The Darkest Kiss lotu-3 Read online

  His jaw locked in irritation. Now is not the time to think of her.

  When is a good time?

  Later.

  He could almost hear Death clapping happily in his mind, and he didn't think it was because the demon was eager to take Anya's soul. He didn't understand why the demon cared to see her, but he had no time to reason it out.

  The Hunters were camped in the surrounding foliage and they had to be disposed of quickly, surely. Once, he had turned away from this war. Once, but not again. Everything the Hunters did, every move they made, was meant to harm and destroy his friends.

  Lucien hadn't noticed them this morning when he flashed to the island to look around before bringing the others here. But then he'd only been here a few minutes. Death had begun to pull at him, a spiritual pull that often became a physical tearing if he resisted for long.

  He'd ended up spending the day ushering one human after another to their final destination, only returning at twilight, at last able to search as he'd hoped and make sure all was safe for the others.

  That was when he'd caught a glimpse of the Hunters. He'd been shocked. Was still shocked. Not only because they'd beaten him to the temple, but also because they had rallied their forces so soon after the plague. Their determination was greater than he'd realized.

  Only a little while ago, they had walked away from the ruins and headed back to their camp. A camp they had hidden extremely well, using leaves as roofs and tunnels they'd either dug or found as shelter.

  How long had they been here? Whatever the answer, he already knew what they had planned.

  "We'll kill them all," he'd heard one of them say as they'd walked. Lucien had been in the spirit world, so they hadn't seen him.

  "Make sure they suffer first," another had cackled.

  "When those demons are locked up, I think I'll wear one of their keeper's teeth as a necklace. Every time they take a breath, exhaling their evil onto the world, it seems like someone I know or love is struck with sickness or misfortune, and I'm tired of it. If they'd been disposed of years ago, my Marilyn wouldn't have died of cancer. She'd still be here. I know it."

  "World won't be right until they're gone. They might have fooled the people of Buda into thinking they're angels, but history has proven otherwise. You guys see the portrait of Death in ancient Athens?" Shudder. "Not a single survivor."

  Block his words. Obviously they were searching for the box. For all he knew, they might already have found a trace of its location. He hated that they wanted it, but knew why they did. After they had killed Baden, the demon of Distrust had sprung from the lifeless body and even now wandered the earth, more crazed and destructive than ever before.

  That was when the Hunters realized they could not kill the Lords and their spirits. And so, to rid the world of both, they had to capture and subdue the Lords, then secure the demons back inside the box. If they found it.

  Time was more of an enemy than ever. Lucien flashed to the warriors, who were watching a movie inside the rented house, waiting for him.

  "Finally," Strider said, spotting him. "Was getting worried."

  "Hunters," he said, and they instantly sat up.

  Paris jumped to his feet, whipping up his weapons in a blink. "How many?"

  "I counted thirteen above ground. There could be more in their tunnels, coming and going. Since I can't watch more than one location at a time, my count could be off."

  Amun withdrew a semiautomatic from the waist of his pants and checked the magazine.

  "There is not going to be a bloodbath tonight," Gideon said with a grin.

  Rather than take a boat as originally planned, Lucien flashed them all to the island, one at a time. He would rather prance around Anya in a dress than wait. To everyone's amusement, Paris passed out during their journey and it took several minutes to revive him. Strider handled his first flash with ease, grinning the entire split second required to move from one location to another. Amun didn't show any reaction at all. As Reyes had once done, Gideon vomited but quickly pulled himself together.

  All the while, Lucien could feel Anya's eyes on him. The soul-deep burn had returned, stripping him bare. Death even started purring again.

  Knowing she was there caused Lucien's muscles to tighten with strain. Not because he thought she'd attack—he expected that, but didn't fear it—but because he could not forget how she felt in his arms. He could not forget the way she moaned when the hot tip of his tongue ran over her throat. The way her nipples hardened, begging for his mouth. The way her legs parted, welcoming him as close to heaven as a man like him could ever hope to get.

  Right then, he wanted off the island. He wanted her naked and in his bed. He wanted his hands on her body, and her hands on his body. Wanted his mouth between her thighs, and her mouth on his cock. He just…wanted.

  And he could not have.

  Concentrate! Crouching in moonlight and dewy foliage, water rushing all around, he muttered, "Do not interfere."

  "What?" Strider asked, confused as he crouched beside him.

  "Never mind." The moon was high and laced with golden ribbons, caressing the sand and greenery. Insects sang happily. He could have taken the Hunters down on his own. Simply flashed inside their tunnels and attacked, but he did not want to risk one getting away.

  "Are you sure they're Hunters?" Paris asked, squatting in the leaves on Lucien's other side.

  "Yes. I saw their marks." Every Hunter sect branded themselves with a symbol of Infinity on their wrists. "Infinity without evil" was their credo.

  Lucien did not consider himself completely evil. At one time, yes, he had been. His demon had constantly compelled him to take lives, not just souls, and he had. Gladly. But no longer. The desire to kill had thankfully been tamed. Now, he fought only for peace and protection.

  Regret struck him that he could not have more, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Were he merely a mortal, he would have married long ago. He and Mariah would have had a dozen children. He would have spent his days caring for his family and his nights loving his wife. And when he died he would have been welcomed into paradise.

  But he had not been created to enjoy life. He had been created to guard the god king and to defend the heavens. And then, once he and the demon had joined, even that had been taken from him. You deserved it, you know you did.

  "This could be a trap," Strider said, drawing his attention.

  "They did not know I was here, nor did they seem to be preparing for any type of battle."

  Paris gripped the hilt of a dagger. "How should we do this?"

  "We'll encircle their camp. On my signal, we'll rush the tunnels silently, locking them inside with no chance of escape. There are four entrances. I looked earlier. Paris, double with Strider and take the west. Gideon, the east. Amun, north. I'll take south."

  Each man nodded and silently obeyed.

  "Oh, goodie. A battle." Anya laughed softly, suddenly materializing at Lucien's side. She, too, crouched, every bit the warrior.

  He was instantly enveloped by that strawberries-and-cream scent. His blood heated—sizzling, blistering. "Quiet," he growled, refusing to look at her. That might prove to be his undoing.

  "Aren't you going to attack me?" she asked, and he would swear he heard a pout.

  "I have not the time for you right now." He meant the words as an insult, but they emerged dripping with disappointment rather than rancor. "We can fight later."

  "You've been neglecting me, and I don't like it."

  "You should be grateful for my neglect."

  "Don't flatter yourself." She didn't leave in a huff as he'd half expected. Instead, she shifted closer to him. "Can I help you fight the Hunters? Please, please, please, can I?"

  "No. Be silent." If the warriors heard him from their positions, they gave no indication. He could just make them out in the bushes, only the tips of their heads visible as they waited for his signal.

  "But I'm an expert fighter."

  "I know,"
he replied drily. His chest still ached where she'd stabbed him. Should have been illegal for a woman who looked like her to be so sexily bloodthirsty. And he should not have found that bloodthirstiness so attractive. "Did you tell these Hunters about the temple?"

  "Ugh. Why would I help the Hunters?"

  "So that they would kill me, and you would no longer have to worry about being killed by me."

  "I don't worry about that now," she said matter-of-factly.

  Gods save him. Had women always been this way? "What are you doing here, Anya? I left you because I needed space. Time. Is that too much to ask?"

  "Yes." She shifted in the grass, angling even closer to him. "I just…I can't get you out of my mind. I missed you."

  Hearing that was almost painful. A lie? "Anya."

  "No, no. Don't say anything. You'll only make me mad and then bad things will happen. Oh, my gods," she added with a quiet laugh. "I sounded just like you. Look, let me help. I won't get in the way. Swear. Scouts honor. Witches honor. Or whatever kind of promise you want."

  A gentle, salt-kissed breeze swept past them, and a lock of her hair brushed his cheek. He experienced an instant and unwanted hard-on as he swatted the silky strands away. "I told you to be silent. I need to study the land." Not that he could concentrate on anything but Anya as her hair continued to stroke him. "And for gods' sake, do something with your hair."

  "Cut it?"

  "Shave it." Sadly, he doubted even that would lessen her physical appeal. Concentrate! he reminded himself. The Hunters had been inside the tunnels for over an hour now. They'd had time to settle, to relax. There was no movement around the entrances, no hint of a watchman.

  "Really?" Anya asked with surprise. "You want me to shave it like that sexy warlord Vin Diesel?"

  Who was Vin Diesel? And why did Lucien suddenly want to slay him? Lucien popped his jaw. "Yes."

  "If I do, will you let me help tonight?"

  There was so much eagerness in her voice that he suspected she truly would do it, would shave her head completely bald. Obviously, her hair meant nothing to her. The complete lack of vanity surprised him.

  Why did that endear her to him even more?

  "No," he finally told her.

  "You're such a pain," she grumbled. "Well, guess what? I've already flashed inside those tunnels, and the Hunters have obviously been here a while. They even have prisoners."

  Every muscle in his body stiffened. "First, you went inside without my permission, endangering yourself and my purpose?"

  "Listen, sweetness." Anger now laced her voice. "Despite what you seem to think, I am a powerful being, and I choose whether or not to endanger myself. Besides, you should be happy I went inside. If I'd gotten caught, they could have saved you the trouble of taking my head."

  "Second," Lucien continued as if she hadn't spoken. He could barely get the words out, his throat was so constricted. "They have prisoners?"

  "Mmm-hmm. Two of 'em."

  Finally, he looked at her—and immediately regretted it. She wore a white gossamer gown with gold threaded throughout, and was even lovelier than he remembered. With the golden glow of moonlight crowning her and emerald plants framing her, she was an ancient queen straight out of a storybook.

  The top layers of her pale hair were piled on her head, the rest tumbling down and begging for his touch. Hard fists of desire beat through him. "Who are they?" he forced himself to ask.

  "Not a word about my appearance?"

  "No." Looking at you is like finally entering those gates to heaven. His chest tightened, nearly squeezing his heart to an agonizing stop.

  "Seriously, why do I bother?" she grumped. "I could weigh nine hundred pounds, smell like a sewer and wear garbage bags and I'd get the same response from you."

  "The prisoners," he prompted grimly.

  She shrugged one delicate shoulder and the wispy material of her robe fell to her elbow, revealing inch after inch of creamy skin. Was that…gods in heaven, it was. He could see the plump underside of her breast. He wanted to taste it so badly his teeth actually hurt.

  "What about them?" she asked. "They're humans."

  He was tempted to offer his own soul to Cronus if the god would spare her and allow Lucien to lick her. A single flick of his tongue. That's all he needed. Please. "And?"

  Her full lips curled into a slow smile. "They are people who might possess the very knowledge you seek. Don't ask me anything else, though, because I'm not telling. You didn't even comment about my dress and I went to a lot of trouble to steal it."

  "Stealing is wrong. But it is…pretty." An understatement. A lie. It was exquisite on her. Would look even more exquisite on his bedroom floor. Foolish thought. "Do they know about Pandora's box?"

  "I told you, I'm not telling," she huffed. "You weren't supposed to tell me it's pretty. You were supposed to tell me to take it off because I'd look better without it. Lucien, I swear to the gods I'm this close—" she pinched two fingers together "—to giving up on you. This close!"

  Do not consider her words. The prisoners knew something about the box, he would bet. Yes, much safer topic. Why else would Hunters have them locked up? His eyes narrowed on the tunnels. He couldn't risk hurting the captives. Not only did he want to protect innocent lives, but whatever knowledge they possessed, he wanted to possess.

  "You are so frustrating! I'd rather have you try to kill me again than have you ignore me."

  With a sigh, he peered at the surrounding foliage. The warriors were still waiting for his signal, most likely wondering about the delay. Without a word to Anya, he flashed to Paris and Strider, told them to be careful of the human prisoners and that he needed a few minutes more. Then he followed suit with Amun and Gideon. Except for the predictably silent Amun, the warriors grumbled.

  Then he flashed back to Anya. On top of her, to be exact, trying not to delight in the feel of her warm body pressed to his or the curve of her breasts against his chest when he flipped her over. You could have landed beside her. Yes, he could have; he just hadn't wanted to. This ensured she would not run. At least, that was the reason he gave himself.

  "Why you little…mmm." Her voice trailed off and she moaned in delight. Her eyes closed to half-mast, the lashes casting spiky shadows over her cheeks. "You want to make out?"

  Yes. "No. Wait here." He flashed to his bedroom in Budapest, her exasperated sputtering in his ears. During the seemingly endless span of Maddox's death-curse, they'd had to chain him to his bed every night to keep him from erupting into a fit of unrestrained violence, his control gone, his friends in danger.

  Maddox had wanted the metal destroyed once his curse had been lifted, but nothing they tried had melted or broken the godly links. Unable to get rid of them, refusing to use them on Aeron and afraid Hunters would find and use them against a Lord, Lucien had stored them in his bedchamber.

  Right now, he swiped them from the closet, pocketed the key and snapped two ends to his bedposts, leaving two ends open and ready. Determined, he flashed back to Anya. She hadn't moved, and he once again settled on top of her.

  When she realized he had returned, she wound her legs around his waist and laved her hot tongue up the length of his throat. "Whatever brought about this naughty streak of yours, I heartily approve."

  His cock surged, filling and swelling, catching him on fire. Suddenly he was desperate, needier than he'd ever been. The woman he craved and now constantly daydreamed about was writhing against him in truth, running her hands all over him, as eager for more as he was.

  One kiss. That's all.

  Whether he thought it or the demon spoke it, Lucien didn't know. He only knew that if he kissed Anya, he would not be able to stop. Kissing this woman had proved to be more arousing than making love to another. And even if the time and place were appropriate, he knew better than to indulge with a woman he would soon be forced to kill. Do not let history repeat itself. End this.

  "Lucien," she gasped. "Kiss me."

  "Soon," he vowed,
and it was the truth. Depraved as it was, much as he knew better and had just tried to convince himself not to, he would not be able to render that final blow until he'd taken her mouth again.

  Remaining on top of her, he flashed them both to his bedroom and onto the bed. When the cool mattress met Anya's back, he swiped up her hands and locked them inside the chains. Clink.

  She didn't protest as he'd expected.

  She glanced around, muttered, "Mmm, your bedroom. I've wanted an invitation real bad." Grinning, she arched her lower body into his—dear gods—and purred straight into his ear. The delicious sound blended with the demon's approving hum. "Is this a kinky new game?" She even bit his earlobe. "What happens in Buda, stays in Buda. Promise."

  His erection throbbed as pleasure, so much pleasure, drove into his skin, his muscles. A shiver stole through him, hot and hungry. Again his blood heated; more than burning now, more than blistering. It was lava in his veins, singeing every part of him with desire. His mouth was opening, preparing to ravage her with the kiss he'd promised her, promised them both, but once again he managed to stop himself.

  No contact. No kissing. Not yet. There were Hunters to kill.

  No falling for her, either. No craving more. Sooner rather than later, she would die. To be her lover, as well as her executioner, would make him as despicable as the demon inside him.

  "Aren't you going to play with me?" she asked in that husky voice of hers. "Aren't you going to kiss me? Soon is now."

  "Anya." He didn't know what else to say. His heavy weight pinned her down and her legs parted farther, causing him to sink deeper. He was still impossibly hard, and his erection was rubbing at her of its own damn accord, their clothing adding to the electric friction.

  She bit the cord of his neck and rocked into him, prolonging the contact. He gripped her hips to still her, and the action cost him dearly. He had to grit his teeth against the wild surge of denied lust.

  "I like this game," she said breathlessly. "Any rules?"

  "Just one," he forced past a clenched jaw.

  "Tell me." Her knees rubbed his sides, beckoning him even deeper.