Lords of the Underworld Bundle (104 page)

Even as he spoke, Doubt continued to fill Stefano's head.
She could be leading the Lords to the third artifact even now. If they find the box first, there will be no way to contain the demons. Sabin will live, and you will one day die.

Stefano's eyes narrowed, the hand holding the gun shaking. “Stop that!”

Sabin blinked innocently, fingers secretly wrapping around his blade. “Stop what?”

“Stop filling my head with those poisoned thoughts. Is that what you did to Darla? Is that how you killed her?”

“She killed herself.” He had to be careful. He didn't want to strike Stefano and cause the man to shoot him in the face. That kind of wound could maim him for eternity. Maybe even kill him. “You look as if your head is about to explode. Anything I can do to help? Like tell you you're working for a demon?”

Stefano's lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. “Play dumb if you desire. In the end, it won't save you and it won't save the girl. And don't try to sway me with your filthy lies. My leader is an angel and our cause ordained by the heavens.”

Sabin saw the muscles in the man's finger twitch and knew the Hunter was only a heartbeat away from pinching the trigger. Angry as he was, he probably didn't care about keeping Sabin alive any longer.

His next words confirmed it. “I don't care what happens to your demon when you're dead. I want you gone. Punished. Once and for all.”

Nope, he didn't care.

Sabin summoned a reservoir of might, twisted and rolled—and none too soon. A pop echoed, a bullet whizzing past his shoulder, burning, cutting, but thankfully not lodging. Before his opponent had time to squeeze another shot, he jumped up, kicked out his leg and connected with Stefano's ankles. When the man stumbled to the floor, landing with a thud, Sabin booted the gun out of his hand.

Somewhere in the background, he could hear the scuff of shoes against marble. Enemy? Or ally?

Stefano scrambled backward. So badly Sabin wanted to stride forward, slam his palm into the bastard's nose, cut his neck,
something.
But the last of his strength had all but deserted him. He was panting, still dizzy, and his muscles were clamping down on his bones, holding him immobile. He could only wait, praying it was his friends who would round the corner.

“We aren't finished,” Stefano spat, standing. He looked down the hallway and paled.

Thank the gods. That meant it was Sabin's friends who were headed their way. Or one of them, at least. From his periphery he saw Gideon, who was in the process of raising a gun.

“Sabin,” Gideon called. “Shit! I'm not here for you, man.”

Obviously seeing no other exit, Stefano raced for the window and dove out. Unless there was a mat waiting for him on the ground, he would die when he hit. He was giving up? That easily?

Gideon didn't stop and check on Sabin. He leapt past him and rushed to the window. Sabin grinned weakly.
Trained him well,
he thought, black falling over his vision. His knees finally gave out and he slid to the ground.

“I totally believe what I'm seeing. Fucker was
not
caught by our favorite friend and his feathered wings.”
Pop. Pop.
Gideon emptied his gun until there was a
click, click, click.
“Great! Nailed him.”

Sabin blinked until his eyes cleared, the immortal responsible for his torment coming into view. There Galen was, long white wings outstretched and flapping delicately as he hovered just outside the window. He was tall, strong and as handsome as ever—as if thousands of years hadn't passed.

He was grinning.

Sabin thought he'd been prepared to see the warrior. Or as ready as he could be, given the shock of Lucien's revelation tonight. He wasn't.

“Now you know,” Galen called, his voice as charismatic and empowering as Sabin remembered. “Now the real fun begins.”

They were the last words Sabin heard before crumpling into oblivion.

T
HREE DAYS
. Three damn days since Danika and Reyes had left the fortress. They'd traveled on and off, going from plane to stolen car to train, never remaining in one place for long. Just in case. Neither of them wanted to lead Hunters to her family. And as much as it stunk to be on the run again, it was a thousand times better because Reyes was at her side. Surly as he was.

They hadn't spoken much. He barked an order every now and then—duck, run, be quiet—but that was the crux of their few conversations. She hadn't seen any Hunters, but that didn't mean anything and she lived in constant fear and dread. As usual.

They slept in cheap motels, always in the same room but never in the same bed. Sometimes, at night, after he'd fortified every exit of their motel room with extra locks, Reyes would barricade himself inside the bathroom. Like now.

Eyes narrowed, Danika peered at the closed door. She lay on a full-sized bed, the small, dingy room cast in shadows that were interrupted every so often by car lights streaming through the stained red curtains. She'd kicked off the stiff, starchy comforter and had propped herself against the headboard. Waiting. Reyes had been inside that bathroom for half an hour.

Oh, she knew exactly what he was doing. The knowledge didn't disgust her, it…saddened her. Why did he no longer desire
her?
Why did he not come to
her
for relief from his demon?

Because he thought she was some silly artifact?

“Dummy,” she muttered.

He and his friends kept in close contact. From the one-sided conversations she'd managed to “accidentally” overhear as he whispered into his cell phone—would have helped if she'd possessed Ashlyn's ability to listen to any conversation—she knew Hunters had indeed attacked the fortress. Stefano had escaped unscathed. A few Lords had been seriously injured but were thankfully healing. Oh, yeah. And they wanted her to paint. Breathe, eat and paint. That's all they wanted her to do.

A few months ago, that might have made her happy.

Reyes had given her a sketchbook, which she'd used every morning to purge herself of her riotous dreams. Dreams more violent than ever as demons clawed at the jagged, flame-drenched walls of hell. When she finished, Reyes would tear the pages and have her fax them to Lucien. She didn't know if the drawings had helped their cause. No one would tell her a damn thing.

“'Cause I'm just the lowly painter girl,” she grumbled.

The bathroom door creaked open. Reyes had turned off the lights, so she saw only his shadow as he strode out. The scent of sandalwood was laced with the metallic tang of blood, and both wafted to her. While she couldn't see his features,
she
was bathed in moonlight and his to peruse. She felt the intensity of his gaze boring into her, sliding over her.

His heat—oh, she missed his heat. Since being with him, she hadn't experienced any more of that mind-numbing cold. Still. Was it too much to ask of him to keep her well supplied in his mega hotness? Apparently.

“Worried about your family?” he asked, settling on the pallet he'd made on the floor.

She'd called her grandmother's friends. They still denied seeing the woman, and she believed them. “No. They're fine. Maybe I'm crazy, but I've convinced myself they're fine. I
am
excited about seeing them tomorrow. Thank you for finally relenting, by the way.”

“I did not relent for you. I relented because I have seen no sign of Hunters.”

“Whatever. I'm still grateful.”

One minute after another passed. He didn't move. No sound—not even the whisper of his breath—rose from that floor. She hated the silence. It allowed her mind to wonder and churn, worry about what Reyes was thinking, fret about what would happen in the coming days, lament the fact that she'd once wanted only one night with Reyes but would now beg for another. And another.

The more she smelled Reyes, the more she desired him. The more her blood rushed and the core of her throbbed. “Distract me,” she said, scooting down the mattress to lie flat. She pulled the sheet up and it rasped against her hardening nipples. She barely stifled a moan. “Please.”

“How?”

“I don't know. Tell me something about you.” Had she asked that of him before? She couldn't remember.

“I thought you did not wish to know anything about me.”

Oh, yeah. “I changed my mind. I'm a girl, I can do that.”

Another minute of silence, then, “I do not want to play this game, Danika.”

Something she'd noticed about him. He called her Danika when he wanted to keep distance between them. He called her angel when he wanted to draw her closer. She missed being called angel.

They'd had sex all those days ago, and it had been wonderful. She wanted, needed, more. Of him. Only him. He was an addiction. He'd believed her about not helping the Hunters when other men might have thought her disloyal. He'd rushed her to safety, covering her body with his own when gunshots blasted. He'd given her a taste of the paradise she sometimes painted, gently rocking her to orgasm.

Now, she wanted wild. Hard and rough. Yes, she'd once thought she would be too disgusted to participate in such an act. Thought she would not be able to hurt another being like that. Right here, right now, she knew better. There was nothing more satisfying than meeting a man's—your man's—needs. Being the one to please him completely, give him utter relief.

A few times on their journey, she'd tried to broach the subject of sex with Reyes. She'd even reached out and brushed her fingers through his hair, over his jaw and down his chest. The first time he'd stopped her by walking away. The second he'd snapped a terse warning.

“I can't sleep,” she said. “Talk to me about
something.
You've obviously been around a long—long—time.” Okay. Now her frustration was showing. She'd basically called him an old man. “Surely you can regale me with some type of history lesson.”

She thought she heard him snort.

Her lips twitched. “Not up for the challenge?”

“Tell me something about yourself first. How did you support yourself? In your old life.”

Old life. Seemed an eternity ago. “I did portraits and murals. I was never rich, but it paid the bills. My mom was disappointed at first. Painting is how my grandmother earned a living for most of her life, and they wanted something different for me. Medical school, law school. Something more…important, I guess.”

“Painting is important. It adds beauty to the world.”

“Thank you.” His words endeared him to her all the more. “My grandmother tried to kill herself once. Said her paintings were driving her insane. But then, after the unsuccessful attempt, her creative well dried up and she never painted again. That well must have sprung inside me, because I began having the dreams a few weeks later. Her life became peaceful and mine, though I was only a child, turbulent. I guess that's why I always understood my mother's reluctance to let me pursue the arts.”

“What happened to your father? Did he stay home when you traveled to Budapest or is he…had he…”

“Died? No. He walked out on us a while ago. Started another family.” The loss had devastated her. She'd considered him a god. At the very least, a good man with a kind heart. But he'd abandoned her as if she'd meant nothing to him. “My mom told me his midlife crisis kicked in.”

“I am sorry.”

“After that, my grandparents—my mom's parents—stepped in and helped my mom raise us. My grandpa became a second father to me, which is why his death nearly destroyed me.”

“You have known much loss in your short life.”

“Yes.” And she didn't want to lose Reyes, too. She'd tried to prevent it, had fought against it, but somehow he'd come to mean the world to her. “Your turn to tell me something.”

A pause. Then, “Give me a moment to think.”

She rotated to her side. Again the sheet rasped against her, reminding her that a very handsome, sensual man was mere inches away.
Still. I'm wearing a T-shirt and surrounded by cotton. My body shouldn't react as though I'm naked and being draped by silk.
But the heat was spreading, infusing her every cell.

“Tell me about your other girlfriends.” That ought to put a damper on her arousal. Then she realized exactly what she'd said. “By other,” she rushed to say, “I don't mean that I'm your current girlfriend or that I've ever been your girlfriend.” God, could this conversation get any more embarrassing?

A sigh pushed from him, and Danika would have sworn she felt that minty breath all over her sensitive body.

“I tried to keep females. Two of them.”

Two? The whores!
Whoa, girl. Bring it down a notch
. “Keep them? What do you mean?”

“Have a relationship,” he clarified.

“What happened?”
Did they fall down a flight of stairs and break their ugly faces?
Jealousy was so not a good look for her, she decided.

“After a few weeks in my bed, they began to lash out at everyone they encountered. I mentioned that before, but did I tell you they laughed while doing it? Tripping people—innocents. Pushing, scratching, punching. Even cutting.”

She detected a note of guilt in his voice. “And you still think you made them that way?”

“I know I did.”

“Maybe that was their nature. Maybe you just helped them unleash their true desires. Maybe you were subconsciously drawn to that type of woman, knowing they would not find your tastes…unappealing.”

More silence. Then, “Maybe,” he said, and there was hope in his voice this time, the guilt completely overshadowed.

Hope. She wouldn't ponder the merits of it. Not tonight.

“Your nature is gentle,” he added as an afterthought, “yet the very day we were reunited after months apart, you bit me.”

“I was furious with you and scared for my family.”

“Or Pain influenced you, luring you to attack me.”

“Or I was furious and scared,” she said again.

“As I said, your nature is gentle.”

“Nope, sorry. I hate to disillusion you, but I've always had a volatile temper.”

“I do not believe you.”

“No,” she said. “You believe me, you just don't
want
to believe me. Why is that? Don't want to admit we might be more alike than you're comfortable with? Don't think you'll like who I really am?” Ouch. Just the thought sparked an ache in her chest.

“I like who you are. I am just scared of who you are. Sweet, passionate, giving, caring. And yes, a little wild. I want you more than I've ever wanted another.”

Sweet Jesus. Words to melt the coldest of hearts.

“Tell me of your boyfriends,” he commanded. The words lashed at her.

“You told me you never wanted me to discuss them.”

“I changed my mind. I am a man, I'm allowed to do that.”

She laughed. Gold star for Reyes for throwing her words back at her.

“Have you ever…loved a man?”

“No.” Did she love Reyes? What she felt for him was so much more intense than anything she'd ever felt before. The fervent wanting and the craving and the softness inside her…. Shit, shit, shit. “But I've dated,” she forced out. “A lot.”

“What do you mean by
a lot?
” Some of the fierceness had left him. At least he no longer sounded ready to kill anyone who even glanced in his direction.

“A girl has to kiss a thousand frogs before she finds her prince, my sister used to tell me. I took that to heart and used to go out with anyone who would ask me. And just so you know, I was
not
easy.”

“Easy?”

“You know, doing the naked tango with anyone who expresses interest.”

Another almost snort. “Rest assured, I know you are far from easy.” Then, “Did someone
call
you easy? If so, I will—”

“Reyes, stop,” she said, unable to keep the laughter from her voice. His fierceness had returned full force. “No one called me easy.” She loved that he was willing to destroy anyone who might have, though. “I just wanted to make sure
you
knew. I've only dated a few guys seriously.”

“Shall I kill them?”

“Why, Reyes, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.”

Danika thought she heard him chuckle.

“I have never been in love,” he said, surprising her.

Suddenly she felt like singing and dancing. He was hers, had always been hers. “Not even before you were possessed?”

“Not even before.”

She tried to picture him as he must have been hundreds, thousands, of years ago but couldn't. “What were you like? Back then?”