no longer spark joy. How sex would leave her empty and hollow.

  "Lucky? Lass, I could set you on fire. As you screamed in agony, I could watch you burn, only interested in the warmth of the flames on a chilly night."

  "Okay," she said, her calm acceptance of his unintentional admission surprising him, "maybe lucky was too strong a word." Once, twice, she stole a glance at him through the thick fan of her lashes. "Are you going to set me on fire?"

  "No." In an effort to tease her as heroes often teased their heroines, he added, "I left my matches at home."

  Success! The hint of a smile curled the corners of her Cupid's bow mouth, as if she found him adorable.

  Desire heated his blood and hardened every muscle in his body, earning a snarl from Indifference. Puck's hands curled into fists.

  For his plan to work, he had to stop responding to her every word and action, and fast.

  A cool, salty breeze tumbled across the sands, and Gillian shivered. Still feverish?

  Want nothing, need--

  Screw it. Then. That exact moment. Puck became indifferent to the demon, to punishment, to any consequence he might have to face. Trembling with the need to care for his future wife, he removed his shirt and draped the material over her dainty shoulders. As she curled into the garment's warmth, a shocking jolt of satisfaction nearly unmanned him. He savored it, his mind robbed of any defense.

  Satisfaction...how he'd missed it. Not just sexually, but in a job well done. A war well fought. Give me more. I need more.

  SNARL.

  Puck stiffened. Perhaps he should leave, take time to regroup and return when he'd successfully rearranged his priorities. Yes, yes. That was exactly what he should do. As he made to stand, however, Gillian's gaze dropped to his chest and lingered, and Puck wanted to roar with pleasure. Without conscious thought, he found himself switching gears...and settling more firmly in place. Perhaps he'd stay a bit longer.

  "Thank you," she muttered.

  For the shirt? "You're welcome." Anything for you, lass. Trust me...

  Guilt pricked him--I want her trust, but do not deserve it. Still, he ruthlessly slashed the emotion to ribbons.

  "So, uh, how did you go invisible?" she asked. "When you fought the guards, I mean."

  "I didn't. I moved too quickly for you--or them--to track."

  "That's nice."

  Merely nice? "My skills are legendary." Bragging now? Hoping to impress her?

  She licked her lips, as if gearing up for an argument. "To acquire such skill, you must have lived a long time. You probably know all kinds of facts about, say, a supernatural disease...like morte ad vitam."

  Ah. She'd overheard the term and now searched for answers. To tell or not to tell?

  "What is morte ad vitam?" she asked when he remained silent.

  He stroked his jaw, thic
k stubble greeting him. "Is that what's wrong with you, then?"

  "Yes. Every doctor agrees." She gulped. "What does it mean?"

  Tell, he decided. "You were given a potion. Your body is trying to evolve, trying to become immortal, but it isn't strong enough. Now there's only one possible chance for survival." He paused for dramatic effect. "You must marry...bond with an immortal and link your soul to his."

  Hope lit her eyes. Blink. The hope was gone.

  "But even that isn't a guarantee," he continued. "You could drain his strength and kill him. Or worse, make him human."

  First she displayed shock. Then horror, acceptance and fear. Finally disgust. His confusion returned, redoubled. Why disgust? Didn't females dream of wedding a strong man who would offer lifelong security?

  The fear he understood and expected, even as a part of him resented it. She recoiled at the thought of endangering William's life.

  Lucky William, to have a woman so concerned with his well-being that she would do anything, even die, to save him.

  Die...to save another man... For a moment, Puck saw red. Literally. My wife will be loyal to me, and no other!

  Indifference roared with displeasure.

  Inhale, exhale. Proceed with caution. So close to crossing the finish line. Inhale. Good, that was good. Exhale. The crimson haze faded from Puck's gaze.

  "Well, that sucks," Gillian muttered, oblivious to the turmoil she'd caused. Gaze faraway again, she began to babble. "I had no idea...thought immortals were created fully formed or born from other immortals."

  "Immortals are born in more ways than one."

  She blinked rapidly, attention returning to him. "How much time do I have before..."

  "Considering your current condition, I'd say another week, maybe two." At most.

  "Bummer." Her nose scrunched up, creating adorable little crinkles on the sides. "I'll never get to do the things on my bucket list. If I had a bucket list, I mean."

  "Perhaps you should make one. I can help." His first suggestion: bond to a beast.

  Her head canted to the side, her whiskey eyes once again admiring. "Why would you want to help me with that, of all things?"

  Somehow, her scrutiny made him feel less like a monster and more like a man, as if she didn't see what he was, but what he could be.