The Darkest Night (9 page)

Furious, Maddox had raced from the room, desperate to assure himself that she was in the same condition he’d left her in: alive and untouched. He’d thought that at least his friends would have given her food, water and blankets. Wrong. She could have frozen to death. She could have starved. And they wouldn’t have known.

Had they expected him to passively accept such a thing?

Wrong again.

One glance at Ashlyn’s dirty, frightened features and he’d wanted to kill someone. He’d barely leashed the urge, telling himself she’d soon be lying in his bed, naked, open to him. And while that had calmed
him,
it had not calmed the demon—had only managed to incite it further.

Now Violence needed an outlet for its growing rage. For only then would Maddox be able to touch Ashlyn without fear of snapping that fragile little body.

Body…Ashlyn…two words sure to arouse him when used in the same sentence. Luminous as she was, she was every fantasy he’d ever had come to life, and he planned to sate himself inside her, over and over again, taking her in every position imaginable and even some that weren’t.

Soon she would want that, too.

Desire had glistened in her eyes when she’d looked at him, and she had constantly reached for him, clearly hoping for some sort of physical contact. He’d even smelled her arousal, a perfume of passion, innocence and that delectable honey. He frightened her, though, and that fear overrode her desire.

You should be happy that Bait fears you.

Should, he inwardly scoffed. How he was coming to hate that word.

Was
she Bait, though?

When he’d mentioned the four humans who’d followed her, she had appeared genuinely surprised. Horrified by his actions, true, but most women were horrified by war and carnage.

More perplexing still, she had freely admitted to knowledge of the demons. He hadn’t tortured her for the information. Why would Bait willingly do such a thing? Why not pretend she thought he was human to lower his defenses?

And so far, she had not tried to lead him from the fortress, nor had she tried to let anyone inside. But then, she hadn’t yet had the freedom to do so, he reminded himself. And she wouldn’t.

What confused him most of all, however, was that she had tried to save him from his friends.
That,
he couldn’t rationalize away. Saving someone she’d meant to harm was ridiculous. She could have been harmed herself.

She was a walking contradiction to his black-and-white world.

Tomorrow he would deal with her true reasons for being here. Today, well, today was meant for other things.

His boots clicked against the floor, the sound echoing from the walls. The entertainment room loomed ahead and he quickened his step. The spirit purred in anticipation as his bones ached for a fight.

When he stood in the wide expanse of the doorway, he saw popcorn scattered over the floor and ground into the crimson rug. His trained eye spotted several splotches of dried blood. Obviously Reyes had been here. For once, the TV was switched off. Balls littered the surface of the pool table, as if someone had stopped a game midway through.

But no sign of the men, not even Lucien. Where had everyone gone?

Maddox stormed through the fortress, bypassing the luxuries they’d acquired over the years. The hot tub, the sauna, the gym, the makeshift basketball court. None of that would help him.

He reached Paris’s room first and burst inside without knocking. The black silk-covered bed was rumpled but empty. The blow-up dolls Torin had purchased were sprawled in every direction, a rapt but useless audience. Whips, chains and a variety of sex toys Maddox couldn’t identify lined the walls. They weren’t in use, which meant Paris should be inside the fortress. Somewhere.

Shaking his head, Maddox stalked down the hall.

Fight. Fight. Fight.

He tried to ignore the demon’s voice as he entered Reyes’s room. No Reyes, and no sexual toys. Instead there were weapons. All kinds of weapons. Guns, knives,
throwing stars. There was a blue wrestling mat on the floor with more dried blood splattered over it. There was a punching bag, a few dumbbells. Several holes marred the walls, as if someone had punched the stone until it crumbled into sand.

He would have to patch those up later.

Fight, fight, fight.

Lucien’s room was locked, and no one answered when he knocked. Aeron and Torin’s rooms were empty. Frustration rode Maddox’s shoulders. Black spots were beginning to wink in and out of his line of vision.

Fightfightfight.

He craved Ashlyn, but he could not have her until the urge for violence was tamped—and that could not happen until he found the men. All of which only made him angrier. He strode back into the hall, his biceps flexed, the blood rushing through them blistering hot.

Fightfightfight!

“Where are you?” he shouted. He punched the wall once, twice, leaving a groove identical to the ones he’d seen in Reyes’s room. His knuckles throbbed, but it was a good pain, a pain that made the spirit rumble happily.

Maddox stopped and punched the wall again.

He didn’t have a lot of time. Midnight would come again. Death would claim him. Before that happened, he
had
to lose himself in Ashlyn. Had to know every inch of her body, for the torment of not knowing was far worse than burning in hell each night.

What if the woman doesn’t truly desire you?
the demon taunted.
What if she’s pretending to want you so you’ll give her information? What if she’s thinking of another man every time you’re near and her arousal is for him?

Roaring, Maddox once more slammed his fist into the
wall. More of the stone cracked and crumbled. She wanted
him.
She did.
Do not react. Do not listen to the spirit.

Violence shut its mouth, liking his vehemence, his sense of possession.

“What are you doing, messing up the walls rather than fixing them?”

Maddox heard the familiar voice and spun. Blood dripped from his hands, warm and invigorating.

Aeron stood at the end of the hallway. Light streamed in from the windows, dancing over the man’s tough frame. One beam hit directly atop his dark hair, a bright crown that illuminated his decorated skin.

As if it had never been stroked, never been eased, Violence howled to full life. Maddox pointed at his friend and scowled. “You left her down there.”

“So?” The black demon tattooed on Aeron’s neck seemed to blink its red-rimmed eyes, awakening from a deep slumber. Saliva seemed to drip from its sharp-toothed mouth. “Did she talk?”

“About?”

“Her reasons for being here.”

“No.”

“Let me ask her, then.”

“No!” She was frightened enough. An image of Ashlyn as she’d looked inside that cell flashed through Maddox’s mind. Her skin had been paler than the snow outside, the only color streaks of black-brown dirt. She’d been trembling. When that woman trembled, it should be from passion, not fear.

Fight. Fight. Fight!
chanted the demon again.

“Where is she now?” Aeron demanded.

“None of your concern. But someone is going to pay for the state I found her in.”

His friend’s violet eyes—eyes identical to his, as if the gods had been too tired to create something different—widened in surprise. “Why? What’s she to you?”

“Mine,” was the only answer he had. “She’s mine.”

Aeron ran his tongue over his teeth. “Don’t be foolish. She’s Bait.”

“Maybe.” Probably. He stalked forward. Seething…hungry…“At the moment, I don’t care.”

The warrior stepped toward him, equally infuriated. “You should. And you should not have brought her here.”

Maddox knew that, but he wasn’t going to apologize. He would do it again, if given the choice.

“Take her back to town and figure out a way to wipe her memory,” Aeron said. “Otherwise, she’ll have to be killed. She’s seen and heard too much, and we cannot allow her to report to Hunters.”

They were almost upon each other. Maddox hadn’t armed himself this morning, a fact that saved Aeron’s miserable hide. He would have thrown a dagger in the man’s dead, black heart had he been able. “I would rather hurt you.”

The demon tattoo stretched its wings, fully awake now, and Aeron grinned slowly. “We do this, and you’ll have to patch up the mess.”

“And you’ll have to clean it.”

“Like I care. We going to get started or just talk about it?”

“Oh, yes. We’re going to start.” Maddox leapt.

Aeron did, too. They collided in midair.

P
UNCH
. G
RUNT AND DUCK
. P
UNCH
.

Maddox landed a hard blow to Aeron’s cheek and the man staggered to the side with another grunt. But a second later, Aeron retaliated, lashing out with a strong left across his jaw. Maddox’s teeth rattled and blood filled his mouth, the taste metallic but sweet, quenching part of the spirit’s thirst.

He was grinning as he kneed Aeron in the stomach. The warrior doubled over, wheezing. More. He needed to inflict more damage. Before Maddox could elbow him in the head, Aeron bolted forward with a savage growl, wrapping his arms around Maddox and tackling him to the ground. They rolled in a bid for dominance. Fists flew; knees knocked. Elbows slammed.

Maddox hissed when Aeron caught him in the mouth again. He lost his smile, the inside of his cheek split. Another trickle of blood slid down his throat.

“This what you wanted?” Aeron barked.

He chop-blocked his friend in the throat, causing the other man to gasp and his skin to quickly color blue. “Is that what
you
wanted?” With Aeron struggling to breathe, he threw four more punches, all in the face.
Crunch.
Eye socket.
Crunch.
Nose.
Crunch.
Jaw.
Crunch!
Temple.
No more Violence today,
he chanted futilely with each strike.
No more Violence.

Are you sure?
the spirit beguiled.

Maddox’s eyes narrowed as he threw another punch.

Kill him.

“No!” he shouted, only then realizing he hadn’t tamed the demon at all. Not even a little. He stilled, panting for air, not knowing what else to do. He couldn’t go to Ashlyn like this, hungry for blood and even more on edge than he’d been.

“Oh, yes.” Cut and bruised, Aeron snarled low in his throat and slammed his fist into Maddox’s right eye. Pain exploded in his head as the man’s rings nicked a vein. His vision was momentarily blackened. Something warm and wet gushed down the slope of his face and finally,
finally,
the sadistic voice quieted.

Perhaps he needed the spirit beaten into submission. Happy to oblige, he splayed his arms wide, welcoming the next blow.

Aeron did not disappoint. The warrior kicked him in the stomach and Maddox sailed backward. The moment he hit the ground, Aeron was on top of him, strangling him, knees pinning his shoulders. Satisfaction blanketed the man’s face, but there were demons in his eyes, ugly demons, tormenting demons, so much more menacing than the tattoo on his neck.

“Want more?” Aeron snarled.

“More.”

Punch. Maddox’s head flew to the left. Punch. His head flew to the right. Punch. The cartilage in his nose cracked.

Hit me. Harder. Harder!
With every blow, the spirit slunk deeper and deeper. Wrath against Violence, he mused, and Violence was cowed. The thought of vanquishing Violence was almost a sexual high. He smiled, thinking this must be how Reyes felt. Happy in pain, desperate for more.

His teeth sliced into his tongue as another blow was delivered. His tongue swelled.
Now I won’t be able to kiss Ashlyn,
he thought.

You don’t need to kiss her to fuck her,
the demon lashed out, rearing its ugly head just long enough to send a lance of fury through him.

Enough!
He wanted to kiss Ashlyn. Wanted her taste in his mouth as she writhed against him. And he would have it. That’s all he had thought about while sucking back flames during the endless night.

Another punch.

“Aeron! What are you doing?” Maddox heard Lucien demand from across the hall.

“Giving Maddox what he needs.” Punch.

“Stop.”

“No.” The next blow sank deeper and harder into his temple, rattling his brain.

“Don’t stop,” Maddox said as Aeron backhanded him. A little more and the spirit might stay hidden for the rest of the day.

“Stop,” Lucien repeated. “Now. Or tonight I’ll take you into hell with Maddox.”

The punches instantly ceased. It was a threat Lucien could easily uphold.

Aeron was panting; Maddox was, too. He almost reached out, grabbed Aeron’s wrist and forced the man to start again. He wanted, needed, more. He would take no chances. If he had to be beaten until he was too weak to do anything but crawl, he would let himself be beaten.

He would
not
hurt Ashlyn.

Not yet, at least.

Reluctantly Aeron pushed to his feet and offered Maddox a helping hand. He accepted with the same reluc
tance and was quickly hefted to a stand. Together, he and Aeron faced Lucien.

There was no emotion in Lucien’s eyes as he perused them. Maddox worked a hand over his battered face, finding cuts that would have needed stitching were he human.

“Does someone want to tell me what was going on?”

“We were trying a new sparring technique,” Maddox said through swollen lips. For once the spirit remained quiet. He almost felt normal. The realization was so wonderfully stunning, he grinned.

“That’s right. New sparring technique.” Aeron slung an arm over his shoulder. One of his eyes was sealed shut and his lower lip was shredded.

Within the hour, Maddox knew, both of them would be totally mended. Immortality had its advantages.

Would Violence return when his body healed?

Lucien opened his mouth to respond, but Maddox held up one bruised palm. “I will hear no complaints from you. You left Ashlyn in the dungeon. You should thank the gods I’m not going for your throat.”

“We did what was needed to make her more acquiescent,” Lucien said, and there was not an apology in his tone.

Maddox stiffened, anger washing through him. A remarkably ordinary anger, though. One that didn’t compel him to do terrible deeds. Miraculous. “I asked you for two things. Only two. You failed on both counts.”

“You asked that she remain alive and you asked that she remain untouched. She is both of those things,” Lucien pointed out.

True, but she’d been scared and cold, and for some reason that knowledge cut him deeper than Aeron’s fists. She was just so small, so delicate. “I could not see to her
needs. You should have.” He had always hated that he lost all ties to reality when midnight struck. He hated that he didn’t know what happened here during those twilight hours, hated that he could not protect himself or those close to him.

For all he knew, the fortress could be attacked by Hunters, burned to the ground, everyone inside slaughtered. Ashlyn could betray him, leading those Hunters inside. But Ashlyn could also be beaten. Ashlyn could be ravaged or killed, and he would not know.

“Listen, right now your woman doesn’t matter,” Lucien said. “Much has happened since your latest death. The—”

A growl vibrated in his throat, his head, his ears, drowning out the warrior’s voice.
Doesn’t matter?
“If she becomes sick…” The edges of his anger morphed into razor-sharp points, prodding at the spirit. Not subdued completely after all, he realized with an inward curse, even as his body tightened, gearing for war.

A dangerous haze shuttered over his eyes; his own, all his own, but the demon liked it.
Kill him. He means to take what is ours.
Yes, he needed to kill. His blood heated to a boil. His skin stretched over his bones.

“He’s not listening,” Aeron said to Lucien. A muscle ticked below the man’s eye, and he gave Maddox a rough shake before severing contact between them. “Are you listening to
me?
”

“Yes,” Maddox gritted out.

“Just how long do you plan to keep the woman here?”

As long as possible,
his mind answered of its own accord.

As long as needed,
he corrected.

Keeping her in the fortress was dangerous. For her. For him. For the other Lords. He knew that, but he wasn’t
going to set her free. He had neither the will nor the desire. Nothing was more important than discovering the delights her body promised. Nothing. Would she be hot and wet for him? Would she purr his name? Beg for more?

Suddenly a fist connected with his nose, whipping his head to the side. Pain exploded in his temple, loosening fury’s grip. Arousal, too. Maddox blinked in confusion and frowned over at Aeron. “Why did you do that?”

“Your face was not your own, but Violence’s.” Lucien shook his head, suddenly in front of him, his expression weary. “You were about to erupt.”

“Get yourself under control, man.” Aeron expelled an exasperated sigh. “You’re like the Sword of Damocles, ready to drop at any moment and slice us all.”

“That’s funny coming from you,” Maddox said dryly. He might charge swiftly into seemingly unprovoked bouts of violence, but Aeron had been known to charge into rampages, too, spreading his vengeance as far and wide as possible.

“Where’s the girl now?” Lucien asked.

At first, Maddox did not answer. He didn’t want them to know, for they might go to her. “My room,” he finally said, his tone so dark they couldn’t mistake his unspoken warning:
Visit her and feel the sting of my demon.

“You left her alone in your room?” Aeron’s exasperation reached a new high, and he threw his arms in the air. “Why don’t you give her a knife, tell us to line up and let her stab us one by one?”

“I locked her in. She cannot cause trouble.”

“She might have picked the lock.” Lucien massaged the back of his neck. “She could be sneaking Hunters inside this very second.”

“No. I killed them.”

“There could be more.”

Lucien was right. Maddox knew Lucien was right. He ground his teeth together, and his battered jaw ached in protest. “I will check and make sure she is where I left her and alone.” He spun on his heel.

“I’m coming with you.” Determined, Aeron flanked him.

Lucien followed suit.

Maddox kicked into motion. If Ashlyn had escaped, had brought Hunters into their midst, the warriors would demand her head.

He wasn’t sure he could give it to them, no matter her crimes. In fact, every cell in his body shouted with the need to protect her.
Me? A protector?
His blood heated with it, burned.

When—if—the time came, would he be able to do what was necessary? Maddox didn’t know the answer. He liked to think he would, but…

They rounded a corner, and their steps harmonized into a hard battle drum. Thump. Thump, thump, thump. Thump. From the corner of his eye, he saw Aeron shake his arms at his sides. Two small blades fell into his waiting hands.

The man hadn’t lost himself to the demon during their fight, after all, Maddox realized. Otherwise, Maddox would be in tatters right now, his skin nothing more than a fond memory.

He experienced a twinge of guilt. Had Aeron fought him only to help him?

“No one touches the girl,” he said, his guilt increasing. He should be more loyal to his friends. “No matter what we find, she is mine. Understood? I’ll deal with her myself.”

There was a pregnant pause as each man weighed his response.

“Fine,” Lucien said on a sigh.

Still Aeron remained silent.

“It’s my room. I can go in alone and leave you out here to—”

“Fine,” Aeron finally snapped. “She’s yours. Not that you’ll do what you should. Hunters, though, will be executed on sight.”

“Agreed.” On both counts.

“What has she done to command such loyalty from you?” Lucien asked, genuine curiosity rather than snide disgust in his tone.

Maddox didn’t have an answer. Didn’t even want to think about it. He deserved disgust, though. That, he couldn’t deny.

“I think our friend’s forgotten that sex is sex.” Aeron twirled one of the blades with menacing flare. “Who’s offering it doesn’t matter. This woman is nothing special. None of them are.”

Suddenly caught in another dark web of anger, all hint of guilt overshadowed, Maddox shot out his leg, tripping Aeron and jumping on top of him before the man even hit the ground. He used the warrior’s surprise to his advantage, swiping one of the knives and holding the tip at Aeron’s throat.

But, having realized what was happening midway into his fall, Aeron had the other blade poised at Maddox’s throat at the same time. Maddox felt the apex sink past skin, nicking a tendon, but he did not back down.

“Do you want to die?”

Undaunted, Aeron arched a pierced black brow. “Do
you?
”

“Let him go, Maddox,” Lucien said, the calm eye of the storm.

He pushed the weapon deeper, his gaze never leaving
Aeron’s. Fire sizzled and crackled between them. “Do not talk about her like that.”

“I’ll talk however I please.”

He scowled.
I like this man. I admire him. He’s killed for me, and I for him.
Yet he knew, deep down, that if Ashlyn were mentioned in such a derogatory manner again, he would snap. The speaker didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except
her.
He hated that fact. He didn’t understand it, but was helpless against it.

“For whatever reason,” Lucien said, “the girl is a trigger. Tell him you won’t talk about her again, Aeron.”

“Why should I?” was the grumbled reply. “Last time I checked, I had a right to voice my opinions.”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. That didn’t help. Maddox could feel himself gearing for another attack.
Damn it! I have to get myself under control.
This was utterly ridiculous and wholly embarrassing. He’d never had less influence over his own actions.

“Aeron, you have to be tired of cleaning blood off the floors,” Lucien said. “Think how much there will be if Hunters are even now trying to invade our home and we do not stop them from getting inside. Tell him.”

Aeron hesitated only a moment before removing the knife from Maddox’s neck. “Fine,” he spat. “No talk of the girl. Happy now?”

Yes. Maddox relaxed instantly and eased to his feet. He even held out his empty hand to help Aeron stand, but Aeron brushed him aside and stood on his own. Paris had once called Maddox “The Mood Swing” he had been joking at the time, but Maddox was starting to believe the truth of his words.