Lords of the Underworld Bundle (23 page)

She settled into his side with a sigh, curling her body around his, back to stomach. That she was comfortable enough to willingly lie with him like this delighted him. “I'm from the States. North Carolina, to be exact, though I spend most of my time traveling with the World Institute of Parapsychology.”

He flattened his hand on her belly and gently rubbed as he searched his mind for any reference to such an Institute. “And they are…”

“Interested in the supernatural. The unexplainable. Creatures of every kind,” she answered on a contented exhale. “They study, observe and try to keep peace between the different races.”

He paused. Had she just admitted to working for Hunters? Their hate-filled actions had always been carried out in the name of promoting peace for mankind. His brow furrowed in confusion. An odd thing to do, and certainly a first. “What do you do for them?”

She hesitated. “I listen in order to help find the creatures and any other objects of interest.” She wriggled uncomfortably against the mattress, no longer quite so content.

“What happens when you find these things?”

“I told you. They're studied.”

When she did not elaborate, he stared up at the ceiling. His confusion intensified. Studied, as in killed? Was this a secret warning, her way of letting him know she did indeed work for Hunters? Did she work for them and
not
know it? Or was this Institute harmless and truly aiming for peace between the species? “Do the people you work with have tattoos on their wrists? A symbol of infinity?”

She shook her head. “No, not that I know of.”

Truth? A lie? He didn't know her well enough to gauge. Every fanatical Hunter that had attacked the Lords in Greece—and even those in the forest surrounding the fortress yesterday—had been branded with a tattoo. “You said that you listen. What exactly do you listen to?”

Another hesitant pause. “Conversations,” she whispered. “Look, I thought I could talk about this, thought I
wanted
to talk about it, but I'm not ready. Okay?”

Violence sniped at that, and Maddox struggled to contain the demon. What was she hiding? “It doesn't matter if you are ready to talk about it or not. You will tell me what I want to know. Now.”

“No, I won't,” she said, stubborn again.

“Ashlyn.”

“No!”

He was very close to rolling on top of her, pinning her to the bed and forcing the answers from her. Only the knowledge that she was still sick, still weak, held him in place. But he
would
get the answer one way or another. “Beauty, I ask only because I want to know you better. Tell me
something
about your job. Please.”

Slowly she relaxed. “People who work for the Institute learn to keep quiet about their jobs. Not many civilians would believe what we do. Most would just consider us crazy.”

“I will not think you crazy. How can I?”

She sighed. “All right. I'll tell you about one of my assignments. Which one, which one,” she muttered, then clicked her tongue. “I know! You might appreciate this. A few years ago, I—uh,
the Institute
discovered an angel. He'd broken his wings in several places. While we doctored him, he taught us about different dimensions and gateways. That's the best part about my job—with every new discovery we learn that the world is a bigger place than any of us ever realized.”

Interesting. “And what does the Institute do with demons?”

“Study them, like I mentioned. Step in and prevent them from hurting humans if needed.”

Part of what she described meshed with the goals of the Hunters he had dealt with all those years ago, not to mention those he'd dealt with yesterday. The rest, well, didn't. “Your people do not believe in destroying that which they do not understand?”

She laughed. “No.”

Hunters did. Or had. At least, he thought so. So many years had passed since he had fought in that war that he sometimes had trouble remembering certain details. At one time, he knew he had understood why the Hunters wanted him and the others dead: they had done evil things, their abilities giving them the strength and longevity to do so forever if not stopped. But then the Hunters had killed Baden and his understanding had evaporated, for the demise of Distrust had divided the warriors. Half had craved peace, absolution and refuge, quietly relocating to Budapest. The others had sought revenge and remained in Greece to continue the fight.

He'd often wondered if the blood feud still raged and if the Lords who had stayed in Greece had survived these many centuries.

Maddox brushed a strand of hair from Ashlyn's temple. “What else can you tell me of this Institute?”

Frowning, she turned her head and stared up at him. “I can't believe I'm admitting this, but I think they plan to study you next.”

Now that did not surprise him. Whatever this Institute was, objective or war-hungry, they would be interested in the demons. But with Torin's sensors and cameras, they would never make it up the hill—and those that dared try would, in fact, be treated as Hunters, whether they were or not.

“They can
try
to study us, but they will not find it easy to do so,” he told Ashlyn. With her so near to him, her scent in his nose, he was catapulted deeper and deeper into sexual awareness. With every second that passed, he hardened a little more. She was soft and sweet. She was alive, feeling better with every second that passed. And she was his.

Suddenly he found himself eager to forget the Institute, not learn more about it. “I want you,” he admitted. “Very badly.”

Her lovely eyes widened. “You do?” she squeaked.

“You are beautiful. All men must want you.” He said the words and immediately scowled. If another man tried to touch her, that other man would die. Painfully, slowly.

Violence purred in agreement.

Ashlyn's cheeks colored again, reminding him of the roses he sometimes spied growing beside the fortress. She shook her head. “I'm too weird.”

The flat assurance in her tone caused him to frown. “How so?”

She looked away, saying, “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“I can't.” He traced his thumb along her jaw.

A shiver traveled the length of her body, followed quickly by goose bumps. She squirmed against him. Arousal suddenly scented the air, and his nostrils flared as he drank it in. “You want me, too,” he said on a low, gravelly rumble of satisfaction, forgetting his question and her refusal to answer.

“I—I—”

“Cannot deny it,” he finished for her. “So now I will ask again. Do you still wish me to take you home?”

She gulped. “I thought I did. Only a few hours ago, I thought I was desperate to escape. But…I can't even explain it to myself, but I want to stay here. I want to stay with you. For now, at least.”

His satisfaction increased, swimming through him, potent, intense. Whether she answered as Bait or simply as woman, at the moment he did not care.
I'll have her yet.

We'll have her,
Violence corrected, frightening Maddox with the fervor of its tone. We
will have her.

W
HEN
A
ERON AND
D
ANIKA
returned to the fortress, flying through the window and landing on the floor of Maddox's bedroom with a gentle tap, Ashlyn experienced a kick of amazement. So. She hadn't imagined it. The man really did have shiny black wings.

You wanted to meet others like you, Darrow. Well, guess what. You got your wish.

Immortal, Maddox had told her. Possessed. She'd suspected demons, so it didn't really surprise her that that's what they were. But wings? While trekking the hill, she'd heard about a man who could fly. She hadn't given the words much thought; she'd been too busy trying to block out the voices.
Should have known better.
Did that also mean one of the men could sift into the spirit world? One could mesmerize with a look?

She sighed. Maddox
had
mesmerized her with only a look. She'd been ensnared by him since the first, her constant lust as uncharacteristic as her rash decision to stay here.

“Here's the Tylenol,” Danika said, her voice shaky. “Well, the generic version.” Her skin was tinted green, and she swayed on her feet. She dug into an emerald bag and withdrew a red-and-white bottle.

Beside her, Aeron straightened his shoulders. His wings snapped closed, rolling behind his back, then disappearing altogether. He bent down, grabbed his shirt from the floor and tugged it over his head, covering the menacing tattoos that decorated his torso. He strode to the window and shut it before turning to Danika, arms crossed over his massive chest. He stood there, silent, observing.

“Thank you,” Ashlyn said. “I'm just sorry you had to go to such trouble to get them.”

Silent, Danika handed her two pills, which she gratefully accepted. Little aches and twinges still bothered her, and her stomach still fought a determined battle with nausea, though nothing like before.

Maddox swiped the pills from her hand before she could toss them into her mouth. He studied them and frowned. “Are they magic?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

“No,” she said.

“How, then, will two small pebbles help take away pain?”

Ashlyn and Danika shared a confused look. The men would have had to interact with humans over the years. How could they know nothing of contemporary medicine?

The only explanation Ashlyn could think of was that they'd never paid attention to a sick human before. Besides, only one of the men, Paris, had been seen in the city with any sort of frequency. She remembered that much from the voices.

Did Maddox keep himself locked away in this castle, then? Ashlyn suddenly suspected he did, and that made her wonder…did he ever feel forgotten? Untouched, unloved? Except for the kindness she'd known from McIntosh, she constantly felt that way herself at the Institute, where she was only as good as her ability.
What do you hear, Ashlyn? Was nothing else said, Ashlyn? Did they elaborate, Ashlyn?

Ashlyn realized she wanted to understand Maddox. She wanted to learn about him, comfort him as he'd comforted her. Maddox couldn't know it, and she wouldn't tell him, but every time he rubbed her stomach and uttered those sweet words of reassurance in her ear, she fell a little in love with him. Foolish and wrong, but unstoppable.

She should tell him about her own ability, but she'd decided against it the moment he'd shown such angry interest. She'd wondered: If Maddox was already angry without knowing the extent of her abilities, would he freak if he knew the truth?

Most of the people at the Institute had been uncomfortable around her, knowing she could divine their most private discussions simply by stepping into a room. Since she'd decided to stay here, weird place though it was, she didn't want to deal with that discomfort. For once, she wanted to be thought of as the normal one. Just for a little while.

Around demons, that shouldn't be too difficult.

She'd spill the truth soon enough. In a few days, perhaps. And maybe then she could learn to keep the voices at bay, even when Maddox wasn't around. Meanwhile, she'd have to find a way to call McIntosh. He deserved to know what had happened to her and that she was okay. She didn't want him to worry.

Hopefully, he was studying the fortress as she suspected and would see that she was happy. Hopefully, her happiness came before her job in his eyes.

“Take them,” Maddox said, pushing into her thoughts. He placed the pills in her open palm. “If they make her worse,” he added, looking sternly at Danika, “I cannot be held responsible for my actions.”

“Don't threaten her,” Ashlyn said with a shake of her head. “I've taken this type of drug before. I'll be fine.”

“She—”

“Hasn't done anything wrong.” Ashlyn wasn't sure where she acquired the bravery. She only knew it was there, unwilling to let Maddox bluster and intimidate.

He wouldn't hurt her, she knew that now—a fact she still had trouble grasping. Beyond the miracle of making the voices stop, this harsh man had tenderly seen to her needs. He hadn't bolted when she'd vomited, as most would have done. He'd stayed with her, caring for her, holding her close, as if she were precious.

As wonderfully as he might have treated her, however, Ashlyn didn't know what he was capable of doing to someone else. She knew what he
looked
capable of doing: any dark deed, every evil deed. But there was no way she'd let him hurt Danika, who had also helped her.

“Ashlyn,” he said on a sigh.

“Maddox.”

His fingers stilled, splayed on her stomach. Thankfully, he didn't move away. She could have rested in his arms forever. Truly, no one, not even McIntosh, had ever made her feel so special.

She only vaguely remembered her parents. They hadn't coddled her like this, either. Actually, they'd been more than happy to get rid of their crying, screaming little girl. A little girl who'd constantly begged for the voices to stop, never allowing the people around her to sleep or work or relax.

She'd known the very day they'd decided to give her away, though she hadn't understood at the time. She'd walked into their bedroom and the entire conversation had unfolded in her mind.

I can't take care of her anymore. She's too much to handle. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't
think.

We can't just abandon her, but damn it. I can't take any more, either. The crying never stops.

I want a normal life again, you know? Like before she was born.
Pause.
I did some research and found a place that could help her. I…called them. They want to meet her. Maybe, I don't know, maybe they can give her what we can't.

They'd sent her to Institute the day after her fifth birthday. There, she'd become known as “subject.” Needles, electrodes and monitors became her daily companions, not to mention fear and loneliness and pain. The day she became “Ashlyn” in the eyes of the staff was three years later, when they learned how to use her ability to their advantage.

That was the day McIntosh had stepped into her life.

He'd been an ambitious young parapsychologist, quickly climbing the ranks thanks to his vision, drive and sheer passion for his work. He'd accompanied her to every location the voices led her to, had even stood beside her while she listened, writing down everything she uttered.

Afterward, he would research what she'd heard and tell her of the results—like the time she'd heard about a vampire intent on draining an entire town. The Institute had been able to find and stop him, and eventually study him. Times like that, she
had
felt special, gifted, like the characters he read about every night.

“Ashlyn,” Maddox repeated. Their gazes locked and his eyes blazed with violet fire. “Say my name again.”

“Maddox.”

His eyes closed for a split second, and for that all-too-quick moment he wore an expression of utter rapture. “I like when you say it.”

She liked the joy he drew from something so simple. A shiver slipped along the ridges of her spine. But in the next flash—that all-too-quick moment now passed—his countenance returned to normal. That hint of pleasure vanished from his features, as if he didn't trust himself with the emotion.

“Danika will—”

“Get me some water,” Ashlyn finished for him. “For the pills.”

“Yes. I'll get it.” Danika picked up the empty glass from the floor. She stumbled into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled Ashlyn's ears, then Danika was standing beside her again, holding out the glass.

Once again, Maddox confiscated it. He aimed a suspicious look at Danika, then raised Ashlyn's head and held the cup to her lips. She tossed the pills onto her tongue and swallowed a mouthful of cool, refreshing liquid. Everything slid down her welcoming throat with only the slightest hint of soreness.

“Thank you,” she told them.

“It's done, then. I'll escort the girl back to Lucien,” Aeron finally said, his voice so harsh it nearly rubbed her eardrums raw.

“‘The girl' has a name,” Danika snapped.

“What is it? Lippy?” he muttered, grabbing her arm and tugging her from the room. Obviously, the man had no manners and no idea how to treat a woman.

If Ashlyn really decided to stay here, she'd have to fix that. “Wait!” she called.

They didn't.

“Is she going to be okay?”

There was a slight hesitation. “Yes,” Maddox said.

“Good,” she said, her voice echoing off the walls. That was the moment she realized she was alone with Maddox. Of course, that was also the moment she became aware of the awful taste in her mouth. God, she must look like roadkill, and smell worse. Mortification heated her cheeks. “I, uh, need to use the bathroom.”

“I'll help.” He scooped her up as if she were merely a bag of feathers, and stood. She wrapped her arms around his neck, his strength and warmth flooding all the way to her bones.

He carried her past the threshold and stopped in the center of the bathroom. Suspecting he meant to stay, she shook her head and fought a wave of dizziness. “I can do it on my own.”

“You might fall.”

She might, but there was no way she was going to let him stay with her, watching. “I'm fine.”

His expression was doubtful, but he said, “Call if you need me. I'll be waiting right outside the door.” He slowly inched her legs down the hard span of his body.

Her feet hit the floor and her knees almost crumpled.
I will not fall, I freaking will not fall.
She reached around Maddox and grabbed the doorknob, using it to hold herself steady. “Back up, please,” she said.

He did—but he didn't go happily. When he stood outside, she shut the thick, polished wood in his face.

“Five minutes,” he said.

She flipped the lock, muttering, “I'll take as long as I need.”

“No, you will not. In five minutes, I'm coming in whether you're done or not. The lock means nothing.”

“Stubborn.”

“Concerned.”

Sweet. With a half smile, she rinsed off as best she could and used one of the toothbrushes she found in the cabinet to clean her teeth. Twice she almost fell. She made use of the facilities, brushed the tangles from her hair, and decided, after studying her pale reflection in the mirror, that there was nothing more she could do for her appearance without spackle.

With one minute to spare, she unlocked the door and called for Maddox. Her voice was weak, but he threw open the wood as if she'd shouted. His expression was tense. She closed her eyes against the intensifying dizziness.

“You pushed yourself too far.” He
tsked.
Once again he scooped her up. He carried her to the bed and laid her on the softness of the mattress before easing down beside her.

She peeked at him through her lashes. More than treating her with care, Maddox was the first man ever to lie on a bed with her. The first man to desire her, really.

She'd tried to date upon occasion, but the voices had bombarded her every damn time. To quiet them, she'd attempted the deep breathing and meditation she'd learned. The men had always assumed she was ignoring them, hyperventilating or having a panic attack and had wanted nothing more to do with her.

Once, she'd even gone on a date with a colleague from the Institute, thinking he would at least understand her, if not sympathize. The next day, she'd heard his whispered conversation with another coworker.
Freak,
he'd called her.
Couldn't spread her legs with a crowbar.

After that, she'd given up dating altogether.

“Feel better?” Maddox asked. He drew her into the curve of his body, exactly where she wanted to be.