Lords of the Underworld Bundle (85 page)

Hunters didn't want that. Oh, they wanted the demons sucked out, but not until they found Pandora's box. As yet, no one was close to finding it. Not even the Lords.

So they'd sent Sienna into his cell. She had ridden him hard, just right, just the way he liked, and he'd regained his strength—more than usual, in fact. For the first time since his bonding with Promiscuity, he'd gotten hard for the same woman twice.

Paris had decided to keep her. Punish her, yes, but keep her for the rest of her life all the same. Because for the briefest of moments, he'd thought he'd found a woman who could save him. He'd no longer cared that she was a Hunter and that she thought the world would be a better place without him and his friends in it. He'd only cared about finally, blessedly having the same woman over and over again. Savoring her, learning her. Maybe even loving her.

He'd foolishly assumed they were meant to be together, that the gods had at last decided to relieve his inner torment. He was tired of searching for a new woman every day, tired of making love without really loving, not remembering who he kissed and touched, never really discovering what they liked or didn't like because there were so many faces, bodies, preferences and requests swimming in his memories.

So he'd escaped that Hunter prison with Sienna at his side. Like an untrained soldier, he'd allowed her to be shot. Not once, not twice, but three times.

She'd died in his arms.

Should have protected her.
Weeks had since passed, but Paris couldn't scrub her face from his mind. Could no longer get hard unless he thought of her.

She wanted me.
She hadn't
wanted
to want him, but want him she had. She'd been dripping wet as she slid down his swollen shaft. Despite everything, ecstasy had glazed her eyes. Over and over she had moaned his name.
His
name. Not another man's.

Despite their differences, they could have been happy together.

“But no. I allowed her own people to snuff her out.” He laughed bitterly. “Some warrior I am. My fault, all my fault.”

“What's that?” his companion asked, her voice sleep-rich. She rolled toward him, hand flattening on his chest.

Shit. He hadn't meant to wake her. Didn't want to talk with her.

Paris threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood, dislodging her.

“Hmm,” she said. “I like the view.”

Motions clipped, he gathered his clothing from the floor. There were blades strapped on his arms and legs, and he didn't bother trying to hide them. They had turned the woman on.

She purred his name.

He ignored her and dressed.

“Come back to bed,” she beseeched. “I want you again. I need you.”

Similar words had been said to him a thousand times, would probably be said a thousand more by a thousand others. The thought made him cringe. “I need to go.”

She huffed in disappointment. “Please stay. I need to start my day right, and having you inside me is oh, so right.”

At the moment, he couldn't even remember what she looked like—and he'd been looking at her just seconds before. She wasn't Sienna, that much he knew. His cock was as limp as a wilted flower and would stay that way.

“Perhaps another time.” It was a lie, but it was the kindest thing he could say.

The covers shifted. A little moan escaped her. She was probably fondling herself, seeking to tempt him or maybe find release. Either way, he didn't care. His body gave no reaction.
This is what my life will always be reduced to: fucking and leaving
.
I'm pathetic.

He adored women. They were his life's blood and he'd always taken care to soothe their emotions, plump their self-esteem. More and more, he just didn't have the energy for it.

“Paris,” she whispered, breathless. “Replace my fingers with yours. Please.”

“Sounds as if you're doing a good job. The room's paid up for the rest of the night. I'll leave you to it.”

“Leave?” She jolted up, reached for him and dragged a fingertip down his side. “Stay. I'm begging you.”

“Forget me. I've already forgotten you.” He strode out of the room, out of the hotel, and never looked back.

H
AVING AWOKEN
in Reyes's bed alone, another turbulent nightmare swirling in her mind, Danika had realized she couldn't do it. She couldn't stay here, no matter her purpose. Not with Reyes. Just being near him affected her in a thousand different ways, none of them good.

Every time she spied him, hate should have filled her. Hate and rage and violence. But every time she peered into the dark fathomless pools of knowledge and pain that were his eyes, she experienced…something else. She drowned, pieces of her dying then quickly reforming for him.
Him.
Not her family, not her own survival. Him.

How could she forget her purpose like that? How? Kidnapped all those weeks ago, and now bereft of even the miserly life she'd built, how could she still want to reach out to Reyes? To be held by him? Comforted? Even pleasured? How did he slip into her most private fantasies and rouse her animal needs?

Not knowing what else to do, she'd sprung from the bed and raced from the bedroom. She'd gotten pretty far, then backtracked, fearing that a wrong turn could land her face-to-face with one of Reyes's friends. Her legs had finally given out, and she'd stopped here at the staircase.

She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to conserve warmth. The cold had returned full force, and she shivered. Only one thing had managed to warm her: Reyes.

“Danika!”

Speak of the devil—or rather, demon. Reyes's voice echoed through the hallway behind her, panicked and as sharp as a razor. She propped her head against the stair railing, fatigue and dizziness swamping her.
I should run.
She remained in place. Like a fool, she was eager to see him.

“Danika!” He sounded closer.

She didn't waste her time responding. He would find her soon enough. No reason to help him.

“Dani—”

Her name trailed off as a gust of air brushed the back of her neck. He must have stopped abruptly. She couldn't see him, even peripherally, but she could feel his heat all the way to her bones. God, he was warm. Her shivers faded.

Then suddenly he was there, sitting beside her, his thigh brushing hers. Jolts of electricity shot through her veins, running the length of her entire body. She gulped.

For a long while, they simply sat in silence.

Finally, she glanced over at him. Her gaze traveled from his mud-coated boots to his ripped jeans. Up his powerful arms, which were resting on his thighs. Three deep grooves were etched into his skin. Blood had trickled and dried.

He was peering down at the steps, but he must have felt her gaze because he moved his arms behind his back and braced his weight on his elbows, placing his face out of sight.

“You hurt yourself again,” she said, trying to tamp down a wave of concern.

“It's nothing.”

“Nothing.” She snorted. “You're the clumsiest man I've ever met. You're always scraped up and bleeding.”

A pause, then, “Did you think to run from me?”

“Yes.” There was no reason to deny it.

“Why?”

“As if you have to rack your brain for the answer.”

“No, I mean, why did you stop?”

Afraid of the truth and too tired to weave a lie, she ignored the question entirely. “Why do you and your friends want to kill my family? You've never given me a reason. To my knowledge, we hadn't insulted you, trespassed or done anything to deserve…this.”

He sighed heavily, wearily. “No, you did nothing wrong. And I do not want to kill you.”

Whether he spoke true or not, she didn't know. Either way, she reacted. Her heart sped up as though it had just heard the starting shot of a race, beating so swiftly she feared it might burst out of her chest. His voice had been laced with a husky rasp, the words broken. A lump formed in her throat, and she had to swallow it to be able to speak. “That isn't what you said last time. Last time—”

“We will not speak of last time. It is over. Done.”

“No. It's not done.” Anger rose inside her, hot and hungry, giving her a flare of strength. She slammed a fist against her knee. Her leg bounced up in reflex. “It will never be done.”

“Do not hurt yourself, Danika,” Reyes said, sounding just as angry as she felt.

“Funny words coming from you. Last time you threatened me. Told me I would die if you found me. Well, you found me.”

His head whipped to her, his eyes suddenly piercing all the way to her soul. Dark, sultry, the onyx orbs practically alive. “I said that, yes. I have since proven I cannot hurt you in any way.”

True. Damn him. Everything inside her softened, and she couldn't stop it from happening.
Look away. He's dragging you under again, shifting your thinking. Ruining you.
She peered down at the bottom of the stairs. A lush red carpet waited, so thick her feet would never sink to the marbled floor below it. “Your friends still want me dead.”

“Want?” He laughed, but it was not a pretty resonance. “No. No one wants you dead, but they will do what they must.”

“And they
must
kill me?”

Now he remained silent.

“And you'll, what?” she insisted. “Let them?”

Another sigh, this one heartsick. “Have I hurt you, even once?”

No.
“What do you know of my family, Reyes? My grandmother has been—” she nearly choked, did gag “—missing for over two weeks.”

Reyes reached out, twined his fingers with hers.

Gasping, she jerked her hand away. “We agreed. No touching.” His skin was too hot, and her body too responsive. With only that split-second contact, she'd felt seared to the bone. Her nipples were hard.

“I do not know about your grandmother, but I…I know someone who will.”

Danika laughed, and like Reyes's, it was an ugly sound. “Yeah. Right.”

“I spoke true. I would not lie to you about something like this.”

The seriousness of his tone didn't convince her. The actual words convinced her. Three times she'd interacted with him, and not once had he lied or even stretched the truth. He was blunt, painfully so. Her stomach clenched in hope…in fear. What would she learn if she visited this nameless person? That her mother, sister and grandmother were healthy and whole or that they had suffered terribly before dying?

“Take me to this person.” A command. She faced him, shifting her body until they were chest to chest. Their breath mingled, warm and minty. She inhaled deeply. So deeply she feared he became a part of her.
He's been a part of you since the beginning.

No. I refuse to believe that.

“I will not take you to him, but I will question him for you.”

“Hell, no.” She wanted to grab Reyes's shoulders and shake him, but knew that touching him willingly would shatter her composure. “I'm going with you.”

“I—” He massaged the back of his neck. “No.”

“You won't talk me out of this and there'll be a fight if you try and force me to stay behind.”

A long, tired sigh. “Very well. But first, you will eat. You can barely hold up your head.” His gaze roved over her. To his credit, he didn't leer. His expression became guarded, revealing nothing of his emotions.

“I need to know what happened to them. I won't be able to keep down a single bite until I do.”

He was shaking his head before the last word left her mouth. “This is non-negotiable. You will eat, shower and then we will go.”

“Don't tell me what to do! I'm not the same girl I was the first time you abducted me. I will
not
meekly obey you.”

“Is that the way you saw yourself before? Meek?”

She stared at him, incredulous. “Didn't you?”

“No. I saw a strong, proud woman who did whatever necessary to calm her family and keep them alive.”

Don't react. Don't you dare react.
“I was weak and afraid. Now I know how to defend myself.” The fire in her tone practically dared him to find out firsthand. Stupid of her, since she currently possessed the strength of a newborn. But she wanted him to know there would be consequences for hurting her.

He nodded in understanding, but his pensive expression didn't change. “I heard about the human you killed.”

Human, he'd said, the single word driving home their differences in a big way. Then there was a flash of black and red in her mind, a pained gasp in her ears, concrete burning her palms and knees, pencil snapping, a dying breath echoing, and she didn't care how different they were. She just wanted Reyes to pull her to safety.

“Danika.”

Somehow, with only her name, his rough timbre
was
able to drag her from the mire of the hated memory. She gulped, shook her head. “I don't regret my actions.” She only hoped the words were true. Right now, she was too numb to know for sure.

“I'm glad.”

Of course he was—wait.
Did he say
glad? “Why?”

“He meant to hurt you. You did what was necessary to protect yourself. I only wish I had been there.”

“Well, I didn't protect myself well enough,” she said bitterly, then cursed. Bringing up the aftermath and her time with the Hunters wasn't a smart move. Besides, she had a job to do. “How did you hear about what happened? Is there a warrant out for my arrest or something?”

She'd spoken so quietly,
she
had to strain to hear herself, yet he answered without pause. “No warrant. No one knows. But what I am about to tell you, Danika, can never be repeated. You hate us. With reason. So arming you with this information is foolish of me. And yet, I want you to know why we've done the things we've done.”

Suddenly she was terrified of breathing—of stopping him, of allowing him to continue. What dark secret was he about to reveal? He had to sacrifice virgins at every full moon? She was next? Well, news flash. She wasn't a virgin.

He inhaled deeply, slowly released every molecule. Looked away from her. “I told you the warriors here are not human. What I did not tell you is that every warrior here is possessed by a…a demon.” There was shame in the word. “Lucien—do you remember him?—is possessed by the spirit of Death. When your human died, he was summoned.”

I know,
she almost told him, but managed to cut off the words. Except, Stefano had said the men had
become
the demons, not that they were simply
possessed
by them. Still, her shoulders sagged as relief pounded through her. Funny that she felt relief at his admission. She didn't have to hide her knowledge now.

What are you doing?
her mind shouted. He didn't know that she knew, and she had to keep it that way. Relief would seem odd. So…how should she react to such an admission? Laughter? Screams?

“Demons,” she said on a broken catch of breath. What else could she say?

“Yes.”

“I—I suspected,” she said, opting for a half truth. “Last time I was here, there were things I couldn't explain. Supernatural things.”

He nodded, and her relief doubled. “I don't want you afraid of us,” he said. “We are demons, yes, but we will not hurt you. Not any more than we already have,” he added wryly.

It wasn't a promise of comfort, but she wanted to lean on him, anyway, maybe confess why she was here so he could solve the problem for her.
Stupid.
How gentle would Reyes be if he knew the truth? That she was here to learn everything she could about him so that the information could be used against him.
You're doing this for your family. Don't forget.
“I didn't see him that night.”

Leaning on his elbows again, putting distance between them, Reyes eyed her quizzically. “Didn't see who?”

“Lucien. When that man died, I didn't see Lucien.” Questions spun through her mind at the same speed Reyes's warmth abandoned her body, leaving her cold and shivering. “You said he was there, that he saw what I had done.”

“The human did not die in the street, but in a hospital three days later. Had he died that night, though, you still would not have seen Lucien. He is able to remain in the spirit world, unseen as he does his duty.”

She had to keep him talking. This was exactly the kind of information Stefano desired. Even as the thought filled her mind, there was a spark of guilt in her chest. Guilt? Why? Reyes and his horde deserved to be ratted out. “How is that possible? How does he remain in the spirit world? What does he see?”

“That is not for me to answer.”

To press would have been suspicious. Right? Her mind simply wasn't functioning at optimum levels. “You said you are all possessed. Wh-what demon possesses you?”