The Darkest Pleasure

“Make it five. Yep, I’ll be tired but ready.” Gilly turned and gathered the drinks.

Danika moved off. Ten minutes of napkin and straw duty, coffee pouring and fetching for the Bird Brothers followed. Kept her mind off Reyes, at least.

Twice, Bird One dropped his fork and needed her to fetch him a new one. Once, Bird Two needed a refill. Once he needed a clean napkin. When she tried to leave after the last delivery, Two grabbed her wrist to stop her, his touch sharpening her nerves to razor points.

She didn’t rebuke him—every penny counts, every damn penny counts—but politely asked what he needed and tugged free.

“We’d like to talk to you,” he said, reaching for her once more.

She stepped backward. If he touched her again, she just might snap. No longer were strangers allowed to put their hands on her. Not for any reason. “About what?”

A mother and young son strolled inside, the bell above the door tinkling to announce their arrival.

“About what?” she repeated.

“About a job. Money.”

Her eyes widened. Dear God. They thought she was a hooker? So that was what they’d meant by “someone like her.” Funny that they looked at her with disdain and yet were willing to buy her services. “No, thank you. I’m happy where I am, doing what I do.” Well, not really happy, but they didn’t need to know that.

“Danika,” Enrique called. “Got people waiting.”

The men glanced at the entrance and frowned. “Later,” Two said.

How about never? Seriously. A hooker? Closer to the door than Gilly, Danika gathered two menus and ushered the new arrivals to a table. They were a little unkempt, thin, clothing stained and wrinkled. They would not be good tippers, but the smile she gave them was genuine, if a bit envious.

She missed her mother like crazy.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“Water,” they said in unison.

There was a wistful gaze in the boy’s blue eyes as he stared at the soda resting on the table a few feet away from him, condensation running down the plastic. Danika’s head tilted to the side, her artist’s eye seeing the heart-wrenching possibilities of a portrait. Human desires were always simplified when all but the bare essentials were taken away.

You’re not going to paint anymore, remember?

It was too much of a luxury in this die-any-moment world. Besides, she had to feel to paint. Not just happiness, either. For her, painting required a wide spectrum of emotion. Fury, sadness, bliss. Hate, love, sorrow. Without them, she simply mixed colors and splattered them on a canvas. But with them, she would lose the edge she needed to stay alive.

Tamping down the sadness she couldn’t afford, she handed the pair their menus. “I’ll be back in a moment with your drinks, and then I’ll take your order.”

“Thank you,” the mother said.

On the way to the fountain, Bird Two grabbed her arm again, fingers locked in a tight grip. Danika stiffened, sparks of fury so hot under her skin she suddenly felt wrapped in flames. She couldn’t fight the emotion, couldn’t tamp it down as easily as she had the sadness. The ice she’d imagined coating her skin all these weeks melted.

“What time do you get off?”

“I don’t.”

“We’re asking for your own good. The world is a bad, bad place and unless you’re one of the bad guys, you shouldn’t be out there alone.”

“Grab me again,” she said through clenched teeth, ignoring his feigned concern, “and you’ll regret it. I’m not a hooker, and I’m not looking to make any money. Okay?”

As both gaped at her, she ripped free. She stalked away from them before she did something stupid. At the station in back, she filled the mother and son’s drink order, her hands shaking. Her heartbeat nearly cracked her ribs. You have to calm down. Deep breath in, deep breath out. That’s the way. Finally her muscles released their vise-grip on her bones.

She steered clear of the Bird Brothers on her way back to the table, remaining completely out of reach. When the mother realized she’d brought the boy a Coke, she opened her mouth to protest but Danika stopped her with a raised hand—a still-shaking hand, she realized with surprise. Hadn’t calmed from Two’s touch, then. Another deep breath in, another deep breath out.

“On the house,” she whispered. Enrique gave nothing away, not even to his waitresses, and would deduct the dollar ninety-seven from Danika’s pay if he heard. “If it’s okay that he has it, that is.”

The boy’s expression lit with happiness. “It’s okay, right, Mom? Please, please, please.”

The mother gave Danika a grateful smile. “It’s okay. Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Know what you want to order?” She withdrew the pad and pencil from her apron. Her hand had stopped shaking, but the muscles were so rigid she accidentally snapped the pencil in two. “Oops. Sorry.” More carefully, she dug out the spare.

The pair placed their order, and as she wrote she scanned the diner. Another family had just walked in. She gave them only a cursory inspection. Less and less, she jumped when people entered. First few days here, she’d expected Reyes to stalk through the door, throw her over his shoulder and steal into the night with her.

Gilly motioned the family to the only other available booth, her gaze catching Danika’s. They shared a tired smile. Danika’s felt brittle, her nervous system clearly still raw from Two’s touch. You know you can’t react like this. You have to be prepared, ready for anything.

“Did you get that?” the woman asked her.

She returned her attention to her customer. “Yes. Two hamburgers, one plain, one with everything, both with fries.”

The woman nodded. “Great. Thanks.”

“I’ll get this turned in. Shouldn’t take too long to get it cooked.” Danika tore the page from her pad and marched toward Enrique.

Bird One grabbed her this time. “Look. We don’t think you’re a prostitute. We just want to talk to you. Bad things are headed your way.”

Before she could stop it, instinct took over. In her mind, she saw her sister’s panicked face the night they’d been snatched from their hotel room and carted to that fortress, prisoners of the monsters. She heard her mother’s voice in her head: Your grandmother might be dead. Might have been murdered.

Red clouded her vision and fury returned full force, morphing her from woman to berserker. Attack! Never helpless again! She slammed her free hand into the man’s nose. Cartilage broke on contact, and blood poured onto his shirt, his plate. He howled in pain, tenting his hands over his face.

In the wake of that howl, there was a heavy silence. Then someone dropped a cup. Clang, splash. Liquid gurgled over the tiled floor. Someone cursed. All of the sounds boomed like thunder, piercing her mind and jerking her out of the vengeful haze.

Danika’s mouth fell open.

Two gasped, his eyes widening. He jumped up, breath sawing in and out. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, bitch?”

“I—I—” A tremor rolled through her entire body. She stood frozen, fighting panic. She’d just brought attention to herself. A lot of it, and none of it good. “I—I told you guys not to touch me.”

“You assaulted him!” Looming menacingly, the uninjured man settled his hands atop her shoulders and shoved her backward.

She could have stopped him from pushing her, could have shoved her pencil in his jugular before stumbling away. She didn’t. Mortification blended with regret and both tumbled through her, overshadowing any lingering hint of fury. Where’s your numbness now?

“You know what?” he said, snarling at her. “You’re just like them. ‘She might be innocent,’ I was told, ‘so be careful with her. Be gentle.’ I didn’t believe it, not for a second, but I obeyed. Shouldn’t have. You just proved how despicable you really are. Maybe you’re a whore after all—their whore.”

You’re just like them, he had said. Just like who? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I—” There was nothing she could say to make this better. Clearing her throat, she smoothed the wrinkles from her sweater. Blood must have splattered her palm because streaks of crimson appeared everywhere her hands touched. “I’m truly sorry.”

“Someone call 9-1-1, for fuck’s sake!”

Oh, God. She was going to have to run again, when she’d only just settled in. If this made the papers… Oh, God, she thought again. Her heart once more began slamming against her ribs.

Enrique stomped out of the kitchen, double doors swinging behind him. He was a big man, both tall and overweight, and utterly imposing. His thinning hair fell into his narrowed eyes as he barked, “You, little girl, are fired. And that’s the least of your problems. Go to the back and wait ’til the cops get here.”

Of course she was fired. And deep down, she knew he was going to stiff her for today’s work. “I’ll go,” she lied, “just as soon as you pay me. You owe me for—”

“You’ll march back there now! You’re scaring the customers.”

Danika’s gaze moved through the diner and landed on the mother and son. The woman had one arm locked protectively around the boy while the other pushed away the Coke Danika had given him. Both were staring at her in fear. Me? But I was merely defending myself.

Her eyes moved away, and Gilly came into focus. Concern radiated from the girl’s face as she approached, obviously meaning to support Danika. She’d lose her job and today’s pay, as well, and Danika couldn’t allow that.

“I’ll wait for the police at my apartment,” she lied.

“No, you won’t,” Enrique said. “You’ll—”

Turning, she marched from the diner, head high, shoulders squared. Thankfully, no one tried to stop her, not even Bird Two. The night was warm, lit with neon signs and crowded. She felt as if she were spotlighted in the glare and everyone she passed was staring at her.

God, what was she going to do?

She quickened her pace, almost running. She had forty dollars in her pocket. Enough for a bus ticket somewhere. Where should she go? Georgia, maybe. The peach state was a good distance away. More importantly, she would pass through Oklahoma. She could search for her grandmother.

The thought had barely registered before something slammed into her back, propelling her into a darkened alley. She hit the pavement with so much force, oxygen whooshed from her lungs. Rocks cut past her thin sweater and T-shirt and into her skin. Her jaw cracked against the concrete. Bright white stars glittered behind her lids.

“Demon bitch!” a man growled at her temple, spittle spraying into her hair. Bird Two. Hadn’t let her escape, after all. “Did you really think I’d let you run again? You’re ours and, baby, you’re going to suffer just like your friends. I’m not allowed to kill them, but you…you’ll beg for it.”

Instinct once again kicked into gear. Don’t scream, just fight. Don’t react, just strike. The words had been drilled into her mind and now seemed as much a part of her as her arm or leg. When her assailant grabbed her by the hair, lifting her, she spun of her own accord. Her scalp stung as the hairs ripped free, but that didn’t slow her as she jabbed her arm forward to cut off his airway and buy herself enough time to slip free while he gasped for breath. Contact.

There was a grunt, a wail. His hold on her loosened.

Warm liquid ran down her fingers, pooling in her knuckles. What the—realization clattered through her. She’d still been gripping the pencil and she’d shoved the tip deep into his jugular—just as she’d stopped herself from doing in the diner.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God!” Dazed, she scrambled to her feet. She swayed and had to grab on to his shoulders to stay upright. Horror nearly drowned her as the man fell to his knees, gurgling.

Moonlight seeped past the buildings surrounding him, highlighting his pale, pain-filled, shocked features. He tried to speak, but no sound emerged.

“I’m sorry!” She splayed her fingers, releasing him completely. She held up her hands, palms out, and the blood poured down her arms. Panic blended with her horror. There was no precious numbness to be found. Not now.

One step, two, she backed away. Oh, God. Oh, God. Murderer, her mind screamed. You’re a murderer. The metallic scent of his blood blended with the aromas of urine and body odor.

Two slumped, collapsed onto the concrete. His head was turned and his eyes seemed to focus on her as his chest stilled. Oh, God. Bile rose in her throat. You had to do it. He would have killed you.

Not knowing what else to do, Danika spun, ran and barreled through the people crowding the far side of the building. Those neon signs illuminated her every movement, and her raspy pants were like drumbeats in her ears. No one tried to stop her.

Two weeks ago in New York, one of her self-defense instructors had told her that she didn’t have a killer instinct.

If only.

I’m as bad as the monsters.

CHAPTER THREE

“I KNOW WHERE your woman is.”

Reyes straightened on the couch, the tip of the knife stilling inside his arm. He’d pushed it deep, so deep he’d sliced the vein in half. But the wound healed all too soon, sealing shut around the blade. Blood dried on his skin.

He’d jumped from the roof three days ago and was only now recovered enough to walk. Unfortunately. Pain was louder and more demanding than ever, wanting something more. What, Reyes didn’t know. This cut hadn’t helped in the least.

He ripped the weapon free, creating another injury. He licked his bottom lip, trying to savor the pain. This injury healed quickly, as well. Not enough of a sting. Never enough.

“Nothing to say to me?”

“You’re as bad as Gideon.” He glared over at Lucien, who stood in the doorway. The warrior’s dark hair fell in waves to his shoulders and his mismatched eyes gleamed with expectation.

“As if I would lie.”

They were alone in the entertainment room. Paris, who could usually be found there watching one of his fleshfests, was now in the city, keeping up his strength by bedding as many women as he could. Maddox and his woman, Ashlyn, were in their bedroom. As always.

Sabin and the other warriors were currently in the kitchen—they’d kicked Reyes out ages ago for bleeding on the table—outlining a plan to raid the Temple of the Unspoken Ones in Rome without humans knowing they were there.

Reyes doubted the temple would lead the way to the All-Seeing Eye, the Cloak of Invisibility or the Paring Rod, whatever that was, but he was in the minority so he kept quiet. Still, he knew he was right. If there were something to be found amid the crumbling rock, moss and seashells, they would have found it by now. Besides, the Cage of Compulsion they’d discovered after searching the Temple of the All Gods hadn’t helped them find the box in any way.

Yes, it was a nice weapon to own. Anyone locked inside that cage was magically compelled to do anything the owner commanded of them. But who were they supposed to lock inside it? What were they supposed to command that person to do? Until they learned the answers, he suspected Lucien and Anya would continue to play with it like naughty children.

“Reyes,” Lucien said. “We were discussing Danika.”

“No, we weren’t.” He wanted her purged from his mind, but he was beginning to suspect she was a permanent part of him now. Like his demon. Only worse. She had destroyed his precious sense of peace. Peace that had not returned, even while he was lying in bed, broken and throbbing in delicious agony.

“Shall I tell you what I know about her?” Lucien asked.

Do not take the bait. You’re better off not knowing. Without Reyes providing a constant stream of tangible pain, his demon would spiral out of control, ravenous for someone’s bodily suffering. His—others. It didn’t matter. That’s one of the reasons he’d sent Danika away. Were he to find her, he might one day hurt her irreparably.

“Tell me,” he found himself commanding, his voice hoarse.

“Three days ago, she stabbed a man.”

That sweet little angel, hurt a human? Reyes snorted. “Please. Now I’m sure you are lying.”

“When I have never lied to you before?”

No, Lucien had never lied to him. Reyes gulped back a surge of bile, his next words emerging hard and strained. “How do you know she harmed a man?”

“More than harmed. She killed him. The victim lingered in the hospital for two days and only died this morning. When I was summoned to take his soul, I saw he bore the mark of a Hunter.”

“What!” Reyes popped to his feet, fury washing through him. Hunters had found Danika? She’d been forced to slay one? In that moment, he no longer allowed himself the delusion of disbelief. Hunters hated him. They could have seen her here, at the fortress, followed her and tried to torture her for information about him.

His teeth gnashed together. Damned Hunters! They were so mindlessly fanatic they believed all of the world’s evil stemmed from the demons inside the Lords. They were ruthless in their quest to destroy those spirits and the men who harbored them, and they would not hesitate to cut down anyone they considered a friend of the warriors.

Danika was not a friend, but they couldn’t know that. Even now, they might be planning to use her as Bait, hoping to draw him out in the open by dangling her in his face.

This changed everything.

“Was she hurt? Did they touch her?” He palmed his second blade before he realized what he was doing: preparing for war.

Lucien continued his story as if Reyes had never spoken. “As I escorted the Hunter’s soul to hell, I saw the last few acts of his life inside my mind.”

“Was. She. Hurt?” The stilted question hissed out of his throat, from between his clenched teeth.

“Yes.”

Pain prowled the corridors of his mind, sharpening its claws against the sides of his skull. “Is she—” Reyes pressed his lips together. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Could barely tolerate thinking it.

“No,” Lucien answered anyway. “She is not dead.”

Thank the gods. Relief gobbled up his fury, and his shoulders sagged. “Were any other Hunters involved?”

“Yes.”

Again, Lucien did not elaborate.

“How many?”

“One. She broke his nose.”

“On purpose?” he asked, shocked.

“Yes.”

The Danika he remembered had been gentle, sweet. He was not sure what to think of this tigress, but he would stake his own life on the fact that she was tormented by her actions.

“Where is she?” He would go to her, check on her, find a way to protect her from future Hunter attacks, and then he would leave her. He would not allow himself to linger, would not even engage her in a conversation. But he had to see her, had to verify that she was alive and well.

Afterward he would find and savagely kill the other Hunter responsible for her pain. A broken nose wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy his raging need for vengeance.

Lucien didn’t answer him. “We’re traveling to Rome in less than a week to search the temple again. We need those artifacts.”

So that was the way they were going to play it, huh? “I know.”

“I want Aeron brought here before we leave.”

“You want to place the entire household in danger, then. You want to ignore Aeron’s wishes to appease your own.”

“He is one of us. He needs us now more than ever.”

Reyes stalked forward, past Lucien and out of the room. Since Anya and Ashlyn had moved in, the old crumbling fortress had been transformed into a home. Flowers now overflowed from colorful vases. The walls had been lined with artwork Anya had stolen—mostly of naked men; she had a wicked sense of humor—and the furniture had been updated.

Haphazardly patched-together couches were out and plush leather was in. Intricately carved and polished chests, wire-rimmed benches and pillowed lounges filled the rooms and adorned the hallways. He’d been leery of the women at first. Now, he wasn’t sure what he’d do without them. They were anchors amid a terrible storm.

His boots pounded the staircase, creating a wild thump, thump rhythm. He rounded the corner of the third floor—and stopped abruptly. Lucien waited at his bedroom door, expression determined.

All Death had to do was think of a location and he could flash there in an instant.

“I will not give up,” Lucien said. “That should please you. I would not give up were the situation reversed and it was your life I fought for.”

Scowling, Reyes propelled back into motion. He shouldered Lucien aside and shoved open his bedroom door. Inside, he marched straight to his favorite cache of weapons.

“The others feel as I do and are angry about your refusal to speak of Aeron. I have asked them for a few days to talk some sense into you. After that…”

After that they would be at his throat constantly. To them, he was choosing Danika over Aeron, and a warrior did not choose a woman over another warrior. Ever. Reyes did not point out that Maddox had chosen Ashlyn and Lucien had chosen Anya. He did not point out—again—that Aeron preferred death over the creature he’d become and would not be happy about returning to the fortress. It would do no good. Worse, part of him felt as Lucien did.

Reyes lifted his Sig Sauer, checked the twenty-round, chrome-plated magazine. Full. Checked the chamber. One already loaded. Good.

“Going to find her, guns blazing?”

“If necessary.” Reyes pocketed three other rubber-floored magazines and a box of .45s. There were daggers already strapped to his ankles and throwing stars attached to his belt.

“You don’t know where to go.”

“That won’t stop me. I will find her.”

Lucien sighed, loud and long. “I can flash you to her. You can be with her, saving her, in seconds.”

Saving her. An admission of the danger she was in or a trick? He anchored the gun at his back and flattened his palms on the velvet-lined table, head bowed. For a long while he remained silent, weighing his options. Waste time searching for Danika or free Aeron, who could already taste her blood in his mouth?

Neither appealed to him.

Reyes sighed, the sound an echo of Lucien’s. His king-size bed lay sprawled at his left side, spacious and rumpled. He’d imagined Danika there every night since meeting her, blond hair tumbling, naked body glistening with desire. Nipples pearled, desperate for his tongue. Legs spread, core wet.

Sometimes, though, the fantasy was replaced by his greatest fear, an image of blood and death. Danika’s throat cut, her naked body painted crimson…motionless. The likelihood of that fear coming true would increase upon Aeron’s release. You knew you could not hold him prisoner forever. Release him, save her and then protect her.

Protecting her would mean keeping her with him rather than walking away from her as planned. That would increase her contact with the death-hungry Aeron, but it would also increase her contact with Reyes. Dangerous though it was, the thought was as sultry and heady as a lover’s caress might be—if Reyes had been able to find pleasure in softness.

To have Danika here…to hold her… Her angel face flashed through his mind. Wide green eyes that had looked at him with a range of emotions: fear, hope, hate—and desire? Small, pert nose. Lush pink lips that cursed him to everlasting hell while silently promising the sweetest rapture. Delicate body deliciously curved and ripe for a man’s touch.

He closed his eyes, his nostrils suddenly filled with her scent. Stormy nights and innocence, sugar sweetness edged with something a little dark…perilous. His brow furrowed. Dark? Perilous? She had been neither of those things before.

“Give me your hand,” Lucien said, suddenly in front of him, warm breath beating over Reyes’s cheeks.