The Darkest Pleasure
Reyes could say the same about Paris, he realized as he noticed lines of fatigue and stress around the usually optimistic man’s eyes. Perhaps he should press Paris for answers. Clearly, something had happened to his friend. Something major.
“We’re running out of time, Reyes.” Accusation coated Paris’s words. “Cooperate. Help us.”
“Hunters are more determined than ever to end us,” Lucien added. “Humans have discovered the Unspoken Ones’ temple, limiting our access yet increasing that of the Hunters. We’ve only found one artifact out of four, but all are supposedly needed to locate the box.”
Reyes arched a brow, mimicking Lucien’s earlier expression. “You think Aeron can help with any of that?”
“No, but we do not need discord among us. Nor do we need the distraction of worrying about him.”
“You can stop worrying,” Reyes said. “He doesn’t want to be found. He hates who and what he is and he hates us seeing him like that. I swear to you, he’s content where he is or I would not have left him.”
The door to the roof burst open and Sabin, keeper of Doubt himself, stalked through, dark hair dancing in the breeze.
“For fuck’s sake,” the man said, throwing up his arms. “What the hell’s going on?” He spotted Reyes and comprehension instantly dawned. He rolled his eyes. “Damn, Pain, you sure know how to spoil a meeting.”
“Why aren’t you researching Rome?” Reyes asked him. Had everyone stopped working in the half hour he’d been on the roof?
Gideon, keeper of Lies, was close at Sabin’s heels and prevented the warrior from answering with a sober, “My, my, how fun this looks.”
In Gideon speak, “fun” meant boring. The man couldn’t utter a single truth without experiencing debilitating pain. Pain, exactly what I need. If only Reyes simply had to lie to receive it, how easy life would have been.
“Shouldn’t you be helping Paris research the States?” Reyes demanded. He didn’t bother waiting for an answer. “This is starting to feel like a damned circus. Can’t a man do a little sulking and self-mutilation in private?”
“No,” Paris said, “he can’t. Stop stalling, and stop changing the subject. Give us the answers we want or, I swear to the gods, I’m coming up there and laying a big wet one right on your mouth. My boy is hungry and looking to feed. He thinks you’ll do just fine.”
Reyes didn’t doubt Promiscuity wanted to bed him, but he knew Paris, and knew the warrior preferred women.
Get rid of them. Reyes studied his newest guests. Gideon was dressed entirely in black, with hair dyed electric blue, eyebrows pierced in several places, the silver studs gleaming, and charcoal-rimmed eyelashes. Humans found him cut-your-heart-out scary.
Sabin wore all black, as well, but his brown hair, brown eyes and square, guileless face didn’t make him look as if he would kill anyone who approached him—and laugh while doing it.
Both men were stubborn to their very cores.
“I need time to think,” Reyes said, hoping to play on their sympathy.
“There’s nothing to think about,” Sabin replied. “You will do what’s right because you’re an honorable warrior.”
Aren’t you? Perhaps you are as weak as the human girl you desire. Why else would you hurt those who love you like this?
Ouch, he thought, cringing. He was weak. He was— “Sabin,” Reyes growled as realization set in. “Stop sending doubts into my mind. I have enough of my own.”
The warrior shrugged sheepishly, not even trying to deny it. “Sorry.”
“Since our meeting is clearly not canceled,” Gideon said, “I’m not heading into the city, not visiting Club Destiny, and not screwing a few screams of pleasure out of a human female.” He disappeared behind the door a second later, shaking his head in exasperation.
“Don’t cancel the meeting,” Reyes told the others. “Just… start without me.” He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze starting in the sky and falling slowly. Night’s sinister canvas still waited, beckoning him to finally leap. “I’ll be down in a few.”
Paris’s lips twitched. “Down. Funny. Maybe I’ll meet you down there and we can play Hide-the-Pancreas again. Forcing you to completely regenerate rather than simply heal always amuses me.”
Even Lucien grinned at that.
“Oh, oh, I wanna play! Can I hide his liver this time?”
At the sound of Anya’s sultry voice, Reyes stifled a groan.
The white-haired goddess of Anarchy rushed through the doorway and threw herself into Lucien’s now-open arms, her strawberry fragrance drifting on the ever-increasing wind. The pair cooed and cuddled like lovesick idiots for an eternity, lost in each other, the world around them forgotten.
It had taken Reyes a while to warm to the woman. She belonged in Olympus, home to the very beings he reviled—strike one. She left chaos in her wake, something as natural to her as breathing—strike two. But in the end, she had aided every warrior here, and had blessed Lucien with a happiness Reyes could only imagine.
Sabin coughed.
Paris whistled, though the sound of it was strained.
A pang of envy tightened Reyes’s chest, squeezing at the heart that would soon stop beating. The heart he wished he did not possess. Without one, he would not have wanted Danika even though he knew he couldn’t have her.
Didn’t matter, he supposed. She would never want him in return. Most women did not appreciate his particular brand of pleasure and sweet, angelic Danika would hate it more than most. Even being near him had terrified her.
Perhaps, though, he could have won her over, seduced her, softened her toward him. Perhaps…but he refused to even try. The women he bedded always succumbed to his demon, became drunk on it, addicted to its predilections. They developed their own need for pain, lashing out and hurting everyone around them.
“Someone gather the others,” Reyes said, sarcasm dripping from the words and hopefully hiding his inner agony. “We’ll make this a reunion.” What was Danika doing right this second? Who was she with? A man? Was she cuddling against him as Anya was cuddling against Lucien? Was she dead, buried as Aeron was buried? His hands curled into fists, his nails elongating into claws, slicing skin and stinging beautifully.
“You can shut it, Painie,” Anya said, facing him. She burrowed her head in the hollow of Lucien’s neck, blue eyes peeking through thick strands of pale hair. “You’re wasting Lucien’s time, and that seriously irritates me.”
Bad things happened when Anya was irritated. Wars, natural disasters. Reyes’s weapons left in the rain to rust. “He and I have already spoken. He has the information he desired.”
“Not all of it,” Lucien said.
“Tell him or I’ll push you,” Anya said. “And then I swear to the gods—bastards that they are!—that while you’re recovering and unable to stop me I’ll find your little girlfriend and mail you one of her fingers.”
Just the thought caused a red haze to curtain his eyes. Danika…hurting… Do not react. Do not allow fury to swamp you. “You will not touch her.”
“Watch your tone,” Lucien told him, tightening his grip on his woman.
“You don’t even know where she is,” Reyes said more calmly, marveling at how protective the once stolid Lucien was.
Anya smiled a secret smile.
“Anya,” he warned.
“What?” she asked, all innocence.
“Aeron needs to be with us,” Lucien said.
“Aeron is no longer up for discussion,” Reyes growled. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see the torment in his eyes. You didn’t hear the pleading in his tone. I did what I had to do, and I’d do it again.” He spun away from his friends. Glanced down. The puddles were now undulating fiercely against the jagged rocks lining the ground. They were still beckoning.
Deliverance, they whispered.
Just for a little while….
“Reyes,” Lucien called.
Reyes jumped.
CHAPTER TWO
“ORDER’S UP.”
Danika Ford caught the two steaming plates that slid across the silver warmer. One a greasy hamburger, hold the onions. The other a chili dog with extra cheese. Both were overflowing with heart-attack-in-the-making fries and wafting delicious scents to her nose, making her mouth water and her stomach rumble.
Last thing she’d eaten had been a bologna sandwich before bed last night. The bread had been crusty and the meat ripe. Sadly, she would have paid good money for another crusty, overripe sandwich just then. If she’d had any money, that is.
Three more hours till her shift ended, then she could eat again. Three feet-throbbing, backbreaking, limb-shaking hours. She wouldn’t last. Don’t be a princess. Chin up. Game on. You’re a Ford. Built for strength and all that jazz.
Despite the pep talk, her gaze fell to the plates. She swiped her tongue over her lips. Maybe a nibble. What could it hurt? No one would know.
Her arm rose before she could stop it, her fingers reached…
“I think she’s stealing one of my fries,” she heard a man whisper.
Another whispered back, “What’d you expect from someone like her?”
Danika froze. For a moment, her appetite was forgotten and a million emotions swept through her. Sadness, frustration and embarrassment were the front-runners. This is what my life has become. From sheltered daughter to woman-on-the-run in a single bleak night. From well-respected artist to take-whatever’s-dished waitress.
“Like to say I’m surprised, but…”
“Check your wallet when we leave.”
Embarrassment edged ahead of the other two. She didn’t have to see the men to know they were watching her with hard, judging eyes. Three times they’d come to eat at Enrique’s and all three times they’d given her self-esteem a good workout. It was weird, too. They never said anything harsh, always smiled and thanked her when she brought them something, but they just couldn’t mask the distaste shining in their eyes.
She’d dubbed them the Bird Brothers, so badly did she want to flip them off.
Don’t bring attention to yourself, her common sense piped up. These days, it was the only rule she lived by.
“I better not catch you trying to sneak food again,” her boss snapped. Enrique was the owner, as well as the short-order cook. “Now, hurry up. Their food’s getting cold.”
“Actually, it’s too hot. They might burn themselves and sue.” The plates were obscenely warm against her cold skin—skin she hadn’t been able to warm in weeks. Even now, in the heat of the diner, she wore a sweater she’d purchased for $3.99 at the thrift shop down the street. But to her consternation, the burn from the plates never seeped inside her.
Surely something good would happen to her soon. Weren’t good and evil supposed to balance each other out? Once, she had thought so. Had believed happiness waited around every corner. Sadly, Danika now knew better.
Behind her, past the wall of windows that provided a mocking view into the pulsing heart of L.A.’ s nightlife, cars whizzed and people strolled, carefree and laughing. Not too long ago, that was me.
Danika had taken the job here, working as many hours as possible, because Enrique paid her under the table, no social security number required. Cash, no taxes deducted. She could disappear at a moment’s notice.
Was her mother living like this? Her sister? Her granny—if she was still alive?
Two months ago, the four of them had decided to take an extended vacation in Budapest, her grandpa’s favorite city. Magical, he’d always said. After he died, they’d gone to celebrate his memory and finally say goodbye.
Biggest. Mistake. Ever.
They’d soon found themselves kidnapped and locked away. By monsters. Real, honest-to-God monsters. Creatures the Boogeyman probably searched his closet for before daring to go to bed. Creatures who sometimes looked human and sometimes didn’t. Every so often, Danika had caught a glimpse of fangs, claws and skeletal faces underneath their human personas.
In a moment of luck, she and her family had been rescued. But she’d been captured again, only to be released unharmed. Unharmed but warned: Run, hide. You’ll be hunted soon. If you’re found, you and your family are dead.
So each of them had run. They’d split up, hoping they would be harder to find that way. They’d hidden, shadows their new best friends. Danika had first traveled to New York, the city that never slept, trying to lose herself in the crowds. Somehow, the monsters had found her. Again. But once more she’d managed to escape them, hitching nonstop to L.A., each day making just enough money to survive and pay for self-defense lessons.
In the beginning, she and her family had maintained contact every day by calling and leaving disposable cell-phone numbers with trusted friends. Then Danika’s grandmother had gone silent. No more calls.
Had she been found by the monsters? Killed?
Last time Danika had heard from her, her granny had arrived in a small town in Oklahoma. She had friends there, had known better than to travel anywhere familiar, but at her age had probably grown weary of running. Yet even those friends had not heard from her in weeks; Grandma Mallory had gone to the market and simply never returned.
Thinking about her beloved grandmother and the pain the woman might have endured caused grief and sorrow to well up inside Danika’s chest. She couldn’t call her mom or her sister and ask if they’d heard anything. They, too, had stopped checking in. For everyone’s safety, her mom had said during their last conversation. Calls could be traced, cell phones confiscated and used against them.
Her eyes burned and her chin trembled. No. No! What are you doing? She couldn’t think about her family now. “What if” would paralyze her.
“You’re wasting time,” Enrique said, tugging her from her dark musings. “Shake your ass like I told you. Your customers are waiting and if they send back their food ’cause it’s cold, you’re going to pay for it.”
She wanted to throw the plates at him, but “No attention!” was screaming inside her head, so she just smiled and pivoted on her heels, ratty sneakers squeaking. Chin high, back straight, she marched toward the table with dread congealing in her stomach. Both men watched her with those hard eyes. They were clearly middle-class with their inexpensive clothes and average haircuts. Tanned and buff as they were, they could have been construction workers. If so, they hadn’t come straight from a job. They were clean, their jeans and T-shirts unstained.
One had a toothpick sticking out from between his teeth and was rolling it from one side of his mouth to the other, the motions faster and faster the closer she came. Her hands were shaking from fatigue, but she managed to set the plates in front of each man without accidentally dumping the food in their laps. A lock of inky hair escaped her ponytail and fell down her temple.
Hands finally free, she hooked the strands behind her ear. BB—before Budapest—she’d had long blond hair. AB—after Budapest—she’d chopped it to shoulder length and dyed it black to alter her appearance. Another crime to lay at the monsters’ door.
“Sorry about the fry.” Despite their clear disdain for her, these men were good tippers. “I wasn’t trying to eat it, just to keep it on the plate.” Liar. God, she never used to lie.
“Don’t worry about it,” Bird One said, unable to mask the slight twinge of irritation in his voice.
Don’t send the food back. Please don’t send the food back. She couldn’t afford the cut in her pay. “Can I get you anything else?” Their cups were almost full, so she left them in place.
“We’re fine,” Bird Two replied. Again, polite enough words but uttered in an unmistakably waspish tone. He waved one of the paper napkins and settled it on his lap.
She caught a glimpse of a small figure eight tattooed on the inside of his wrist. Surprising. Had anyone asked her to bet, she would have put big money on a dark-haired female with a bloody hatchet coming out of her back.
“Well, holler if you need anything.” She forced herself to smile, knowing she probably resembled a feral wolf. “I hope you enjoy your meal.” Just as she was about to move away—
“When do you take a break?” Two asked abruptly.
Uh, what now? He wanted to know when she went on break? Why? She doubted he’d asked for romantic reasons, since he was still watching her with mild distaste. “I, uh, don’t.”
He popped a fry in his mouth, chewed, then licked his grease-smeared lips. “How about taking one tonight?”
“Sorry. Can’t.” Keep smiling. “I have other tables.” She should have added: Maybe next time. Encouragement might have softened him at tip time. But the words clumped together in her throat, forming a hard knot. Go, go, go.
Pivot. They disappeared from view. Her smile—gone. Six quick strides and she reached Gilly, the only other waitress on duty tonight, who stood in front of the drink counter, filling three plastic cups with different sodas. Though Danika should’ve been checking on the patrons she’d used as an excuse only seconds before, she needed a moment to fortify her composure.
“God save me,” she muttered. She flattened her hands on the bar and leaned forward, cocking her hip. Thankfully, a half wall blocked her from the customers’ view.
“He won’t.” Gilly, a sixteen-year-old runaway—eighteen if anyone asked—flashed Danika a tired grimace of sympathy. They’d both been working fourteen-hour days. “He’s already given up on us, I think.”
Such pessimism seemed wrong in someone so young. “I refuse to believe that.” Lying must have become second nature to her. Danika wasn’t sure God cared anymore, either. “Something wonderful could be days away.” Yeah. Right.
“Well, my something wonderful was that the Bird Brothers sat in your section again.”
“Who are you kidding? They smile at you as if you’re the Sugar Plum Fairy and they smirk at me as if I’m the Wicked Witch of the West. I have no idea what I did to them or why they keep coming back for more of me.” Second time they’d come in, she’d feared they meant to pull her back into the nightmare she’d just escaped. But they’d never revealed a monstrous side, so she’d eventually relaxed.
Gilly laughed. “Want me to shank them for you?”
“Now, Gilly, that would be a travesty. Shanking’s a felony and cuffs are so not a good look for you.”
The girl’s smile slowly melted away. “Don’t I know it,” she muttered.
Part of Danika wanted to tell her to go home; life with her mom couldn’t be this bad. The other part admitted that life with Gilly’s mom could indeed be much, much worse. The terrible things Danika had seen on these darkened streets, even in the short time she’d been here…women with deadened eyes selling their bodies. Beatings. Drug overdoses. Whatever Gilly’s mother had done to drive the teenager to the streets had to have been severe.
Once, Danika had been able to delude herself into thinking the world was a safe and magnificent place, full of possibilities. Now, her eyes had been opened.
“Are you going to class in the morning?” she asked, propelling them into a safer conversation. She’d only worked here a week, but every day of that week she and Gilly had taken self-defense lessons, learning how to kick, hit and yes, kill with lethal precision. Besides her family, those lessons were the only thing Danika lived for anymore.
She would never be helpless again.
Gilly sighed and faced her. Danika thought again that she looked too young and fresh to be leading such a life of drudgery. Dark, chin-length hair, as straight as a pin. Big brown eyes. Honey-kissed skin. Average height, curvy body. She was innocence mixed with haunted sensuality. Right now, she was the only friend Danika had.
“My feet will loathe me forever, but yeah. I’m going. You?”
“Absolutely.” Friends weren’t something she could afford these days, but Danika had taken one look at the sad, brave girl and felt an instant kinship with her.
“Maybe we’ll overpower the instructor again. Now, that was fun.”
A chuckle escaped her, the first in what seemed forever. “Maybe.”
A bell rang, hacking through the cackle of voices that echoed across the diner. Another order was up. Neither of them moved, however.
“Gotta tell you,” Gilly said, anchoring her hand on her hip. “When Charles told us to come at him, rage, like, took me over. I could have killed him and giggled about it later.”
“Me, too.” Sadly, those words were not a lie.
Picture me as your enemy and show me what you’ve learned so far. Attack me, Charles had said, and both of them had.
He’d needed fifty-nine stitches before the night had ended. Fortunately, he’d been a good sport about it.
Dark fury had consumed Danika as images of Aeron, Lucien and Reyes—she gulped. Reyes!—had fluttered through her mind. Her kidnappers, her tormentors. Men she should hate with every fiber of her being. Did hate. Except for one. Reyes. Stupid girl.
Him, she dreamed about constantly. Waking, sleeping, didn’t matter. He was always on her mind, as if he’d been branded there.
Sometimes he even defeated the creatures in her nightmares. He would attack them, they would fight violently, and blood would flow in rivers. Always afterward, he would come to Danika, injured and hurting. Without hesitation, she would take him in her arms. He would kiss her everywhere—slow, so slow—laving his tongue over her hollows and planes, each lick another brand.
Every nighttime second spent with him caused her to crave more and more and more, until he was all she wanted, all she needed. He became more important to her than air. He was like a drug, the worst kind of addiction.
What’s wrong with me? He’d kidnapped her for no reason, held her family hostage. He didn’t deserve her desire! Why did she crave him so desperately? He was handsome, dangerously so, but other men were handsome, too. He was strong, but he would use that strength against her. He was intelligent, but he didn’t exude any sort of humor. He never smiled. Yet she had never wanted a man the way she wanted Reyes.
Like Gilly, he had dark hair, dark eyes and honey-kissed skin. Honey mixed with melted chocolate. He also possessed that same haunted sensuality, as if he’d seen the most painful side of love and was marked forevermore.
The differences ended there, however. Reyes was tall and stacked with a warrior’s muscle. He wore more knives than he did clothing, strapping them behind his head, on his wrists, ankles and thighs and hanging them at his waist. Every time she’d seen him, he’d been covered in combat wounds, cuts up and down his arms and legs, bruises on his face. He was a soldier to the bone.
They all were, those self-proclaimed “Lords of the Underworld.”
Lords of Nightmares, she called them, for of all the frightening dreams she’d had in her life, none came close to the reality of these men.
Aeron had black gossamer wings and could fly like a bird— or a malevolent dragon of lore. Lucien had multicolored eyes that swirled hypnotically just before he disappeared as if he’d never existed. The scent of roses always drifted from him, insidiously sweet.
What magical ability Reyes possessed, she didn’t know.
All she knew was that he’d saved her once. Had fought his fellow soldier for her. Why? she’d wondered so many times since. Why had he hurt his friend rather than her? Why had he looked at her as if she were his only reason for breathing? Why had he then set her free, again?
Does it matter? He’s one of them. He’s a monster. Don’t forget. Another ding sounded, slicing through her thoughts. “Girls!”
Enrique shouted.
Gilly moaned.
Danika massaged the back of her neck. Reprieve over. She straightened. From the corner of her eye, she saw one of her customers wave his arm in a bid for her attention. To Gilly, she said, “I’ll be at your place about…four-thirty tomorrow morning? Sound good?”