The Darkest Kiss (33 page)

“You bastard!”

“Cronus came to me while you were packing, Anya,” William shouted. “He threatened to kill me if I didn't kill the pair of you once the cage was found. I did not want to do this, but you forced my hand. I'm sorry. I am. You have to believe—”

“
I'll
fucking kill you, you traitor!”

The sword was pulled out of Lucien and black cobwebs wove through his vision, giving him limited eyesight. But he was able to see Anya with that sword in hand, a dark storm blanketing her lovely face. He saw William square off with her, determined, resolved.

They would battle to the death.

“No,” he ground out. He couldn't let that happen. Couldn't let her fight the warrior. “No!”

“Rest, baby, and heal,” she choked out. Relief pulsed from her, wrapping around him. She'd thought he was already dead. “I'll punish William for you.”

“I do not want to hurt you,” William began.

I once said that to her,
Lucien mused dizzily.

“According to Cronus, you have to. Isn't that right? Still looking out for number one, I see. But I'm not worried. A dead man can't hurt anyone.” She licked her lips, as if already tasting William's death. “You should have told me what Cronus wanted you to do.” Like a predator, she circled him. “We could have thought of something to stop him.”

“If there were a way to stop him, you would have done it by now.”

“How could you do this? How, damn you? I love him.”

“I know. And I truly am sorry.”

Lucien tried to push to his feet, even as his body bled out, continuing to drain more and more of his strength.
You are a warrior. Act like one. For Anya.
Drawing on a reservoir he hadn't known he possessed—Anya's, he realized—he at last managed to stand.

No one noticed him. Anya raised her sword.

William raised his, as well.

A deafening screech sounded from the water, and Anya turned, distracted. That's when William lunged forward, swinging for her head.

Clang.

Anya met his weapon with her own and the two began a lethal dance of attack and retreat, swords always slicing toward each other. All the while a two-headed monster rose from the lake, half woman, half snake. Smaller serpents slithered over her head, hissing, jaws snapping. Each of them, including Hydra herself, possessed long, sharp teeth that resembled minidaggers.

Clutching his stomach in one hand and gripping one of his own daggers in the other, Lucien stumbled forward to battle the beast.

A
NYA FOUGHT
W
ILLIAM WITH
all of the rage inside her. How dare he attack Lucien! How dare he hurt the man she loved! When she'd seen Lucien fall, when she'd seen the blood soaking his stomach, a part of her had seized and died.

I can't live without him. I
won't
live without him.

“You can't beat us both,” William panted.

“Watch me.” She ducked and swung, the tip of her sword slicing into his thigh.

He howled as his skin split and blood drenched his pants.

“Besides,” she said. She let him back her into a boulder then jumped to the top of it without turning. With barely a pause, she leapt down for momentum, twisting in the air to change their positions. When she hit the ground, she was momentarily jostled and he swung at her, but she managed to parry and back
him
into the boulder, trapping him.

Another of those horrible roars sounded.

She wanted to look, but couldn't. William was an expert fighter and would take advantage of any distraction. Again.
Trust Lucien. He, too, is a warrior.
Yes, he was a warrior to his very soul. Her warrior. He was Death; he could defeat Hydra, no matter how weak or hurt he was.
Please let him defeat her.

“Anya,” William panted, trying to slap the sword from her hand.

She easily dodged, his motions slower than before. Good. He was tiring. Would probably do something stupid any moment. Like now—he swung low, and she was able to jump on the blade and kick his palm. His fingers opened and the weapon clanged to the ground.

She grinned slowly, her blade poised at his throat. “You shouldn't have fucked with me.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Lucien approach the monster, his dagger raised. One of Hydra's heads snapped down to bite him, but he bounded out of the way, slicing as he fell.

One of Hydra's heads rolled to the ground.

The monster hissed and stretched and another head quickly grew from the gaping, bloody hole. Worse, the one on the ground had not died. It attempted to spin toward Lucien and bite his calf.

“Let's leave, you and me,” William whizzed, twisting to the side and lunging for Anya's leg. “Before we become a meal.”

She turned—
end it, end it
—and withdrew another dagger from her boot. She tossed it, even as her sword swung.

William was in the process of reclaiming his sword when the sharp tip slammed into his shoulder, knocking him backward. She didn't slow, but continued to turn…turn…and stabbed him in the stomach just as he'd done to Lucien.

Shock blanketed his face. He looked down and gasped out a pained breath. “You…won.”

“Always.” Growling, she shoved harder, pushing the sword out his back and into the boulder, pinning the warrior in place.

“Anya,” he moaned, features glazing with agony.

“Hope you realize how lucky you are. I'm not going to chop off your head or cut out your heart. Not today. You'll recover from this wound, and I'll come for you again and again until I think you've suffered enough.
Then
I'll kill you.” She turned from him then, already racing toward Hydra to help Lucien. She felt no relief that William was defeated—she'd truly liked him until now. But Lucien was in danger, and he was all that mattered.

Along the way, she withdrew the last dagger from her boot. She saw that Lucien was holding his middle, blood still seeping from the wound. He'd managed to destroy one rolling head and cut off another—which was now rolling to attack him. Already another had grown in its place and was slapping at him. And yet he was still standing. Still fighting. She'd never seen a more powerful sight. Weak? No, the man was unbelievably strong.

She would have fallen and stayed put had she been injured like that. If she hadn't already been in love with him, she would have given him her heart in that moment. With his dying breath he would protect and defend.
Dying.
No. Oh, no.

Heart racing, she approached his side and hacked at the rolling snake head. “How do we kill it?”

“Go for the eye.” Lucien swung at Hydra as she swatted him with her tail. He tumbled to the ground, but lurched back to his feet. “That's the only way I've found to destroy the heads.”

Anya jumped on top of the rolling head, the tiny snake hairs biting at her thighs. Each chomp stung like the fires of hell, but she didn't back down. She sank her blade into one of the eye sockets. Instantly, the head jerked and the tiny snakes stiffened before going limp.

Blood rushed down her legs as she stood. Hydra batted at Lucien, her long neck swiping his legs out from under him. His body hit the ground again, shoving air from his lungs, and he moaned.

“Lucien!” She flashed to his side and crouched down.

“I'm fine,” he said, pushing to his feet. He wobbled.

Distracted as Anya was, Hydra managed to dig her teeth into Anya's arm. She screamed, the pain almost blinding. Black stars winked over her vision and fire burned her blood. Poison? Snake venom?

Stay strong.
But her legs were trembling, giving out, unable to hold her weight. And then Lucien was there, right beside her, stabbing the head in the eye. The creature screeched, an unholy sound that scratched at her eardrums, before falling to the ground, dead.

Just as before, another head quickly took its place.

Anya wavered, desperate to steady herself. Lethargy beat through her with tough fists.

“Stay awake, sweetheart,” Lucien breathed in her ear, warming her, strengthening her. “I have an idea, but I can't do it without you. I need you to cut off her head and cauterize it when I've distracted her. Can you do that?”

“Lucien—Yes. Yes, I can do it.”
For Lucien, anything.
Anya straightened her back and squared her shoulders. Her vision slowly cleared with every measured breath she forced in and out of her lungs, and she saw that both of Lucien's eyes were blue. He kissed her, and then his body dematerialized, shimmered. Returned.

He frowned. “I'm not strong enough to take my body. I have to go in spirit.”

His body collapsed, unconscious, but connected to him as she was Anya saw his spirit pull from it. He floated to the creature—who could no longer see him in spirit form and evidently decided his motionless body was already dead, freeing her to concentrate all of her menace on Anya. Anya forced herself to march forward.

That bitch is mine.

L
UCIEN SETTLED HIS SPIRIT ON
the creature's back. She paid him no attention, was focused solely on Anya—who was splattered with blood, cut and bruised, and looked like an Amazon warrior willing to do anything to win the battle.

He reached into Hydra's body with a ghostly hand and grabbed on to her spirit. She roared, making him cringe. Would have made his ears bleed if he'd been in corporeal form. In a panic, she lunged at Anya, but he jerked on her spirit again, holding her in place.

Since her body was alive, he knew what he was doing hurt her. She screeched again, but remained in place as if tethered. Anya leapt, higher and higher, and quickly cut off one of the creature's heads. As it tumbled to the ground, as Hydra screamed, flames erupted in the center of Anya's hand. She slammed that fire into the wound just as another head formed.

Orange-gold flames melted the skin, sizzled it, destroyed it, and cauterized the wound. Hydra spasmed and jerked in rage. Furious now, she used the last of her strength to chomp at Anya. Lucien kept a firm grip as his woman twisted out of the way and swung her sword yet again.

Contact.

The second head fell. Anya produced another fire and burned the wound, even as two of the snakes bit her arm. She cringed, but maintained the flames. Roaring, the creature went limp and collapsed into the water. The sound of that final roar continued to echo until finally, blessedly fading.

He hovered there for a moment, awed. They'd done it. They'd won!

Anya fell to the ground, panting but grinning. Lucien floated to the ground himself and tried to enter his body—but it was as if a shield separated the spirit from the corporeal. He frowned. Tried again. Failed again.

Why could he not enter?

You're too weak.
The thought slammed into his mind. He was weak, yes, but he should be able to enter. If he couldn't…Scowling now, he tried one last time to slip into his body. Nothing.

He could only hover there, powerless. He glanced over at Anya. In the circle of grass beside his body, she dropped to her knees.

“Get back here,” she said, glancing up at his spirit. She gave him a tired grin. “I'll doctor your wounds.”

He tried again. He did. He
had
to touch her at least once more, this woman who'd given him more happiness in a few weeks than he'd experienced in thousands of years. But he remained exactly as he was.

“Lucien,” she barked, and there was worry in the under-tones. “This isn't funny. Get back into your body!”

“I can't.”

A moment passed before she gave any kind of reaction. Violently she shook her head. Her features gleamed with panic and disbelief. “You can.”

“Anya…” It was best this way. He'd known it days ago, knew it now. His body would die and there would be nothing Cronus could hold over her head. She would be free, the key hers and hers alone.

“Don't give up,” she said, once again shaking her head. A sob bubbled from her throat. “Keep trying.”

“Anya.”

“You're not going to die. Do you hear me?” Her eyes filled with tears as she stared up at him. “You're not going to die,” she uttered brokenly. “I won't let you. Help me, William!” she shouted, her anger at the man clearly forgotten, but the warrior had passed out. She began to pound at Lucien's chest, trying to force his heart into motion.

“Anya. Please.” Seeing her like this tore him up. He floated to her and attempted to push a hand through her hair, but the only thing he felt was the warmth of the air. “I love you.”

Even as he spoke, Death roared with far more fury and pain than Hydra had. Lucien suddenly felt as though he were burning, his insides kindling to a thirsty fire. He, too, began to roar. The pain, too much. He was being ripped in half.

Gods. Man and demon were separating, he realized. Pulling apart.

“Lucien. What's wrong?” Anya shouted, pausing her ministrations to his physical form. “You're going to be okay. I'm going to give Cronus the All-Key. You're going to be okay,” she repeated.

He wanted to respond, wanted to tell her to stay away from Cronus, but the burning increased and the words melted in his throat. If he and Death divided completely, Lucien would die in truth. Just as Baden had. Wouldn't he?

“I'll take care of everything.” Anya disappeared. Before he could panic, she returned to that patch of bloody grass beside his body. Her eyes were luminous pools. “Tell me what's happening to you. Let me help.”

Fighting the pain, trying to hold on to Death, he reached out again. Once more his fingers ghosted through. Tears were pouring from her now, and the sight broke him. “I love you,” he finally managed to work out.

“Cronus,” she screamed.

“Stop.” He doubled over. Any moment now, Death would be completely free. Funny, he'd spent so many years wishing for a life without the demon, yet now they both were trying to cling to each other with what little strength they had left.

“Cronus!”

Lucien opened his mouth to speak again, but no sound emerged. His last tie with Death broke, and he knew nothing more.

 

A
NYA THREW UP THE MOMENT
Lucien's spirit disappeared. When her stomach was completely emptied, she screamed for Cronus again. “I'm ready to bargain. Do you hear me? I'm ready.”

As always, he appeared in a blinding flash of light. She blinked against it and pushed to shaky legs. Lucien's spirit was still gone. Gone! Oh, gods. She'd seen the skeletal image of Death rip from him, howling—oh, gods, the howling—before it, too, disappeared.
Please, don't let me be too late.

She closed her eyes and tried to reverse time, but failed. She'd done it once before, for Maddox and Ashlyn. Why couldn't she do so now? Why?

“I'm listening,” Cronus said, and she felt him gliding toward her, his white robe brushing the thick grass.

She peered up at him, vision blurred through her tears. “The key is yours. Willingly given if you'll swear to bring Lucien back to life and leave us both alone.”

“I want the cage, as well. Where did you hide it?”

Fighting the sense of urgency running rampant inside of her, the sense of loss and panic, she shook her head. “You can't have it. That belongs to Lucien. You only get the key.”

“Do you want your lover to live?”

“If he dies, you will
never
get the key!” Tears falling freely, she scooped her hands under Lucien's head and lifted. She placed a soft kiss on his lips.
I love you. I'll make everything all better.
Please, please, please, let this make everything better.

“Much longer, and even I will not be able to bring him back,” Cronus said cruelly. “As weak as he was, it took considerable effort to twine him and the demon together again to sustain Lucien's life a bit longer. Without the key, I will gladly pull them apart again.”

Though she experienced a surge of hope that Lucien truly could be saved, her narrowed eyes flicked up at the god. “I will not cave on this. You may have the key. The cage belongs to Lucien. You once gave me a choice, Lucien or the key. Now I'm giving you the same choice. That is fair. That is just. And I will not budge on this.”

He met her piercing stare with a scowl. What tumbled through his mind, she didn't know. Then he nodded, as though he sensed the absoluteness of her determination. Or perhaps he'd known all along that's how it would be, and had only hoped for more. “Very well.”

“A deal is reached then. Lucien's life for the key.” She was taking a terrible gamble, trusting a being she hated, who probably hated her. “If after this you take the cage from us, immortals far and wide will know of your dishonor. The Lords of the Underworld will turn against you and do all that they can to free the Greeks. There will be a war at a time when you seek only reverence. I know you consider yourself untouchable and stronger than mere immortal warriors, but know what? You were defeated once. You can be defeated again.”

Cronus was silent as he raised his arms high in the air. A second later, they were inside Lucien's room in Budapest. Lucien lay on the bed. She could see the rise and fall of his tattooed chest. He was naked, and his wounds were gone. His skin was healthy and tanned, and she could sense the demon nestled safely inside him.

Cronus stood beside the bed.

Without a word, Anya flashed to where her mother and father were in hiding, an island near Anya's Hawaiian home. Dysnomia was standing in front of the cage, frowning down at it.

“Sorry, Mom, but you don't need to watch it for me after all.”

Pretty Dysnomia gasped at the intrusion, her dark hair swaying at her shoulders. She smiled when she realized it was Anya. “Hello, darling.”

“I know what you're thinking. Two visits in one day when I swore to stay away from you to keep the Titans off your trail. But you're still safe, so don't worry, okay?” Anya kissed her soft cheek. “Tell Dad I said hi and that I'll visit again soon. Promise,” she said and, grasping the artifact, flashed back to Lucien.

Cronus stood exactly where she'd left him.

She placed the Cage of Compulsion against the far wall. Anya had to admit, she was surprised when Cronus merely raised an eyebrow rather than attempting to take it.

“I have kept my end of the bargain,” he told her.

Now she would keep hers. Suddenly nervous, Anya kissed the sleeping Lucien and flashed herself inside the cage. “I'm ready,” she said, gripping the bars.

The god blinked in surprise and confusion. “You want to be locked away? Without the All-Key, you will not be able to escape and anyone who steps inside this room will be able to command you to their will.”

“I know.” But this way, if she lost her memory of Lucien when the key left her body, she wouldn't be able to run from him, hurting them both because of the bond between them. He would have time to win her heart again. “I love him.”

Cronus stroked his beard in puzzlement. “Astounding. And unexpected from one such as you.”

She let the “one such as you” slide. Loving Lucien was the best thing she'd ever done, and she'd do
anything
for him. “Let's get this over with.” She gulped, pushed out a breath, then uttered the necessary words. “I, Anya, known across the ages as Anarchy, freely give Cronus, king of gods, the All-Key. I do this willingly and with no reservations.”

Humming with anticipation, Cronus reached inside her with a ghostly hand, just as she had seen Lucien do to the dead all those many times. Her chest burned…burned…. A sharp ache erupted as he pulled his hand back, and then a bright amber light was pulsing in his palm. Anya's knees gave out and she collapsed. Closing his eyes, Cronus placed that light over his heart.

His smile of satisfaction was the last thing Anya saw before her entire world went black.

 

“L
ET ME OUT
!”

Lucien had never felt so helpless. He simply didn't know what to do. Anya had been locked in the Cage of Compulsion for four days. Despite their bond, she had no idea who he was. She possessed only the memories of her time
before
accepting the key inside her body. Constantly she demanded he release her. But he didn't. He couldn't. She would leave; she might even try to kill him.

She'd threatened it often enough. And he could still sense her emotions, so he knew that she meant it. She, too, could still sense his emotions and asked him daily why he loved her. Always she asked with confusion, as if they were strangers and he should view her with revulsion. Certainly she seemed to view
him
with revulsion.

Like a chained, hungry animal, he paced the length of his bedroom. She'd given up the All-Key for him. He hated that she'd done so and wanted to spank her and hug her at the same time. She'd lost her memories, but at least she hadn't lost her strength. He liked to think it was because of their bond. She'd once given him strength and now he was returning the favor.

If only he could make her remember him.

“Let me out of here!” she shouted at him. “You have no right to keep me. How did you move me from Tartarus without my knowledge?”

He stopped and stared over at her, his chest tightening. He hated what she'd given up for him, yes, but more than that, he hated to see her suffering. “Anya. We are bonded. Why do you not remember me?”

“Bastard.” She reached through the bars and scratched his chest, drawing blood. “Come near me and feel pain. You got me? The captain was bigger than you and I killed him without blinking.”

He sank to the floor in front of the bars, the last few days playing through his mind. When he'd woken up in his bedroom, alive, once again merged with Death, he had been overjoyed. Then he had seen Anya sleeping in the cage.
Then
she'd woken up and looked at him as though he were a stranger. Cursing at him. Hating him.