The Darkest Whisper

His hands fisted at his sides. Fucking demon. Eventually everyone caved under the intense worries his other, darker half constantly threw at them: You aren’t pretty enough. You aren’t smart enough. How could anyone love you?

“Sabin,” Aeron’s cold voice called. “We’re ready.”

He reached out and motioned the girl over with a wave of his fingers. “Come.”

But his redhead had backed herself against the far wall, her body trembling in renewed fear. He’d expected her to beat feet, despite his warning of the consequences. He hadn’t expected this…terror.

“I told you,” he said gently. “We mean you no harm.”

Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. And as he watched, the golden glow of her eyes deepened, darkened, black bleeding into the whites.

“What the hell is—”

One minute she was before him, the next she wasn’t, gone as if she’d never been. He spun, gaze scanning. Didn’t see her. But the only Hunter still standing suddenly belted out an agonized scream—a scream that halted abruptly as his body sagged, collapsing on the sandy floor, blood pooling around him.

“The girl,” Sabin said, palming a blade, determined to protect her from whatever force had just slain the Hunter he’d planned to interrogate. Still he did not see her. If she could disappear with only a thought like Lucien, she would be safe. Out of his reach forevermore, but safe. But could she? Had she?

“Behind you,” Cameo said, and for once she sounded more shocked than miserable.

“My gods,” Paris breathed. “I never saw her move, yet…”

“She didn’t…did she…how could she have…” Maddox scrubbed a hand down his face, as though he didn’t believe what he was seeing.

Again, Sabin spun. And there she was, back inside her cell, sitting, knees drawn to her chest, mouth dripping with blood, a…trachea?…clutched in one of her hands. She’d ripped—or bitten?—the man’s throat out.

Her eyes were a normal color again, gold with gray striations, but they were completely devoid of emotion and so faraway he suspected the shock of what she’d done had numbed her mind. Her expression was blank, too. Her skin was now so pallid he could see the blue veins underneath. And she was shaking, rocking back and forth and mumbling incoherently under her breath. What. The. Hell?

The Hunter had called her a monster. Sabin hadn’t believed it. Then.

Sabin stepped inside the cell, unsure of what to do but knowing he could neither leave her like this nor lock her back up. One, she hadn’t attacked his friends. Two, swift as she was, she could escape before the window closed and do serious damage to him for breaking his word.

“Sabin, man,” Gideon said, grim. “You might not want to rethink going in there. For once, a Hunter was lying.”

For once. Try once more. “Know what we’re dealing with here?”

“No.” Yes. “She’s not a Harpy, the spawn of Lucifer who did not spend a year unfettered on earth. I haven’t dealt with them before and I don’t know that they can kill an army of immortals in mere seconds.”

As Gideon couldn’t tell a single truth without soon wishing he were dead, his entire body wrapped in agony and riddled with suffering, Sabin knew everything he said was a lie. Therefore, the warrior had encountered a Harpy before—and he clearly didn’t mean the word in a derogatory sense—and those Harpies were the spawn of Lucifer and could destroy even a brute like himself in a blink.

“When?” he asked.

Gideon understood his meaning. “Remember when I wasn’t imprisoned?”

Ah. Gideon had once endured three months of torture at Hunter hands.

“One didn’t destroy half the camp before a single alarm could be sounded. She didn’t take off, for whatever reason, and the remaining Hunters didn’t spend the next few days cursing the entire race.”

“Hold on. Harpy? I don’t think so. She isn’t hideous.” That little nugget came from Strider, the king of stating the obvious. “How can she be a Harpy?”

“You know as well as we do that human myths are sometimes distorted. Just because most legends claim Harpies are hideous doesn’t mean they are. Now, everyone out.” Sabin began tossing his weapons on the ground behind him. “I’ll deal with her.”

A sea of protests arose.

“I’ll be fine.” He hoped.

You might not be…

Oh, shut the hell up.

“She’s—”

“Coming with us,” he said, cutting Maddox off. He couldn’t leave her behind; she was too valuable a weapon, a weapon that could be used against him—or used by him. Yes, he thought, eyes widening. Yes. “And she’s coming alive.”

“Hell, no,” Maddox said. “I don’t want a Harpy anywhere near Ashlyn.”

“You saw what she did—”

Now Maddox cut him off. “Yes, I did, and that’s exactly why I don’t want her near my pregnant human. The Harpy stays behind.”

Another reason to eschew love. It softened even the most hardened of warriors. “She has to hate these men as much as we do. She can help our cause.”

Maddox was undeterred. “No.”

“She’ll be my responsibility, and I’ll make sure she keeps her claws and teeth sheathed.” Again, he hoped.

“You want her, she’s yours,” Strider said, always on his side. Good man. “Maddox will agree because you never pressure Ashlyn to go into town and listen to conversations Hunters might have had, no matter how badly you want to.”

Eyes narrowed, Maddox popped his jaw. “We’ll have to subdue her.”

“No. I’ll handle her.” Sabin didn’t like the thought of anyone else touching her. In any way. He told himself it was because she’d most likely been tortured, used in the most horrendous way, and might react negatively to anyone who tried, but…

He recognized the excuse for what it was. He was attracted to her, and a man attracted couldn’t turn off the possessive thing. Even when that man had sworn off women.

Cameo approached his side, attention riveted on the girl. “Let Paris deal with her. He can finesse the cruelest of females into a good mood. You, not so much, and we clearly need this one in a perpetual good mood.”

Paris, who could seduce any woman, anytime, immortal and human alike? Paris, who needed sex to survive? Sabin’s teeth ground together, an image of the couple flashing through his mind. Naked bodies tangled, the warrior’s fingers gripping the Harpy’s wild fall of hair, bliss coloring her expression.

Would be better for the girl that way. Would probably be better for them all, as Cameo had said. The Harpy would be more inclined to help them defeat the Hunters if she was fighting by her lover’s side—and Sabin was now determined to have her help. Of course, Paris couldn’t bed her more than once, would eventually cheat on her because he needed sex from different vessels to survive, and that would probably piss her off. She might then decide to aid the Hunters.

Bad idea, all the way around, he decided, and not just because he wanted it to be.

“Just…give me five minutes. If she kills me, Paris can have a turn with her.” His dry tone failed to elicit a single chortle of laughter.

“At least let Paris put her to sleep as he did the others,” Cameo persisted.

Sabin shook his head. “If she were to wake early, she would be scared and she might attack. I’ve got to get through to her first. Now get out. Let me work.”

A pause. A shuffling of feet, heavier than usual as the warriors were carrying the other women out. And then he was alone with the redhead. Or strawberry blond, he supposed the color was called. She was still crouched, still mumbling, still holding that damn trachea.

Such a bad little girl, aren’t you? the demon said, tossing the words straight into the Harpy’s mind. And you know what happens to bad little girls, don’t you?

Leave her alone. Please, he begged the demon. She cut through our enemy, preventing them from searching for—and finding—the box.

At the word box, Doubt cried out. The demon had spent a thousand years inside the darkness and chaos of Pandora’s box and did not want to return. Would do anything to prevent such a fate.

Sabin could no longer exist without Doubt. It was a permanent part of him and much as he sometimes resented it, he would rather give up a lung than the demon. The first he could regenerate.

Just a few minutes of quiet, he added. Please.

Oh, very well.

Satisfied with that, Sabin stepped the rest of the way inside the cell. He bent down, placing himself at eye level with the girl.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she chanted, as though she sensed his presence. She didn’t face him, though, just continued to stare ahead, unseeing. “Did I kill you?”

“No, no. I’m fine.” Poor thing didn’t know what she’d done or what she was saying. “You did a good thing, destroyed a very bad man.”

“Bad. Yes, I’m very very bad.” Her arms tightened around her knees.

“No, he was bad.” Slowly, he reached out. “Let me help you. All right?” His fingers lightly pried at hers, opening them up. The bloody remain fell from her grasp, and he caught it with his free hand, tossing it over his shoulder, away from her. “Now, isn’t that better?”

Thankfully, his action didn’t send her into another rage. She merely released a deep breath.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Wh-what?”

Still moving at an unhurried pace, he brushed a strand of hair from her face and hooked it behind her ear. She leaned into his touch, even nuzzled her cheek against his palm. He allowed the caress to linger, savoring the softness of her skin when deep down he recognized the thin ledge of danger he walked. To encourage his attraction, to crave more of her, was to condemn her to utter misery as he’d done Darla. But he didn’t pull away, even when she gripped his wrist and guided his hand through the silkiness of her hair, clearly wanting to be petted. He massaged her scalp. She practically purred.

Sabin couldn’t recall a time he’d been so…tender with a woman, not even with Darla. Much as he’d cared for her, he’d placed more importance on victory than on her well-being. But at that moment, something about this girl drew him. She was just so lost and alone, feelings he knew well. He wanted to hug her.

See? You’re already craving more. Frowning, he forced his arm to fall to his side.

A slight cry of despair escaped her, and maintaining what little distance there was between them became even harder. How could this needy creature have so savagely slain the human? Didn’t seem possible, and he wouldn’t have believed it had the story simply been relayed to him. He’d had to see it. Not that there had been much to see, given how quickly she’d moved.

Perhaps, like him, like his friends, she was captive to a dark force inside her. Perhaps she was helpless to stop it from treating her body as a puppet. The moment those thoughts struck him, he knew he’d guessed correctly. The way her eyes had changed color…the horror she’d exuded when she had realized what she’d done…

When Maddox slid into one of his demon’s violent rages, the same changes overtook him. She couldn’t help what she was and probably hated herself for it, the little darling.

“What’s your name, red?”

Her lips edged into a frown, a mimic of his. “Name?”

“Yes. Name. What you’re called.”

She blinked. “What I’m called.” The shallow rasp in her voice was fading, leaving a dawning awareness. “What I’m—oh. Gwendolyn. Gwen. Yes, that’s my name.”

Gwendolyn. Gwen. “A lovely name for a lovely girl.”

Traces of color were returning to her face, and she blinked again, this time dragging her attention to him. She offered him a hesitant smile, one that spoke of welcome, relief and hope. “You’re Sabin.”

Exactly how sensitive were her ears? “Yes.”

“You didn’t hurt me. Even when I…” There was wonder in her voice, wonder tinged with regret.

“No, I didn’t hurt you.” He wanted to add, Nor will I, but he wasn’t sure that was true. In his single-minded quest to defeat the Hunters, he’d lost a good man, a great friend. He’d healed from countless near-fatal injuries and had buried several slain lovers. If necessary, he would sacrifice this little bird to the cause as well, whether he desired her or not.

Unless you soften, Doubt suddenly piped up.

I won’t. It was a vow, because he refused to believe otherwise. And it was a reinforcement of what he’d already known: he wasn’t an honorable man. He would use her.

Gwen’s gaze skittered past him, and her smile vanished. “Where are your men? They were right here. I didn’t…I…did I…”

“No, you didn’t hurt them. They’re just outside the chamber, I swear it.”

Her shoulders sagged as a sigh of relief escaped her. “Thank you.” She seemed to be speaking to herself. “I—oh, heavens.”

She had just spotted the Hunter she’d slain, he realized.

She paled again. “He—he’s missing—all that blood…how could I…”

Sabin purposely leaned to the side, blocking her view and consuming her entire line of vision. “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”

Those unusual eyes swung to him, now lit with wild interest. “You have food? Real food?”

Every muscle in his body tightened at the sight of that interest. There was an almost euphoric edge to it. She could be toying with him, pretending to be excited by what he offered in order to relax his guard for an easier escape. Must you be like your demon and doubt everyone and everything?

“I have energy bars,” he said. “Not sure they can be classified as food, but they’ll keep you strong.” Not that she needed any more strength.

Her lashes drifted closed, and she sighed dreamily. “Energy bars sound divine. I haven’t eaten in over a year, but I’ve imagined it. Over and over again. Chocolate and cakes, ice cream and peanut butter.”

A whole year without a crumb? “They gave you nothing?”

Those dark lashes lifted. She didn’t nod or reply in the affirmative, but then, she didn’t have to. The truth was there in her now-grim expression.

As soon as he finished interrogating the Hunters, every single one he’d found in these catacombs was going to die. By his hand. He’d take his time with the kills, too, enjoy every slash, every drop of blood spilled. This girl was a Harpy, spawn of Lucifer as Gideon had said, but even she did not deserve the gnawing torture of starvation. “How did you survive? I know you’re immortal, but even immortals need sustenance to remain strong.”

“They put something in the ventilation system, a special chemical to keep us alive and docile.”

“Didn’t fully work on you, I take it?”

“No.” Her little pink tongue slashed over her lips hungrily. “You mentioned energy bars?”

“We’ll have to leave this chamber to get them. Can you do that?” Or rather, would she do it? He doubted he could force her to do anything she didn’t want to without ending up cut and broken, maybe dead. He wondered how the Hunters had trapped her. How they had gotten her here and lived to tell the tale.

A slight hesitation. Then, “Yes. I can.”

Once again moving slowly, Sabin clutched her arm and helped her to her feet. She swayed. No, he realized, she snuggled up next to him, seeking closer contact with his body. He stiffened, poised to pull away—keep her at a distance, have to keep her at a distance—when she sighed, her breath trekking through the slashes in his shirt and onto his chest.

Now his eyes closed in ecstasy. He even wound an arm around her waist, urging her closer. Utterly trusting, she rested her head in the hollow of his neck.

“I’ve dreamed about this, too,” she whispered. “So warm. So strong.”

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, felt Doubt prowling the corridors of his mind, rattling the bars, desperate to escape, to obliterate Gwen’s ease with him.

Too much faith, the demon said, as if that were some sort of disease.

The perfect amount, if Sabin were being honest with himself. He liked that a woman was looking at him as if he were a prince of light rather than a king of darkness, someone she needed to run screaming from. He liked that she’d allowed him to soothe her torment.

Foolish of her, though, he had to admit. Sabin was no one’s hero. He was their worst enemy.

Let me talk to her! the demon demanded, a child denied a favorite treat.

Quiet. Causing Gwen to doubt him could very well rouse the feral Harpy, placing his men in danger. That, Sabin would not allow. They were too important to him, too necessary.

Distance, as he’d realized before, was needed. He dropped his arms and stepped away. “No touching.” The words were a croak, harsher than he’d intended and she blanched. “Now come. Let’s get out of here.”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE WOMAN WAS GOING TO KILL HIM, and not because she was stronger and more vicious than he was. Which, if he thought about it, she was. He’d never ripped a man’s throat out with his teeth, and he was damned impressed that Gwen had. She’d made the Lords of the Underworld look like marshmallows.

Two full days had passed since Sabin and his crew had rescued her from the pyramid. The only time she’d seemed content was at her first glimpse of the sun. Since then, she had not relaxed. Or eaten. The energy bars she’d so wanted, she had merely gazed at with utter longing before shaking her head and turning away. She hadn’t even showered in the portable stall he’d had Lucien fetch her.

She didn’t trust them, didn’t want to risk poisoning or the vulnerability of unconsciousness or nakedness, and that was understandable. But damn it, he was seething with the need to force her to do those things. For her own good. Without the shit that had been pumped into her cell, she had to be feeling every bit of her starvation. She had to be exhausted and dirty as she was—from the past two days, as well as her confinement, which was strange because the other women had been clean—she couldn’t possibly be comfortable. Forcing her, however, was not an option. He liked his trachea where it was.

Only thing she’d taken from him was clothing. His clothing. A camouflage tee and military fatigues. They bagged on her, even though she’d rolled the arms, waist and legs, but there wasn’t a female who’d ever looked better. With that wild fall of strawberry curls…those take-me-to-bed lips…she was utter perfection. And knowing the material she wore had once touched his body…

I need to end my self-imposed celibacy. Soon.

The moment he returned to Buda, that’s what he’d do. Find a willing woman who wanted only a good time and, well, show her a good time. No one would get hurt because he wouldn’t be sticking around. But maybe then his head would clear and he’d figure out how to deal with Gwen.

Something else that bothered him was the way Gwen had planted herself in the corner and watched him no matter who entered his tent. Him. As if he were the biggest threat to her now. He’d snapped at her that day in the cavern, yeah, telling her not to touch him, but he’d also ensured that she remained on her feet on the trek through the desert to set up camp. He’d stayed with her, guarded her while the other warriors went back to the pyramid to search for anything they might have missed the first go-round. Did he really deserve the death glares?

Maybe…

Shut up, Doubt! I don’t need your opinions.

Don’t know why you care what she thinks. You’ve never been good for women, now have you? Funny that I now need to remind you about Darla.

Crouched on the sandy floor, Sabin closed the lid of his weapon case with a forceful snap, locked it and turned to the bag of food he’d had Paris bring him.

Darla, Darla, Darla, the demon sang.

“Like I said, you can shut the hell up, you dirty piece of shit. I’ve had all of you I can take.”

Gwen, still in the far corner, jerked as though he’d screamed. “But I didn’t say anything.”

He’d lived among mortals for a long time and had trained himself to converse with Doubt inside his head. That he’d forgotten his training now, in the presence of this skittish yet deadly woman…mortifying.

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” he muttered.

Paler than usual, she drew her arms around her middle. “Then to whom were you speaking? We’re alone.”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not without lying. Since Doubt’s inability to lie had long ago spread to Sabin, he had to stick to the truth, evade, or he’d be sleeping for the next few days.

Thankfully, Gwen didn’t press the issue. “I want to go home,” she said softly.

“I know.”

Yesterday, Paris had questioned all the freed women about their confinement. They’d indeed been kidnapped, raped, impregnated and told their babies would be taken from them and trained to be defenders against evil. Afterward, Lucien had flashed all but Gwen—who had told Paris nothing—to their families, who would hopefully hide them from Hunters in the peace and comfort that had been denied them during their captivity.

Gwen had asked to be taken to a deserted stretch of ice in Alaska, of all places. Lucien had reached out to take her hand, despite her failure to cooperate, and Sabin had stepped between them.

“Like I said in the cavern, she stays with me,” he’d said.

Gwen had gasped. “No! I want to go.”

“Sorry. Not gonna happen.” He’d refused to face her, afraid he’d cave and release her despite the fact that her strength, speed and savagery could win him this war, thereby saving his friends.

By gods, he’d dreamed of an end, a victorious end, for too many years to count; he couldn’t put Gwen’s needs and wants before that victory.

Too badly did he want Galen, the person he hated most in this world, defeated and imprisoned.

Galen, the once forgotten Lord, was the very man who had convinced the warriors to help steal and open Pandora’s box. He was also the man who had secretly planned to kill them all, then capture the demons they’d freed, becoming a hero in the eyes of the gods. But things hadn’t worked out as the bastard hoped, and he’d been cursed to house a demon—Hope—right alongside the other warriors.

If only that had been the end of things. But as further punishment, they’d all been kicked out of the heavens. Galen, still determined to destroy the men who’d called him friend, had quickly assembled an army of outraged mortals, the Hunters, and this endless blood feud had erupted. A feud that only intensified with every year that passed. If Gwen could aid Sabin in even the smallest way, she was too valuable to release. She, however, thought differently.

“Please,” she had begged. “Please.”

“I’ll take you home one day, but not now,” he’d told her. “You could be useful to us, to our cause.”

“I don’t want to help with any cause. I just want to go home.”

“Sorry. Like I said, it’s not gonna happen any time soon.”

“Bastard,” she’d muttered. Then she’d frozen, as if she hadn’t meant to say that aloud and now thought he would launch forward and beat her. When he didn’t, she’d calmed a bit. “So I’ve traded one captor for another, is that it? You promised you wouldn’t harm me.” Soft, so soft. Even sadly resigned, and that had…hurt him. “Just let me go. Please.”

Obviously, the girl was afraid. Of him, his friends. Of herself and her deadly abilities. Otherwise, she would have tried to ditch him or bargained for her release. But not once had she done so. Did she fear what they would do to her if they caught her? Or what she would do to them?

Or, as Doubt liked to whisper in the dark of night, did she have more sinister plans? Was she Bait, a very convincing trap laid by the Hunters? A trap meant to ruin him?

Not possible, he retorted every time. Such timidity couldn’t be faked. The trembling, the refusal even to eat. Which meant her fears, whatever they were, were real. And the more time she spent with him, the more those fears and doubts would grow. They would become all that she knew, all that she thought about. She would question every word out of her mouth, every word out of his mouth. She would question every action.