Authors: Gena Showalter
“I’m not going to say it, but you know what I’m thinking, right?” Aeron asked dryly.
Yes. He knew. He was as bad as Paris—if not worse.
“Children,” Lucien muttered, rolling his eyes.
“Mommy,” Aeron replied, but there was no heat in his tone.
Maddox closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating, trying to make himself believe.
Ashlyn is just a woman. She means nothing but temporary satisfaction.
The shadows and pain he’d glimpsed in her eyes meant nothing. They would not soften him, much less bewitch him. Not anymore. He had to start thinking of her as he did the others.
Any more of this absurd fighting, and he would have to dig his dignity out of the garbage.
Hell, maybe the gods had finally decided to chastise him and had sent Ashlyn to drive him crazy, to cause him pain and suffering. To punish him. Maybe he was no longer to yearn for eternal death at night. Maybe he was to yearn for eternal death all day long.
“Good?” Lucien asked.
Not even close. He might be calm now, but he was worse off than ever. Still, he nodded and stalked down the hallway without another word, up the stairs and into his wing of the fortress. Better to get this over with.
When Lucien and Aeron once again flanked him, Aeron said, “My blade.”
“It’s nice,” he replied, purposely misunderstanding. He did not return it.
Aeron snorted. “I didn’t realize you were hard up for a weapon.”
“If you want to keep yours, take better care.”
“The same could be said of your head.”
Maddox offered no response. The closer he came to his bedroom, the more he could smell Ashlyn’s honey scent. A scent that was all her own. Not from soap or perfume,
but from
her.
His body hardened painfully, his cock filling with heat and need. He’d been waiting for a sip of that honey forever, it seemed.
She’s just like other women, remember? Nothing special,
he reminded himself.
He flicked a glance at his companions. They appeared oblivious to the sweet fragrance in the air. Good. He wanted Ashlyn, all of her, to himself.
Nothing special, damn you.
When they reached the threshold, each of them paused. Aeron tensed and readied his remaining blade. A hard mask covered his face, as if he were preparing himself to do whatever was necessary. Lucien, too, produced a weapon—a .45, cocked and ready.
“Look before you attack,” Maddox said through clenched teeth.
They nodded, neither sparing him a glance.
“On three. One.” His ears twitched as he listened. No sound emerged from inside. Not the splash of bathwater or the gentle rattle of dishes on the tray. Had Ashlyn really escaped? If she had…
“Two.” His stomach knotted in anger and fear, and the scabs there burned. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife. He might just leave the fortress, might search the ends of the earth for her.
Nothing special indeed.
“Three.” He twisted the lock and pushed open the door. Hinges creaked. All three men stormed inside, silent, prepared for anything. Maddox scanned the room, taking in every detail. Floors—no footprints. Window—still closed. Platter of food—untouched. Some of his clothes had been tossed out of the closet and were now strewn around the floor.
Where was she?
Aeron and Lucien fanned out as he inched along the closet wall, alert, watchful. He jumped into the small space, blade raised. Found nothing.
The covers shifted on the bed and a soft, breathy moan drifted through the air.
“Weapons down,” Maddox commanded in a fierce whisper, blood sizzling from the sound of that feminine sigh.
Several seconds ticked by before either man obeyed. Only then did Maddox approach the bed, slowly…sweating…For some reason, he was trembling like a fragile human. He suspected the image he was about to see would undo him.
He was right.
He found a sleeping beauty. Ashlyn. Angel. Destruction.
Her amber hair was splayed over his snow-white pillow. Her lashes, two shades darker than her hair, cast spiky shadows over her dirt-smudged cheeks. She hadn’t bathed, hadn’t eaten. She must have tumbled to sleep soon after he’d left.
“Pretty,” Aeron said, reluctant admiration in his tone.
Exquisite,
Maddox silently corrected.
Mine.
Her lips were red and puffy, deliciously swollen. Had she chewed them from worry? He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, found himself reaching out—don’t touch, don’t touch—helpless to prevent the action. But he fisted his hands just before contact. His body was once again rock hard, need simmering inside of him. A dark need, frightening in its intensity and still so much more powerful than Violence had ever been.
How did she elicit such a response from him simply by breathing?
Touch her.
Who wanted it? Him? The demon? Both?
Didn’t matter. Just one caress, then he’d leave. He’d shower and return when she was rested—and he’d have himself under firm control by then. Surely he would.
Finally, opening his hand, his fingertips brushed the side of her cheek. A whisper-soft caress. Her skin was silky smooth, electrical. He tingled on contact, his blood instantly heating another degree.
Her eyelids popped open, as if she, too, had felt the jolt.
She jerked upright, hair cascading down her shoulders and back. Her sleep-rimmed eyes searched, locked with his, widened. “Maddox.” She scrambled backward until she was smashed against the metal headboard. Chains rattled from the sides of the bed, the chains that bound him every night. “Maddox,” she repeated, scared, awed…happy?
He, Lucien and Aeron stepped backward in unison. He knew why
he
moved—he’d seen his downfall in her pretty eyes the moment their gazes met—but he didn’t know why the others had reacted that way.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she gasped out. “And what happened to your face? You’re bleeding.” He heard concern and it shook him deeply. Would she always affect him so?
She glanced at the others and gave a choked whimper. “It wasn’t enough for you to kill him last night, you had to beat him up today, too? Get out, you…you…murderers! Get out right now!”
She leapt from the bed and stood in front of Maddox, wobbling slightly as she held out her arms to ward them off. Protecting him? Again? Eyes wide, he met the equally astonished gazes of the others.
Her actions were those of an innocent…or someone pretending to be innocent. Even so, Maddox found that he wanted to touch her again. In…comfort? He shook his
head. Couldn’t be. Had to be pleasure.
That
made sense. He was a man; she was a woman. He desired.
But would that desire grow darker, as he feared?
He gripped her arm and pulled her behind him. He shared a confused look with Lucien, then turned to face her. Before he could utter a single word, she rushed out, “Are you going to take me into the city now? Please.”
And never see her again? “Eat,” he commanded, harsher than he’d intended. “Bathe. I will return soon.” To his friends, he barked, “Let’s go.” He stalked into the hall.
They lingered only a moment before following. After closing and locking the door, Maddox leaned his forehead against the cold stone wall beside it, measuring every molecule of air he drew in and forced out of his lungs as he tried to soothe his riotous heartbeat.
This has to stop.
“You’ve brought trouble into our midst,” Aeron said, remaining at his side. “And was she actually trying to protect you from us?”
“Surely not.” But that was the second time she’d done so, and he was more confused now than before.
He straightened and scrubbed a hand down his face.
“Let me go, Maddox,” Ashlyn called through the door. More than it had yesterday, her voice appealed to him. Soft, lilting. Erotic. “I was wrong to come here. I was. If it will help, I’ll promise not to tell anybody.”
“I know I’ve brought trouble,” he told Aeron.
His friend arched a brow in that insolent expression Maddox was coming to loathe. “No apology?”
That was the worst of it; he still wasn’t sorry.
“Forget the woman for now,” Lucien said, waving a hand through the air. He squared his shoulders. “You’ve seen her. She is well. She doesn’t appear to have let Hunters in—yet. Now we have a more pressing concern
to discuss. What I tried to tell you earlier is that the gods—they are not who you think they are.”
“Maddox, we need to talk to you,” a harsh voice called, cutting off whatever response he might have made.
Lucien threw up his arms in exasperation and Maddox pivoted. Reyes approached, Paris and Torin at his sides. Two were scowling, the other grinning like the madman he was.
“Your woman has to go,” Reyes growled. “I smelled her all night long, and I can’t stand another second of that thunderstorm scent.”
Thunderstorm? Ashlyn smelled like honey. Still, his jaw clenched at the thought of another man being so aware of her. “She stays,” he said curtly.
“Who is she, why is she still here and when can I see her naked?” Paris asked with an eyebrow wiggle.
“Someone should kill her,” Reyes countered.
“No one touches her!”
Aeron closed his eyes and shook his head. “Here we go again.”
“Unlike Reyes, I don’t mind her presence,” Paris said, rubbing his hands together. “I only mind your unwillingness to share. I’d like to—”
Maddox shoved Paris before the man could finish the sentence. “Do not speak another word. I know what you would like to do to her, and I will die first.”
Now Paris frowned, pale skin dusting with angry color. “Back off, asshole. I haven’t had a woman today, so I’m in no mood for this kind of bullshit.”
Torin remained in the corner, watching, grin spreading. “Anyone else find this highly amusing? It’s even better than listening to the brokers when stocks plummet.”
Maddox struggled to rein in his temper and shove
Ashlyn to the back of his mind. Where she belonged. As a female, as a human, as possible Bait, she was the last person who should rouse this sort of protective reaction in him.
Should, should, should. Argh!
End this.
Finally. Soon. Now.
“Enough!” Lucien shouted.
Everyone quieted and stared at Lucien in surprise. He was not usually a shouter.
“Were there Hunters in town?” he asked Paris and Reyes.
Reyes shook his head. “We didn’t find any.”
“Good. That’s good. Perhaps Maddox did indeed kill them all.” Lucien nodded in satisfaction. “But Maddox doesn’t know about the gods yet. We need to tell him. What’s more, Aeron and I…did something last night.”
Instantly Aeron’s body went rigid. “We said we wouldn’t tell them.”
“I know.” Lucien sighed, clearly at the end of his patience. “I changed my mind.”
“You cannot simply change your mind!” Aeron roared, leaping in front of Lucien.
“I can and I did,” was the reply. Not exactly calm, but close, only edged with steel.
“What’s going on?” Maddox stepped between them and pushed them apart. For once, he was not the one throwing accusations and fists. “I’m ready to listen. You mentioned the gods. I know Aeron was summoned. I was too distracted to ask for details before. What did they want from him?”
“Later,” Torin said to Maddox, but he didn’t take his eyes off Lucien. “What’d you do, Death?”
“Spill,” Reyes commanded.
Lucien’s attention never wavered from Aeron. “After
their reaction to Ashlyn, we need to make sure they don’t accidentally stumble upon
our
secret. What do you think will happen if they do?”
For a long while, Aeron did not reply. Tension filled the air, grave, sinister. Finally, Aeron nodded. “Fine. Show them. But get ready to war, my friend, because they aren’t going to be happy.”
“Someone had better explain,” Reyes demanded, looking between them.
“An explanation will not be good enough. I need to show you.” Lucien started down the hall. “This way.”
Prophetic words, Maddox thought. He cast a questioning glance at Torin, who had uttered something similar only last night.
Know what’s going on?
he mouthed.
No,
was the silent reply.
Nothing good, that much he could guess. Lucien had never acted this mysterious. Confused, intrigued,
concerned,
Maddox glanced at Ashlyn’s door before following his friends.
A
SHLYN FELL BACK
onto the bed, struggling to control her breathing. Oh God. He’d come back. He hadn’t been a dream, hallucination or mirage. Maddox was alive. She’d really been locked inside a dungeon; he’d really risen from the dead. And he’d really stopped the voices.
When he’d left her in this oddly bare bedroom, she’d searched for a phone, found nothing, then searched for a way out. Again, nothing. Fatigue had quickly settled on her shoulders, nearly crushing her. She’d been unable to fight it, the silence inexorably relaxing, like a beloved drug she’d finally been able to indulge in. So she’d lain down, not caring about the consequences. She’d entertained the notion that maybe, just maybe, all of this was a delusion and when she opened her eyes, she’d find herself in her own home, her own bed.
Not so. Oh, not so.
A moment ago, a shock of thrumming power had slammed through her, dragging her kicking and screaming from the most peaceful sleep of her entire life, a sleep wrapped in that blissful silence. And then Maddox had been standing over her, looking down at her with those fathomless purple eyes.
His face had been,
was,
a mass of bruises and cuts. Black and blue and bloodied, his left eye swollen, his lip
split from top to bottom. At the memory, nausea churned in her stomach. Had those monsters tried to kill him again?
Again. Ha! She laughed humorlessly. They
had
killed him. And two of his killers had stood at his side. He’d seemed on affable terms with them, conversing with them as if he had no reason to hate them. How could they still be friends?
She lumbered from the bed. Her body creaked and ached with every movement, as if she were a doddering ninety rather than a spry twenty-four. She frowned. Too much stress, with no real end in sight.
The men must have wandered off, because she no longer heard them beyond the threshold. Good. She didn’t want to deal with them right now. Or ever.
Take care of business, then find a way out of here.
She trekked to the bathroom, awed by its surprising beauty, considering the sparseness of the bedroom and the starkness of the dungeon. Here she found white-tiled walls and a matching marble floor, a built-in chrome and black vanity overflowing with towels, a porcelain sink, a gleaming claw-foot tub with a raised nozzle—in case a giant decided to shower? she wondered, wide-eyed—and a nearly transparent curtain.
For some reason, everything was bolted down.
A tiered light hung from the ceiling, its brass arms stretching in different directions. There were no other decorations, though. No pictures or amenities. Had Maddox removed them, afraid she’d try to steal them?
Ashlyn snorted. The Institute paid her very well to listen for and learn about all things paranormal; money was not a problem. Besides, whatever she wanted, McIntosh willingly gave her. And if she didn’t want to ask him, she ordered from the Internet and had it delivered to her doorstep.
She blushed, thinking of some of the things she’d recently ordered. Romance novels, which had invariably led to the purchase of a harem girl costume, a black leather bra and panty set, and after reading one particular book about an undercover agent and former female thief, silk scarves and duct tape. Not that she’d ever used any of them.
With a sigh, she dipped a towel into the now-cold bathwater. Leaving her clothes on, she washed herself as best she could. No way would she strip. Any of the men could return at any moment.
Yeah, but you’d like it if Maddox returned.
No,
she assured herself, flustered by the thought. She wouldn’t. He scared her.
He brings precious silence.
Not anymore.
He wasn’t here, yet the voices hadn’t returned. Her head was clear, her own thoughts all she heard.
I’m cured.
No, you’re not. You heard voices last night, in the dungeon.
“Now I’m talking to myself,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “What’s next?”
She studied her reflection in the mirror. Droplets of water dripped from her forehead to her nose, from nose to chin. Her cheeks were bright with rosy color and her dark eyes gleamed. Odd. She’d never been more aware of her own mortality, but she’d also never looked more alive.
When her stomach rumbled, she recalled the tray of food Maddox had left on the floor. Her feet carried her to it without being ordered, kicking past the clothing she’d scattered when she’d searched the closet for a hidden phone. Black T-shirts, black pants, black briefs.
Her nipples hardened with the thought of muscled Maddox in nothing but a pair of those briefs. He’d lie on
the bed, hard and straining, erection peeking through the top, wickedness in his eyes as he beckoned her over with a crook of his finger.
And she’d willingly go to him.
Ashlyn nibbled on her bottom lip. Maddox…on a bed…wanting her…Her knees weakened, and her belly quivered.
Stupid girl.
Apparently, when given a little silence, all she could think about was sex.
She gathered the tray of food and tottered to the window, where she balanced the edge on the wall and popped a grape into her mouth. The sweet juice ran down her throat, and she nearly moaned before ordering herself to focus on the matter at hand—escape. She’d told McIntosh, and thereby the Institute, about the men and this fortress. McIntosh had even known she wanted to visit. Most likely he’d have guessed by now where she’d gone.
Would he come for her? Or would he feed her to the wolves for daring to disobey? While he’d always been kind to her, he had never tolerated mistakes from his other employees, much less willful disobedience.
He’ll come,
she assured herself.
He needs you.
But as she stared out the window, only trees and snow greeted her. Still, she didn’t let that disappoint her. He could be anywhere. Standing there, allowing anyone outside to see her, she popped another grape in her mouth and tapped on the glass.
I’m here. Do you see me?
She needed out as soon as possible. With every second that passed, the warriors’ madness seemed to take deeper hold of
her.
She had imagined her jailer in his underwear, for God’s sake.
Hopefully, McIntosh would see her, blow a hole in the front door and snatch her out. Boom. Done. Over. No, wait. Rewind. She didn’t want McIntosh inside the walls. He
would be no match for Maddox and the others. She was going to have to distract Maddox, maybe knock him out somehow, and run. Out of the fortress and down the hill. The cold and the voices were better than the threat of death she’d found here.
So…just how was she going to distract the man? Mulling it over, she devoured the rest of the grapes. And when those were gone, she concentrated on the meat and cheese, sipping wine between bites. In a matter of minutes, only crumbs and half a bottle remained. Never had anything tasted so delicious. The ham had been glazed with brown sugar, a succulent feast to her taste buds. The cheese had been smooth, not too sharp, the grapes a perfect contrast. The wine, excellent.
Okay, so this place
did
have a few things in its favor.
Food wasn’t a good enough reason to stay, though.
What about sex?
Of course not, she thought, her stomach giving another of those strange flutters. That was—
Everything inside her went on sudden alert—the quiet before a debilitating storm. She didn’t exactly hurt, but she became aware that something wasn’t quite right in her body. One heartbeat passed. Two. She gulped, waiting.
Then the storm arrived.
Her blood chilled to ice, yet beads of sweat that were as sharp as broken glass appeared on her skin. Crawling over every inch of her like spiders. She yelped, whimpered, tried to scratch at them. But they wouldn’t go away, and now she could actually see them. They were on her.
On her,
their tiny legs scampering. A scream bubbled in her throat at the exact moment a wave of dizziness slammed into her, so the sound was nothing more than a groan. She had to grip the window to remain standing. The tray fell, clanging.
All too soon, the dizzying fog became an ache and the
ache a piercing knife, slicing its way from her belly to her heart. She swayed, gasping and moaning at the same time. Bright lights flashed in front of her eyes, an array of blinding colors.
What was wrong with her? Poison? Oh God, were the spiders still on her?
Another pain shot through her and she doubled over. “Maddox,” she called, the word weak.
Nothing. No footsteps.
“Maddox!” she shouted, projecting his name with all her dwindling strength. She tried to walk to the door, but couldn’t force herself to move.
Again nothing.
“Maddox!”
Why do you want him?
He
might have done this to you.
“Maddox.” She couldn’t stop his name from leaving her lips. “Maddox.”
Black cobwebs snaked around her vision, constricting it, blanketing the too-bright rainbow. “Maddox.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper now, a trembling entreaty.
Her stomach cramped; her throat was swelling, closing off. And then, suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Every cell in her body screamed and screamed and screamed.
Need air. Need to breathe.
She fell to the floor, unable to support her own weight any longer.
Need to get the spiders off.
No strength, no energy.
The bottle of wine toppled as if in sympathy, the remaining red liquid spilling around her. She lost focus completely, the world crumbling, then disappearing altogether, leaving only darkness.
M
ADDOX COULD NOT BELIEVE
what he was seeing. “This is…this is…not possible.” He scrubbed a callused hand over his eyes, but the sight did not change.
“Obviously, it wasn’t Ashlyn I smelled.” Reyes slammed a fist into the wall. Dust puffed into the air, bits of rough stone tumbling to the floor.
Torin merely laughed.
Paris sucked in a reverent breath. “Come to daddy.”
There, in the far corner of Lucien’s bedroom, were four women. Holding hands, they huddled together for strength and support. Each trembled in fear, gazing at the men through wide, panicked eyes.
No, Maddox realized. Not all of them trembled. A pretty blonde with freckles regarded them with fury in her green eyes. Her jaw was clenched, as if she were biting her tongue to keep from shouting obscenities.
“What are they doing here?” he demanded.
“Do not take that tone,” Aeron snapped. “You started it with your pretty piece of Bait.”
Growling low, Maddox closed the distance between them. One of the women whimpered. “I thought we had covered this,” he said. “You watch what you say about her or you suffer.”
Aeron did not back down. “You’ve known her, what? A few hours? You’ve barely spoken to her. She should be begging for mercy right now, and we should know all her secrets and what the Hunters, if there are more out there, are planning.”
“She tried to save me when I was stabbed. She tried to save me from you only a few minutes ago.”
“An act.”
Probably. He’d told himself that very thing, but he couldn’t seem to make it matter. Not then, not now. Frustrated with himself rather than Aeron,
he
backed down this time. He faced Lucien. “Why are they here?” he asked, composed but no less disbelieving.
Or rather, as composed as he was capable of being at the moment.
Lucien glanced at Aeron, who motioned to the hall with a tilt of his chin. Understanding, the warriors filed out. Each hummed with expectation. Lucien was the last to exit and was quick to close and lock the door.
Maddox peered at his friends, most projecting the same disbelief he felt. Nothing like this had ever happened before. None of them had ever brought a woman here, even Paris (that he knew of), and now there were almost as many females on the premises as warriors. It was surreal.
“Well?” he prompted.
Aeron explained how the Greeks had been overthrown by the Titans, those leaders from thousands of years ago, and that these new sovereigns wanted—no, commanded—him to execute those four innocent women. Were he to resist, he would be driven mad with bloodlust. Were he to ask to be released from the deed, he would be cursed as Maddox was cursed.
Maddox listened, stunned. Shock and dread washed through him, all but swimming laps in his bloodstream.
“But why would the new king of gods tell Aeron to—” The answer slid into place and he pressed his lips together.
I did this,
he realized.
I’m responsible. I dared the gods yesterday evening, insulted them, even.
This had to be their way of retaliating.
He flicked Torin a dismayed glance. The warrior was staring at him with a hard glint in his green eyes. Then he turned away and flattened his gloved hands on the mirror hanging just above his head. His reflection was bleak. Only yesterday, the two of them had claimed they didn’t care if the gods punished them. They’d thought nothing could be worse than their current situation.
They’d been wrong.
“We cannot allow Aeron to do this deed,” Lucien said, interrupting Maddox’s dark thoughts. “He’s at the breaking point already. We all are.”
Reyes once again punched the wall, grunting from the force. There were angry red cuts on each of his forearms and they burst open on impact, splattering flecks of blood onto the silver stone. “These Titans had to know what would happen if Aeron obeyed.” He bared his teeth in a scowl. “They had to know what a precarious edge of good and evil we’re all balanced on. Why would they do this?”
“I know why,” Maddox replied grimly.
All eyes flew to him.
Shame weighed heavily on his shoulders as he recounted what he’d done. “I never expected this to happen,” he finished lamely. “I didn’t know the Titans had escaped, much less that they had taken over.”
“I don’t even know what to say.” Aeron.
“I do. Fuck.” Paris.
Maddox’s head fell back and he stared up at the ceiling.
I thought I was goading the Greeks,
he wanted to shout.
They
would have done nothing.
They
would have continued to ignore him.