The Darkest Secret (18 page)

The thought of possible betrayal should have sent her leaping out of his lap. Instead, she cuddled closer. He was still trying to take care of her.

Who's the Bad Man?
he asked, changing the subject.

Hearing a nickname she'd only ever thought jolted her. “How did you know about him?”

His thumb brushed the side of her jaw, and she shivered.
I had a vision of you. Like the one we saw together, of you on the veranda. Except in this one, you were a little girl. Everyone else, I can read their minds, but you…I have only ever seen snatches of your life.

First, he could read all minds but hers? That was kind of…disappointing. She wished he could see all of her,
know
all of her. If anyone could help her sift through her confused emotions and conflicting desires, it was this man. “The Bad Man was the first Hunter I ever met. He found me after my parents were killed.”

Blood, a river between her mother and her father. Both helpless…dead.

Oh, no. No way in hell would she allow that hated memory to resurface now. “He saved my life after…someone like you tried to kill me. He thought I'd come in handy.” She laughed bitterly. “He was right, he just didn't know it. I was nearly a teenager when he sold me in the slave market after failing to train me. But after I died the first time, I remembered his lessons and that's how I later hooked up with the Hunters.”

And that's when you helped kill Baden?
Simply asked, with no hint of his emotions.

Goodbye, sweet, stolen moment. If any topic could ruin their ease with each other, it was that one. Still. She nodded, tears once again burning her eyes.

Who did we take from you that drove you to hate us so deeply?

Again, there was no emotion in his voice. Not anger, not condemnation. Far more stunning, his question offered her absolution. A justifiable reason for her actions. He would never know what that meant to her, how profoundly that affected her.

She couldn't help herself. She pressed a kiss on the pulse thumping at the base of his neck. “My parents. My sister. My…husband.”

Husband?

“Yes.”

His arms tightened around her.
Before, you mentioned only one of us had done the deed. Do you know…do you know which of us it was?

That hesitancy…he feared he was the culprit, she realized. “I did not see the face of the one who killed my parents and sister, but I do know it wasn't you or any of your friends. He was a demon-possessed warrior, though. As for my husband…” She sighed. “I'm not sure exactly who was responsible, but I do remember seeing your friends the night of his death.”

He tipped up her chin and met her gaze, his black eyes deep pools of regret. He didn't speak, and neither did she. Earlier he had offered her absolution, and with her silence, she now did the same for him.

He nodded in understanding, in thanks, and released her chin. His hand slid into her hair, his fingers combing through the strands.
Do you know the story of how I came to be demon-possessed?

“I think so. You and the others stole and opened Pandora's box, unleashing the demons that were trapped inside. The gods decided to punish you, and rightly so,” she couldn't help but add, “by bonding each of you with a demon of your own.”

That's right.

“Why'd you steal the box, anyway?”

Zeus asked Pandora to guard it rather than asking us, and we were…upset.

“Insulted, you mean.” Men and their pride, sometimes the reason nations fell.

Yes. We wanted to teach the god king a lesson, show him our worth.

“And did you?”

Hardly. We showed him exactly how stupid we were.

She fought a grin. At least he saw and accepted the truth.

He lifted a lock of her hair to his nose and breathed deeply, a moan of satisfaction drifting through her mind.
The reason I brought up the box was to tell you that there were more demons locked inside than there were warriors to punish for unleashing the evil. Those that remained were placed in the prisoners of Tartarus. An immortal prison,
he explained.

Ah. She knew where he was going with this. “So the man who killed my parents and sister might have been released from that prison.”

Or escaped. Yes.

“And whoever killed my husband could have escaped, as well?”

That, I don't know. I wish otherwise, but… If you saw us that night, I'd say there's a ninety-nine percent chance we were responsible.

No excuses, just brutal honestly. With countless lifetimes steeped in mystery, she appreciated such unvarnished probabilities. She kissed his pulse a second time, letting him know the admission hadn't propelled her into a rage. His sandalwood scent consumed her senses, reminding her of their shower. Which reminded her of their almost-kiss.
Which reminded her she was in his arms and had only to stretch up to press their lips together.

Have you seen the man who—have you seen him since?

She blinked.
Concentrate
. While she'd been opening the doors to her body's desires, Amun had been focused on the being responsible for her family's demise, still determined to look out for her. “A few times,” she hedged. More like a hundred.

When? Where?

“Each time, just before I die,” she admitted. Always a prelude to the end of her current existence, as if he poisoned whatever life she'd managed to build for herself. But as many times as she'd seen him, she'd never fought him. And she'd wanted to fight him, so badly. He would simply reveal himself, that dark robe dancing around his ankles, his feet not quite touching the floor. He would watch her, hate dripping from him. He would curse at her. But he would never touch her or allow her to touch him. Then, he would disappear.

I need to think on this,
Amun said.

Her stomach chose that moment to rumble, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Once again Amun lifted her up, but this time he placed her on that bed of petals. Instantly she mourned the loss of his arms, his heat.
I need to find you something to eat. I was afraid the snakes would harm you, even in their deaths, so I brought none of their meat with us.

Always taking care of her, her Amun. “I wish that stupid angel had packed a few protein bars and bottles of water,” she said, snappier than she'd intended.

Beside her, the pack in question plumped up with a whoosh. She and Amun shared a confused glance. Frowning, he leaned over, unzipped the panels and reached inside. He withdrew a handful of protein bars.

His frown deepened as he upended the bag and dumped out the contents: more protein bars, followed by bottles of water. Just like that, his frown softened with hints of relief and wonder.

Ask for something else,
he commanded.

Haidee lumbered to her knees, not daring to hope. “I wish the pack had sandwiches and fruit.”

The sides of the pack expanded a second time before sandwich after sandwich fell on top of the bars, each encased in a clear plastic wrapper. And when those stopped raining down, apples and oranges began to drop and roll. Haidee's mouth watered.

“I want wet wipes and a change of clothes. I want weapons and toothpaste and a toothbrush—” they'd left those behind “—and a first aid kit for Amun's wounds.” As she spoke, each of the requested items joined the pile.

Giddy, she sorted through the food, picking out what she wanted to eat. Once she had a ham sandwich and apple in hand, she practically inhaled them. Then another sandwich, then an orange. She drained two bottles of water. Every bite, every drop was heaven. And when she finally finished, too full to shovel in another crumb, she cleaned herself as best she could with the wipes, brushed her teeth—God, that felt good—and finally allowed herself to glance over at Amun. Breath caught in her throat.

The firelight caressed him lovingly, bestowing a golden tint on his dark skin. A tint she hadn't noticed before. He was watching her, a strange, bemused expression on his beautiful face, and a half-eaten apple in his hand. Obviously he'd cleaned up, too, since his face was no longer streaked with dirt.

“Let me bandage your wounds,” she said quietly.

The bemused expression vanished, his pupils expanding, his nostrils flaring as if he suddenly scented prey. Her eyes widened. What had she said?

Your concern for me is nice, but to bandage me, you'll have to put your hands on me. I want your hands on me for a different reason.

“I—I…okay.”

Come here.
There was such force, such command in his tone, she didn't even think about refusing.

She crawled to him, quickly closing the distance between them. He set the apple aside, but he didn't touch her. He simply peered at her. Waiting. Expectant. She rose to her haunches, breathing him in. The sandalwood was now layered with the peat smoke.

She was supposed to bandage him first, right? Then touch him
for a different reason.
“I—I forgot the supplies.” They were around here somewhere, and—

Forget the supplies again. You're going to kiss me now, Haidee.

His heat was like a thick vine around her. She found herself almost in a trance as she straightened and said, “Yes.” Finally. Another kiss. Exactly what she'd craved. Forever, it seemed.

A kiss between you and me and no other.

“Yes.” A plea from deep inside.

Do it, then.
His voice snapped like a whip, daring her even as it warned her.

It was then she realized that, on some level, he was still fighting his desire, exactly as he had in the shower, just before he'd walked away from her, and that even when their tongues were rolling together, he still meant to resist her, to maintain distance.

She wasn't going to let him.

If she gave her all to their kiss, he had to give his all, too. That was only fair.

“I—I won't kiss you,” she said, shivering as his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “I mean, I won't do it because I'm grateful to you, and I won't do it to distract or
soften you. I'll do it just because I want you. So get ready. Because I expect the same from you. If you can't do the same, walk away now.”

I'
LL DO IT JUST BECAUSE
I want you.
As Haidee's soft, shattering words echoed in Amun's mind, he stopped waiting for her to take the lead, stopped waiting for her to physically prove her desire for him, thereby atoning for her rejection of him in favor of Micah in the shower.

I can give you what you want,
he told her, voice raw.

Her lips parted on a relieved gasp.

He didn't want her relieved; he wanted her mindless. With a moan, he crushed his mouth to hers, one hand at her nape, one on her ass, and jerked her into the uncompromising line of his body. Immediately she opened for him, welcoming the hard thrust of his tongue into those wet, satiny depths. He tasted mint and apple, both frosted like ice cream. Both fueling his need.

During their talk, he'd meant to ask her about the unnatural chill of her skin, but as she'd spoken of death and pain, he had focused only on that. On finding a way to save her. There had to be a way. And there had to be a reason she kept coming back.

How many times had she died? he'd wondered. In how many ways? Not knowing tortured him, but he had a feeling that knowing would utterly
destroy
him. No matter what she'd done in the past, she hadn't deserved to suffer as she clearly had. Especially more than once. The fear in her eyes as she'd spoken of being reborn into the same body…he never wanted to see it again.

And could he really blame her for her hatred of him and
his friends? A demon-possessed immortal had slain her family, her husband. Amun would have reacted the same way, lashing out at everyone responsible, even the slightest bit. At the time of Baden's death, Haidee had known only that the Lords were violent, crazed, capable of any dark deed.
Of course
she'd sought to destroy them.

He'd done the same to her. To her colleagues.

Now, as Amun looked back without any taint of guilt, fury or despair, he knew three things to be true. Haidee had lost her family. He had lost a friend. He wasn't going to hate her for that loss anymore. Since she'd fought her way into his bedroom, so sweetly caring for his wounds, the sentiment hadn't sat right with him, anyway. He'd had to force the issue.

Now, he wanted all of her. He wouldn't, couldn't, settle for less, his need to touch no longer about tiring of her or freeing himself of this obsession, but about gratifying her.

“Amun,” she rasped, and the sound of his name on those pleasure-giving lips nearly undid him. “You…you stopped. Why did you stop?”

Amun. She'd called him Amun. He lifted his head and peered down at her. Her mouth was red, swollen and glistening with moisture. Her tongue flicked out to capture the lingering flavor of him. His shaft throbbed in response, desperate to feel the clench of her inner walls.

Her hands rested on his shoulders, her nails already cutting. He was panting, sweating despite the cool breeze wafting from her.

“What's wrong?”

You always called me “baby” when you thought I was… Micah.
Just then, he had trouble even thinking the loathsome name. The scope of his understanding extended to Haidee and only Haidee. Besides being a Hunter, the bastard had held her, tasted her, and while Amun knew he
was being irrational, he despised every man who'd ever had this pleasure.
His
pleasure.
Yet you call
me
by my name,
he finished darkly.

Her expression softened, illuminating the delicacy of her features. “The only person I've ever called baby is you.”

Well, okay, then. That was acceptable. He reclaimed her mouth in a rush. Their tongues rolled together, taking, giving, their teeth scraping. Hands began roaming, every new touch increasing their fervency. He cupped her breasts, her nipples beading under his palm, and he moaned.

“I wish they were bigger,” she said between licks.

Her breasts?
Why?

“Men like bigger.”

Someone had made her self-conscious, he realized, and he wanted to kill that someone.
This man likes these.
He squeezed. They were small, as she'd implied, but firm and wonderfully tipped. And they truly were the sweetest little morsels, as
he
had implied.
They're perfect.

In fact…he whipped her shirt over her head and ripped the front clasp of her bra. The backpack would provide her with another one. As the material sagged apart, he caught a glimpse of nipples the prettiest shade of pink he'd ever seen.

You're so beautiful.
He sounded drugged, didn't care.

“Th-thank you.”

He bent his head and sucked one of the little pearls harder than he'd intended. A gasp escaped her, but she didn't push him away. No, she tangled her fingers in his hair and held him against her.

He switched his attention from one to the other, laving them equally until goose bumps broke out over her skin. Until her belly quivered in anticipation every time he moved. Until breathy groans were falling from
her lips, interwoven with his name, with pleas for mercy—for more.

Amun hadn't had a lover in a very long time, but he hadn't forgotten the basics, and he'd never been so driven by instinct.
Touch, taste, possess, own.
He could have been a virgin, and he would have found a way to please this woman, because making her come wasn't simply a desire. Making her come was a necessity.

Her pleasure was his pleasure, and that's just the way it was.

Touch…taste
…yes, taste. He straightened, meshing their lips. He had to taste her again.

He wanted to go slowly, to savor every inch of her. To learn what she liked, what she didn't. But just as before, with a single kiss and a few caresses, the passion between them went nuclear. Those roaming hands clutched, nails scraped. He rubbed his erection between her legs, and she arched into every slide.

After everything she'd told him, he felt as if he could lose her at any moment. As if someone would take her from him, and she would wake up in that cave in Greece, unable to remember him or this kiss.

They were both shirtless, and when her breasts brushed his chest, he hissed out a breath. The kiss never slowed, their tongues continually rolling, seeking, demanding.
Possess…own…
He cupped her ass and slammed her against him, the rubbing becoming a frantic seeking. A fever.

No, not a fever. His blood was on fire, true, racing through his veins with a swiftness that would have killed a lesser man, but the woman he held was becoming colder with every second that passed. Her skin was like ice, her mouth the storm, and as he sucked on her tongue, that icy storm filled
him
.

The demons had been hiding in the back of his mind, afraid to make themselves known. Now they shrieked,
her touch affecting them as if they'd just been hooked to an electric generator. Each one—and gods, there were hundreds—scrambled through his head, doing their best to avoid the renewing of Haidee's pull…the unavoidable cold.

Finally the kiss slowed…slowed…and then Haidee leaned back. “Are you okay?” Soft knuckles stroked his cheek.

Just need…a moment…
Amun closed his eyes and settled on his haunches, inhaling unhurriedly, exhaling with care. Every muscle in his body was locked in a desperate tug-of-war with his bones, lancing thousands of aches through every part of him. All at the same time. From the demons, yes, but also from unfulfilled desire. He hadn't been ready to stop.

“My internal thermometer gets the better of me sometimes. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to—I could feel it… I'm sorry,” she said again, a trace of misery in her tone. “I'll control it, I promise.”

No apologies,
he told her.
You did nothing wrong. Besides, I like it.

He wasn't sure why the demons were calmed by her one moment, then roused by her the next. He wasn't sure how she pulled on them or why they reacted that way, but he would puzzle over the answer later. With the distance between him and Haidee—minute though it was—the heat returned to him and the demons ceased fighting so stringently. For the moment, that was enough.

Secrets, though, had remained unaffected throughout the entire ordeal. Amun didn't think his soul-companion had liked the change in temperature, but the beast hadn't been—and still wasn't, because yes, Amun planned to have another go at his woman—screeching in fear. His woman.

The phrase delighted him in a way he never would have
expected. But she was. His. In every way that mattered—and soon in every way imaginable. His friends wouldn't understand. Might even hate him, might consider him a traitor. He couldn't make himself care. Just then, her well-being came before his own.

The change in his mind-set was radical, even to him, and he wasn't quite used to it yet. That didn't lessen the impact, though. He'd held her in his lap, listened to her story of loss, had heard the heartbreak in her voice, and something inside him had broken. He'd begun to comprehend the truth. They were alike in so many ways. Determined, constantly bombarded by the worst the world had to offer—people, places, circumstances—yet finding joy where they could.

He wanted this woman. Would have her. And yeah, maybe he was driven purely by desire right now, convincing himself of feelings he wouldn't normally entertain to ease the shame of being with the enemy, but he didn't think so.

“Maybe it's best that we stopped,” she whispered on a trembling breath. “I—I still can't sleep with you.”

Amun's eyelids sprang open, and he knew flickers of firelight showcased the dark menace in his eyes.
Because of him?
he demanded.

“Yes. I won't cheat.”

He popped his jaw.
When did you last sleep with him?
With every new word, there had been an increase of rage in his voice.

“I didn't. Not once.”

The rage vanished in a blink. Had she said
yesterday,
he would have wanted her still—he doubted anything could change that—but knowing Micah hadn't touched her in that way stoked his new sense of possession.
When you dated him, you thought he was me,
he reminded her.

“Yes.”

Amun gripped her hips, urged her forward and rubbed against her.
Then you are cheating on me by staying true to him.

She moaned, her eyelids drifting to half-mast. When he forced her to steady, she nibbled on her bottom lip, white teeth sinking deep. “Maybe I am, but there's still a note of dishonesty there. So, no sex. Not until I tell him we're over. But…”

But Amun could kiss her, she was saying. The rage returned full-force.
Kissing is a form of cheating, Haidee.
He knew how he would react if he caught her kissing another man. Blood would flow.

Her shoulders sagged, her expression suddenly tortured. “You're right. I'm sorry. I know you're right. You just make me so…hot. We'll stop, then. For good. Until—just until.”

Break up with him in your mind. Now.

“In my heart and in my mind, he and I are done already. But I have to tell him, Amun. He deserves to know. I know you won't believe me, but he's a good man.”

Amun had just realized he would do anything to protect this woman, even give up life as he knew it, simply to be with her. Yet she couldn't let go of an old boyfriend for him. Not completely. While part of him admired such loyalty, the other part wanted that loyalty directed only at himself.

No sex, she'd said, and now, because of what he'd said, no kissing, either. Well, then, by the gods, he would do everything else. Scowling, he caught her by the back of her knees and jerked, tossing her to her back. She landed on the flower petals, their softness cushioning the blow. Before she could suck in a breath, he was atop her, shoving her legs apart and fitting himself against her.

Don't cheat me, Haidee. Don't cheat
me.
Please.

She groaned, as if in pain, and then she settled.
“I—I—maybe I'm a terrible person, but I need you to kiss me. Please.”

Not terrible. Perfect.
In that moment, he found he could deny her nothing. So, kiss her? Yes, even though he'd thought to balance the scale. Their mouths met in a frenzied tangle, licking, sucking, biting. As promised, she kept her temperature under control. Still cold, but never freezing. How she did so, he didn't know. And he didn't like that she couldn't let go completely, that she had to remain guarded.

When this was over, he vowed, when he'd gotten rid of the demons inside him, he would have her. All of her. The cold and every inch of her luscious body. Even her heart. He would shield his own, of course—wanting her, needing her, that was fine, but he would be owned by no one—but by gods, he absolutely would have hers.

He unsnapped her jeans and kicked them down her legs…off. She didn't protest, didn't try to stop him. She trusted him not to cross the line she had drawn. Again he found himself torn, liking that she trusted him, hating that she didn't crave more from him despite everything against them, as he did. Hating that she had him addicted to her, but didn't seem to be addicted to him.

Well, he would just have to change that.

Amun kissed and nibbled his way to her breasts and once again laved her nipples. When she was writhing, hips lifting, greedy for a touch, any touch, he worked his way to her navel. There, he tormented her with fleeting, gentle bites while his fingers toyed with the band of her panties, at her waist, around her thighs, but never stroking where she needed him most.

“Amun…baby…please.”

Begging now. Good, that was good. What he'd wanted. Yet, his body ached with such unfulfilled desire, he wasn't sure he would live through this encounter. Sweat beaded on
his brow, his skin pulled taut and consuming need blistered him inside and out.