The Dark-Hunters (770 page)

“Necrophilia?”

She steeled herself for the probability of his attack. “I’d kill myself before I let you touch me.”

Seth went completely still at those words as they struck him harder than a blow and took him straight into the past.
You rotten piece of filth, you’re beneath me.
She didn’t say that, but her tone and indignation implied it. Suddenly, he was a young man again, being laughed at for his ineptitude.

Rebuffed.

Humiliated.

Not good enough even to keep.

He felt now, just as he’d done then. Raw and sore from a truth he couldn’t help. He hadn’t asked to be born, and he damn sure hadn’t asked to be immortal. He’d tried to be decent. Once. And what had it gotten him?

Tortured for centuries.

His anger ignited and it took everything he had not to strike her and knock her from that gilded pedestal where she looked down her patrician nose at him.

But the one truth he knew better than anyone—the truth that had been spoon-fed to him until he’d gagged on it—was that words were far more painful than physical strikes. They were always what lingered long after the cuts healed and the bruises faded.

Verbal blows cut to the soul and ate at the heart for eternity.

“Don’t flatter yourself, woman.” He raked a sneer over her body. “I’d rather masturbate with flea-infested sandpaper than touch you.”

Lydia was momentarily stunned by his crude and vivid insult. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. “Then why am I here?” Nothing else made sense.

He answered her question with one of his own. “Why did you come for Solin?”

Why did he think? “Because he was in trouble and he needed someone to help him.”

“You would risk your life for him?”

She scoffed at his ridiculous question. “I think that answer is obvious. I’m here, aren’t I?”

That seemed to confuse him all the more. “But why?”

“Why what?”

His scowl deepened even more. “Why would you risk your life to protect his?”

She realized that he honestly had no concept of what she was talking about. It was as if they were speaking entirely different languages again. “Is there no one you protect?”

Proud, he straightened his stance. “Myself.”

“And…”

Vivid emotions played across his features. Surprise, thoughtfulness, shock, and finally he just looked even more confused. “No one. Sentient creatures are treacherous at best, cruel at worst. None are worth a drop of my blood or sweat.”

Well. That was that, then.

He was a demon, through and through. No soul. No ability to value or love anyone except himself. Why would she expect anything else here? “Then that tells me all I need to know about you, doesn’t it?”

He arched a thick painted black brow. “What does it tell you?”

“That you’re a bastard.”

He didn’t smile, but she could tell that insult bitterly amused him. “Aren’t we all?”

“No.” She lowered her voice into an adamant tone. “No, we’re not. Not by a longshot.”

He curled his lips into a sinister sneer that had probably given countless people nightmares or strokes. “Then you’re a fool. Solin has already left you. He didn’t even look back for you when I freed him.”

Yeah, right. She knew better. “You’re lying to me.”

He held his hands up to form a mist. There in the middle of it, she saw the room Solin had been in. A room that was now completely empty. “You see? He’s gone and yet you remain, even though he knows I’ll most likely torture and kill you for being here.”

The demon was lying about her … She refused to finish that thought in case he was in her head. Solin would never do such a thing. She knew that for a fact. “Then he had a good reason for leaving me.”

“Yes, he traded your freedom for his.”

She shook her head in denial. “I don’t believe you. Not a single word and not for a single nanosecond.” And she didn’t, even though her animal instincts said he was telling her the truth. She had faith in Solin.

She would always have faith in him.

Seth was amazed by her steadfastness to someone he was sure didn’t deserve it. The only thing he held that much belief in was the willingness of others to hurt or sacrifice him for their own whims, personal gains, and pleasures.

How could anyone her age be so stupid and blind?

Suddenly, he heard Noir calling for him. But for her presence, he’d wince. He knew what his overlord wanted and he knew how the bastard would react when he disappointed him with his report.

Again.

This was going to leave a mark …

But he had no choice. To make Noir wait would only worsen his punishment.

Sighing in resignation, he manifested food for the woman on top of his desk. There was no point in making her starve when he didn’t know how long he’d be gone this time.

His gut tightened into a knot that choked him. Not from fear, but dread.

“I’ll return.”

Lydia started to ask where he was going, but he left too quickly.

Grateful for his absence, she tried again to find some way out of here. There were no windows. No closet. Just this one room and nothing else. How weird …

“What do I do when I have to go to the bathroom?”

Not that she had to right now, but …

A loud swoosh behind her made her jump sideways. She turned around to see a door in the wall. Her heart pounding, she ran to it, hoping it led to a hallway.

What was there actually startled her more. It was a huge, gleaming bathroom with a marble steam shower and a claw-foot tub. The bright decadence seemed out of place with the austerity of the bedroom. Obviously this was where the vain bastard spoiled himself.

She rocked the door back and forth as she considered its appearance. Was that how things worked here? You asked and … “I want to leave.”

Nothing happened.

C’mon. Don’t do this to me. You know you want to let me out of here.
She tried again. “Where do I leave? What do I do when I have to leave?” Maybe the key was in the phrasing.

But again she was disappointed when no door appeared.

You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?

A jackal could hope.

Speaking of which, she tried to turn into one. But even that innate ability was taken from her. She was as good as human.

How horrible. Not that being human was bad, but she didn’t like the feeling of vulnerability. She liked having her powers. All she had left right now were her heightened senses.

At least you have something.

Oh, goodie. Lucky me! Maybe tomorrow I’ll win Shirley Jackson’s Lottery.

Yeah, that would be her luck.

“But I do have a voice now.” She couldn’t resist saying that out loud. It was so strange to be able to speak after a lifetime of silence.

The last time she’d spoken …

She flinched at the horror that had cost her her voice. Her mother had stolen it from her to keep her safe. In the end, she wished her mother had let her scream and die with the rest of them.

It would have been a far kinder fate. Especially if the demon did to her what he’d done to Solin.

Wanting distraction from the past that hurt too much to even contemplate, and the future that wasn’t looking any better, she returned to the bedroom, where the warm pleasant scent of food beckoned her to the desk.

She pulled back the ornate silver lid to find a strange assortment. Fried bananas? Ironically, she loved them. Could he have picked that out of her brain? That thought actually scared her. She didn’t like the idea of anyone reading her thoughts.

The other dishes made a little more sense—pastries and some kind of fried meat pie. There was also an abundance of fresh fruit and wine. Enough to probably feed her for days.

It all looked scrumptious, which begged one question. “Is it poisoned?”

With a demon, there was no telling. Though to be honest, if he wanted her dead, he certainly didn’t have to resort to that. He could most likely kill her with his thoughts. And definitely with his hands.

Surely the food was safe.

Taking the empty plate, she filled it, then sat down to eat in the lair of her enemy.

*   *   *

“Well?”

Seth despised that one word with a furious passion. It ranked right up there with eye-gouging, gutting, and castration.

He wasn’t afraid of Noir. Merely, he knew what the bastard was going to do to him when he answered, and he dreaded the coming pain.

Just don’t geld me
 … Sex was the only source of remote pleasure he could have here. Sadly, he’d hate to lose it.

“I’m close, my lord.”

Noir hissed like a snake that was gearing up to strike. “Close? Is that not what you told me two days ago?”

No, I told you to leave me alone to question him, King Moron, and you sent me on so many effing errands that I haven’t had more than an hour to question him in over forty-eight hours.

Seth ground his teeth to keep from saying those words that would have him castrated. He forced himself to keep his gaze trained on the floor at Noir’s feet. If he looked up, Noir might pluck his eyes out. But what he really wanted to do was beat the shit out of him.

If only he could. Without his powers, he wouldn’t get in a single punch before Noir would have him pinned. And because he’d tried that enough times, he knew exactly the punishment for
that
particular stupidity.

“I have finally found a way to break him. I will have it for you very soon.”

Instead of placating Noir, it sent him off into a homicidal rage. “Tell me truthfully, does it hurt to be that stupid? I just have to know. Really? I would think by now you’d have learned what I do to failures.”

Seth braced himself as pain exploded throughout his entire being and his armor vanished. As soon as he was naked, Noir blasted him through the stone wall behind him. He landed in a painful heap on the floor where he tried to catch his breath, but it was impossible to breathe through the throbbing agony. Noir rapidly closed the distance between them and pulled him up by his throat, choking him in an iron grip. There was no missing the evil gleam in Noir’s eyes that said this wasn’t about punishment.

It was all about pleasure.

Yeah, it’s going to be a really long night.

CHAPTER 4

Lydia walked a circle in the bedroom that she’d memorized every detail of, right down to the design of the cracks in the floor. She’d eaten and then started pacing for what had to be hours and hours …

If not a whole day.

Frustration made a bitter lump in her throat. How could she—

The air stirred behind her.

She turned, ready to fight.

The demon was finally back. But something was wrong. The jackal in her could sense it even though he stood there as proud and fierce as he’d been before.

Tense and nervous, she waited for him to do or say something.

Like her, he didn’t budge as they sized each other up. The weight of that frigid, frightening steel gaze sent a shiver over her …

What was he going to do?

Seth held his breath as he silently debated what action to take. It was stupid to be here while wounded. He knew that.

His room had always been the one place in hell he could retreat to that was safe from everyone except Azura and Noir—there was no way to keep them out.

But with her here …

What are you bitching about? You’ll be abused regardless.
At least she didn’t have her powers. There was only so much pain she could give him.

With the others …

It would be limitless, especially after his payback.

I have no place else to go.

He would have rather locked her up before he passed out, but Noir had drained him completely after he’d finally grown tired of beating him. Seth was so weak now. So sick. It was a wonder he’d made it back here at all.

Don’t fall, damn you, you worthless piece of shit. Don’t you
dare
show a weakness.
He was steadfast in spirit. But his body refused to cooperate. Against his will, his legs gave out and he hit the floor so hard, he was surprised he didn’t break the stone. He tried to stay conscious. To crawl toward his bed.

His body wouldn’t even give him that much. It was too tired and too sore.

Against everything he tried, the darkness took him under.

Lydia stepped back as she watched him lying on the floor in a giant metal armor heap. Was it a trick?

Why would it be? What could he gain by falling down in front of her?

Still … demons in Azmodea were treacherous. Evil. One never knew what viciousness they were capable of. Not until it was too late and they were on you.

Ever cautious and curious, she crept forward, ready to bolt if he grabbed her.

He didn’t.

It wasn’t until she knelt down that she saw the blood seeping into his like-colored hair, as well as on his armor and face. In several places, the blood ran from underneath the steel plates and dripped onto the stone floor.

He’d been beaten. Viciously. No, savagely. The blows had smeared the white paint and the red and black lines on his face, showing her that it was makeup after all and not his skin tone.

What do I do?

There was no one to call for help. And in the back of her mind was the fear that if he died, she’d die too. No one knew where she was. Probably not even Solin.

Crap.

Just how badly was he injured? The answer was obvious—bad enough that something as lethally ferocious as he, wasn’t conscious. Given what she’d seen of him, that seemed to be an impossibility.

Yet here he lay as still as a dead man. And there was already a pool of blood forming underneath him.

She reached for the buckles on his armor and began removing the heavy pieces. And they were heavy—like lifting lead planks. How could he walk around in them and not fall over? No wonder he was so massively huge. He’d have to be to support it all.

Beneath the armor he wore a black, thinly quilted suit that must be padding to keep the metal from bruising his skin. Carefully, she peeled it back to examine his wounds.