CHAPTER SIX
"SHAVE MY HEAD," ANYA muttered darkly. How would Lucien react if she actually did it? If she next appeared to him bald? Probably call her "ugly" and "gullible" and resist her more fervently. "Jerk."
And yet, foolishly, she missed him.
When he'd slipped into the spirit realm to escort those souls to hell, she had flashed to the humans' home, knowing he would soon arrive. Seeing him again had affected her deeply. She'd almost thrown herself at him, glad that he was healthy and whole, face and neck already healing; she had only managed to suppress the urge by suppressing her emotions, as well.
Afterward, she had returned to her beach in Hawaii, dejected, and had shimmied into her favorite white one-piece. Now she strolled along the water's edge flinging glistening sand in every direction, hair hanging down her back, damp and curling. The sun glowed hotly, stroking her skin. Waves lapped at the pink grains, washing some away, and all the emotions she'd momentarily overridden lapped at her just as determinedly.
"All I wanted to do was help him."
And what had she gotten in return for her generosity? He'd pretended to want her, even chained her to his bed - then vanished. That still hurt. She'd been desperate for him, and he hadn't been able to get away from her fast enough. "I am such a moron."
Why couldn't she forget him?
No man had ever affected her like this, and despite her curse, she'd dated plenty! All had been mortals, amusing for a little while as they showered her with the compliments she'd always craved from the gods, but most had been as forgettable as she wanted Lucien to be. The more memorable ones had become her friends, even though she had refused to sleep with them.
One by one they had died. Casual though the friendships were, their loss had hurt her, their humanity a weakness she'd come to despise. She no longer hung with humans, hadn't for several years, and some nights she was so lonely she found herself snuggling with the teddy bear she'd stolen from the grand opening of a Toys "R" Us.
With Lucien, she wasn't lonely. She was excited. Every moment with him was a surprise. And he wanted nothing to do with her.
Grrr! From this point on, she would stay away from him. Would make him come to her. He'd have to eventually, if he hoped to obey Cronus. Patience, though, had never been her strongest virtue, and in spite of everything, as the day ticked by she realized she craved another sight of him.
"I'm not a moron. I'm a fucking moron." Watching Lucien fight had to be the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. Ev-er. He'd been lethal strength and total Death, fast and fluid as he'd wielded those daggers. His mismatched eyes had glowed with the promise of eternal damnation, and she'd found that irresistible.
Still did.
She liked sparring with him. She enjoyed his company, was bored when parted from him.
Seriously. None of that made sense. As grave as he was, he should have been dull. Yet he amused her, challenged her and made her feel alive. Odd, since he was possessed by Death.
Did he feel anything for her? Anything at all besides disdain and irritation? If so, he hid it well. Except when he kissed her. Then he was another man completely. Passionate and tender, a little wild. He kissed with his entire body, showering her with desire and that rose-scented flavor.
"Who am I trying to fool? I'm going back to him."
Cronus had chosen her executioner well. She couldn't stay away from him, didn't want him to stay away from her, and might even let him try again to kill her, just for another kiss.
"Might be fun," she murmured, flashing.
IT WAS THE STRAWBERRY-SCENTED breeze that first alerted Lucien to Anya's presence when he materialized on the Greek island after escorting a group of souls to heaven. There'd been a bus accident in the States, a carefree troop on their way to a church social. They'd been hit by a drunk driver and every one of them had died.
A waste. Thankfully he'd numbed himself enough that even the children failed to affect him anymore. He couldn't allow them to; as much death as he dealt, he'd be a mess if he did.
You're a mess right now, thinking of Anya.
The thought came from him, but his demon was quick to respond.
Need another kiss.
Lucien wasn't surprised this time. Whenever the woman approached him, Death purred like an excited kitten. A phenomenon he still did not understand. Why do you want her? He hated the thought of anyone, even the demon, craving her as he did.
Tastes good.
There was no refuting that.
More and more, Lucien could feel Cronus's anger radiating down at him. It was a burn in his gut, a churning in his soul. The king would not wait much longer, would surely curse him soon if he failed to act. Or curse his friends.
Yet just the thought of seeing Anya again lit an inexorable fire inside him, overshadowing the thought of both her death and his punishment. Since that fight with the Hunters two days ago, he hadn't gone to her and she hadn't appeared to him. He'd missed her as she'd once claimed to miss him.
Lucien searched the Temple of the All Gods for some physical sign of her. He saw moss-covered columns, mounds of crumbled stone and pools of crystal water. No Anya.
So many times he'd pictured her here. In his mind, the pillars were gleaming white with lush emerald ivy and provided the perfect frame for her exotic beauty. In his mind, the puddles were bubbling pools and she liked to frolic. Naked.
"Anya," he said.
She didn't respond.
He waited several minutes, then called her name again.
Again, nothing.
"I know you're here."
Nothing. What game did she play now?
Trying not to frown, he bent over a sand pile and sifted through the grains. If he couldn't coax her out of hiding, at least he could begin looking for evidence of the four artifacts' existence.
Something soft brushed his shoulder blades and the scent of strawberries became stronger, filling his nostrils, tantalizing him; he didn't turn, didn't acknowledge the sensation. Not outwardly, at least. Inside, he shook.
"Whatcha doing?" she asked. Finally she materialized.
Stomach tightening with arousal, Lucien focused on her. Dear gods. Her clothes...He gulped. She leaned against one of the towering white columns. Crumbling rock and Parisian marble walls stretched around her, intricate patterns framing her perfect pixie face. Wisps of hair caressed her, and he experienced a momentary burst of jealousy.
He wanted his fingers to caress her, and nothing else.
She wore a transparent white gown - did she have an endless supply? - that draped one shoulder and bared the other's sun-kissed glory. A braided gold belt wrapped around her waist, hugging her curves. A slit rode the entire length of her thigh, revealing inch after inch of smooth, creamy skin, as well as a hint of snow-white panties.
Suddenly Lucien had trouble breathing. With the sun hitting just behind her, he could see the outline of her strawberry nipples.
Strawberry. A word he would forever associate with Anya.
Make her leave. She's a distraction you cannot afford.
Want her to stay! the demon growled.
If only. "Not many more hours of light, so..." His voice was hoarse.
Hurt glimmered in the blue depths of her eyes. "So get lost? Is that what you're saying?"
"Yes." He turned away from her - for the best, you know it - and scooped another handful of dirt.
Kiss her. Kisskisskiss.
He clenched his jaw.
A moment passed in silence. Then, "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Not wise, giving me your back."
"The other warriors are nearby." They were spread out over the island, close enough to hear but not close enough to kill an immediate threat. "I'll let them worry about my back," he lied. He just, well, he couldn't face her again. She stirred all kinds of emotions inside him. Emotions he was better off without.
"Well, then. Aren't you going to rush me or something? I'm, like, at the top of your destruction list."
"Later. Right now, I'm busy." He heard her shift, heard a rock fall. Wanted to look. Didn't. One more glance at her, and he might never look away. He might rush her as she'd asked, but he wouldn't hurt her. He would kiss her, just as Death craved. Again and again. Until their clothes were shed and he was pumping inside her.
In that instant, his body was so hard he thought he might burst.
"Lucien," Paris called from beyond the far temple wall, his voice tense.
He straightened. Still he did not face Anya. "Yes."
"I smell female. Your female."
"Stay where you are." He didn't want the others to see her like this. "All of you. Keep looking for something to point us in the right direction."
Paris grumbled something under his breath. Strider shouted, "You lucky son of a bitch." Amun and Gideon did not reply.
"Guess they won't have your back, after all," Anya said, her tone strangely devoid of emotion.
He didn't like it when she became so unreadable. He was afraid she was doing so to protect herself from pain. Pain he caused.
"So you guys are looking for artifacts, hmm?"
"Do not pretend ignorance. You sent us here." He crouched down once more and rolled a large silver stone aside, spotting pebbles and a dead clam underneath. He gritted his teeth, feeling impatient and like a fool. What kind of warrior played in the sand?
"This temple had been buried under the sea for thousands of years," Anya said. "The salt water probably washed all evidence of the past away."
"Perhaps something remains." He had to believe it was so.
"I thought your precious Ashlyn told you the box was guarded by Hydra," Anya said, and this time she spoke with a sneer.
Yes, Ashlyn had heard something about Hydra in her travels with the World Institute of Parapsychology. But why had Anya sneered? She had once aided Ashlyn, had seemed to like her. Doesn't matter.
According to numerous sources, Hydra had multiple heads and poisonous breath. Hercules was said to have defeated her at Lake Lerna. But Ashlyn claimed there had been a few sightings over the years. Always in a different location - the Arctic, Egypt, Africa, Scotland and even the States. Humans called her Nessie, Big Foot and all other manner of names. Leave it to mortals not to know what was right under their noses.
Part of Lucien wanted to abandon this temple and search in one of those locations. For if he could find Hydra, maybe he could find the box. Maybe he could destroy it at last and prevent Hunters - and even the gods - from trapping the demons and killing him and the other Lords.
Curiosity, however, held him here. The Titans had resurrected this temple for a reason. Yes, they planned to bring humans back to the days of worship and sacrifice. But there was something here. Had to be. Why else would the Hunters have been looking so diligently?
"I love treasure hunts," Anya said, reclaiming his attention. "They're so exciting."
"You are not helping us."
A pause. Then, suddenly, she was standing beside him, strands of her hair brushing his bare arm. He'd removed his shirt an hour ago, the sun too bright and too hot. Sweat trickled along the ropes of his stomach, causing that hair to plaster against his skin. He had to grind his molars at the headiness of being connected to her, even in so small a way.
"Why can't I help?" Anya asked, and there was a catch in her raspy voice. A pout. Gods, he loved the sound of that pout. "I've proven myself invaluable so far."
Foolish him, he finally dared a glance up at her. He saw her panties first and had to swallow a wave of need. He forced his gaze to continue its upward slide, not stopping until their eyes locked. So pretty. He pushed to his feet, damned legs shaking.
Her gaze immediately dropped to his chest. To the black butterfly tattooed over his torso and shoulder. He gulped, had to look away again. Stark desire radiated from her. She even reached out to touch him, caught herself, and lowered her arm.
Do it. Touch me. Too many days had passed since he'd felt the fire of her fingertips.
She didn't, though. "It's lovely," she said, motioning to the butterfly.
"Thank you." Disappointment slammed into him when she didn't reach out again, but he knew it was better this way.
"I hate it," he admitted.
"Really? Why?"
"It is the mark of the demon. After Death was thrust inside my body, the tattoo simply appeared."
"Well, FYI. It's a babe magnet. Maybe I'll get one. A dagger or maybe even angel wings. Oh, oh. I know. I'll get a matching butterfly. We'll be twinkies!"
Anya, tattooed. A design for his tongue to trace. He gulped. Touch me. Please touch me. "To answer your earlier question, you cannot help us because you will distract us from our purpose," he said a little more forcefully than he'd intended. He was barely able to concentrate on anything but her scent and her beauty every time she neared him. "I'm sorry."
Her gaze snapped to his. "You're not sorry, but whatever," she said tightly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now I won't tell you where the box is."
He was gripping her arms in the next instant. "You know where it is?"
She grabbed his wrists and squeezed. Not to push him away, but to hold him in place. "Would you stop trying to kill me if I did?"
"No."
Scowling, she stomped her foot. The action caused her breasts to bounce gently against his arms. "I don't even know why I'm bothering with you."
"You said that before."
"Well, it's important enough to be mentioned twice."
He sighed. "Why are you here, Anya?"
Her expression became mulish. "None of your business, Flowers."
"Trying to butter me up some more?"
Her eyes closed off like blinds drawn over a window, but he could see the blue fire banked there through tiny slats of inextinguishable emotion. "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"
Unable to stop himself - would it always be so? - he jerked her up and into him, body to body, placing them nose to nose. He had not felt this out of control since those early days with the demon. Anya's nipples poked at his chest deliciously. "So are you. You are driving me insane."
"Boo fucking hoo. You're driving me insane."
He shook her and she suddenly gasped, losing all hint of anger. She moaned. Moaned! "Mmm. Must be my lucky day. You have another erection."
His nostrils flared, potent desire heating his blood. Well, more desire. Concentrate. "What do you know about the box, Anya?" She had mentioned it, yes? He couldn't recall. Could only remember the way she tasted, hot and wild.
Her luscious little tongue flicked out and traced the seam of her lips. "Confession. I don't know where it is, but I do know you'll never find it."
No emotion. No damn emotion. "Why not?"
"Even the gods don't know where it is. If they did, it would have been found and put to use by now."
Yes. That made sense. "What else do you know?"
She arched her hips, brushing against him softly, and groaned. "After the Titans defeated the Greeks...well, defeated most of the Greeks - some got away. Anyhoo, there was a nasty game of torture and interrogation. Cronus and his crew want those artifacts back. Zeus told him what had been done to them, and Cronus got his search on, but didn't have any luck."
Lucien ground his teeth against the pleasure-sensations she was sparking inside of him. "Why does Cronus want them?"
"Better question - who wouldn't want them? They're a great source of power. If they fell into the hands of his enemies, little Cronie could very well be defeated again. But if Cronus has them, he's pretty much assured of eternal success."
"But how do the artifacts lead to the box? Why would the gods even want the box? It houses demons, nothing more."
"Uh, wrong. Think about it. That box is made from the bones of the goddess of oppression. It can suck the spirit out of anything. With Tartarus falling to pieces and Cronus having to use his soldiers to keep the Greeks locked inside, the box would be the perfect solution, a home for his enemies and your demons. What better revenge? The gods that caused him trouble locked away with the demons that caused them trouble."
For a moment, a red haze fell over Lucien's vision. Death had endured a thousand years of confinement in that damned box, an existence that hadn't truly been an existence. There'd been screams, so many screams. Darkness, so much darkness. The demon would not be placed back inside willingly. Death would destroy Lucien first, of that he was certain.
"You look ready for a battle, Flowers. Want to fight me? Huh, huh, please?"
Calm down. He released her arms and tried to back away. Fighting her...pinning her...tonguing her...Calm down! She retained a grip on his wrists, not letting him get very far.
"Why doesn't Cronus simply kill the Greeks?"
"You've spent some time with the gods, right?"
"Long ago."
Unexpectedly she released him. Neither of them moved farther away. No, they stepped closer. "They're obsessed with their amusements, you could say. That, and they live by a code of revenge. Zeus will not suffer as Cronus has suffered if he's dead. And Cronus would have no one to brag about his victories to, no one to taunt, no one to challenge him, without Zeus. Eternity would be boring, no surprises on the horizon."
"Why isn't Cronus here, searching?"
Anya grinned. "Why should he? You're doing all the work for him."
Which meant the god would not want Lucien and the other warriors dead. Which in turn meant Lucien had a little time to figure out what to do about Anya. Suddenly he wanted to grin as Anya was doing. The only thing ruining the spark of happiness inside his chest was the fact that Cronus would snatch whichever artifacts Lucien found. Unless, of course, he figured out a way to hide them.
"How do the Cage and Rod, Eye and Cloak lead to the box?" he asked.
"Now that, I don't know." She shrugged, brushing her shoulder against him.
He bit the inside of his cheek, Death purring wildly. The pleasure of her touch, even one so innocent, rocked him to the core.
"Maybe they're like a key or a map, and point a person in the right direction," she said breathlessly. "So what are we going to do, you and I?"
The touch must have affected her, as well.
"I do not know."
Her features softened, her eyes glowing. "What do you want to do?"
He forced himself to say, "Continue my search of the temple," when he wanted to beg her for a kiss. How he suddenly envied Gideon, who spun a web of lies with such ease. No guilt.
Eyes narrowing, Anya stepped away from him. He felt bereft without her nearby, and heard the demon growl inside his head.
"You were using me for information, huh? Leading me on, looking at me as if you wanted me, but it was only to get me to spill my knowledge."
"Yes," he lied.
Her features fell.
He experienced another wave of shame. He had to stop being cruel to her. She might be as promiscuous as Paris, might be - was probably - using Lucien for her own gain even as she accused him of doing the same. But she was sweet and funny and challenging.
"You rebuff me, fine," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "You think you're better than me, whatever. But you know what? You're not. You're sitting back, doing nothing as the gods pull your strings. I, at least, am trying to fight them."
"Anya - "
She wasn't finished. "What are you going to do when your little friend Aeron escapes that dungeon and slaughters the human girl Danika and her family? Still nothing? When he comes to his senses, his life will be forever ruined because of his actions. And you'll have helped him. You'll have taken their souls to heaven even though their lives were cut short."
She was right, he realized, and he hated himself for it. What kind of man was he? All this time, he had been Cronus's puppet. He had not fought the god as a warrior should have, hadn't tried to cut those damned strings in any way.
"Perhaps the women are not innocent," he said, knowing the words were a lie. He simply didn't know what else to say. "Perhaps there is a good reason Danika and her family were chosen for extermination."
"You're right about that. There is a reason they were chosen."
"Tell me." Thinking about the mortals was easier than thinking about himself and his failure.
"Figure it out on your own, asshole. I think I've told you enough."
He turned away from her. He'd seen the lie in her eyes - she didn't know. But she was clearly hurting, and he wanted to comfort her and had no right to do so. "At least tell me if I'm wasting my time looking for direction here." She owed him nothing, but he couldn't stop himself from asking.
For a long while she didn't speak. He doubted she moved, either, for she made no noise. "You're not wasting your time here."
"Thank you for that. What - "
"Nope. No more questions; I'm not telling you what to look for and I'm not telling you how to find it. Even though that thank you was pretty damn awesome." Sarcasm dripped from those last few words, though mercifully, they had not been edged in steel.
"You're welcome," he said, hoping to tease her into a good mood.
She stepped in front of him, her hips swaying. Expression relaxed once more, she leaned against another column. "Let's get back on track," she said. "How long before you start trying to murder me again?"
Murder. A sharp pain lanced through his chest. That's what he would be doing to her, he thought, murdering her. Ashamed, he bent down and resumed his futile sifting through the rock and sand. "I do not know."
"Won't it piss off Cronie Wonie if you wait too long?"
"He did not give me a deadline."
"Maybe we could, like, discuss this again in a hundred years."
Lucien snorted, even as he realized she was teasing him into a good mood.
"That's not gonna work for you, then? You're all booked up?"
"Something like that," he muttered.
"What about tomorrow? You free?"
"I am booked for the next few weeks."
"And you can't squeeze in a fight with me?" She almost sounded eager.
For you, anything. "Sorry."
"I'm starting to think you aren't taking this killing business seriously."
"Oh, I am serious about it." Unfortunately. "Do not worry."
She sighed, mournful. "What about scheduling time to make out? Can you do that?"
An image sparkled inside his mind: Anya chained to his bed, legs parted, core glistening. His cock swelled. Again. "Sorry. Not that, either."
She shrugged as if she didn't care, but he saw hurt in her eyes. She stared down at her sandaled feet and kicked a rock. "Don't be surprised if I sneak up on you and take your head."
"Thank you for the warning."
"My pleasure. Shit!" she suddenly cried.
He stiffened, going for a weapon. "What is wrong?"
"I was looking at my feet."
Gradually he relaxed. "And that is bad?"
"That's horrible! The worst thing ever. I never look at my feet."
His gaze shifted to her toes, painted a wild shade of red. "I think they are adorable." He didn't give her time to respond. Cheeks heating, he said, "Perhaps I will make time in my schedule to sneak up on you."
A slow grin lifted her lips, her expression tender. "You are so cute, thinking you have that kind of skill."
He had to press his mouth together to keep from returning the grin. The woman amused him as much as she aroused him.
"Maybe I'll look for those artifacts, too," she said, almost as an afterthought. "If I find them, I might lock you inside that cage. Then you'd have to be nice to me."
Before he could growl a response, she grinned again, gave him a finger wave and disappeared.
The Darkest Kiss - novel English hot
Re: The Darkest Kiss - novel English hot
CHAPTER SEVEN
FOR THE NEXT WEEK, ANYA dogged Lucien's every step when she wasn't stealing to keep herself sane. Even when he was escorting souls. She hated when he visited hell. Hated the heat, the smells, the taunts and jeers that emerged from the dark yet fiery pit. Always Lucien tried to act unaffected by them, but she could see the unease in his eyes. That saddened her. He'd seen the worst the world had to offer over and over again, and had had to anesthetize himself to survive.
Now she wanted him to see the best; now she wanted him to feel.
She told herself she wanted those things because it would be entertaining to watch the prince of doom and gloom let some light into his life. She didn't look deeper than that because she was afraid of what lurked beneath the explanation.
She sighed, knowing she should have given up on Lucien days ago. Attacked him, at the very least, or drawn him away from the temple for a flash-chase. But she suspected he wouldn't raise a hand against her and knew he would refuse to follow her. So she remained invisible and stayed close. Besides, whatever he learned about those artifacts, she learned, too.
After she'd mentioned looking for them herself, she'd realized she did indeed want them. Once she had one of those babies in her hot little hands, she'd make him beg for it. Gods, his expression was going to be priceless. Especially when she turned him down and bargained with Cronus. Her life for an artifact. Talk about a win-win situation!
"Go away, Anya," Lucien whispered.
He couldn't see her, but she stuck her tongue out at him, anyway. Those were the only words he'd spoken to her all week. If he said them again, she planned to materialize and slap him across the face, then quickly disappear.
"I am serious."
He always knew when she arrived. Once he'd told her that he smelled her. She'd been pleased, because it meant he was aware of her. She was still pleased by it, but damn if it didn't ruin her element of surprise.
Right now, the warrior stood in the Temple of the All Gods, peering at the bare, cracked walls with savage intensity. He and the other Lords had come here every day, their determination awe-inspiring in the face of their failure to find anything.
No wonder I want him so badly.
Lingering at Lucien's side was foolish and dangerous. It only intensified her desire for him. Seeing his butterfly tattoo on a regular basis was causing all kinds of naughty fantasies to play through her mind. Like: spending hours licking it. Like: taking Lucien's cock into her mouth while caressing it. Like: finger painting it with chocolate sauce and having it for dessert.
He'd probably try to stab her if she suggested any of those things. She'd never met a man less sure of his appeal and more outraged when a woman tried to tell him of her desire. How could others not see how mouthwateringly sexy he was? How rugged? How he tempted feminine instincts on every level?
Lucien bent down and once again sifted through rock and sand, looking for gods knew what. Sunlight stroked him lovingly, the bitch. He's mine.
"Go away, Anya," he repeated.
Grrr! She materialized. Rather than slap him, though, she sat on a boulder beside him. He was shirtless again, his skin slightly burned, cut up and bruised.
He didn't face her. "I said go away."
"Like I'm going to obey you. You aren't my daddy. Unless you want to be. 'Cause I've been a bad, naughty girl and I need a spanking."
A pained groan escaped him. "Anya. Please." Sweat trickled over his spine, illuminating a few of the scars scattered there.
She reached out to caress them, but froze when one of the warriors called out.
"Lucien. Your woman..." The speaker was Paris, she realized. His voice was strained, even more so than before. Not getting any out here, was he? Poor man. Without sex, Paris weakened. If he could have brought a woman with him to fulfill his needs, all would have been well in his world. But he couldn't sleep with the same woman twice. Promiscuity, the lecherous demon, wouldn't let him.
Anya knew the trials of a sex-curse and sympathized. While hers was the opposite of his, preventing her from ever going all the way, both curses dictated their actions and jacked with their free will. It sucked rotten eggs.
Nothing can bind me but that curse, she thought darkly. She'd been bespelled before she'd acquired the ability to escape confinement, so the curse had already been a part of her. There was no escaping it.
Her gaze returned to Lucien and her shoulders sagged. No, much as she might wish otherwise, there was no escaping it.
"Just stay where you are," Lucien shouted to Paris. "She is my responsibility."
His responsibility? She didn't know whether to be delighted or insulted. "Why not let your friends come over here and play with us?"
He glanced at her through slitted eyelids, a fast look/look-away motion. Still, the moment his gaze hit her, moisture flooded between her legs. Her stomach tingled and her skin ached for him. He was pure sex appeal, all sweaty and dirty and manly. Yum.
"What are you wearing?" he croaked.
"A maid's uniform. You know, to help you dust."
He cursed under his breath. "Just as before, my friends are beyond the stone," he told her, "and they will remain there, working. They do not need a distraction."
How many times would he tell her she was a distraction? She eyed the crumbling stone cupped in his palms and frowned. Maybe, if she proved useful, he'd see her as something more. "I remember this place in its prime. Before it was moved down to earth, we were taught here, the other deities and I. How to control our powers, how to act properly, blah, blah, blah."
Lucien couldn't hide the interest that colored his face. "I was never allowed inside," he admitted. "We went only where Zeus did, and he didn't choose to spend time here."
Eck. To be bound to that temperamental shithead would have been torture. "A pity the place is so damaged now. You might have liked it."
"What did it look like?" he asked, dropping the chunks and sifting through another handful. Each pebble he found he held up to the light, turned to study every side for markings then discarded over his shoulder.
"Towering statues circled the entire temple. Ivy rode some of the walls, and diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and rubies glistened from the floors. I'm sure old glory-seeking Cronus will spruce everything up when he and his brethren of assholes take over."
Lucien snorted. Even though she hated herself for it, she rejoiced in the sound. His amusement was like an aphrodisiac to her, and she had caused it.
"What else?"
"Let's see." She tapped her chin with a nail painted ice-blue. "Every doorway was flanked by two white columns. Pillars of strength, they were called."
"And how many rooms were there?"
She allowed her mind to return to the days she'd spent here. While she'd loved the beauty of the temple, she'd hated the beings inside it. How many times had the goddesses-in-training complained to the teacher, "Why does she get to study here? She's not one of us. She only causes trouble." How many times had the young gods jeered, "I don't know why she bothers to wear a robe. Everyone knows she spends more time out of it."
She pushed aside the remembered hurts. "There was the main altar room, of course, which you're now crouching in. There was a meeting hall where worshippers washed and gathered before sacrificing. Then the interior chamber and the priests' lodgings."
He nodded as though he was soaking in her every word. "Tell me more about this altar room."
Happy to oblige, she said, "If we traveled back in time, there'd be a white marble table in front of you. And there would be murals on the walls. Gods, those were cool. I need to redo one of my apartments and have the images painted - "
"Murals? What did the murals depict?" Lucien asked, cutting her off. He stood and pinned her with a hard stare, urgency radiating from him.
Wow. If she'd known she only needed to talk about boring temples to elicit his full attention, she would have done it days ago.
"Well?" he insisted.
She shrugged, pretending a casualness she suddenly didn't feel. "Godly feats of strength, victories. Even a few defeats."
His eyes glinted. "And was the box here, Anya?"
"No. I'm sorry." She hated to disappoint him.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. She approached him, wanting to touch, but stopped halfway, unsure of his reaction. This close, she could see that even more dirt than she'd realized streaked his chest and arms and his pulse hammered wildly. Her mouth watered at the sight. His butterfly tattoo vibrated with...awareness? Was it alive?
"What thoughts tumble through your head?" he asked.
"Naughty ones."
His brown eye darkened and his blue eye swirled. Both fixed on her minuscule, black-and-white lacy uniform, pupils dilating. "You enjoy tormenting me, do you not?"
She pinched her fingers together and said, "Just a wee bit. But don't worry - I'm not singling you out or anything. It's just a little quirk of mine, tormenting the men who want to kill me."
A brilliant beam of light broke through a cloud - cloud? On this hot day? Had she accidentally summoned it? She didn't look up. Couldn't. That beam had struck his face, illuminating his scars and casting shadows under his eyes. In that moment, he appeared as evil and sinister as a man could be. He appeared otherworldly. Wicked.
Delicious.
Her heartbeat sped up and her nipples beaded into tight little knots. Reach for me. Please.
He didn't.
She had to tear her gaze from him. Wanting him like this was foolish. Not just because of her curse, but because he wouldn't do anything about it. Nothing wrong with buttering him up, though, like you told him you were doing.
Unless she fell for him in the process. That would be a problem. A big one. Already the intensity of her desire was staggering. Any more...
"Anya," he said, drawing her from her thoughts.
"What?" She didn't face him, but withdrew a strawberry lollipop from the link of her belt, unwrapped it and ran her tongue over the tip. A little moan of pleasure escaped her. Scrumptious. She'd discovered the lollipops years ago after one of her human friends had died in a car wreck. Ever since, they'd been her comfort food of choice.
Lucien was in her face a second later - she was beginning to hate when he did that! - and swiped the candy from her hand. Her eyes widened as he tossed it to the ground.
"Hey! That was uncalled for."
He was scowling. "Do not eat those things in front of me."
"Why?" She threw up her arms in confusion.
"Because," he replied mulishly.
The scent of flowers was growing stronger, wafting from him, twining around her and drawing tight. "If you want one for yourself, just freaking ask me next time."
"I don't."
"Then - "
"No more talking. I must work." He spun away from her and went back to his mound of sand.
But not before she saw the fire blazing in his eyes.
Almost afraid to hope, she studied him more closely. His shoulders were stiff and his back ramrod straight, as if he were fighting desire. For her?
A hotter, deeper arousal bloomed inside her. Maybe, like her, he didn't mean half of the things he said. Maybe he truly did yearn for her.
She couldn't ask him. He'd just deny it. But that begged the question of why. Why did he not want her to know? Why did he not want to want her? Obviously, he thought she was easy. Why not take what he assumed she'd given to a thousand others? And what would he do if he knew how laughable that idea really was?
"You're wasting your time in that sand," she said in an airy tone, finally deigning to help him so he would pay attention to her again. Come over here and kiss me.
"No more talking."
"Well, you are."
"Disappear."
"Make me." Please. Want me like I want you. Don't let me be wrong about this.
He didn't reply.
Frustration ate at her, and she plopped onto the nearest boulder with a huff. "I want those artifacts as much as you do," she grumbled, "and your cold-shoulder treatment isn't helping our cause."
That snagged his attention. He flashed to her, knocking her off the boulder and onto the ground. Air shot from her lungs as his heavy muscular weight suddenly restrained her.
Note to self - mention the artifacts more often. Short as her costume was, she was able to spread her legs and welcome him into the cradle of her body. Instant pleasure speared her, shooting from head to toe and lingering in between.
"Why do you want them?"
"Duh. Power." The power of having bargaining chips, but he didn't need to know that.
"I thought we had covered this," he said, his voice cracking. "You will have nothing to do with the artifacts."
"Then you should have killed me." Licking her lips, she stared up at him. As always, he stole her breath. "I've decided I want them really, really bad."
He uttered a low growl. "No. I think you want to die. You are provoking me on purpose, while I have been giving you time to enjoy the last days of your life."
"Well, aren't you sweet," she muttered. Still, she didn't try to push him off her. In fact, she wound her arms around his neck. "I'm just trying to survive, lover. And have a little fun while I'm at it."
His nostrils flared, as if he'd just remembered something unpleasant. A muscle ticked in his jaw, making his scars all the more prominent. Her mouth watered. She wanted to tongue them. "Aligning yourself with me will not save you."
Back to that, were they? Damn, tell one little lie and it would haunt you forever. "Why haven't you killed me, then? And don't give me that bullshit about letting me enjoy the last days of my life. You don't let other souls enjoy the last of their days."
A heavy pause. His expression darkened. "Perhaps I have spared you because you know something, something that can help me find the artifacts and thereby the box. Tell me."
"If I knew something, I would have gotten to them already, dumbass."
"Then you are no good to me." He pulled back slightly and raised his fist as if he meant to strike her.
Over the last week, she'd watched him do this many times. Knew he wasn't going to hit her but reach inside her with a ghostly hand and rip out her spirit, leaving her body a helpless shell.
She should kick herself for taunting him. I just wanted time with him, she inwardly whined. Really, it was all she could think about anymore. All that propelled her out of bed. Well, that and his kisses.
"I don't know where the artifacts are," she said quickly, "but I can teach you more about the temple. How's that?"
He nodded, as if he'd merely been waiting for her to say those words. "Go on."
Had he just manipulated her? Sneaky devil. And yet, knowing he'd done so only caused her arousal to intensify. Hardly anyone bested her anymore.
She kneaded his shoulders, scratching them a little. He didn't tell her to stop. His breathing became more erratic, shallow. Her gaze dipped, his bare chest entrancing her as his body heat enveloped her. I could stay like this forever.
"Anya," he moaned. As her fingers worked him, his eyes closed in surrender.
"What were we talking about?" she asked.
"The...temple," he said, and the words were pained. "Yes, the temple."
"I'll tell you a secret about myself and all the gods who have passed through its halls," she whispered.
"I am listening. Do not stop."
She deepened the touch, allowing her fingers to inch down his back. Toward his ass. "Most of our powers are dependent on a little something called action and reaction. People act, and we are free to react. To help. Or hurt, for that matter. It's why I couldn't help Maddox and Ashlyn until they'd done something to untie my hands, so to speak."
Lucien's eyelids cracked open. Pleasure was banked in the depths of brown and blue. "Must be a closely guarded secret, because I did not know." He paused. "Maddox and Ashlyn each had to sacrifice something to ensure your aid."
"Yes." She beamed up at him. "Now you're thinking like a god."
"So to learn what I wish to know, I, too, must offer a sacrifice." He nodded, then reached behind him to grab one of her hands. He pulled it forward and laid it on her chest, but he didn't pull back, didn't break the connection. No, he traced each of her fingers.
Warm tingles rushed through her blood.
He was hard. She could feel his massive erection probing between her legs. He wasn't the first man to lie on top of her, but he was certainly the biggest. The sexiest. And the most fascinating. Because of her curse, he was also the first man she'd ever really wanted there.
Finally, Themis's words made sense.
Anya had been running home, crying again after an encounter with an overly-handsie young god, and had run into the goddess. Themis had taken one look at her and nearly fallen to the ground in shock. Too preoccupied to determine why, Anya had hurried away. The next day, Themis had arrived on her doorstep.
"You seduced my husband," she'd heard the goddess of Justice shout to her mother.
Dysnomia had raised her chin and squared her shoulders. But she hadn't uttered a word in her own defense.
"Your daughter is the image of my husband. She is his offspring. Do you deny it?"
"No, I do not deny it."
Anya had been shocked to her core. She'd always wondered who her father was, and to learn the powerful prison guard Tartarus had sired her both delighted - no longer would she be called minor - and angered her. Why had he ignored her all these years?
"You knew he was mated," Themis cried, "yet you lay with him, anyway. For that, for bearing his bastard child, you will be punished. Justice will be mine."
Horror blanketed Dysnomia's pretty face, but she said, "I am who I was born to be."
"That does not excuse you. From this day forward, you will sicken every time you welcome a man into your body, and you will be unable to rise from bed for days. Never again will you steal a man's affections unscathed. So I have said, so it shall be done."
Whimpering, her mother fell to her knees.
"And you," Themis said, eyes narrowing on a trembling Anya, who peeked around the corner.
"No!" Dysnomia shouted, trying to rise. "Leave her alone. She is innocent."
The goddess continued mercilessly. "Innocent? I think not. She is your daughter - that is crime enough. You will one day desire a man, Anarchy, and he will desire you, as well. Nothing will matter except being together. You will not care who he is, what he is or who he belongs to. You'll take him. Just like your mother, you'll take him."
"And you'll die alone because you're mean and hateful," Anya spat at her, unable to imagine herself feeling that way about any of the leering gods, much less welcoming another woman's leftovers.
"You will not have the opportunity to follow in your mother's indiscriminate footsteps. To allow a man to penetrate your body is to bind yourself to him for all eternity. You will live for him and only him. His pleasure will be your pleasure. His pain yours. If he discards you and takes another lover, you will feel the agony of his loss but you will not be able to leave him. If he dies, you will never recover from the grief. Your mother's legacy ends today. So I have said, so it shall be done."
The words themselves had wrapped around her, nearly choking her. They'd seeped past her skin, past her bones and straight into her soul, a fiery brand she had never been able to deny. She'd walked around in a daze for weeks afterward, the dual shocks of learning her father was a mated man and coming to terms with her curse nearly more than she could bear.
As the shock wore away, she'd begun to hate her father for denying her existence, and all men for what they could do to her if she wasn't careful. And she'd been scared, so scared.
When her mother had sent her to combat lessons, hoping to help her protect herself now that so much was at stake, she'd taken them seriously. As her strength had increased, her hatred and fear ebbed. Not her determination to remain alone, however.
In all the days since she had been cursed, she had never been tempted to give a man that much power over her. Losing her freedom when the gods had jailed her in her father's prison had only strengthened that determination.
Until now.
Now she wanted to know the bliss of Lucien's most intimate touch. Inside her. Deep. Pumping. Grinding. She knew she would have wanted those things whether he was mated or not.
Just thinking about having him caused more of that wondrous moisture to pool between her legs, dampening the thin sheath of panties she wore. Her skin felt too tight for her body, and she couldn't stop her thighs from rubbing up and down his. Freedom, she reminded herself. There was nothing greater.
The humans she'd chosen to make out with over the years had never been allowed to actually penetrate her. Aias, the Captain of the Immortal Guard, she had kissed and made out with, as well. But when she called a halt to their heavy petting, he'd called her a tease and a whore - oxymoron-spouting bastard - and had pinned her down.
He'd scowled down at her and ripped at her clothes, his own pants. Fear had consumed her. She'd screamed at him, demanded he release her. He'd laughed. She hadn't been able to flash, hadn't yet had the ability since it had come with her father's one and only gift to her. She'd fought with every ounce of strength she possessed and ultimately managed to deliver the death blow, just as she'd been taught.
Anya had never regretted her actions. Not even when she'd been rotting in prison. No one took what belonged to her. No one.
"What are you thinking about?" Lucien asked, his voice husky with...arousal?
Why not tell him the truth? "You. Sex. Theft. Another man."
"A lover?" he asked, his voice dark now.
Jealous? "Something like that."
His eyes narrowed.
"Does the thought of me with another man fill you with rage, Flowers?"
"Hell, no," he barked, tearing from her embrace and standing.
A sense of loss slammed into her. Gingerly she rose. Brushed the dirt from her fishnets. It's best this way, she told herself. You were too close to giving in to a man who may not even desire you. One who definitely wants to kill you.
"Let us return to our previous conversation. Ashlyn had to sacrifice herself to save Maddox," Lucien said tightly. He strode back into what had once been the altar room, spinning and studying the open space. "What can I sacrifice?"
"Lucien," Strider called. "It's getting close to chow time."
"I just need a little more time," he replied. He didn't look away from her. "Anya? Sacrifice?"
"Are you asking if sacrifices were made here?" She'd lost the line of conversation, too troubled by her own unhappy thoughts. "Yes. So?"
"Blood sacrifices?"
"Yes." Where was he going with this? "When the temple was moved to earth, blood sacrifices were made."
"And what did the patrons who came to this temple sacrifice, exactly? What did they make bleed?"
Again she allowed her mind to travel back to those days. Even she had been worshipped by mortals then. Everyone ignored the gods these days, writing them off as the stuff of myth and legend. That didn't bother her as it did the others. She liked her anonymity.
"They sacrificed their family members," she finally answered, stomach knotting. Oh, how she'd hated that. Another reason she was glad the days of old were, well, old. "Mostly innocents were chosen. Virgins. They cut their throats and watched them bleed out."
Lucien paled. "That is what's expected here? What's needed?"
"Not always. Sometimes blood freely offered by the one in need is more of a sacrifice than killing someone else and would have done the trick, but no one wanted to consider that. They would have had to hurt themselves, and most people would rather chop up a loved one and call it a noble act."
Some of his color returned. He withdrew a dagger from his boot, the metal whistling as it slid along the leather.
She backed away, palms up and out. "What, you thinking of sacrificing me now?"
"You are neither a virgin nor a loved one," he muttered.
Teeth grinding, she stopped abruptly, feet planting into the ground. Bastard. He had no idea about the former, and like she really needed the reminder about the latter. Like he'd had to point that out again. "I'm getting a little tired of your insults, Flowers. I've helped you today. I helped you last week. I helped you a month ago."
He sighed with regret. "You are right. I'm sorry. That was uncalled for, and I will not say such a thing again."
"Yes, well." She hadn't expected him to apologize, and that he'd done so threw her off her A game. "What are you - " Her words were cut off as he sliced his left wrist, then his right. Shocked, Anya rushed to him. "You're insane, Lucien. Absolutely insane." He wasn't going to die, she knew that. Still!
"We shall see." The wounds were large and gaping.
Her wrists throbbed in sympathy. She'd once stabbed him, sure, but right now, this moment, she couldn't bear to see him hurt. She grabbed his arm and tugged one of his wrists to her, hoping to stanch the crimson flow with her costume. Some of his blood dripped on her, then the ground.
The moment it touched the sand, Lucien bellowed a roar and dropped to his knees. Her concern doubled. "Lucien. What's wrong?" He was immortal and couldn't be killed by normal means, but that didn't stop her from worrying. He could have been cursed. He could have -
He roared again and clutched his stomach.
"Lucien. Tell me what the hell is wrong!"
His eyelids were squeezed shut; panting, he slowly opened them. Both of his irises were suddenly blue. Otherworldly, crystalline, churning like a storm. He stood to shaky legs and pulled from her grip as if in a trance, walking forward, toward the temple's only remaining wall.
"I can see it," he said.
Relief nearly felled her. He was having a vision. In the old days, when a sacrifice pleased the gods or even the temple itself, a reward was given. Anya thought perhaps the temple was pleased to be used again. "What do you see?" She had to force her arms to remain at her sides, so badly did she want to hold him.
"I might have found something," he called, ignoring her.
All four of the warriors ran to him, swooping around columns like avenging angels. They spotted her and gaped. Her French maid costume was naughty and for Lucien's eyes only. Still, she didn't flash away to change. She didn't want to miss a moment of this.
The men didn't speak to her, though Paris did lick his lips in anticipation, as if she were a feast that had been prepared just for him. She rolled her eyes. Would have flipped him off, but thought he might try to take her up on the "offer."
"Why are you bleeding?" Strider demanded, withdrawing a dagger. A feral scowl was directed at Anya. "And what the hell is she wearing?"
She flipped him off without any hesitation.
"The woman is not to be handled in any way," Lucien said flatly, still focused on the wall. "She is mine."
Mine, he'd said. Smiling, she gave each Lord a taunting pinkie wave. "You hear that? I'm his, so you can all suck dirt."
Lucien muttered, "And you had better keep your hands to yourself, Anya, or you will lose them."
"Please. Like your buddies could best me," she replied, unsure whether he heard or not. He gave no reaction.
As the Lords gathered around Lucien, she muscled right into their circle. And yeah, she pilfered a few daggers along the way. Gods, that felt good. She hadn't done enough of this lately, too consumed with Lucien. Stealing always soothed her riotous emotions, slowing her heartbeat and easing the seemingly constant ache in her stomach. The guys didn't realize what she'd done or they would have attacked her, she was sure. As it was, they let her through without comment.
What had Lucien found? What was he seeing?
Lucien splayed his arms, pushing everyone behind him and gazing at the wall once more.
"Lucien?" Strider said, clearly confused. Anya studied him out of the corner of her eye. He had blue eyes and blond hair, was tall and muscled, tanned. His features were roughly hewn, and he had a wicked sense of humor, which she normally preferred.
Why hadn't she been attracted to him?
"What do you see?" Paris asked. Eagerness and excitement hummed through the group.
"Waiting is fun," Gideon said, glaring.
"Do you recall what the two mortal researchers told us about Zeus and the artifacts?" Lucien asked.
A murmur of yeses arose.
"They were mostly correct. I'm looking at a mural that seems to be alive. The images are shifting, revealing detail after detail. After Zeus imprisoned the Titans, he commanded Hydra to hide and guard their treasured artifacts. Hydra split herself into four fearsome beings which scattered, each beast guarding one relic."
"Oh, man," Anya said. "If Hydra's the guard, you boys are in trouble. She's a whack job, for sure. Two heads on one snakelike body - make that eight heads on four bodies, if Lucien's vision is accurate - and all those heads suffer from constant PMS."
"Each serpent was to hide for eternity, never revealing her location again, even to the gods," Lucien continued.
Strider grunted. "How does this help us, then?"
Amateurs. "Do you see any symbols?" Anya prompted Lucien.
Pause. Frown. "Yes."
"Well, what are they? Zeus might not have wanted the other gods to know their location, but he would have made damn sure he could at least be pointed in the right direction if he so desired. In his glory days, when he stole whatever he wanted from whichever god he happened to want it from - it's the one thing I ever admired about him - he would hide them until the heat died down by using vision-symbols as treasure maps. He spelled them to change if the item was somehow moved."
Lucien didn't turn to her, but he did say, "You told us he told Cronus what had happened to them. You told us Cronus looked, but didn't find them."
"Hello. Does that mean Zeus told the truth? They're enemies, remember? Just tell me about the symbols already!"
Lucien pressed his gorgeous lips together, refusing to answer.
"Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just leave the area and give you a chance to tell your boys. I totally will not remain here, invisible and eavesdropping." She grinned at him, waiting.
He growled low in his throat.
"Seriously, you know I'll find out eventually so stop wasting time. Besides, I'll save you a lot of steps trying to figure it out on your own. You need my help. Again. Admit it."
"Fine. We need your help." He worried two fingers over his jaw, the picture of pique. "The first symbol has two lines edging down with a curved line weaving them together."
"South Africa," she said without hesitation.
"How do you know that?" Paris said, looking more strained than before. He'd sidled next to her and now pinched her butt.
She slapped his hand and stepped away. "I'm smarter than you," she told him smugly. "That's how I know."
Paris gripped her wrist almost desperately. What he meant to do with her she wasn't sure. He'd - Lucien moved between them, ripping them apart.
Lucien was snarling at the warrior.
"Fine." Paris sighed and backed away. "I get the message. No touchie." He stopped, looked down at his waist. "Shit! My blade is gone."
The other Lords looked from Lucien to her, from her to Lucien, as if needing direction.
"What?" she finally demanded. "You think I took it?"
"Mine is missing, too," Strider said with a grin, "but you can keep it. Think of me when you use it."
The grin surprised her, and she found herself smiling in return. Until Lucien snarled at him, too. She rolled her eyes, though she was secretly pleased.
"Get back to work, big boy," she said. "I know how you hate distractions."
Thankfully, the snarling ceased. "The second symbol," Lucien said, once again drawing everyone's attention to the wall, "is a single, jagged line."
"That's the Arctic. Ah," she added, placing her hand over her heart. "Those icy climes are bound to bring back memories of our first date. The one where you took a nice, refreshing dip and I watched from the glacier. Remember?" She didn't give him a chance to respond. "Maybe this is a sign we're meant to be BF's forever and ever. Is this a great moment for a huggsie, do you think?"
His lips pulled taut. "The third is a horizontal, curved line with a similar line growing out of it."
She'd take that for a no. "That's the States."
"The last is a straight line that curves at the bottom, almost like the end of a machete."
"Egypt," she said. Then she grinned and clapped her hands. "You know what this means, don't you? More traveling, and more treasure hunting! Where are we going first? Huh, huh, huh?"
"How do you know those locations?" Lucien asked, repeating Paris's question as he finally faced her. His eyes were still shrouded in that otherworldly blue.
"Maybe Zeus went around telling everyone about them and what they meant."
"How do you know?" he insisted.
Her mother had been Zeus's lover at the time and had overheard a little state business, but that little gem wasn't something she liked to shout from the rooftops. "I told you. I'm smart."
"And how do we know we can trust you?" Paris asked, hands on his hips.
"Duh. You totally can't. But you need me, so I guess that plants you right between a rock and a very naughty hard place."
Lucien grabbed her arm and squeezed, forcing her to face him. "You are not going with us, Anya. Remove the thought from your mind now."
Oh, really? "Try and stop me. I dare you."
"You know I can. Stop you, that is."
She arched a brow, her confidence unshaken. "Do I? I'm still standing here, alive and well, aren't I?"
Was it her imagination, or did steam rise from his nostrils, smelling of hellsmoke? Just then, he was like her own personal demonic dragon. Sweet! She could practically see the wheels turning frantically in his head as he tried to calm himself down. He was beyond sexy when he was on edge. "Admit it. You wouldn't have known what the symbols meant without me. You need me."
"You could be lying," he said, once again echoing Paris's suspicions.
"Waste time researching, then. What do I care? I can find the Hydras while you sit at a computer. I'll gather the artifacts and locate the box, and I'll do it before you and your Testosterone Squad have even booked a flight."
All four warriors growled at her.
"What? Touchy subject?" she asked them, all innocence.
"We're splitting up," Lucien said, not looking away from Anya. "Paris, you and Gideon will travel to the States."
Paris glowered up at the sky. "Ah, man. Why am I stuck with Lies?"
"Biggest land mass, most people. It will be better to have two warriors searching there," he explained. "Strider, you will go to South Africa. Amun, to Egypt." He stared over at Anya. "I will head to the Arctic."
"You might want to wear a coat," Anya suggested helpfully.
Lucien's eyes narrowed. She barely resisted the urge to blow him a kiss.
"I'll ring Sabin's cell," Strider said, "and tell him what we've found. Who knows? Maybe he'll discover something more at the Roman temple."
"Do you know anything about that location, Anya?" Lucien asked.
"Only that it was called the Temple of the Unspoken Ones."
"Unspoken Ones? I've heard of them," Gideon said.
Which of course meant that he hadn't. Just thinking about the temple caused her to shudder. "Parents used to threaten their unruly children with banishment to that doomed place. Maybe because screams could always be heard echoing from the walls."
"Who are the Unspoken Ones?"
"I never saw them. I kept my distance. And as the name proclaims, they were rarely spoken about outside of the occasional parental threat."
Lucien sighed. "Call Sabin if you wish," he said to Strider, "but I plan to flash to Rome and tell him in person. I'll scout the temple while I'm there. My blood acted as a catalyst here. Perhaps it will there, as well."
Hope filled the air. They were closer to success than ever before, she knew.
"Where should we begin looking when we reach our destinations?" Paris asked. "Right now, all I know is that I'm supposed to go to the States. As you said, that's a big damn place. With lots of women," he added as an afterthought. His lips lifted in a slow smile, the strain on his face seeming to ease at just the prospect of fresh meat.
"Where should they look?" Lucien demanded of Anya.
Again, everyone turned to her.
They wanted her help, then they didn't, then they wanted it again. "What? I'm just a dumb, annoying minor goddess. Not needed. Not wanted. Not - "
"You can go with me," Lucien snapped.
Ah, such enthusiasm. Irritated, she ran her tongue over her teeth. Still, his demands and growls were better than all those weeks of implacable composure. Huh. Maybe she should push him a little more. "Sorry. What'd you say?" She cupped a hand over her ear. "I couldn't hear you."
"You can go with me," he repeated loudly. Darkly.
Now she crossed her arms over her chest. Keep pushing like this, and he just might jump you. Please, please, please.
"Are you going to try to kill me?"
"You know I must, but I will give you fair warning before I do."
She hadn't wanted him to stop, anyway. "Fair enough." Could this day have gone any better? Soon she would be traveling alone with him, probably fighting with him. The prospect shouldn't have thrilled her, but it did. She wanted a chance to nurture the desire she'd seen in him earlier, dangerous though that was. "I accept."
"Where should we look?" Paris repeated.
"I don't have all the answers, you know." This kept up, and soon the men would only respect her for her mind. Ugh.
"Anya," Lucien warned.
"What? I don't! Just have Ashlyn follow any rumors about giant, ugly monsters. That'll probably be Hydra. Oh, and she likes water. So maybe follow rumors about giant ugly monsters spotted near water."
The men nodded, and she was once more forgotten as they chatted amongst themselves about what supplies they would need, when they would leave and blah, blah, blah.
Anya sidled up to Lucien and ran her fingertip down his sternum. "We're going to have fun, you and I."
He had been telling Strider what he knew of South Africa, but his words quickly died. Eyes blazing, he whipped to her. What he meant to say or do, she might never know. She blew him a kiss and disappeared.
FOR THE NEXT WEEK, ANYA dogged Lucien's every step when she wasn't stealing to keep herself sane. Even when he was escorting souls. She hated when he visited hell. Hated the heat, the smells, the taunts and jeers that emerged from the dark yet fiery pit. Always Lucien tried to act unaffected by them, but she could see the unease in his eyes. That saddened her. He'd seen the worst the world had to offer over and over again, and had had to anesthetize himself to survive.
Now she wanted him to see the best; now she wanted him to feel.
She told herself she wanted those things because it would be entertaining to watch the prince of doom and gloom let some light into his life. She didn't look deeper than that because she was afraid of what lurked beneath the explanation.
She sighed, knowing she should have given up on Lucien days ago. Attacked him, at the very least, or drawn him away from the temple for a flash-chase. But she suspected he wouldn't raise a hand against her and knew he would refuse to follow her. So she remained invisible and stayed close. Besides, whatever he learned about those artifacts, she learned, too.
After she'd mentioned looking for them herself, she'd realized she did indeed want them. Once she had one of those babies in her hot little hands, she'd make him beg for it. Gods, his expression was going to be priceless. Especially when she turned him down and bargained with Cronus. Her life for an artifact. Talk about a win-win situation!
"Go away, Anya," Lucien whispered.
He couldn't see her, but she stuck her tongue out at him, anyway. Those were the only words he'd spoken to her all week. If he said them again, she planned to materialize and slap him across the face, then quickly disappear.
"I am serious."
He always knew when she arrived. Once he'd told her that he smelled her. She'd been pleased, because it meant he was aware of her. She was still pleased by it, but damn if it didn't ruin her element of surprise.
Right now, the warrior stood in the Temple of the All Gods, peering at the bare, cracked walls with savage intensity. He and the other Lords had come here every day, their determination awe-inspiring in the face of their failure to find anything.
No wonder I want him so badly.
Lingering at Lucien's side was foolish and dangerous. It only intensified her desire for him. Seeing his butterfly tattoo on a regular basis was causing all kinds of naughty fantasies to play through her mind. Like: spending hours licking it. Like: taking Lucien's cock into her mouth while caressing it. Like: finger painting it with chocolate sauce and having it for dessert.
He'd probably try to stab her if she suggested any of those things. She'd never met a man less sure of his appeal and more outraged when a woman tried to tell him of her desire. How could others not see how mouthwateringly sexy he was? How rugged? How he tempted feminine instincts on every level?
Lucien bent down and once again sifted through rock and sand, looking for gods knew what. Sunlight stroked him lovingly, the bitch. He's mine.
"Go away, Anya," he repeated.
Grrr! She materialized. Rather than slap him, though, she sat on a boulder beside him. He was shirtless again, his skin slightly burned, cut up and bruised.
He didn't face her. "I said go away."
"Like I'm going to obey you. You aren't my daddy. Unless you want to be. 'Cause I've been a bad, naughty girl and I need a spanking."
A pained groan escaped him. "Anya. Please." Sweat trickled over his spine, illuminating a few of the scars scattered there.
She reached out to caress them, but froze when one of the warriors called out.
"Lucien. Your woman..." The speaker was Paris, she realized. His voice was strained, even more so than before. Not getting any out here, was he? Poor man. Without sex, Paris weakened. If he could have brought a woman with him to fulfill his needs, all would have been well in his world. But he couldn't sleep with the same woman twice. Promiscuity, the lecherous demon, wouldn't let him.
Anya knew the trials of a sex-curse and sympathized. While hers was the opposite of his, preventing her from ever going all the way, both curses dictated their actions and jacked with their free will. It sucked rotten eggs.
Nothing can bind me but that curse, she thought darkly. She'd been bespelled before she'd acquired the ability to escape confinement, so the curse had already been a part of her. There was no escaping it.
Her gaze returned to Lucien and her shoulders sagged. No, much as she might wish otherwise, there was no escaping it.
"Just stay where you are," Lucien shouted to Paris. "She is my responsibility."
His responsibility? She didn't know whether to be delighted or insulted. "Why not let your friends come over here and play with us?"
He glanced at her through slitted eyelids, a fast look/look-away motion. Still, the moment his gaze hit her, moisture flooded between her legs. Her stomach tingled and her skin ached for him. He was pure sex appeal, all sweaty and dirty and manly. Yum.
"What are you wearing?" he croaked.
"A maid's uniform. You know, to help you dust."
He cursed under his breath. "Just as before, my friends are beyond the stone," he told her, "and they will remain there, working. They do not need a distraction."
How many times would he tell her she was a distraction? She eyed the crumbling stone cupped in his palms and frowned. Maybe, if she proved useful, he'd see her as something more. "I remember this place in its prime. Before it was moved down to earth, we were taught here, the other deities and I. How to control our powers, how to act properly, blah, blah, blah."
Lucien couldn't hide the interest that colored his face. "I was never allowed inside," he admitted. "We went only where Zeus did, and he didn't choose to spend time here."
Eck. To be bound to that temperamental shithead would have been torture. "A pity the place is so damaged now. You might have liked it."
"What did it look like?" he asked, dropping the chunks and sifting through another handful. Each pebble he found he held up to the light, turned to study every side for markings then discarded over his shoulder.
"Towering statues circled the entire temple. Ivy rode some of the walls, and diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and rubies glistened from the floors. I'm sure old glory-seeking Cronus will spruce everything up when he and his brethren of assholes take over."
Lucien snorted. Even though she hated herself for it, she rejoiced in the sound. His amusement was like an aphrodisiac to her, and she had caused it.
"What else?"
"Let's see." She tapped her chin with a nail painted ice-blue. "Every doorway was flanked by two white columns. Pillars of strength, they were called."
"And how many rooms were there?"
She allowed her mind to return to the days she'd spent here. While she'd loved the beauty of the temple, she'd hated the beings inside it. How many times had the goddesses-in-training complained to the teacher, "Why does she get to study here? She's not one of us. She only causes trouble." How many times had the young gods jeered, "I don't know why she bothers to wear a robe. Everyone knows she spends more time out of it."
She pushed aside the remembered hurts. "There was the main altar room, of course, which you're now crouching in. There was a meeting hall where worshippers washed and gathered before sacrificing. Then the interior chamber and the priests' lodgings."
He nodded as though he was soaking in her every word. "Tell me more about this altar room."
Happy to oblige, she said, "If we traveled back in time, there'd be a white marble table in front of you. And there would be murals on the walls. Gods, those were cool. I need to redo one of my apartments and have the images painted - "
"Murals? What did the murals depict?" Lucien asked, cutting her off. He stood and pinned her with a hard stare, urgency radiating from him.
Wow. If she'd known she only needed to talk about boring temples to elicit his full attention, she would have done it days ago.
"Well?" he insisted.
She shrugged, pretending a casualness she suddenly didn't feel. "Godly feats of strength, victories. Even a few defeats."
His eyes glinted. "And was the box here, Anya?"
"No. I'm sorry." She hated to disappoint him.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. She approached him, wanting to touch, but stopped halfway, unsure of his reaction. This close, she could see that even more dirt than she'd realized streaked his chest and arms and his pulse hammered wildly. Her mouth watered at the sight. His butterfly tattoo vibrated with...awareness? Was it alive?
"What thoughts tumble through your head?" he asked.
"Naughty ones."
His brown eye darkened and his blue eye swirled. Both fixed on her minuscule, black-and-white lacy uniform, pupils dilating. "You enjoy tormenting me, do you not?"
She pinched her fingers together and said, "Just a wee bit. But don't worry - I'm not singling you out or anything. It's just a little quirk of mine, tormenting the men who want to kill me."
A brilliant beam of light broke through a cloud - cloud? On this hot day? Had she accidentally summoned it? She didn't look up. Couldn't. That beam had struck his face, illuminating his scars and casting shadows under his eyes. In that moment, he appeared as evil and sinister as a man could be. He appeared otherworldly. Wicked.
Delicious.
Her heartbeat sped up and her nipples beaded into tight little knots. Reach for me. Please.
He didn't.
She had to tear her gaze from him. Wanting him like this was foolish. Not just because of her curse, but because he wouldn't do anything about it. Nothing wrong with buttering him up, though, like you told him you were doing.
Unless she fell for him in the process. That would be a problem. A big one. Already the intensity of her desire was staggering. Any more...
"Anya," he said, drawing her from her thoughts.
"What?" She didn't face him, but withdrew a strawberry lollipop from the link of her belt, unwrapped it and ran her tongue over the tip. A little moan of pleasure escaped her. Scrumptious. She'd discovered the lollipops years ago after one of her human friends had died in a car wreck. Ever since, they'd been her comfort food of choice.
Lucien was in her face a second later - she was beginning to hate when he did that! - and swiped the candy from her hand. Her eyes widened as he tossed it to the ground.
"Hey! That was uncalled for."
He was scowling. "Do not eat those things in front of me."
"Why?" She threw up her arms in confusion.
"Because," he replied mulishly.
The scent of flowers was growing stronger, wafting from him, twining around her and drawing tight. "If you want one for yourself, just freaking ask me next time."
"I don't."
"Then - "
"No more talking. I must work." He spun away from her and went back to his mound of sand.
But not before she saw the fire blazing in his eyes.
Almost afraid to hope, she studied him more closely. His shoulders were stiff and his back ramrod straight, as if he were fighting desire. For her?
A hotter, deeper arousal bloomed inside her. Maybe, like her, he didn't mean half of the things he said. Maybe he truly did yearn for her.
She couldn't ask him. He'd just deny it. But that begged the question of why. Why did he not want her to know? Why did he not want to want her? Obviously, he thought she was easy. Why not take what he assumed she'd given to a thousand others? And what would he do if he knew how laughable that idea really was?
"You're wasting your time in that sand," she said in an airy tone, finally deigning to help him so he would pay attention to her again. Come over here and kiss me.
"No more talking."
"Well, you are."
"Disappear."
"Make me." Please. Want me like I want you. Don't let me be wrong about this.
He didn't reply.
Frustration ate at her, and she plopped onto the nearest boulder with a huff. "I want those artifacts as much as you do," she grumbled, "and your cold-shoulder treatment isn't helping our cause."
That snagged his attention. He flashed to her, knocking her off the boulder and onto the ground. Air shot from her lungs as his heavy muscular weight suddenly restrained her.
Note to self - mention the artifacts more often. Short as her costume was, she was able to spread her legs and welcome him into the cradle of her body. Instant pleasure speared her, shooting from head to toe and lingering in between.
"Why do you want them?"
"Duh. Power." The power of having bargaining chips, but he didn't need to know that.
"I thought we had covered this," he said, his voice cracking. "You will have nothing to do with the artifacts."
"Then you should have killed me." Licking her lips, she stared up at him. As always, he stole her breath. "I've decided I want them really, really bad."
He uttered a low growl. "No. I think you want to die. You are provoking me on purpose, while I have been giving you time to enjoy the last days of your life."
"Well, aren't you sweet," she muttered. Still, she didn't try to push him off her. In fact, she wound her arms around his neck. "I'm just trying to survive, lover. And have a little fun while I'm at it."
His nostrils flared, as if he'd just remembered something unpleasant. A muscle ticked in his jaw, making his scars all the more prominent. Her mouth watered. She wanted to tongue them. "Aligning yourself with me will not save you."
Back to that, were they? Damn, tell one little lie and it would haunt you forever. "Why haven't you killed me, then? And don't give me that bullshit about letting me enjoy the last days of my life. You don't let other souls enjoy the last of their days."
A heavy pause. His expression darkened. "Perhaps I have spared you because you know something, something that can help me find the artifacts and thereby the box. Tell me."
"If I knew something, I would have gotten to them already, dumbass."
"Then you are no good to me." He pulled back slightly and raised his fist as if he meant to strike her.
Over the last week, she'd watched him do this many times. Knew he wasn't going to hit her but reach inside her with a ghostly hand and rip out her spirit, leaving her body a helpless shell.
She should kick herself for taunting him. I just wanted time with him, she inwardly whined. Really, it was all she could think about anymore. All that propelled her out of bed. Well, that and his kisses.
"I don't know where the artifacts are," she said quickly, "but I can teach you more about the temple. How's that?"
He nodded, as if he'd merely been waiting for her to say those words. "Go on."
Had he just manipulated her? Sneaky devil. And yet, knowing he'd done so only caused her arousal to intensify. Hardly anyone bested her anymore.
She kneaded his shoulders, scratching them a little. He didn't tell her to stop. His breathing became more erratic, shallow. Her gaze dipped, his bare chest entrancing her as his body heat enveloped her. I could stay like this forever.
"Anya," he moaned. As her fingers worked him, his eyes closed in surrender.
"What were we talking about?" she asked.
"The...temple," he said, and the words were pained. "Yes, the temple."
"I'll tell you a secret about myself and all the gods who have passed through its halls," she whispered.
"I am listening. Do not stop."
She deepened the touch, allowing her fingers to inch down his back. Toward his ass. "Most of our powers are dependent on a little something called action and reaction. People act, and we are free to react. To help. Or hurt, for that matter. It's why I couldn't help Maddox and Ashlyn until they'd done something to untie my hands, so to speak."
Lucien's eyelids cracked open. Pleasure was banked in the depths of brown and blue. "Must be a closely guarded secret, because I did not know." He paused. "Maddox and Ashlyn each had to sacrifice something to ensure your aid."
"Yes." She beamed up at him. "Now you're thinking like a god."
"So to learn what I wish to know, I, too, must offer a sacrifice." He nodded, then reached behind him to grab one of her hands. He pulled it forward and laid it on her chest, but he didn't pull back, didn't break the connection. No, he traced each of her fingers.
Warm tingles rushed through her blood.
He was hard. She could feel his massive erection probing between her legs. He wasn't the first man to lie on top of her, but he was certainly the biggest. The sexiest. And the most fascinating. Because of her curse, he was also the first man she'd ever really wanted there.
Finally, Themis's words made sense.
Anya had been running home, crying again after an encounter with an overly-handsie young god, and had run into the goddess. Themis had taken one look at her and nearly fallen to the ground in shock. Too preoccupied to determine why, Anya had hurried away. The next day, Themis had arrived on her doorstep.
"You seduced my husband," she'd heard the goddess of Justice shout to her mother.
Dysnomia had raised her chin and squared her shoulders. But she hadn't uttered a word in her own defense.
"Your daughter is the image of my husband. She is his offspring. Do you deny it?"
"No, I do not deny it."
Anya had been shocked to her core. She'd always wondered who her father was, and to learn the powerful prison guard Tartarus had sired her both delighted - no longer would she be called minor - and angered her. Why had he ignored her all these years?
"You knew he was mated," Themis cried, "yet you lay with him, anyway. For that, for bearing his bastard child, you will be punished. Justice will be mine."
Horror blanketed Dysnomia's pretty face, but she said, "I am who I was born to be."
"That does not excuse you. From this day forward, you will sicken every time you welcome a man into your body, and you will be unable to rise from bed for days. Never again will you steal a man's affections unscathed. So I have said, so it shall be done."
Whimpering, her mother fell to her knees.
"And you," Themis said, eyes narrowing on a trembling Anya, who peeked around the corner.
"No!" Dysnomia shouted, trying to rise. "Leave her alone. She is innocent."
The goddess continued mercilessly. "Innocent? I think not. She is your daughter - that is crime enough. You will one day desire a man, Anarchy, and he will desire you, as well. Nothing will matter except being together. You will not care who he is, what he is or who he belongs to. You'll take him. Just like your mother, you'll take him."
"And you'll die alone because you're mean and hateful," Anya spat at her, unable to imagine herself feeling that way about any of the leering gods, much less welcoming another woman's leftovers.
"You will not have the opportunity to follow in your mother's indiscriminate footsteps. To allow a man to penetrate your body is to bind yourself to him for all eternity. You will live for him and only him. His pleasure will be your pleasure. His pain yours. If he discards you and takes another lover, you will feel the agony of his loss but you will not be able to leave him. If he dies, you will never recover from the grief. Your mother's legacy ends today. So I have said, so it shall be done."
The words themselves had wrapped around her, nearly choking her. They'd seeped past her skin, past her bones and straight into her soul, a fiery brand she had never been able to deny. She'd walked around in a daze for weeks afterward, the dual shocks of learning her father was a mated man and coming to terms with her curse nearly more than she could bear.
As the shock wore away, she'd begun to hate her father for denying her existence, and all men for what they could do to her if she wasn't careful. And she'd been scared, so scared.
When her mother had sent her to combat lessons, hoping to help her protect herself now that so much was at stake, she'd taken them seriously. As her strength had increased, her hatred and fear ebbed. Not her determination to remain alone, however.
In all the days since she had been cursed, she had never been tempted to give a man that much power over her. Losing her freedom when the gods had jailed her in her father's prison had only strengthened that determination.
Until now.
Now she wanted to know the bliss of Lucien's most intimate touch. Inside her. Deep. Pumping. Grinding. She knew she would have wanted those things whether he was mated or not.
Just thinking about having him caused more of that wondrous moisture to pool between her legs, dampening the thin sheath of panties she wore. Her skin felt too tight for her body, and she couldn't stop her thighs from rubbing up and down his. Freedom, she reminded herself. There was nothing greater.
The humans she'd chosen to make out with over the years had never been allowed to actually penetrate her. Aias, the Captain of the Immortal Guard, she had kissed and made out with, as well. But when she called a halt to their heavy petting, he'd called her a tease and a whore - oxymoron-spouting bastard - and had pinned her down.
He'd scowled down at her and ripped at her clothes, his own pants. Fear had consumed her. She'd screamed at him, demanded he release her. He'd laughed. She hadn't been able to flash, hadn't yet had the ability since it had come with her father's one and only gift to her. She'd fought with every ounce of strength she possessed and ultimately managed to deliver the death blow, just as she'd been taught.
Anya had never regretted her actions. Not even when she'd been rotting in prison. No one took what belonged to her. No one.
"What are you thinking about?" Lucien asked, his voice husky with...arousal?
Why not tell him the truth? "You. Sex. Theft. Another man."
"A lover?" he asked, his voice dark now.
Jealous? "Something like that."
His eyes narrowed.
"Does the thought of me with another man fill you with rage, Flowers?"
"Hell, no," he barked, tearing from her embrace and standing.
A sense of loss slammed into her. Gingerly she rose. Brushed the dirt from her fishnets. It's best this way, she told herself. You were too close to giving in to a man who may not even desire you. One who definitely wants to kill you.
"Let us return to our previous conversation. Ashlyn had to sacrifice herself to save Maddox," Lucien said tightly. He strode back into what had once been the altar room, spinning and studying the open space. "What can I sacrifice?"
"Lucien," Strider called. "It's getting close to chow time."
"I just need a little more time," he replied. He didn't look away from her. "Anya? Sacrifice?"
"Are you asking if sacrifices were made here?" She'd lost the line of conversation, too troubled by her own unhappy thoughts. "Yes. So?"
"Blood sacrifices?"
"Yes." Where was he going with this? "When the temple was moved to earth, blood sacrifices were made."
"And what did the patrons who came to this temple sacrifice, exactly? What did they make bleed?"
Again she allowed her mind to travel back to those days. Even she had been worshipped by mortals then. Everyone ignored the gods these days, writing them off as the stuff of myth and legend. That didn't bother her as it did the others. She liked her anonymity.
"They sacrificed their family members," she finally answered, stomach knotting. Oh, how she'd hated that. Another reason she was glad the days of old were, well, old. "Mostly innocents were chosen. Virgins. They cut their throats and watched them bleed out."
Lucien paled. "That is what's expected here? What's needed?"
"Not always. Sometimes blood freely offered by the one in need is more of a sacrifice than killing someone else and would have done the trick, but no one wanted to consider that. They would have had to hurt themselves, and most people would rather chop up a loved one and call it a noble act."
Some of his color returned. He withdrew a dagger from his boot, the metal whistling as it slid along the leather.
She backed away, palms up and out. "What, you thinking of sacrificing me now?"
"You are neither a virgin nor a loved one," he muttered.
Teeth grinding, she stopped abruptly, feet planting into the ground. Bastard. He had no idea about the former, and like she really needed the reminder about the latter. Like he'd had to point that out again. "I'm getting a little tired of your insults, Flowers. I've helped you today. I helped you last week. I helped you a month ago."
He sighed with regret. "You are right. I'm sorry. That was uncalled for, and I will not say such a thing again."
"Yes, well." She hadn't expected him to apologize, and that he'd done so threw her off her A game. "What are you - " Her words were cut off as he sliced his left wrist, then his right. Shocked, Anya rushed to him. "You're insane, Lucien. Absolutely insane." He wasn't going to die, she knew that. Still!
"We shall see." The wounds were large and gaping.
Her wrists throbbed in sympathy. She'd once stabbed him, sure, but right now, this moment, she couldn't bear to see him hurt. She grabbed his arm and tugged one of his wrists to her, hoping to stanch the crimson flow with her costume. Some of his blood dripped on her, then the ground.
The moment it touched the sand, Lucien bellowed a roar and dropped to his knees. Her concern doubled. "Lucien. What's wrong?" He was immortal and couldn't be killed by normal means, but that didn't stop her from worrying. He could have been cursed. He could have -
He roared again and clutched his stomach.
"Lucien. Tell me what the hell is wrong!"
His eyelids were squeezed shut; panting, he slowly opened them. Both of his irises were suddenly blue. Otherworldly, crystalline, churning like a storm. He stood to shaky legs and pulled from her grip as if in a trance, walking forward, toward the temple's only remaining wall.
"I can see it," he said.
Relief nearly felled her. He was having a vision. In the old days, when a sacrifice pleased the gods or even the temple itself, a reward was given. Anya thought perhaps the temple was pleased to be used again. "What do you see?" She had to force her arms to remain at her sides, so badly did she want to hold him.
"I might have found something," he called, ignoring her.
All four of the warriors ran to him, swooping around columns like avenging angels. They spotted her and gaped. Her French maid costume was naughty and for Lucien's eyes only. Still, she didn't flash away to change. She didn't want to miss a moment of this.
The men didn't speak to her, though Paris did lick his lips in anticipation, as if she were a feast that had been prepared just for him. She rolled her eyes. Would have flipped him off, but thought he might try to take her up on the "offer."
"Why are you bleeding?" Strider demanded, withdrawing a dagger. A feral scowl was directed at Anya. "And what the hell is she wearing?"
She flipped him off without any hesitation.
"The woman is not to be handled in any way," Lucien said flatly, still focused on the wall. "She is mine."
Mine, he'd said. Smiling, she gave each Lord a taunting pinkie wave. "You hear that? I'm his, so you can all suck dirt."
Lucien muttered, "And you had better keep your hands to yourself, Anya, or you will lose them."
"Please. Like your buddies could best me," she replied, unsure whether he heard or not. He gave no reaction.
As the Lords gathered around Lucien, she muscled right into their circle. And yeah, she pilfered a few daggers along the way. Gods, that felt good. She hadn't done enough of this lately, too consumed with Lucien. Stealing always soothed her riotous emotions, slowing her heartbeat and easing the seemingly constant ache in her stomach. The guys didn't realize what she'd done or they would have attacked her, she was sure. As it was, they let her through without comment.
What had Lucien found? What was he seeing?
Lucien splayed his arms, pushing everyone behind him and gazing at the wall once more.
"Lucien?" Strider said, clearly confused. Anya studied him out of the corner of her eye. He had blue eyes and blond hair, was tall and muscled, tanned. His features were roughly hewn, and he had a wicked sense of humor, which she normally preferred.
Why hadn't she been attracted to him?
"What do you see?" Paris asked. Eagerness and excitement hummed through the group.
"Waiting is fun," Gideon said, glaring.
"Do you recall what the two mortal researchers told us about Zeus and the artifacts?" Lucien asked.
A murmur of yeses arose.
"They were mostly correct. I'm looking at a mural that seems to be alive. The images are shifting, revealing detail after detail. After Zeus imprisoned the Titans, he commanded Hydra to hide and guard their treasured artifacts. Hydra split herself into four fearsome beings which scattered, each beast guarding one relic."
"Oh, man," Anya said. "If Hydra's the guard, you boys are in trouble. She's a whack job, for sure. Two heads on one snakelike body - make that eight heads on four bodies, if Lucien's vision is accurate - and all those heads suffer from constant PMS."
"Each serpent was to hide for eternity, never revealing her location again, even to the gods," Lucien continued.
Strider grunted. "How does this help us, then?"
Amateurs. "Do you see any symbols?" Anya prompted Lucien.
Pause. Frown. "Yes."
"Well, what are they? Zeus might not have wanted the other gods to know their location, but he would have made damn sure he could at least be pointed in the right direction if he so desired. In his glory days, when he stole whatever he wanted from whichever god he happened to want it from - it's the one thing I ever admired about him - he would hide them until the heat died down by using vision-symbols as treasure maps. He spelled them to change if the item was somehow moved."
Lucien didn't turn to her, but he did say, "You told us he told Cronus what had happened to them. You told us Cronus looked, but didn't find them."
"Hello. Does that mean Zeus told the truth? They're enemies, remember? Just tell me about the symbols already!"
Lucien pressed his gorgeous lips together, refusing to answer.
"Fine. Don't tell me. I'll just leave the area and give you a chance to tell your boys. I totally will not remain here, invisible and eavesdropping." She grinned at him, waiting.
He growled low in his throat.
"Seriously, you know I'll find out eventually so stop wasting time. Besides, I'll save you a lot of steps trying to figure it out on your own. You need my help. Again. Admit it."
"Fine. We need your help." He worried two fingers over his jaw, the picture of pique. "The first symbol has two lines edging down with a curved line weaving them together."
"South Africa," she said without hesitation.
"How do you know that?" Paris said, looking more strained than before. He'd sidled next to her and now pinched her butt.
She slapped his hand and stepped away. "I'm smarter than you," she told him smugly. "That's how I know."
Paris gripped her wrist almost desperately. What he meant to do with her she wasn't sure. He'd - Lucien moved between them, ripping them apart.
Lucien was snarling at the warrior.
"Fine." Paris sighed and backed away. "I get the message. No touchie." He stopped, looked down at his waist. "Shit! My blade is gone."
The other Lords looked from Lucien to her, from her to Lucien, as if needing direction.
"What?" she finally demanded. "You think I took it?"
"Mine is missing, too," Strider said with a grin, "but you can keep it. Think of me when you use it."
The grin surprised her, and she found herself smiling in return. Until Lucien snarled at him, too. She rolled her eyes, though she was secretly pleased.
"Get back to work, big boy," she said. "I know how you hate distractions."
Thankfully, the snarling ceased. "The second symbol," Lucien said, once again drawing everyone's attention to the wall, "is a single, jagged line."
"That's the Arctic. Ah," she added, placing her hand over her heart. "Those icy climes are bound to bring back memories of our first date. The one where you took a nice, refreshing dip and I watched from the glacier. Remember?" She didn't give him a chance to respond. "Maybe this is a sign we're meant to be BF's forever and ever. Is this a great moment for a huggsie, do you think?"
His lips pulled taut. "The third is a horizontal, curved line with a similar line growing out of it."
She'd take that for a no. "That's the States."
"The last is a straight line that curves at the bottom, almost like the end of a machete."
"Egypt," she said. Then she grinned and clapped her hands. "You know what this means, don't you? More traveling, and more treasure hunting! Where are we going first? Huh, huh, huh?"
"How do you know those locations?" Lucien asked, repeating Paris's question as he finally faced her. His eyes were still shrouded in that otherworldly blue.
"Maybe Zeus went around telling everyone about them and what they meant."
"How do you know?" he insisted.
Her mother had been Zeus's lover at the time and had overheard a little state business, but that little gem wasn't something she liked to shout from the rooftops. "I told you. I'm smart."
"And how do we know we can trust you?" Paris asked, hands on his hips.
"Duh. You totally can't. But you need me, so I guess that plants you right between a rock and a very naughty hard place."
Lucien grabbed her arm and squeezed, forcing her to face him. "You are not going with us, Anya. Remove the thought from your mind now."
Oh, really? "Try and stop me. I dare you."
"You know I can. Stop you, that is."
She arched a brow, her confidence unshaken. "Do I? I'm still standing here, alive and well, aren't I?"
Was it her imagination, or did steam rise from his nostrils, smelling of hellsmoke? Just then, he was like her own personal demonic dragon. Sweet! She could practically see the wheels turning frantically in his head as he tried to calm himself down. He was beyond sexy when he was on edge. "Admit it. You wouldn't have known what the symbols meant without me. You need me."
"You could be lying," he said, once again echoing Paris's suspicions.
"Waste time researching, then. What do I care? I can find the Hydras while you sit at a computer. I'll gather the artifacts and locate the box, and I'll do it before you and your Testosterone Squad have even booked a flight."
All four warriors growled at her.
"What? Touchy subject?" she asked them, all innocence.
"We're splitting up," Lucien said, not looking away from Anya. "Paris, you and Gideon will travel to the States."
Paris glowered up at the sky. "Ah, man. Why am I stuck with Lies?"
"Biggest land mass, most people. It will be better to have two warriors searching there," he explained. "Strider, you will go to South Africa. Amun, to Egypt." He stared over at Anya. "I will head to the Arctic."
"You might want to wear a coat," Anya suggested helpfully.
Lucien's eyes narrowed. She barely resisted the urge to blow him a kiss.
"I'll ring Sabin's cell," Strider said, "and tell him what we've found. Who knows? Maybe he'll discover something more at the Roman temple."
"Do you know anything about that location, Anya?" Lucien asked.
"Only that it was called the Temple of the Unspoken Ones."
"Unspoken Ones? I've heard of them," Gideon said.
Which of course meant that he hadn't. Just thinking about the temple caused her to shudder. "Parents used to threaten their unruly children with banishment to that doomed place. Maybe because screams could always be heard echoing from the walls."
"Who are the Unspoken Ones?"
"I never saw them. I kept my distance. And as the name proclaims, they were rarely spoken about outside of the occasional parental threat."
Lucien sighed. "Call Sabin if you wish," he said to Strider, "but I plan to flash to Rome and tell him in person. I'll scout the temple while I'm there. My blood acted as a catalyst here. Perhaps it will there, as well."
Hope filled the air. They were closer to success than ever before, she knew.
"Where should we begin looking when we reach our destinations?" Paris asked. "Right now, all I know is that I'm supposed to go to the States. As you said, that's a big damn place. With lots of women," he added as an afterthought. His lips lifted in a slow smile, the strain on his face seeming to ease at just the prospect of fresh meat.
"Where should they look?" Lucien demanded of Anya.
Again, everyone turned to her.
They wanted her help, then they didn't, then they wanted it again. "What? I'm just a dumb, annoying minor goddess. Not needed. Not wanted. Not - "
"You can go with me," Lucien snapped.
Ah, such enthusiasm. Irritated, she ran her tongue over her teeth. Still, his demands and growls were better than all those weeks of implacable composure. Huh. Maybe she should push him a little more. "Sorry. What'd you say?" She cupped a hand over her ear. "I couldn't hear you."
"You can go with me," he repeated loudly. Darkly.
Now she crossed her arms over her chest. Keep pushing like this, and he just might jump you. Please, please, please.
"Are you going to try to kill me?"
"You know I must, but I will give you fair warning before I do."
She hadn't wanted him to stop, anyway. "Fair enough." Could this day have gone any better? Soon she would be traveling alone with him, probably fighting with him. The prospect shouldn't have thrilled her, but it did. She wanted a chance to nurture the desire she'd seen in him earlier, dangerous though that was. "I accept."
"Where should we look?" Paris repeated.
"I don't have all the answers, you know." This kept up, and soon the men would only respect her for her mind. Ugh.
"Anya," Lucien warned.
"What? I don't! Just have Ashlyn follow any rumors about giant, ugly monsters. That'll probably be Hydra. Oh, and she likes water. So maybe follow rumors about giant ugly monsters spotted near water."
The men nodded, and she was once more forgotten as they chatted amongst themselves about what supplies they would need, when they would leave and blah, blah, blah.
Anya sidled up to Lucien and ran her fingertip down his sternum. "We're going to have fun, you and I."
He had been telling Strider what he knew of South Africa, but his words quickly died. Eyes blazing, he whipped to her. What he meant to say or do, she might never know. She blew him a kiss and disappeared.
Re: The Darkest Kiss - novel English hot
CHAPTER EIGHT
AS HE SHOPPED FOR PROVISIONS he would need for his upcoming trip - intermittently collecting eighteen souls and escorting them to their final resting place - Lucien did not feel Anya's burning gaze on him. Nor did he smell her enticing strawberry scent.
Where was she? What was she doing?
Who was she doing it with?
His hands balled, knuckles throbbing, the joints so stiff they felt brittle.
He missed her more than ever. He had gotten used to her presence; nothing felt right when she was gone. Besides, he worried about her. Had Cronus tired of Lucien's halfhearted attempts to slay her and taken it upon himself to destroy Anya?
Now his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. She is fine. Cronus had been unable to kill her, which was why he'd given the task to Lucien. Anya was safe from the god king.
But time is ticking...
Lucien expected the bastard to arrive at any moment and punish him for his failure. Punishment was beginning to matter less and less, however.
He wanted to spend more time with her, and he was about to get his wish. Too bad they weren't heading for Hawaii. But Lucien had known Anya would follow him wherever he chose, so he'd picked the Arctic, the one place he'd thought - hoped - would cool his desire.
Because more than missing her, he desired her. Badly.
He was becoming obsessed with her. Lately all he could think about was stripping her. Licking between her legs, pleasuring her in every way imaginable and even some that weren't. Watching her face while she climaxed. Fisting her hair while she sucked his cock. Lately? Ha!
Even now, he trembled. Trembled like a damned mortal.
His long-neglected body practically sobbed for Anya each time she approached him. Forcing himself to walk away grew more and more difficult. And forcing himself to discourage her advances was even more so.
Stop thinking, finish shopping, he commanded himself as he stalked down the city's paved streets. He'd flashed from the island to Athens, and sunlight shone brightly. Last time he'd been here, all those centuries ago, dead bodies had littered the street and blood had flowed like crimson rivers.
He pushed the image to the back of his mind. The air was crisp and salty. He needed to enjoy this mild weather while he could. All too soon he'd feel the icy blast of the Arctic. With Anya.
Damn this! What would it take to exorcise her from his head completely?
Determined, Lucien made a mental checklist of everything he needed. A coat. Boots. Thermals. Thick socks. And gloves. He would have flashed to Buda and collected everything there, but the items he owned were meant for manageable winters. The Arctic was another story. He'd have to endure freezing winds and snow as far as the eye could see. Perhaps luck would be on his side and he would find Hydra quickly. He placed a call to Maddox and had him ask Torin to search any possible sightings.
What was Anya doing?
He didn't even try to stop the thoughts this time. Obviously, fighting did no good. Anya. In the Arctic. Alone with him. Perhaps finding Hydra quickly would not be such a wonderful thing.
Last time he and Anya had been together in the cold, she'd pushed him into the icy water. The memory shouldn't have made him smile, but it did. Anya, standing on that glacier, waiting for him, then shoving him with all of her strength, had been a beautiful if macabre sight. Even his testicles had frozen.
She had laughed, a tinkling sound of genuine amusement. Heady and seductive. He wanted to hear it again.
Gods, he admired her courage and her tenacity. Anyone else would have cowered at having Death hunt them.
Where was she? he wondered again. Had she finally tired of him?
As he passed a corner shop, he slammed his fists into the wall. Stone abraded skin. Whether Anya was tired of him or not, he would soon have her to himself, away from the other warriors. Hopefully he would learn more from her. Hopefully he would prevent her from learning more from him.
Hopefully he would better do his duty.
His clipped steps slowed, and he forced himself to take in the sights. Emerald trees framed most of the buildings, stretching overhead and casting shadows. There were no cars on the streets - those were prohibited - so people had to walk to their destinations.
Merchants were out in force, selling everything from fruit and vegetables to flimsy scarves to doorknobs. None of which would keep him warm in the Arctic.
"You'll never find what you need here," Anya said, suddenly keeping pace beside him.
His blood instantly heated as he glanced around, making sure no one had witnessed her sudden appearance. The only people staring at her were men, and he didn't know if they were shocked or simply captivated.
She was lovelier than ever.
Her pale hair was knotted at the base of her neck in an intricate braid and a pink ribbon circled over her ears. She wore a fur-trimmed coat and knee-high boots with a matching trim of fur.
"Where have you been?" he asked, the question harsher than he'd meant it to be. Finally she was with him, and that should have been all that mattered. She's where she belongs, his mind added, and he frowned. When she's by my side, I can keep her out of trouble. Nothing more.
"Oh," she said, waving a hand through the air. "Here and there."
Had she been with another man? His jaw clenched. Best not to allow his mind to travel that route, so he changed the subject. "Why are you dressed like that?" He wore a black linen T-shirt and slacks, and he was sweating.
"'Cause we're going to Switzerland, silly, and it's cold there. You, my friend, are way underdressed."
"Anya, I - "
"There's only one hour's time difference," she said, cutting him off, "so this is the perfect time to go shopping in Z¨¹rich."
He sighed. "Why must we go to Z¨¹rich to shop?" We. Damn the thought! He needed to think of them separately. Never as a pair. Too dangerous.
"Because it's snowy and I look good in white. Race you there!"
She disappeared, leaving a trace of her strawberry scent. Bereft without her, Lucien scanned the crowd a second time. Several people had noticed her disappearance, he knew for a fact, because several jaws were dropped.
The citizens of Budapest knew he and the others were different, if not to what extent, and for the most part left them alone. Protected them, even. Perhaps because the warriors poured so much money into the community. Perhaps because the people were afraid of what would happen if they didn't.
Still. Since leaving ancient Greece and the destruction he'd caused, he had been very careful not to let mortals see his abilities. He did not want rumors of his presence circling. He did not want the human media chasing him and the others, and he certainly did not want more Hunters after him.
But despite all this, he did not try to explain what had happened to Anya. He, too, simply disappeared. Hopefully the witnesses would assume they'd imagined the entire episode. There was a compulsion inside him to be with Anya. He couldn't wait a second more. His heart had not slowed down since her arrival.
He felt more on edge with her than with anyone else in the world. He lost his legendary calm - not that he had erupted in her presence, thank the gods - and he had no business strengthening any ties between them when he had been ordered to kill her. And yet, he could not seem to help himself.
Her lighted trail did indeed lead to Z¨¹rich. He had been here a time or two collecting souls, but had never been able to linger or explore. The same was true with every country he had ever visited. Collect, escort to heaven or hell, and return home in time for midnight - and Maddox's curse - to arrive. That had been the way of his life for centuries. In the month since the curse had been broken, the warriors had been too busy researching Pandora's box for Lucien to do any traveling on his own. Not that he'd wanted to at that point. Hunters were in need of destruction, his friends in need of peace.
He only prayed he was not compelled to take another soul this day. He wanted this time with Anya, uninterrupted and unspoiled.
Fool. This could be a trap. She could mean to hurt you.
He found her standing on a polished wooden deck, sunlight streaming around her. Cold air swirled between them. Behind her was a breathtaking view of snowcapped mountains.
She was facing him, tendrils of hair wisping over her face as she splayed her arms wide. "What do you think?"
"Exquisite." And she was.
A gradual, almost tentative, definitely vulnerable smile lifted the corners of her lush lips. She stared at him and said, "I think so, too."
Did she mean him? Rather than entice or soothe or excite him as her words were probably supposed to do, they angered him. He wanted her more than he wanted to take his next breath, and she played his affections like a violin. His entire body tensed.
Here we go again, he thought. Letting her pull your emotional strings. Letting her affect you. "Let's get this over with," he said tightly.
Slowly she lost her smile. "Over with? You are such a mood ruiner. Well, I'm not going to let you spoil this for me. Have you eaten lunch?"
"No."
"Food first, then. Shopping later."
"Anya, I think - "
She strolled past him as if he wasn't speaking and sauntered through an opened archway that led into a spacious apartment - why not a mansion? - of vivid colors and luxuriant sensuality. Not knowing what else to do, he followed her.
"This is yours, I presume," he said. "I expected something bigger."
"I keep a home everywhere and this is all the space I need. More...intimate this way." In the center of the living room, there was a low wooden table piled high with food, and she eased onto one of the violet pillows in front of it. "I haven't been to this one in a while because of you-know-who."
"Cronus?"
She nodded and began heaping two plates high with - he sniffed, realizing it was chicken pot pie, freshly baked bread and steaming vegetables. Not the extravagant meal he would have expected a goddess to prefer.
"Sit," she said, not looking up at him. She spooned a bite into her mouth, eyes closing in absolute delight.
He did as commanded, chest aching at the domesticity of the scene and the raw enjoyment she took from such a simple action. He had never had a wife, never been with a single woman for more than a few months - the length of time he'd had with Mariah before she died - so had never experienced anything remotely domestic. Unless you counted Paris's feeble attempts at cooking, which Lucien most definitely did not.
Mariah. Dead. Thinking of her just then did not bring the usual surge of resentment, guilt and anger. Was he finally, at long last, healing? With every day that passed, he thought of her less and less. Which was as sad as it was freeing.
Death had not cared about her, even though Mariah had been Lucien's everything.
Would Death mourn the loss of Anya?
He suspected so. Even now, the demon was purring.
"You never told me the real reason Cronus wants you dead," he said.
Anya sipped a glass of dark, rich wine, peering at him over the rim. "Not true. I told you I have something he wants."
"Your body?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
"According to you, I give that to everyone." There was a trace of bitterness in her tone. "Are you going to eat or just watch me?"
Stomach suddenly grumbling, he bit into the pie. Succulent, perfectly prepared. "Did you make this?" He could not picture her slaving in a kitchen.
"Gods, no. I stole it."
The disgust on her pixie face was comical, and he found himself grinning. "Stole?"
"Yes." She stared at his lips, her blue eyes heating. "I like it when you smile."
He swallowed. "Cronus," he prompted, trying to halt whatever thoughts were rolling inside her head. "Why doesn't he seek you out and kill you himself? You are out in the open now. I'm sure he has been able to lock in your location."
"He's an inter-heavenly man of mystery. No one knows why he does the things he does."
"And you have no guess?"
"Well," she shrugged, "he's an idiot. There, that's my guess."
Lucien tensed, waiting for lightning to strike and thunder to boom. Several minutes ticked by before he was able to relax. "This something he wants. Tell me what it is. Please. And for gods' sake, Anya, give me a straight answer for once." If he knew, he could steal it from her, give it to Cronus and end this nightmare.
"For once?" She shook her fork at him. "I give you straight answers all the time."
"Again, then," he said on a sigh.
She stared at him for a long while, not speaking, not moving. Finally she said, "You want the truth, I'll tell you. But the information will cost you. We'll trade. A question for a question."
"Done. What do you have that Cronus wants?"
"I have a...a...damn it, Lucien. I have a key, okay. Happy now?"
"Yes. There. We have both answered one question."
"We both have no - Damn you! I did ask a question, didn't I? Happy now? Score one for you."
"You have a key," Lucien prompted. "A key to what?"
"That, I won't tell you." She popped another bite of chicken into her mouth, chewed, swallowed.
"What does it open?"
"I'm done answering your questions," she said flatly. "You don't play fair."
He didn't berate her sense of fairness, but continued the game. "Why don't you give it to him?"
"Because it's mine," she snapped. She dropped her fork, and it clanged against her plate. "Now hush it before I flash you to an alligator pit. You're ruining the meal I spent hours preparing."
"You just told me you didn't cook it."
"I lied."
"A key will matter little when you are dead," he pointed out, unwilling to close the topic. Too much was at stake.
"Fuck you, Death."
She only called him Death when she was mad, he realized. Otherwise, it was sweetcakes, baby doll and Flowers. And lover, his mind piped in. He preferred those. Except for Flowers, the names made him feel like a man. Not an immortal, not a cursed warrior. Not ugly. And not someone who would ultimately destroy her.
He frowned. "I can't believe you are willing to die for a mere key."
"It's not like any other key, and you don't have to kill me."
"I must."
"Whatever." She drained the rest of her wine. "I answered a few more of your questions, now answer a few for me."
"Very well." He speared a crisp green bean. "What would you like to know?"
She propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her upraised palms. "Have you ever disobeyed a command from the gods?"
"No. But then, I was not ordered to do anything until the Titans won the heavens. The Greeks left us alone after bestowing Maddox's death-curse."
"Have you tried to disobey the Titans, at least?"
"Again, no. Not personally. But Aeron refused to kill those four women, and you have seen the results. Bloodlust has consumed him. He wants to kill everyone now. Even his friends. Maybe even himself. We had to lock him away, taking even more freedom than he lost when all of us were cursed with our demons. It's something we vowed never to do to each other."
"I understand," she said, suddenly seeming lost in thought. "Losing your freedom is a punishment worse than death."
"Yes." Lucien studied her, amazed by what he saw. He'd never seen this playful woman quite so serious. She must be recalling the time she'd spent locked away, perhaps tortured. His hands tightened into fists. "How long were you imprisoned?"
She shrugged. "Seemed like forever and I believe ancient scrolls say a hundred years, but it was more like two."
Clearly she meant to sound cavalier. She failed. "What did you do while locked away?"
"Think, pace, hurt. Talk to the man in the cell beside mine. He was a little cocky, but that was better than silence." She sighed. "Have you ever fought the demon of Death?"
His brow furrowed in confusion. Better confusion that fury at what she had suffered. "What do you mean? Fought it physically?"
"No. I know it can't leave your body unless you die or it's sucked out. I know it's trapped inside you and the two of you are one. But have you ever resisted its desire to take a soul?"
His entire body tensed. This was not a matter he usually discussed. Anya had revealed a part of her secret, however. He could do no less. "Yes."
"And?" Her focus intensified, her eyes like a laser beam on him. "What happened?"
None of the warriors knew he had once been in love; none knew he had watched his lover slowly wither away, her body rotting. "If I do not escort a soul, its physical body suffers untold agony. More than any person should ever have to suffer. More than Fate intended."
"Hit a nerve, did I? There's a muscle ticking under your eye." Rather than press him for more information, she ate the rest of the meal in silence.
As he watched her, the dark memories her questions had brought to the surface receded, replaced by desire. Take her. The words whispered across his mind. Maybe because every movement she made was more sensual than the last. Make love to her.
No. You are not a monster. Not anymore, at least. He could spend time with her, but nothing more.
When she finished eating, she stood. "Want to make out a little or just jump straight into the shopping?"
She had not removed the beige coat and looked toasty warm. More than that, she looked strippable. He wanted to be the one to warm her. "Shopping," he forced himself to say. But he did not stand.
She shrugged as if his answer hadn't mattered to her, and that irritated him. The irritation angered him. And the anger annoyed him. He should feel nothing.
"You can leave your weapons here," she said with a teasing grin. "Hunters never come up this way. Neutral territory and all."
"I do not remove my weapons. Ever."
Her gaze traveled the long length of him in a heated caress. "Not even to shower?"
His cock stirred as he imagined her in the shower with him, water raining over her naked body. "Not even."
"Why, Lucy. That's totally barbaric." She bit her lower lip and sauntered around the table, bending down to whisper in his ear, "But it's something I'd like to witness firsthand."
A fallen lock of her hair brushed his cheek, and he found his eyes closing in ecstasy. His blood suddenly caught fire, nearly raging out of control in seconds. Rather than kiss her as he so desperately wanted - stupid, dangerous...wonderful - he somehow found the will to rise and move away from her.
"You really know how to drag a party down."
"Anya."
"No. Not a word. Let's get out of here," she said, voice cracking slightly.
He was ashamed to realize his legs were shaking. He was so hard his cock actually hurt. One stroke, and he would come.
Anya didn't look back as she strolled to the front door. Opened it, left the apartment, expecting him to follow. He took a moment to breathe in and out, letting the cold air soothe him.
Every muscle in his body was clamped down, eager and needy for her. Only her. Even the demon seemed to ache for her, no longer purring but roaring hungrily.
Think of the artifacts, the box. Think of Hunters. Think of holding Anya's dead body in your arms.
That sobered him.
An angry whisper suddenly drifted past him. "I'm waiting, Death."
Cronus.
Lucien's blood chilled completely. Finally the god king had returned. Why here? Why now? Because your reprieve is over. The king had not materialized. What was he doing?
"You have failed me, Death. Over and over again, you have failed me."
"I am sorry."
"Liar!"
The boom of the word nearly burst his eardrums.
"You will not suffer for it," the god added quietly, "but your friends will. I'll start with Paris, sending him to a place where no women reside. I will prevent him from leaving and I will laugh as he weakens. I will laugh when he is forced to turn to other men for strength. And when I'm through with him, I'll look to Reyes."
Fight him, as Anya does. "You would kill them, then? Set their demons free to roam the earth in a crazed frenzy? No mortal will bow before you once the demons are through wreaking their havoc."
"Zeus might not have been able to protect the people from your demons, but I can. Do you wish to hear what I'll do to Reyes?"
Fight! "You would prevent him from hurting himself, I'm sure. Perhaps flood him with pleasure he is no longer equipped to handle."
"Do you dare mock me?"
"No. Nor do I wish to do that with which you have charged me."
"I am aware of that, Death. I am also tired of waiting. Which of us do you think will emerge the victor and receive what he desires?"
"What if - " Lucien pressed his lips together. Should he do this? Yes, he decided a moment later. He should. There was no other way. "Anya has something you crave. What if I procure it for you?"
For several seconds, there was only crackling tension.
Then, more calmly, Cronus said, "I will allow you to try. If you fail in this, you will bring me her body. If you fail in that, I will not be so lenient. I will do everything I claimed and more. And I'll make you watch while I do it. Now go!"
A great gust of wind shoved Lucien forward. Cutting off a growl, he righted himself and followed the path Anya had taken. He found her in the lobby of the building, alive and well, though Cronus was nearby. He had to get that key from her. Right now, it was the only way he knew to save her. If he failed...
His stomach twisted into a painful knot. He would not fail.
He allowed his gaze to scan the building. There was a huge fireplace with a crackling blaze in the corner. Beside it, a desk was manned by two males staring at Anya in open approval. Lucien scowled. Unaware of the mortals, or perhaps uncaring, she tapped her foot impatiently and studied her bright pink nails.
They'd been red yesterday. Hadn't they? Perhaps they'd been blue. She changed them every day, nearly as often as she changed moods.
Lucien hissed at the men as he strode past them, unable to hold the noise back. He was too raw to care about consequences. Too raw to care that being possessive of a woman like Anya would bring nothing but heartache.
She's not yours, and she can never be yours. Even if nothing else mattered, stealing her precious key would ensure that.
He didn't speak as he passed her, but she kicked into motion beside him. He could feel her body heat and smell her strawberry scent - his two favorite things, he realized. His world would not be the same without them.
"What do you want to buy first?" she asked him, unaware of his thoughts and turmoil.
Lucien opened his mouth to ask about the key, but the words refused to form. Earlier, she had ended their conversation the moment it had been mentioned. He would have to soften her first, he supposed, and earn a bit of her trust.
"A coat would be nice," he said. Though sunlight poured from the sky, chill wind beat against him.
"Then a coat you shall have. I know the perfect place." She twined their fingers together and tugged him to the left.
Instinct demanded he pull away. He didn't. Instead he tightened his grip, wishing he could hold on to her and never let go. She gasped, threw a sweet smile over her shoulder. Death rubbed against the corridors of his mind, reaching for her, wanting to touch her, too.
She ushered him down an ice-covered road. Cars meandered by and people strolled along the snowy sidewalks, in and out of the cobbled shops. All around were those majestic mountains. The gods really had outdone themselves with this spectacular scenery.
This could have been heaven.
"In here." Anya tugged him into a shop named Machen Teegeback.
"Warm Muffins?" he translated, having mastered many languages over the years. "We just ate. And I thought we were shopping for a coat."
She chuckled. "This isn't a bakery, lover. It's an outlet." Inside were coats, gloves, hats and all the things he would need to stay warm. "Now, don't you worry. Anya will dress you just right."
With another delighted chuckle, she trekked through the store, throwing different colored coats at him. "This one will match your eyes. Well, one of them anyway." Pause. "This one will look great against your skin." Pause. "Mmm, this one has easy access to my new favorite place through the pockets." Pause. "Oh, score! Look at this." She held up the masculine version of the coat she wore before tossing it at him. "We'll be twinkies while we're climbing glaciers."
Unless he found that key, she would not be traveling with him. Selfishly, he was disappointed at the thought. "I only need one coat. Which do you - "
With a furtive glance at the cashier, she stuffed a pair of large wool gloves inside her jacket.
He frowned, certain he was mistaken about what had just happened. "What do you think you are doing?"
"Stealing." There was such relish in her tone, it was like a sexual high.
A shiver trekked the length of his spine. "You were not teasing about the food, then. Are you short of funds?"
"Hardly. I'm loaded." She anchored her hands on her hips and pouted up at him. "Don't tell me the big bad demon is upset. 'Cause you shouldn't be. I'll pay them back another day, Sally Sunshine. Maybe."
"Return the gloves, Anya." Is this the way to soften her? His jaw clenched. No, it wasn't, but he refused to back down.
"No."
"Very well. I will pay for them." Lucien dropped the coats Anya had thrown at him, gently clasped her arm with one hand and pinched the gloves with the other. His palm brushed the side of her breast. Gulping, burning up, he gathered one of every item he needed, strode to the register, and paid with the bills Paris had given him earlier.
As they walked to the door, Anya fumed at his side. "I have to do it, okay?"
Her intensity surprised him. "Why?"
"You have your compulsions and I have mine. I can either burn the place down or take a measly pair of gloves."
Understanding dawned. She had her own demon to fight, a dark nature she wished to control. He knew how hard such a thing could be. "I am sorry I took them away from you."
A pause. A sniffed, "No problem."
Carrying their purchases, he exited the building and stood at the curb, waiting for her to join him. Cold air slapped at him, but he didn't pull the coat from its sack. His skin was still on fire from having Anya next to him.
He wanted her next to him again, and it had nothing to do with getting his hands on that key. A minute passed, and she did not exit. What was she doing? He turned and walked forward with every intention of reentering the shop.
The door flew open, however, and Anya emerged. Her lips curled in a smug grin. His skin heated another degree.
"I might have to dig through the ice as I search for this artifact. I need the proper tools," he said. "Where can I acquire them?"
"Ugh. Digging will not be fun."
"Fun is not the purpose of the trip."
"Killjoy." She reached into her jacket and withdrew a pair of black gloves. Using her teeth, she ripped off the tags. Then, staring him in the eye, she tugged the leather over her hands.
"You stole them?"
"That's what I like about you, sweetcakes. You're an observant kind of guy."
Lucien shook his head, his lips twitching. He marched forward, forcing her to follow or be left behind. "Tell me why you must steal to prevent yourself from burning a building. You hinted, I deduced, but I would like to hear firsthand."
She kept pace beside him. "Remember those wars Reyes mentioned that night at the club? Well, guess what? I did start them. When I first walked among mortals, I was insane with my need for disorder and my every movement seemed to spur them into fury. With each other, not me. Worse, I couldn't look at a torch without knocking it over. Sometimes I didn't even realize I'd done it until the flames were dancing at my feet and people were screaming. And those screams, oh, gods, those screams." She sighed dreamily. "They were so delicious to my ears. Like auditory ice cream. More and more, I wanted to hear them. Needed to hear them."
"Anarchy means to be without law. Perhaps, deep down, those screams represented the chaos your nature demands."
"Yes," she said, eyes widening.
"The demon inside me is Death. For the longest time, it craved the absence of life, no matter what I had to do to accommodate that desire."
"You really do understand." She shook her head, her expression a little shocked. A strand of hair fell, and she hooked it behind her ear. "One day I caught myself reaching out, about to cut a chandelier from a ceiling just to hear the glass shatter and the people shriek, when a woman walked by. She was wearing a ring and the diamond winked in the light, brighter than any chandelier. Gods, I wanted that diamond. I followed her and stole it. The moment I slipped it on my finger, this grinding need inside me just...quieted somehow. I've been stealing ever since."
He was silent a moment. "You may steal from me anytime." Sadly, he feared it was he who would soon be stealing from her. More than ever, he did not want to take her life. Like him, she could have become a living nightmare but she strove to be more. Better.
She tossed him a grin. "Thank you."
His chest started aching. The key. Ask about the key. "Have you spent much time in the Arctic?" he found himself asking instead.
"A little. Oh, this is going to be fun! Well, aside from the digging part." She clapped excitedly. "Just the two of us, snuggled up to keep warm, no worries about Hunters. I doubt any human could survive the cold for long. Now, come on. I don't want to walk anymore. It's a waste of time." In the next instant, she disappeared.
He followed with no hesitation -
Arriving in Greece. The island, his rented home. He dropped his bags, not sensing or seeing any of the other warriors. They were probably still gathering supplies.
Anya plopped on the cream-colored leather couch as if she hadn't a care. With a blissful sigh, she removed her stolen gloves, followed by her boots, revealing pretty white leggings. She tossed both aside. Next she removed her coat - revealing a white lace bra.
His eyes nearly popped out of his head. "That is what you have been wearing all day?"
She grinned wickedly. "Yes. Do you like?"
His cock swelled to life. Again. This time thicker, fuller. Harder, hotter. She was sexier now than when she'd worn the maid's uniform - and she'd nearly felled him then. Thank the gods he hadn't known what little she'd worn underneath. He might have killed everyone who looked at her, and then attacked her there in the snow.
He couldn't tear his gaze away from her. Her stomach was flat and the color of cream, her navel a sensual feast to his eyes. Her breasts were full and ripe, the pink nipples hazily visible and oh so hard. The leggings conformed to her body like a second skin.
"Well? Do you like?" she repeated, stretching out. Her feet were bare, the pretty nails glittering in the light. "You could have seen this and more earlier, but you were too busy being stubborn. Don't be stubborn this time."
"You are beautiful, Anya."
"Come over here and kiss me, then," she beseeched huskily.
"I can't," he croaked out.
"Why not?" She ran a fingertip down her stomach, around her navel. "It's not like I'm asking you to screw me. Just kiss and touch me a little. And FYI, you should know this is the last time I'm going to offer myself to you. Your continued rejection is screwing with my confidence."
A roar sounded in his head. Not touch her? Not kiss her? "Why not more than kissing and touching?"
"Because." She crossed her arms over her middle, smashing her breasts together.
Holy gods. "Answer me."
"Why should I? You rarely answer me." Again she ran a fingertip down the planes of her stomach.
His gaze followed the action. He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. She would give herself to other men, but not him. The realization sunk in, and he ground his teeth together. Him, she would only allow to kiss her. He wasn't good enough for anything else.
He wanted to hate her for that, but he'd done this to himself. He'd purposefully carved himself so that women would not want him. And though she obviously found him lacking, he still sought to save her life. "We need to discuss something, Anya."
"What? The best way to move your tongue?"
"The key. Give me the key Cronus wants, and I'll do anything you want, kiss you however you want me to."
Color leached from her cheeks. "Hell, no. I don't want you that badly."
He'd known that, but hearing her say it cut deeply. "Giving up the key will save your life."
"Without the key, my life isn't worth living. Now, I don't want to talk about it anymore. I want to talk about us."
"There can be no us until you give me that key."
"The key is mine," she shouted, "and I will never give it up. Do you understand? Never! I would rather die."
"You will die if you don't. You are forcing my hand, Anya."
"What, you plan to steal it?"
He didn't answer.
"You'll regret it if you try."
Still no response.
"Forget the key! We were having fun and could be having more fun right now."
"Cronus came to me, threatened those I love. I am out of time, Anya. I am to bring him the key or you. I would rather bring the key."
The pulse in her neck fluttered riotously. "When did he come to you?"
"Before we went shopping," he admitted.
"That's why you went so easily. You thought to sweeten me up so I'd just hand the key over." She laughed bitterly. "Or maybe you thought I'd slip and tell you where it is and you'd steal it. So much for your lofty principles."
"Which is it to be? You or the key?"
"Me." She raised her chin. "I told you. I will not part with the key."
"Anya," he said, hating himself. Hating Cronus. Hating even the woman he was trying to save. She made him feel. Now, more than ever, emotions were his enemy. "This is your last warning."
"Lucien, I can't give it up." Tears filled her eyes. "I can't."
Those tears..."Why?"
"I just can't. I won't."
Then there was nothing more for him to say. Do it. End it. It is time. "Here is your warning. I will make this quick. Kill you first. Take your soul after." He flashed to her, was straddling her hips in the next instant, his daggers withdrawn and cradled in his hands, raised, ready to strike.
Those teary eyes went wide with shock.
"I am sorry," he said, and struck.
AS HE SHOPPED FOR PROVISIONS he would need for his upcoming trip - intermittently collecting eighteen souls and escorting them to their final resting place - Lucien did not feel Anya's burning gaze on him. Nor did he smell her enticing strawberry scent.
Where was she? What was she doing?
Who was she doing it with?
His hands balled, knuckles throbbing, the joints so stiff they felt brittle.
He missed her more than ever. He had gotten used to her presence; nothing felt right when she was gone. Besides, he worried about her. Had Cronus tired of Lucien's halfhearted attempts to slay her and taken it upon himself to destroy Anya?
Now his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. She is fine. Cronus had been unable to kill her, which was why he'd given the task to Lucien. Anya was safe from the god king.
But time is ticking...
Lucien expected the bastard to arrive at any moment and punish him for his failure. Punishment was beginning to matter less and less, however.
He wanted to spend more time with her, and he was about to get his wish. Too bad they weren't heading for Hawaii. But Lucien had known Anya would follow him wherever he chose, so he'd picked the Arctic, the one place he'd thought - hoped - would cool his desire.
Because more than missing her, he desired her. Badly.
He was becoming obsessed with her. Lately all he could think about was stripping her. Licking between her legs, pleasuring her in every way imaginable and even some that weren't. Watching her face while she climaxed. Fisting her hair while she sucked his cock. Lately? Ha!
Even now, he trembled. Trembled like a damned mortal.
His long-neglected body practically sobbed for Anya each time she approached him. Forcing himself to walk away grew more and more difficult. And forcing himself to discourage her advances was even more so.
Stop thinking, finish shopping, he commanded himself as he stalked down the city's paved streets. He'd flashed from the island to Athens, and sunlight shone brightly. Last time he'd been here, all those centuries ago, dead bodies had littered the street and blood had flowed like crimson rivers.
He pushed the image to the back of his mind. The air was crisp and salty. He needed to enjoy this mild weather while he could. All too soon he'd feel the icy blast of the Arctic. With Anya.
Damn this! What would it take to exorcise her from his head completely?
Determined, Lucien made a mental checklist of everything he needed. A coat. Boots. Thermals. Thick socks. And gloves. He would have flashed to Buda and collected everything there, but the items he owned were meant for manageable winters. The Arctic was another story. He'd have to endure freezing winds and snow as far as the eye could see. Perhaps luck would be on his side and he would find Hydra quickly. He placed a call to Maddox and had him ask Torin to search any possible sightings.
What was Anya doing?
He didn't even try to stop the thoughts this time. Obviously, fighting did no good. Anya. In the Arctic. Alone with him. Perhaps finding Hydra quickly would not be such a wonderful thing.
Last time he and Anya had been together in the cold, she'd pushed him into the icy water. The memory shouldn't have made him smile, but it did. Anya, standing on that glacier, waiting for him, then shoving him with all of her strength, had been a beautiful if macabre sight. Even his testicles had frozen.
She had laughed, a tinkling sound of genuine amusement. Heady and seductive. He wanted to hear it again.
Gods, he admired her courage and her tenacity. Anyone else would have cowered at having Death hunt them.
Where was she? he wondered again. Had she finally tired of him?
As he passed a corner shop, he slammed his fists into the wall. Stone abraded skin. Whether Anya was tired of him or not, he would soon have her to himself, away from the other warriors. Hopefully he would learn more from her. Hopefully he would prevent her from learning more from him.
Hopefully he would better do his duty.
His clipped steps slowed, and he forced himself to take in the sights. Emerald trees framed most of the buildings, stretching overhead and casting shadows. There were no cars on the streets - those were prohibited - so people had to walk to their destinations.
Merchants were out in force, selling everything from fruit and vegetables to flimsy scarves to doorknobs. None of which would keep him warm in the Arctic.
"You'll never find what you need here," Anya said, suddenly keeping pace beside him.
His blood instantly heated as he glanced around, making sure no one had witnessed her sudden appearance. The only people staring at her were men, and he didn't know if they were shocked or simply captivated.
She was lovelier than ever.
Her pale hair was knotted at the base of her neck in an intricate braid and a pink ribbon circled over her ears. She wore a fur-trimmed coat and knee-high boots with a matching trim of fur.
"Where have you been?" he asked, the question harsher than he'd meant it to be. Finally she was with him, and that should have been all that mattered. She's where she belongs, his mind added, and he frowned. When she's by my side, I can keep her out of trouble. Nothing more.
"Oh," she said, waving a hand through the air. "Here and there."
Had she been with another man? His jaw clenched. Best not to allow his mind to travel that route, so he changed the subject. "Why are you dressed like that?" He wore a black linen T-shirt and slacks, and he was sweating.
"'Cause we're going to Switzerland, silly, and it's cold there. You, my friend, are way underdressed."
"Anya, I - "
"There's only one hour's time difference," she said, cutting him off, "so this is the perfect time to go shopping in Z¨¹rich."
He sighed. "Why must we go to Z¨¹rich to shop?" We. Damn the thought! He needed to think of them separately. Never as a pair. Too dangerous.
"Because it's snowy and I look good in white. Race you there!"
She disappeared, leaving a trace of her strawberry scent. Bereft without her, Lucien scanned the crowd a second time. Several people had noticed her disappearance, he knew for a fact, because several jaws were dropped.
The citizens of Budapest knew he and the others were different, if not to what extent, and for the most part left them alone. Protected them, even. Perhaps because the warriors poured so much money into the community. Perhaps because the people were afraid of what would happen if they didn't.
Still. Since leaving ancient Greece and the destruction he'd caused, he had been very careful not to let mortals see his abilities. He did not want rumors of his presence circling. He did not want the human media chasing him and the others, and he certainly did not want more Hunters after him.
But despite all this, he did not try to explain what had happened to Anya. He, too, simply disappeared. Hopefully the witnesses would assume they'd imagined the entire episode. There was a compulsion inside him to be with Anya. He couldn't wait a second more. His heart had not slowed down since her arrival.
He felt more on edge with her than with anyone else in the world. He lost his legendary calm - not that he had erupted in her presence, thank the gods - and he had no business strengthening any ties between them when he had been ordered to kill her. And yet, he could not seem to help himself.
Her lighted trail did indeed lead to Z¨¹rich. He had been here a time or two collecting souls, but had never been able to linger or explore. The same was true with every country he had ever visited. Collect, escort to heaven or hell, and return home in time for midnight - and Maddox's curse - to arrive. That had been the way of his life for centuries. In the month since the curse had been broken, the warriors had been too busy researching Pandora's box for Lucien to do any traveling on his own. Not that he'd wanted to at that point. Hunters were in need of destruction, his friends in need of peace.
He only prayed he was not compelled to take another soul this day. He wanted this time with Anya, uninterrupted and unspoiled.
Fool. This could be a trap. She could mean to hurt you.
He found her standing on a polished wooden deck, sunlight streaming around her. Cold air swirled between them. Behind her was a breathtaking view of snowcapped mountains.
She was facing him, tendrils of hair wisping over her face as she splayed her arms wide. "What do you think?"
"Exquisite." And she was.
A gradual, almost tentative, definitely vulnerable smile lifted the corners of her lush lips. She stared at him and said, "I think so, too."
Did she mean him? Rather than entice or soothe or excite him as her words were probably supposed to do, they angered him. He wanted her more than he wanted to take his next breath, and she played his affections like a violin. His entire body tensed.
Here we go again, he thought. Letting her pull your emotional strings. Letting her affect you. "Let's get this over with," he said tightly.
Slowly she lost her smile. "Over with? You are such a mood ruiner. Well, I'm not going to let you spoil this for me. Have you eaten lunch?"
"No."
"Food first, then. Shopping later."
"Anya, I think - "
She strolled past him as if he wasn't speaking and sauntered through an opened archway that led into a spacious apartment - why not a mansion? - of vivid colors and luxuriant sensuality. Not knowing what else to do, he followed her.
"This is yours, I presume," he said. "I expected something bigger."
"I keep a home everywhere and this is all the space I need. More...intimate this way." In the center of the living room, there was a low wooden table piled high with food, and she eased onto one of the violet pillows in front of it. "I haven't been to this one in a while because of you-know-who."
"Cronus?"
She nodded and began heaping two plates high with - he sniffed, realizing it was chicken pot pie, freshly baked bread and steaming vegetables. Not the extravagant meal he would have expected a goddess to prefer.
"Sit," she said, not looking up at him. She spooned a bite into her mouth, eyes closing in absolute delight.
He did as commanded, chest aching at the domesticity of the scene and the raw enjoyment she took from such a simple action. He had never had a wife, never been with a single woman for more than a few months - the length of time he'd had with Mariah before she died - so had never experienced anything remotely domestic. Unless you counted Paris's feeble attempts at cooking, which Lucien most definitely did not.
Mariah. Dead. Thinking of her just then did not bring the usual surge of resentment, guilt and anger. Was he finally, at long last, healing? With every day that passed, he thought of her less and less. Which was as sad as it was freeing.
Death had not cared about her, even though Mariah had been Lucien's everything.
Would Death mourn the loss of Anya?
He suspected so. Even now, the demon was purring.
"You never told me the real reason Cronus wants you dead," he said.
Anya sipped a glass of dark, rich wine, peering at him over the rim. "Not true. I told you I have something he wants."
"Your body?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
"According to you, I give that to everyone." There was a trace of bitterness in her tone. "Are you going to eat or just watch me?"
Stomach suddenly grumbling, he bit into the pie. Succulent, perfectly prepared. "Did you make this?" He could not picture her slaving in a kitchen.
"Gods, no. I stole it."
The disgust on her pixie face was comical, and he found himself grinning. "Stole?"
"Yes." She stared at his lips, her blue eyes heating. "I like it when you smile."
He swallowed. "Cronus," he prompted, trying to halt whatever thoughts were rolling inside her head. "Why doesn't he seek you out and kill you himself? You are out in the open now. I'm sure he has been able to lock in your location."
"He's an inter-heavenly man of mystery. No one knows why he does the things he does."
"And you have no guess?"
"Well," she shrugged, "he's an idiot. There, that's my guess."
Lucien tensed, waiting for lightning to strike and thunder to boom. Several minutes ticked by before he was able to relax. "This something he wants. Tell me what it is. Please. And for gods' sake, Anya, give me a straight answer for once." If he knew, he could steal it from her, give it to Cronus and end this nightmare.
"For once?" She shook her fork at him. "I give you straight answers all the time."
"Again, then," he said on a sigh.
She stared at him for a long while, not speaking, not moving. Finally she said, "You want the truth, I'll tell you. But the information will cost you. We'll trade. A question for a question."
"Done. What do you have that Cronus wants?"
"I have a...a...damn it, Lucien. I have a key, okay. Happy now?"
"Yes. There. We have both answered one question."
"We both have no - Damn you! I did ask a question, didn't I? Happy now? Score one for you."
"You have a key," Lucien prompted. "A key to what?"
"That, I won't tell you." She popped another bite of chicken into her mouth, chewed, swallowed.
"What does it open?"
"I'm done answering your questions," she said flatly. "You don't play fair."
He didn't berate her sense of fairness, but continued the game. "Why don't you give it to him?"
"Because it's mine," she snapped. She dropped her fork, and it clanged against her plate. "Now hush it before I flash you to an alligator pit. You're ruining the meal I spent hours preparing."
"You just told me you didn't cook it."
"I lied."
"A key will matter little when you are dead," he pointed out, unwilling to close the topic. Too much was at stake.
"Fuck you, Death."
She only called him Death when she was mad, he realized. Otherwise, it was sweetcakes, baby doll and Flowers. And lover, his mind piped in. He preferred those. Except for Flowers, the names made him feel like a man. Not an immortal, not a cursed warrior. Not ugly. And not someone who would ultimately destroy her.
He frowned. "I can't believe you are willing to die for a mere key."
"It's not like any other key, and you don't have to kill me."
"I must."
"Whatever." She drained the rest of her wine. "I answered a few more of your questions, now answer a few for me."
"Very well." He speared a crisp green bean. "What would you like to know?"
She propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her upraised palms. "Have you ever disobeyed a command from the gods?"
"No. But then, I was not ordered to do anything until the Titans won the heavens. The Greeks left us alone after bestowing Maddox's death-curse."
"Have you tried to disobey the Titans, at least?"
"Again, no. Not personally. But Aeron refused to kill those four women, and you have seen the results. Bloodlust has consumed him. He wants to kill everyone now. Even his friends. Maybe even himself. We had to lock him away, taking even more freedom than he lost when all of us were cursed with our demons. It's something we vowed never to do to each other."
"I understand," she said, suddenly seeming lost in thought. "Losing your freedom is a punishment worse than death."
"Yes." Lucien studied her, amazed by what he saw. He'd never seen this playful woman quite so serious. She must be recalling the time she'd spent locked away, perhaps tortured. His hands tightened into fists. "How long were you imprisoned?"
She shrugged. "Seemed like forever and I believe ancient scrolls say a hundred years, but it was more like two."
Clearly she meant to sound cavalier. She failed. "What did you do while locked away?"
"Think, pace, hurt. Talk to the man in the cell beside mine. He was a little cocky, but that was better than silence." She sighed. "Have you ever fought the demon of Death?"
His brow furrowed in confusion. Better confusion that fury at what she had suffered. "What do you mean? Fought it physically?"
"No. I know it can't leave your body unless you die or it's sucked out. I know it's trapped inside you and the two of you are one. But have you ever resisted its desire to take a soul?"
His entire body tensed. This was not a matter he usually discussed. Anya had revealed a part of her secret, however. He could do no less. "Yes."
"And?" Her focus intensified, her eyes like a laser beam on him. "What happened?"
None of the warriors knew he had once been in love; none knew he had watched his lover slowly wither away, her body rotting. "If I do not escort a soul, its physical body suffers untold agony. More than any person should ever have to suffer. More than Fate intended."
"Hit a nerve, did I? There's a muscle ticking under your eye." Rather than press him for more information, she ate the rest of the meal in silence.
As he watched her, the dark memories her questions had brought to the surface receded, replaced by desire. Take her. The words whispered across his mind. Maybe because every movement she made was more sensual than the last. Make love to her.
No. You are not a monster. Not anymore, at least. He could spend time with her, but nothing more.
When she finished eating, she stood. "Want to make out a little or just jump straight into the shopping?"
She had not removed the beige coat and looked toasty warm. More than that, she looked strippable. He wanted to be the one to warm her. "Shopping," he forced himself to say. But he did not stand.
She shrugged as if his answer hadn't mattered to her, and that irritated him. The irritation angered him. And the anger annoyed him. He should feel nothing.
"You can leave your weapons here," she said with a teasing grin. "Hunters never come up this way. Neutral territory and all."
"I do not remove my weapons. Ever."
Her gaze traveled the long length of him in a heated caress. "Not even to shower?"
His cock stirred as he imagined her in the shower with him, water raining over her naked body. "Not even."
"Why, Lucy. That's totally barbaric." She bit her lower lip and sauntered around the table, bending down to whisper in his ear, "But it's something I'd like to witness firsthand."
A fallen lock of her hair brushed his cheek, and he found his eyes closing in ecstasy. His blood suddenly caught fire, nearly raging out of control in seconds. Rather than kiss her as he so desperately wanted - stupid, dangerous...wonderful - he somehow found the will to rise and move away from her.
"You really know how to drag a party down."
"Anya."
"No. Not a word. Let's get out of here," she said, voice cracking slightly.
He was ashamed to realize his legs were shaking. He was so hard his cock actually hurt. One stroke, and he would come.
Anya didn't look back as she strolled to the front door. Opened it, left the apartment, expecting him to follow. He took a moment to breathe in and out, letting the cold air soothe him.
Every muscle in his body was clamped down, eager and needy for her. Only her. Even the demon seemed to ache for her, no longer purring but roaring hungrily.
Think of the artifacts, the box. Think of Hunters. Think of holding Anya's dead body in your arms.
That sobered him.
An angry whisper suddenly drifted past him. "I'm waiting, Death."
Cronus.
Lucien's blood chilled completely. Finally the god king had returned. Why here? Why now? Because your reprieve is over. The king had not materialized. What was he doing?
"You have failed me, Death. Over and over again, you have failed me."
"I am sorry."
"Liar!"
The boom of the word nearly burst his eardrums.
"You will not suffer for it," the god added quietly, "but your friends will. I'll start with Paris, sending him to a place where no women reside. I will prevent him from leaving and I will laugh as he weakens. I will laugh when he is forced to turn to other men for strength. And when I'm through with him, I'll look to Reyes."
Fight him, as Anya does. "You would kill them, then? Set their demons free to roam the earth in a crazed frenzy? No mortal will bow before you once the demons are through wreaking their havoc."
"Zeus might not have been able to protect the people from your demons, but I can. Do you wish to hear what I'll do to Reyes?"
Fight! "You would prevent him from hurting himself, I'm sure. Perhaps flood him with pleasure he is no longer equipped to handle."
"Do you dare mock me?"
"No. Nor do I wish to do that with which you have charged me."
"I am aware of that, Death. I am also tired of waiting. Which of us do you think will emerge the victor and receive what he desires?"
"What if - " Lucien pressed his lips together. Should he do this? Yes, he decided a moment later. He should. There was no other way. "Anya has something you crave. What if I procure it for you?"
For several seconds, there was only crackling tension.
Then, more calmly, Cronus said, "I will allow you to try. If you fail in this, you will bring me her body. If you fail in that, I will not be so lenient. I will do everything I claimed and more. And I'll make you watch while I do it. Now go!"
A great gust of wind shoved Lucien forward. Cutting off a growl, he righted himself and followed the path Anya had taken. He found her in the lobby of the building, alive and well, though Cronus was nearby. He had to get that key from her. Right now, it was the only way he knew to save her. If he failed...
His stomach twisted into a painful knot. He would not fail.
He allowed his gaze to scan the building. There was a huge fireplace with a crackling blaze in the corner. Beside it, a desk was manned by two males staring at Anya in open approval. Lucien scowled. Unaware of the mortals, or perhaps uncaring, she tapped her foot impatiently and studied her bright pink nails.
They'd been red yesterday. Hadn't they? Perhaps they'd been blue. She changed them every day, nearly as often as she changed moods.
Lucien hissed at the men as he strode past them, unable to hold the noise back. He was too raw to care about consequences. Too raw to care that being possessive of a woman like Anya would bring nothing but heartache.
She's not yours, and she can never be yours. Even if nothing else mattered, stealing her precious key would ensure that.
He didn't speak as he passed her, but she kicked into motion beside him. He could feel her body heat and smell her strawberry scent - his two favorite things, he realized. His world would not be the same without them.
"What do you want to buy first?" she asked him, unaware of his thoughts and turmoil.
Lucien opened his mouth to ask about the key, but the words refused to form. Earlier, she had ended their conversation the moment it had been mentioned. He would have to soften her first, he supposed, and earn a bit of her trust.
"A coat would be nice," he said. Though sunlight poured from the sky, chill wind beat against him.
"Then a coat you shall have. I know the perfect place." She twined their fingers together and tugged him to the left.
Instinct demanded he pull away. He didn't. Instead he tightened his grip, wishing he could hold on to her and never let go. She gasped, threw a sweet smile over her shoulder. Death rubbed against the corridors of his mind, reaching for her, wanting to touch her, too.
She ushered him down an ice-covered road. Cars meandered by and people strolled along the snowy sidewalks, in and out of the cobbled shops. All around were those majestic mountains. The gods really had outdone themselves with this spectacular scenery.
This could have been heaven.
"In here." Anya tugged him into a shop named Machen Teegeback.
"Warm Muffins?" he translated, having mastered many languages over the years. "We just ate. And I thought we were shopping for a coat."
She chuckled. "This isn't a bakery, lover. It's an outlet." Inside were coats, gloves, hats and all the things he would need to stay warm. "Now, don't you worry. Anya will dress you just right."
With another delighted chuckle, she trekked through the store, throwing different colored coats at him. "This one will match your eyes. Well, one of them anyway." Pause. "This one will look great against your skin." Pause. "Mmm, this one has easy access to my new favorite place through the pockets." Pause. "Oh, score! Look at this." She held up the masculine version of the coat she wore before tossing it at him. "We'll be twinkies while we're climbing glaciers."
Unless he found that key, she would not be traveling with him. Selfishly, he was disappointed at the thought. "I only need one coat. Which do you - "
With a furtive glance at the cashier, she stuffed a pair of large wool gloves inside her jacket.
He frowned, certain he was mistaken about what had just happened. "What do you think you are doing?"
"Stealing." There was such relish in her tone, it was like a sexual high.
A shiver trekked the length of his spine. "You were not teasing about the food, then. Are you short of funds?"
"Hardly. I'm loaded." She anchored her hands on her hips and pouted up at him. "Don't tell me the big bad demon is upset. 'Cause you shouldn't be. I'll pay them back another day, Sally Sunshine. Maybe."
"Return the gloves, Anya." Is this the way to soften her? His jaw clenched. No, it wasn't, but he refused to back down.
"No."
"Very well. I will pay for them." Lucien dropped the coats Anya had thrown at him, gently clasped her arm with one hand and pinched the gloves with the other. His palm brushed the side of her breast. Gulping, burning up, he gathered one of every item he needed, strode to the register, and paid with the bills Paris had given him earlier.
As they walked to the door, Anya fumed at his side. "I have to do it, okay?"
Her intensity surprised him. "Why?"
"You have your compulsions and I have mine. I can either burn the place down or take a measly pair of gloves."
Understanding dawned. She had her own demon to fight, a dark nature she wished to control. He knew how hard such a thing could be. "I am sorry I took them away from you."
A pause. A sniffed, "No problem."
Carrying their purchases, he exited the building and stood at the curb, waiting for her to join him. Cold air slapped at him, but he didn't pull the coat from its sack. His skin was still on fire from having Anya next to him.
He wanted her next to him again, and it had nothing to do with getting his hands on that key. A minute passed, and she did not exit. What was she doing? He turned and walked forward with every intention of reentering the shop.
The door flew open, however, and Anya emerged. Her lips curled in a smug grin. His skin heated another degree.
"I might have to dig through the ice as I search for this artifact. I need the proper tools," he said. "Where can I acquire them?"
"Ugh. Digging will not be fun."
"Fun is not the purpose of the trip."
"Killjoy." She reached into her jacket and withdrew a pair of black gloves. Using her teeth, she ripped off the tags. Then, staring him in the eye, she tugged the leather over her hands.
"You stole them?"
"That's what I like about you, sweetcakes. You're an observant kind of guy."
Lucien shook his head, his lips twitching. He marched forward, forcing her to follow or be left behind. "Tell me why you must steal to prevent yourself from burning a building. You hinted, I deduced, but I would like to hear firsthand."
She kept pace beside him. "Remember those wars Reyes mentioned that night at the club? Well, guess what? I did start them. When I first walked among mortals, I was insane with my need for disorder and my every movement seemed to spur them into fury. With each other, not me. Worse, I couldn't look at a torch without knocking it over. Sometimes I didn't even realize I'd done it until the flames were dancing at my feet and people were screaming. And those screams, oh, gods, those screams." She sighed dreamily. "They were so delicious to my ears. Like auditory ice cream. More and more, I wanted to hear them. Needed to hear them."
"Anarchy means to be without law. Perhaps, deep down, those screams represented the chaos your nature demands."
"Yes," she said, eyes widening.
"The demon inside me is Death. For the longest time, it craved the absence of life, no matter what I had to do to accommodate that desire."
"You really do understand." She shook her head, her expression a little shocked. A strand of hair fell, and she hooked it behind her ear. "One day I caught myself reaching out, about to cut a chandelier from a ceiling just to hear the glass shatter and the people shriek, when a woman walked by. She was wearing a ring and the diamond winked in the light, brighter than any chandelier. Gods, I wanted that diamond. I followed her and stole it. The moment I slipped it on my finger, this grinding need inside me just...quieted somehow. I've been stealing ever since."
He was silent a moment. "You may steal from me anytime." Sadly, he feared it was he who would soon be stealing from her. More than ever, he did not want to take her life. Like him, she could have become a living nightmare but she strove to be more. Better.
She tossed him a grin. "Thank you."
His chest started aching. The key. Ask about the key. "Have you spent much time in the Arctic?" he found himself asking instead.
"A little. Oh, this is going to be fun! Well, aside from the digging part." She clapped excitedly. "Just the two of us, snuggled up to keep warm, no worries about Hunters. I doubt any human could survive the cold for long. Now, come on. I don't want to walk anymore. It's a waste of time." In the next instant, she disappeared.
He followed with no hesitation -
Arriving in Greece. The island, his rented home. He dropped his bags, not sensing or seeing any of the other warriors. They were probably still gathering supplies.
Anya plopped on the cream-colored leather couch as if she hadn't a care. With a blissful sigh, she removed her stolen gloves, followed by her boots, revealing pretty white leggings. She tossed both aside. Next she removed her coat - revealing a white lace bra.
His eyes nearly popped out of his head. "That is what you have been wearing all day?"
She grinned wickedly. "Yes. Do you like?"
His cock swelled to life. Again. This time thicker, fuller. Harder, hotter. She was sexier now than when she'd worn the maid's uniform - and she'd nearly felled him then. Thank the gods he hadn't known what little she'd worn underneath. He might have killed everyone who looked at her, and then attacked her there in the snow.
He couldn't tear his gaze away from her. Her stomach was flat and the color of cream, her navel a sensual feast to his eyes. Her breasts were full and ripe, the pink nipples hazily visible and oh so hard. The leggings conformed to her body like a second skin.
"Well? Do you like?" she repeated, stretching out. Her feet were bare, the pretty nails glittering in the light. "You could have seen this and more earlier, but you were too busy being stubborn. Don't be stubborn this time."
"You are beautiful, Anya."
"Come over here and kiss me, then," she beseeched huskily.
"I can't," he croaked out.
"Why not?" She ran a fingertip down her stomach, around her navel. "It's not like I'm asking you to screw me. Just kiss and touch me a little. And FYI, you should know this is the last time I'm going to offer myself to you. Your continued rejection is screwing with my confidence."
A roar sounded in his head. Not touch her? Not kiss her? "Why not more than kissing and touching?"
"Because." She crossed her arms over her middle, smashing her breasts together.
Holy gods. "Answer me."
"Why should I? You rarely answer me." Again she ran a fingertip down the planes of her stomach.
His gaze followed the action. He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. She would give herself to other men, but not him. The realization sunk in, and he ground his teeth together. Him, she would only allow to kiss her. He wasn't good enough for anything else.
He wanted to hate her for that, but he'd done this to himself. He'd purposefully carved himself so that women would not want him. And though she obviously found him lacking, he still sought to save her life. "We need to discuss something, Anya."
"What? The best way to move your tongue?"
"The key. Give me the key Cronus wants, and I'll do anything you want, kiss you however you want me to."
Color leached from her cheeks. "Hell, no. I don't want you that badly."
He'd known that, but hearing her say it cut deeply. "Giving up the key will save your life."
"Without the key, my life isn't worth living. Now, I don't want to talk about it anymore. I want to talk about us."
"There can be no us until you give me that key."
"The key is mine," she shouted, "and I will never give it up. Do you understand? Never! I would rather die."
"You will die if you don't. You are forcing my hand, Anya."
"What, you plan to steal it?"
He didn't answer.
"You'll regret it if you try."
Still no response.
"Forget the key! We were having fun and could be having more fun right now."
"Cronus came to me, threatened those I love. I am out of time, Anya. I am to bring him the key or you. I would rather bring the key."
The pulse in her neck fluttered riotously. "When did he come to you?"
"Before we went shopping," he admitted.
"That's why you went so easily. You thought to sweeten me up so I'd just hand the key over." She laughed bitterly. "Or maybe you thought I'd slip and tell you where it is and you'd steal it. So much for your lofty principles."
"Which is it to be? You or the key?"
"Me." She raised her chin. "I told you. I will not part with the key."
"Anya," he said, hating himself. Hating Cronus. Hating even the woman he was trying to save. She made him feel. Now, more than ever, emotions were his enemy. "This is your last warning."
"Lucien, I can't give it up." Tears filled her eyes. "I can't."
Those tears..."Why?"
"I just can't. I won't."
Then there was nothing more for him to say. Do it. End it. It is time. "Here is your warning. I will make this quick. Kill you first. Take your soul after." He flashed to her, was straddling her hips in the next instant, his daggers withdrawn and cradled in his hands, raised, ready to strike.
Those teary eyes went wide with shock.
"I am sorry," he said, and struck.