The Darkest Pleasure

He moaned. His hands tangled in her hair, not jerking her away but urging her closer. She offered no resistance; she couldn’t. Embers of her anger and helplessness were twisting, breaking apart and realigning into something infinitely sweeter. The heat of him…so good, so damn good. He burned her soul-deep, flames licking at her, consuming her. She liked it, liked hurting him, liked having her mouth on him, and the knowledge shamed her.

Between her legs, his shaft swelled and hardened. When he moaned a second time, it blended with the sound of hers. He arched into her—yes, like that—and she scraped her nails up his chest, to his nipples.

A harsh animal growl filled her ears as his hands settled on her waist, squeezing. His hips writhed against her. Again. She wanted him to do it again. But a moment later, he stilled.

“Stop, Danika. You have to stop.”

No, she didn’t want to stop. She wanted—what the hell are you doing? Nibbling on the enemy?

Her jaw went slack. Gasping for breath, she jolted backward. His arms fell to his sides, his features hard, tight. She wiped her mouth with the back of a shaky wrist. Her entire body was shaking. Her nipples were pearled and aching, her stomach clenched. A metallic tang coated her tongue.

Reyes shifted, covering his jean-clad, swollen cock with the sheet. His cheeks glowed a rosy pink shade. Was he embarrassed? Blood trickled from his neck and swirled down his chest like a tiny, winding river. As she watched, the blood dried and the bite marks partially healed, already scabbing.

Monster, she reminded herself. He’s a monster.

Horror—at her feelings, her actions, and his—washed through her. Must have coated her expression, too, because he said, “Do not touch me again, and I will not touch you.”

“Don’t worry.” A violent tremor overtook her, and she crossed her arms over her middle. She’d wanted to hurt him, had liked it even. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? “I won’t come near you.”

“Good.” He paused, his eyes perusing her body. Checking for injuries or something more erotic? “What did those men do to you?” He sounded unemotional now, her answer clearly of no importance.

That nonchalance irritated her. She hated him, so why did she want him to care? “They—” A wave of dizziness suddenly attacked her. A groan pierced the air. Hers, she realized. Her eyelids closed, so heavy she could no longer hold them open. Her adrenaline had crashed, she supposed, draining her strength.

How long since she’d eaten? Stefano hadn’t fed her, had only given her sips of water every few hours. And he’d injected her with something. Something that had spun her mind out of control, tossing it into the sky before dropping it into a churning ocean to be ripped into a thousand pieces.

“We can’t make it too easy for them,” Stefano had said. “We knew the demon of Death would follow the trail we left him, and that he’d have no idea we were expecting him. We worked hard to make this abduction look real and I won’t fail in that endeavor now. No food, no fresh clothes. We can drug you or we can beat you. Which do you prefer?”

“Neither.”

“Choose or I’ll choose for you. Don’t forget, Danika, you’re doing this for your family.”

“So much for my training,” she’d laughed resentfully. “Drug me. Again, apparently.”

“Danika, what did those men do to you?”

Present collided with past, tearing her from those surreal musings. Stupid girl. Do not relax your guard in front of Reyes!

She pried her eyelashes apart. The world around her was blurred, Reyes nothing more than a dark slash directly in front of her. His fingers were gripping her shoulders and urging her down…gently…softly. As her vision cleared, she saw that his usually harsh features now seemed almost tender with concern.

“No touching,” she told him, the words slurred. Delicious heat once again enveloped her. Perhaps the demon blood she’d ingested was responsible. “We agreed.”

“Shhh.” His breath caressed her cheek, as warm as his touch. “Relax. We will talk later.”

“Go to hell.”

He had no trouble understanding her. “Didn’t we once have this very conversation? I’m already there.”

Fight this. Fight him! She tried, she really did, but a dark tunnel beckoned her, dragging her closer and closer to the edge. “Where is…my mom? My sister? Grandma?”

“I’m sure they are fine.” Fingers brushed her brow, softly smoothing her hair behind her ears.

“I want…to see…them. I won’t…sleep. Can’t make me. Hungry.”

“I’ll feed you.” A petal-soft press of…lips? Yes, lips against the corner of her mouth.

She inhaled deeply, suddenly drowning in the scent of man and spice and inexplicably happy for it. “Hate you,” she said, wishing she meant it.

“I know.” He whispered directly in her ear, his warm breath traveling inside. “Sleep now, angel. You are safe. I will allow nothing else to happen to you.”

She sagged. The cool mattress pressed against her back. Flames on top, ice beneath. Unable to fight any longer, she fell into the tunnel. Oblivion claimed her.

SHE WAS HERE, IN HIS BED. His bed.

Waiting for her to awaken had been a lesson in self-control and Reyes had begun to grow fearful that she would sleep forever. Then she had pulled herself from slumber, those long lashes cracking open to reveal bright emerald eyes, and he’d gotten a real lesson in self-torture.

Pain didn’t like that Reyes was in the process of tiptoeing from the room. More, want more teeth and nails and hurt. “No.”

The demon roared inside his mind.

Reyes pressed onward, only throwing one backward glance over his shoulder. Danika’s black locks were splayed over his pillow, her face where his often rested. That knowledge filled him with pride. Even now, she might be breathing in his scent, making his essence a part of her.

Or perhaps not.

Danika slept fitfully, eyes rolling behind her lids, body twisting, small moans of alarm escaping her. Did she dream of what the Hunters had done to her? What had they done? Torture her for answers? Rape?

She had not answered him when he’d asked, had told him nothing, in fact. He hadn’t pressed her, for her pulse had quickened at the base of her neck, her skin had lost any semblance of color and panic had glazed her lovely eyes.

Fists clenched, he pounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. Soon. He would see her again, talk to her again and learn the truth. He had to know. And perhaps by then he would forget the horror he’d seen in her expression when she realized he had enjoyed being bitten.

Gods, that bite. His heartbeat had yet to slow from the pleasure of it. He’d held Danika, her sharp little teeth in his neck. For a single moment, she’d responded to him sensually; she’d wanted him, had been unable to stop herself from grinding against his cock. Then he’d realized it wasn’t him she desired but pain, the demon already clouding her judgment, and he had commanded her to stop. She’d wrenched away. The physical agony he’d experienced in that moment had been the worst of his life—and the best.

Pain wanted more.

Hands shaky, Reyes opened the refrigerator. Paris did the shopping, so Reyes never knew what he’d find. Today’s selection was shaved meats and loaves of bread. A sandwich, then.

“Where is Aeron?” Lucien asked behind him. “I kept my part of our bargain. The time has come for you to keep yours.”

Reyes didn’t turn. “I will take you to him. In the morning.”

“No. You will take me to him now.”

Reyes withdrew a package of turkey and a package of ham, looked from one to the other, then shrugged. He didn’t know which Danika would prefer, so he would make her both. “Danika is weak and hungry. After I see to her needs, I will be at your disposal.”

The usually calm Lucien uttered a low growl. “Every minute he is locked away is probably absolute agony. Our demons cannot stand to have their hosts restrained, and you know it. Wrath is likely screaming for release, even now.”

“Need I remind you again that he begged for it? And what I know is that when Aeron is brought here, he will have to be…what? Locked away. What is the difference if the prison is somewhere else? Besides that, he does not want to be near us.” Reyes tossed the packages onto the counter and grabbed one of the loaves of bread. Wheat.

Did she like wheat or white? After a moment’s deliberation, he decided to use both. Just in case. He pinched the plastic covering the white and slid the loaf in front of him. “I’m only asking for one more night.”

“What if he’s dying? We are immortal, yes, but under the right circumstances we can die like any other living thing. Another fact you already know.”

“He’s not dying.”

“How do you know?” Lucien insisted.

“Somehow I can feel his desperation burning inside of me every minute of every day. It is stronger with every second that passes, as I’m sure he is weaker against Wrath.” Reyes drew in a breath, held…held…then slowly released it, letting his sudden burst of anger leave him, too. “Just a few more hours. That’s all I ask. For me, for Danika. For him.”

There was a heavy pause. He fit two slices of meat atop each slice of bread, smashed them together.

“Very well,” Lucien said. “A few.” His boots clomped as he strode away.

Reyes studied the sandwiches. “Not enough,” he muttered. Humans needed variety. Isn’t that what Paris always said about his lovers? Frowning, Reyes opened the refrigerator again and searched inside. His gaze landed on a bag of purple grapes. Yes, perfect. Last time Danika had stayed here, she’d plowed through a bowl of the fruit in minutes.

He withdrew the entire bag, washed the contents and spread them around the four sandwiches.

What would she like to drink? Back to the fridge he went. He saw a bottle of wine, a pitcher of water and a carton of orange juice. He knew better than to give Danika wine. The wine here was laced with ambrosia stolen from the heavens and had once almost killed Maddox’s human woman, Ashlyn.

Reyes scooted the chilled bottle aside and latched on to the juice. He poured every drop into a tall glass.

“Damn, boy. You feeding an army?”

Reyes tossed a quick glance over his shoulder. Sabin leaned against the door frame, thick arms crossed over his chest. He was as modern as Paris with his silly Pirates of the Caribbean shirt, but he lacked Paris’s finesse. “She is hungry.”

“I guessed. Tiny as she is, I don’t think she’ll be able to eat all that. Besides, she just spent three days with Hunters. You should starve her, question her about what went down, and only then, when you have answers, should you feed her.” Arm outstretched to claim one of the squares, Sabin moved forward.

Reyes latched on to his friend’s wrist and squeezed. “Make your own or lose the hand. And she is not in league with the Hunters.”

Sabin arched a sandy brow, the picture of pique. “How do you know?”

He didn’t have an answer, but he would not allow anyone to hurt her in any way. “Just stay away from her,” he said, “and leave the food alone.”

“Since when are you so giving?” Gideon asked at his other side, swiping a sandwich before Reyes could do anything about it.

“Giving” equaled “stingy” in Gideon’s messed-up world.

“Back off,” Reyes growled.

Both warriors chuckled.

“Yeah. Whatever,” Sabin said, and grabbed a sandwich with his free arm.

Reyes ground his teeth together. I will not pull a weapon on my friends. I will not pull a fucking weapon on my friends.

“Oh, goodie! Food.” Anya skipped into the room, Ashlyn at her side, their arms linked. “I thought I smelled the sweet scent of culinary genius.”

Red spotted Reyes’s vision as he gathered the plate and the glass before the women could confiscate a single crumb or drop. “Danika’s,” he said tightly.

“But I really like turkey.” Anya pouted up at him. She was tall for a woman, but even in four-inch heels she only reached Reyes’s chin. “Besides, when I slap a sandwich together, it never tastes as good as when you do it. There’s something so delicious about food prepared by a man.”

“Not my problem.” He tried to step around her, but she leapt in front of him, hands fisted on her hips. He sighed, knowing she would trip him if he attempted to pass her. “Lucien will cook something for you.”

Another pouting frown. “He’s out collecting souls.”

“Paris, then.”

“He’s doing some chick in town, the nympho.”

“Starve,” Reyes told her unsympathetically.

“I’ll make us something,” Ashlyn offered, rubbing her slightly swollen belly. She was pregnant, just beginning to show. “While I do, I want to hear all about Danika.”

Reyes wasn’t sure how he felt about the coming birth. Would the baby be a demon? A human? He couldn’t decide which would be worse. Constant inner torment or mortality? “She’s well. Nothing more to say.”

“Make me something, too,” Sabin told Ashlyn. “I’m ninety-seven percent famished. That sandwich I stole only helped a little.”

“I’m totally full,” Gideon said, which meant he was on the verge of starvation. He wiped his hands to dislodge any remaining crumbs.

“Shame on you boys for making a pregnant woman do all the work,” Anya scolded.

“Hey!” Sabin wagged a finger at the gorgeous goddess. “You’re letting a pregnant woman make your sandwich. How is that any different?”

“Pregnant or not, I’ll let her make me one, too.”

At the sound of that scratchy voice, everyone stilled. Turned. A collective gasp rang out. Then a collective, “Torin!”

Grinning, Ashlyn stepped toward the now-healed warrior, arms opening to hug him. Anya latched on to her shoulder and jerked her back.

“He’s Disease, sweetness,” the goddess said. “You can’t touch him without getting sick, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Ashlyn smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re better.”

Torin smiled in return, though his expression was tinted with sadness and yearning. “Me, too.”

He looked just as Reyes remembered—before the man’s neck had been cut from end to end by Hunters, that is. White hair, black brows and bright green eyes. Beautifully masculine and utterly eerie. He wore black gloves that stretched from fingertips to armpits, for he could not touch another living being skin to skin without infecting it with disease. Not even an immortal. The warriors would not become ill themselves if they touched him, but they would spread the disease to humans.

“How are you feeling?” Reyes asked him.

“Better.” That green gaze lowered to the plate Reyes held. “Hungry.”

“Back off,” Reyes said. “I’m glad you’re better, but not enough to share.”

Torin’s grin lost its edge of sadness. “You almost make me wish I were still bed-bound. You’d have to bring me food with a smile. Oh, guess what?” he said, pivoting toward Anya. “Your friend is climbing the hill. He keeps shouting that he wants to put you over his knee and spank you, so I decided not to kill him as Lucien instructed. Guy has a blade strapped to his left thigh, but that’s the only weapon I detected. He should reach the door any—”

Knock. Knock.

Grinning, Anya clapped her hands. “William’s here!”

“What is he doing here?” Reyes asked. “Lucien told him never to return or he’d kill him, and you hate him.”

“Hate him? I adore him! Even made sure he’d come back by holding his favorite book hostage. And FYI, Lucien was only teasing about killing him. They’re BFF’s now, I swear.” She bounded off, clapping happily.

“William!” the group in the kitchen heard a moment later.

“Where’s my book, woman?”

“Where’s my hug, you big teddy bear?”

“Is this the same William who drove Lucien crazy while Anya was recovering from the loss of her key?” Ashlyn asked, just as Maddox strode up behind her and enfolded her in his arms. “And what book?”

“The very same,” Maddox said, nuzzling her cheek. “The book, I don’t know. This William did not strike me as the intellectual type. What’s a BFF?”

“A best friend forever.”

Maddox frowned. “I did not get the impression the two were best friends forever or even temporarily. Someone should lock the man up until Lucien returns.”

Ashlyn melted into her man. “Anya seems to like him. I say we leave him alone. The more, the merrier, right?”

Reyes rolled his eyes. Every day in the fortress was a party now, it seemed.

While Ashlyn and the men engaged in a heated discussion about who would cook what, as well as what they should do about the mysterious William, Reyes finally made his escape, careful to hold the plate straight and the glass of juice steady as he stalked from the kitchen.

I hate you, Danika had said.

I know, he’d told her, and he’d meant it. He’d once held her and her loved ones prisoner. He’d helped bring her to the Hunters’ attention. She had every reason to despise him. But now, he wanted to give her something good. Something she could smile about in the years to come. Even if it was only a simple meal.

Up the stairs he climbed, and still, he did not spill a drop. Most likely, she was still sleeping. He hated the thought of waking her, but knew it was for the best. The paleness of her skin and the shadows under her eyes concerned him. She needed sustenance.

While she’s here, I’ll see to her every need. She’ll want for nothing.

He sailed into the bedroom, but stopped abruptly when he reached the edge of the bed. His mouth dried and the haze of red returned to coat his vision. The black sheets were rumpled. Empty.

Danika was gone.

CHAPTER SIX

AERON CROUCHED in his underground prison, fury flowing through his veins. Fury with himself, the gods, his demon. Reyes. He should have killed me. Too late now. I want to live. I want to taste the death of those women.

Darkness would have enveloped him completely, but he’d long since given over to his demon. His eyes glowed bright red, throwing crimson beams wherever he looked. Mud and rock surrounded him. He was buried so deep in the earth he could hear the screams of the damned, could smell the sulfur and rotting flesh wafting from hell’s gates. He’d thought Lucien was the only warrior with access to the hereafter, but apparently Reyes had it, as well.

Wrath, his demonic companion, foamed at the mouth and chomped at the edges of Aeron’s mind, desperate to escape this hated place. To act.

Too close to home, the demon shouted. Won’t go back.

“No, you won’t go back.”

Aeron couldn’t survive without his demon; they were now one being, two halves of a whole, incomplete without the other. No longer was Aeron ready to die. Craving his own demise had been a momentary burst of madness, surely. Now he knew, now he accepted. He couldn’t allow himself to be killed until the blood of those four women stained his hands, coated his arms and filled his mouth.

Mallory, Tinka, Ginger and Danika.

He smiled, practically tasting their deaths already. Cut their throats, Cronus, the king of gods, had commanded him. Do not leave their sides until their hearts stop and their lungs still. Aeron thought he might have resisted at first—innocent, they were innocent—but he could not be certain. Allowing those women to live seemed…abhorrent.

“Soon,” he promised himself. He trembled with anticipation.

He’d killed recently. He knew it, deep in his bones, but his memory was hazy. All his mind would provide was the image of an old woman splayed on the cold ground, blood crusted on her temples. There were tears in her eyes and cuts on her right arm.

“Don’t hurt me,” she begged. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

In one hand, Aeron clutched a dagger. His other hand was pure claw, sharp and lethal. He lunged forward—

And then, as always, the vision faded completely. What had happened after that? What had he done? He wasn’t sure. His only certainty was that he would not have backed away from the kill. He would not have left her alive.

Want out. Want up! Want to stretch wings and fly.

“I know.” Aeron jerked at his chains. They rattled and cut his already scabbed wrists, but they didn’t budge. He bared his teeth in a scowl. Fucking Reyes.

Fucking Pain.

Aeron could not recall how Reyes had defeated him and carted him here, only that he had. A tortured “Forgive me” still rang in Aeron’s ears.

They were the same words Aeron used to mutter as he stood on the outskirts of Budapest, watching the humans, amazed that they blithely went about their days unconcerned about their inherent weaknesses and the knowledge that they would soon die. Some by his hand.

Aeron had sometimes erupted into blood-rages, Wrath judging and executing those who deserved his particular brand of punishment. Rapists, molesters. Murderers. Like me. Some, though, did not deserve what he did to them. Like the women.

He frowned. The thought was out of place in the chaos of his mind, a notion he would have considered before the gods tasked him with the beautiful death of the Ford women.

Suddenly rocks crumbled, falling from the far cavern wall and disrupting his brooding. Aeron’s attention whipped to it, eyelids slitting. There was a narrow hole in the center, a pair of glowing red eyes—demon eyes like Aeron’s—pulsing through it.

Aeron growled a warning. He was chained and weaponless, but he was not helpless. He had teeth. He would eat his foe, if necessary.

More rocks fell, widening the hole. Then a bald, scaled head pushed through. Those bright red eyes looked right and left before landing on Aeron. Sharp, glistening fangs appeared in a feral smile.

“I sssmelled you, brother.” The creature spoke with a lisp, forked tongue flickering. It sounded happy rather than menacing.

“I am not your brother.”

Thin lips slithered into a pout. “But you Wrath.”

Aeron’s claws elongated to razor points. “Yes, I am.” You know him? he asked his demon.

No.

There was a third tumble of rocks as scaled shoulders emerged, followed by a short scaly body.

“Come any closer and you will die.”

“No, I won’t. Me never die.” The creature planted hoofed feet on the ground and stood. It was so short it couldn’t have reached any higher than Aeron’s navel. A tremble passed through its small body, scattering dust from its dull green scales.

“How can you be so sure?”

“We friendsss.”

“I have no friends. Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Massster used to call me Legion before he called me Ssstupid Idiot.” It moved one step closer, humming with giddiness. Grinning, fangs making another appearance. “Want to play?”

Legion. Interesting. “One of a thousand what?”

“Minionsss.” Another step.

Servants of hell, Wrath supplied with disgust. Useless, disposable, unworthy. Eat him.

Aeron drew his knees up to his chest, preparing to attack. “Stop.” Now why had he said that? He wanted the thing to approach. Wanted to feast on it.

It obeyed, the pout returning to its lips. “But we friendsss now. Friendsss get to sssometimesss ssstand next to each other. I ssseen them do it.”

He didn’t bother reiterating that they weren’t friends. “Why are you here, Legion?” Questions first, dinner second.

Anticipation brightened those crimson eyes. “Me want to play. Will you play with me? Pleassse, pleassse, pleassse.”

“Play what?” Saliva dipped from the corner of Aeron’s mouth, and he licked at it. The more he considered the option of eating his foe, the more he liked the thought of having the demon for a snack. Aeron had enough slack in his chains that he’d been able to catch and sustain himself on rats. The demon would make a tasty change. Mustard would have been nice, though. Fucking Reyes. “What game?”