The Darkest Night (12 page)

When Ashlyn finished, he settled her back on the mattress and once more cleaned her face. Then he turned his gaze to the ceiling. “I am sorry for the way I spoke of you,” he whispered to the heavens. “But please do not harm her for my sins.”

Peering back down at her, he felt as if an eternity had passed since he’d first met her, as if he’d known her forever and she had always been a part of his life. A life that would collapse into nothingness if she were taken from him. How was that possible? Only an hour before, he had convinced himself that he might be able to slay her. Now…

“Let her live,” he found himself adding, “and I’ll do anything you want.”

Anything?
a quiet voice asked, relish in the undertones. Not the voice of Violence, he realized, or any voice he had heard before.

Maddox blinked, stilled. A moment passed before his shock settled into mere confusion. “Who’s there?”

Startled by his outburst, Ashlyn dragged her red-rimmed eyes to him. “I am,” she croaked.

“Pay no attention to me, beauty. Sleep,” he said softly.

Who do you think I am, warrior? Can you not guess who has the power to speak to you thus?

Another shocked moment passed before the answer took root. Could it be? A…Titan? He had sent pleas to the Greeks for years, and never had he been addressed within seconds. He’d never been addressed at all. And hadn’t the Titans called Aeron to the heavens like this, with only a voice?

Hope—and dread—unfurled inside him. If these Titans were benevolent, if they would help, Maddox thought
perhaps he
would
do anything. If they were malicious, however, and made things worse…His hands clenched.

They’d ordered Aeron to kill four innocent women; they could not be good. Damn this! How should he now interact with this being? Humbly? Or would that be seen as weakness?

Anything?
the voice insisted. There was a disembodied laugh.
Think carefully before you answer, and know that your woman could very well die.

Maddox glanced at Ashlyn’s trembling body, her pain-contorted features, and remembered the way she’d been. The way she’d looked at him with ecstasy and asked him to savor the silence with her. The way she’d stood in front of him and thanked him for food. The way she’d leapt to guard him from his own friends.

Until then—now—no one had needed him. That she did brought a heady rush and deepened his awareness of her.
I cannot let her suffer like this,
he thought.

He would have to take a chance on the Titans. Whatever they truly wanted from the warriors here, whatever their purpose, and whether or not they were indeed using the Hunters and Ashlyn to punish him for his lack of respect, he would take a chance.

He suppressed a curse, suspecting
he
was going to suffer as he’d never suffered before. But that didn’t change his answer. “Anything.”

R
EYES WAS PANTING AS
he raced toward Lucien’s room. He had lost a lot of blood these past few days. More so than usual. But then, the need for pain, that terrible, beautiful pain, had ridden him harder than ever lately.

He did not know why and could not stop it. He could no longer control it, really. The last few days, he had
stopped trying. What the spirit of Pain wanted, the spirit of Pain received. Now, with every day that passed, he lost a little more of his desire
to
control it. A part of him wanted to embrace it, to finally lose himself. To experience the numb nothingness every flicker of suffering brought.

That was not the way it had always been. For a time, he had learned to live with the demon, to coexist somewhat peacefully. Now…

He rounded a corner, mottled shards of light seeping through the side window and blurring his vision. He didn’t slow. He’d never seen Maddox so torn and frightened. So vulnerable. And over a human, a stranger. Bait. Reyes did not like it, but he counted Maddox as a friend and would help in whatever way he could.

He would help even though he desperately wanted things back to normal, where Maddox raged and died at night, then acted as if he hadn’t a care the next morning. Because when Maddox pretended that everything was all right, it was easier for Reyes to pretend, too.

Those thoughts skidded to a halt as Lucien came into view.

He was seated on the floor, knees bent and head resting in his upraised hands. His halo of dark hair was in spikes, as if he’d tangled his fingers through it too many times to count. He appeared dejected, pushed past his limits. Reyes swallowed a hard lump.

If the situation could rock the normally stoic Lucien…

The closer he came, the more the scent of roses thickened the air. Death always smelled like flowers, poor bastard. “Lucien,” he called.

Lucien gave no reaction.

“Lucien.”

Again, no response.

Reyes reached him, leaned down and cupped his shoulder, then gave a shake. Nothing. He crouched and waved a hand in front of the warrior’s eyes. Nothing. Lucien’s gaze was vacant, his mouth immobile. Understanding dawned. Rather than physically leaving the fortress as he usually did, flashing from one location to another in seconds, Lucien had left spiritually.

That was something he rarely did, because it left his body vulnerable to attack. Most likely he’d wanted something, even an unresponsive form, guarding his bedroom door while he was out collecting souls.

I’m on my own, then.
Only one thing left to try.

Standing, Reyes gripped the doorknob to his friend’s room, unlocked it and burst inside.

All four women were seated on the bed, heads bent together, whispering, but they lapsed into silence the moment they spotted him. Each of them paled. One of them gasped. The youngest, a pretty little blonde, stood to obviously shaky legs and assumed a warrior stance meant to block him from her family. She raised her chin, eyes daring him to approach.

His body hardened. His body hardened
every
time she was near him. Last night, he’d even smelled her. Sweet powder and thunderstorms. He’d spent hours sweating, panting and so aroused he’d considered fighting Maddox for Ashlyn, thinking it was she who had reduced him to such a state.

This woman was pleasure and heaven, a feast to his castigated senses. There were no scars on her, no signs of hard living. Only flawless, sun-kissed skin and bright green eyes. Only a full red mouth made for laughing—and kissing.

If she’d known a single moment of pain, it didn’t show. And that drew him. Even though he knew better. His relationships could only ever end badly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the little blond angel snapped, hands balling at her sides.

Planning to strike him? A laughable concept, that. She had no way of knowing he would enjoy it. That he would want more and more and more, until he was begging her to strike him again.
I would do the world a favor if I let the Hunters chop off my head.

Gods, he hated himself. Hated what he was and what he was forced to do. What he now craved.

“If you’ve come to rape us, you should know that we’ll fight you. We won’t be taken easily.” She raised her chin another notch and squared her shoulders.

Such courage from one so small amazed him, but he could not be sidetracked from his current task. “Do any of you know how to heal a human?”

She blinked at him, losing a little of her bravado. “Human?”

“A female. Like you.”

She blinked again. “Why?”

“Do you?” he insisted, not bothering to answer her. “We haven’t much time.”

“Why?” she repeated.

Reyes stalked toward her, savagery in every step. To her credit, she did not back down. The closer he came, the more her scent filled his nostrils, heady, alluring. Like the girl herself. Unexpectedly, his anger lessened. “Answer me, and I might let you live another day.”

“Danika. Answer him. Please.” The oldest of the women reached out a trembling, wrinkled hand and latched onto the girl’s arm, trying to tug her back to the bed, away from him.

Danika.
The name rolled through his mind. Rolled over his tongue, too, he realized, speaking it aloud before he
could stop himself. “Danika.” His cock jerked in response. “Pretty. I am called Reyes.”

The girl resisted the old woman, shaking off her hold. She continued to face Reyes. Her eyebrows and lashes were as pale as the hair on her head. She would be pale between her legs, he suspected.

He couldn’t help himself. Despite the need to hurry, he mentally stripped her. Curve after curve greeted him, a banquet to his starved gaze. Large breasts tipped by raspberry nipples. Soft, flat belly. Soft yet strong thighs.

Reyes no longer allowed himself to bed humans, choosing to take care of himself when the need arose. His passions were too dark, too painful for most women to endure. This one, with her softness and her aura of innocence, would be more hurt and disgusted than most. There was no doubt in his mind. Worse, the women he slept with became drunk on his demon, seeking and inflicting pain as intently as he did.

Even if all he wanted from Danika was a kiss, she would not be able to handle it.
He
might not be able to handle it. The thought of bruising her, of making her bleed, of ruining her, left a hollow ache inside his chest.

“I will ask one more time. Are any of you healers?” he barked, suddenly eager to escape Danika and her taunting innocence.

She blanched at his harshness, but still did not retreat. “If—if I
am
a healer, will you swear to spare my mother, sister and grandmother? They haven’t done anything wrong. We came to Budapest to get away, to say goodbye to my grandpa. We—”

He held up a hand and she fell silent. Hearing about her life was dangerous; already he wanted to wrap her in his arms and comfort her for a loss that had obviously shaken her. “Yes, I will spare your lives if you save her,” he lied.

If the Titans could be believed, Aeron would soon break, becoming crazed for blood and death. He would exist for no other purpose than killing these women. Giving them a little peace of mind during their final days was merciful, Reyes rationalized. Final days. He didn’t like the reminder.

Danika’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and she cast a determined glance at her family. Each woman was shaking her head no. Danika nodded.

Reyes frowned, not understanding the byplay between them. Did she, too, lie? Finally, Danika turned back to him. He forgot his confusion as their gazes locked. Or he simply didn’t care about the answer. Her angelic beauty was more enthralling than Pandora’s box, promising absolution it couldn’t possibly deliver. And yet, a part of him wished that it could. Just for a moment.

She closed her eyes, released a long, heavy breath and said, “Yes. I’m a healer.”

“Come with me, then.” He didn’t take Danika’s hand, too afraid of what would happen if he touched her.
Afraid of a mere human? Coward.
No, smart. If he did not know what she felt like, he could not miss the sensation when she was dead.

What if Lucien thought of a way to save her? What if—

“Come.” Refusing to waste any more time, Reyes pivoted and strode from the room, forcing Danika to follow. He locked the other women inside, then sprang into motion, trying to maintain a healthy distance between himself and the angel.

O
HMYGOD, OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD
,
Danika Ford chanted in her mind. Her heart was trying to fight its way out of her chest, banging on her ribs as if they were a door with frozen hinges.
Why did I do this? I’m not a healer.

She’d taken an anatomy class in college, yeah. She’d taken a CPR class in case Grandpa had a heart attack in front of her, sure. But she wasn’t a nurse or a doctor. She was just a struggling artist who’d thought a vacation would help heal the grief and sorrow brought on by her grandfather’s death.

What was she going to do if this hard, steely-eyed soldier—clearly that’s what he was, a soldier—wanted her to perform surgery of some sort? She wouldn’t do it, of course. She couldn’t put someone’s life in jeopardy like that. But anything else…maybe. Probably. She had to save her family. It was
their
lives in jeopardy now.

Ohmygod.
Trying to find a measure of tranquility, she studied her captor’s back as he paced in front of her. He had tanned skin and black-as-midnight eyes. He was tall with the widest shoulders she’d ever beheld. She’d seen him once before, and he hadn’t smiled then, either. There’d been pain in his eyes, then and now. There’d been fresh cuts on his arms, then and now.

Ohmygod, ohmygod.
She didn’t even think about running away from him. He’d only catch her, and then he’d be pissed. Maybe attack. And that was scarier than braving a haunted house at Halloween with chainsaws, coffins and all. Alone.

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.
She wanted to talk to him, to ask him what would be expected of her, but she couldn’t find her voice. There was a baseball-sized lump in her throat, preventing speech. She didn’t know why she’d been kidnapped, nearly didn’t care anymore. She just wanted to leave this drafty, creepy castle with its freaky, overly muscled owners and fly home to the safety of her apartment in New Mexico.

Suddenly stabbed by a sense of desolation and homesickness, she almost sobbed. Would this soldier keep his
word if she helped? She doubted it, but hope was a silly thing. She’d do her best, no matter what, and she’d pray for a miracle.

Too bad she couldn’t convince herself a miracle would happen.
You’ll probably get knifed by the big brute if anything goes wrong.

Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.
If she failed, there was no question in her mind that she and her family would die—very soon.

W
HEN
R
EYES STRODE INTO
Maddox’s bedroom with the angelic-looking blonde Aeron was supposed to kill in tow, Maddox almost wept with relief. Ashlyn had vomited over and over again, until there was nothing left in her stomach. And then she had vomited some more.

Afterward she’d fallen back onto the mattress and stopped breathing. Desperate, Maddox had hailed the Titan again, but the god had done nothing whatsoever. Once Maddox had agreed to repay him for any aid rendered, the all-powerful entity had abandoned him.

The Titan had raised his hopes and then dashed them completely. Maddox had wondered at the being’s intentions, and now he knew: utter cruelty, sadistic amusement.

Reyes stepped out of the way and the little blonde rushed forward.

“Help her,” Maddox commanded.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” she chanted. She paled as she knelt at the side of the bed. She was trembling, but gave Maddox an accusing glare. “What did you do to her?”

Guilt intensifying, Maddox tightened his hold on the fragile, sick,
dying
Ashlyn. He barely knew the woman, but he wanted her to live more than he wanted to avoid hell’s hottest flames. It was too sudden to feel this strongly, yes.
It was completely out of character, yes. That, too. He could ponder his foolishness later.

“She’s not breathing,” he rasped. “Make her breathe.”

The blonde’s attention returned to Ashlyn. “She needs a hospital. Someone call 911. Now! Wait, crap. Do you have emergency service here? Do you even have phones? If so, we need to call immediately!”

“No time,” Maddox snapped. “
You
must do something.”

“Just call. She’s—”

“Do something or die!” he roared.

“Oh God.” Absolute panic filled her eyes. “I need—I need to do CPR. Yes, that’s right. CPR. I can do it. I can,” she said, more to herself than anyone else. She jackknifed to a stand and leaned down, hovering directly over Ashlyn’s lifeless face. “Lay her flat and then get out of my way.”

Maddox did not even think of protesting. He rolled Ashlyn to her back and hopped onto the floor, crouching beside the bed. He refused to release her hand, however, retaining a tight clasp. The girl stood there for a moment, unmoving, panic still lighting her eyes.

“Danika,” Reyes said, a warning.

The girl—Danika—swallowed and flicked Reyes a nervous glance. The warrior’s dark eyebrows winged into his hair as he stared at her and asked, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Of—of course.” Rosy color seeped into her cheeks as she once again returned her attention to Ashlyn. Flattening her palms just below Ashlyn’s breasts, she pushed once, twice, and said shakily, “Don’t worry. I’ve practiced. A dummy is the same as a human, a dummy is the same as a human.” Then she meshed her parted lips over Ashlyn’s.

For the next several minutes, surely an eternity that was worse than the hours Maddox spent burning each night, she alternated between pumping on Ashlyn’s chest and blowing air into her mouth. He’d never felt so helpless. Time became an enemy more hated than ever.

Reyes waited by the door, still and silent. His arms were crossed over his chest. He wasn’t watching Ashlyn, but Danika, his expression shuttered. Maddox rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, his own breathing so labored he could hear every exhalation echoing in his mind.

Finally, blessedly, Ashlyn coughed and sputtered. Her entire body spasmed as she opened her mouth and struggled to suck life into her lungs. In—she gasped, choked. Out—she gagged.

Maddox gathered her to his chest in the next instant. She struggled against him. “Hold still, beauty. Hold still.”

Gradually her movements ceased. “Maddox,” she rasped, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“I’m here.” Her skin was still cold, still clammy. “I’ve got you.”

Danika remained at the side of the bed, wringing her hands. White teeth bit down on her bottom lip, drawing a bead of blood. “She
needs
a hospital. Doctors, medicine.”

“The journey from fortress to city would be too much for her.”

“Wh-what’s wrong with her? A virus? Oh God! I put my mouth on hers.”

“Wine,” Reyes answered. “She is sick from our wine.”

Her green eyes widened and she flicked Ashlyn a glance. “All this from a hangover? You should have told me. She needs water and coffee to dilute the alcohol.” She paused. “For what it’s worth, I hope—
think
she’ll
live, but you really should take her to a hospital and get her on an IV. She’s probably dehydrated.” Even as she spoke, shades of color trickled back into Ashlyn’s cheeks.

“Hurt,” Ashlyn whispered. Her hands clutched at Maddox’s back, drawing him closer. Perhaps she felt as he did, that they could not be close enough. He would have burrowed under her skin if possible.

“What else can you do for her?” Maddox demanded of Danika. “She is still in pain.”

“I—I—” Danika pursed her mouth and glanced away from him, her gaze locking on Reyes. The warrior looked suspicious. Her eyes widened, and she snapped her fingers again. “Tylenol! Motrin. Something like that. That always helped my hangovers.”

Maddox glanced to Reyes. “I’ve seen a commercial for such things, I think, but don’t know where to obtain them. Do you?”

“No. There’s never been a reason to pay attention to human medicines.” Reyes didn’t remove his eyes from the blonde; his voice sounded scratchy for some reason.

Paris would have known, but Paris was not here. “Where can we get this Tylenol?” Maddox asked the girl, urgency consuming him.

Danika’s brows puckered in an imitation of Reyes as she glanced between the two men. There was an odd gleam in her lovely green eyes, as if he and Reyes had been speaking a foreign language and she could not grasp the specifics. “I have some in my purse,” she finally said.

When she failed to elaborate, he gritted out, “Go fetch your purse, then.”

“Unless you free me, I can’t. It’s in my hotel room.
What—what kind of wine did she drink?” she asked with barely a pause.

“One you have never heard of,
healer,
” Reyes said softly.

He knew, Danika realized, suddenly petrified. What had given her away? Her panicked plea to call 911? Her nervousness? A shudder rocked her. Cold infused her blood. Then he stepped behind her, crowding her with his heat, his vibrant energy chasing away the chill. Her shudder became a shiver. She hastily moved away from him, afraid of her reaction to him.

“You
are
a healer, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice a mocking curse.

Oh, yes. He knew. She twisted the material of her pants and swallowed audibly. At least he didn’t rat her out—or slay her on the spot.

She gulped. “You can’t deny she’s breathing now. I did my part. You owe me.”

Reyes looked away from her, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of her another moment.

“Get Lucien,” Maddox said.

“Can’t. He is otherwise occupied.” Reyes stalked toward the open door. “I’ll be back,” he called over his shoulder. “Watch the blonde, Maddox. She’s wily.” With a jerk, he slammed the door shut behind him.

Like an idiot, Danika nearly ran after him. He scared her more than any of the others, but for some reason she’d rather be with him. There was something about him that affected her. Deeply. The pain in his eyes, maybe. The fine lines of stress etched in his face, perhaps. He called to her on a primitive level. A level that claimed he’d keep her safe, no matter what threats he uttered.

“If I have to chase you,” the one named Maddox said, “you will regret it. Understand?”

The blunt warning shoved the lingering heat from her skin. This man was completely terrifying. Every time he spoke, she heard a trace of brutality in his voice, as if it were infused in the undercurrents. As if he couldn’t wait to inflict maximum pain on anyone who even glanced in his direction. She’d noticed in the past few minutes that his face sometimes mutated, a skeletal mask falling over his features. His violet eyes had flickered to black, then neon red, then black again.

What kind of man—what kind of
human
—could look like that?

A quake traveled from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. As a child, she’d feared the boogeyman until her mother had told her the creature was a myth, a lie meant to keep children obedient. Danika thought perhaps she was staring at the boogeyman right now.

Only when he gazed at the woman on the bed did he appear normal.

“Understand?” he demanded again.

“Yes.” She punctuated the word with a cooperative nod.

“Good.” Promptly dismissing the girl from his thoughts, Maddox turned back to Ashlyn. Her trembling had escalated into wracking tremors. Her teeth chattered. Her eyes were open and a lone tear slid down her pale cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the healer.

“You’re welcome.”

“Feel better?” he asked softly.

“Still hurt,” she said. “Cold. But yes. Better.”

Willing his own heat into her body, he said, “I’m sorry.” He rarely uttered those words. In fact, the only apology he’d made in decades was the one he’d offered his friends this morning. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He couldn’t say it enough. “I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head, then moaned and lay still. “Accident.”

His mouth fell open in surprise and reverence. So far he’d caused this human nothing but pain, yet here she was, trying to absolve him. Astonishing. “You’re going to live. I swear it.” Whatever he had to do to keep his vow, he’d do it.

Ashlyn smiled faintly. “At least…silence.”

Silence. That wasn’t the first time she’d used that word. Nor was it the first time she’d said it with such awe. “I do not understand.”

Despite her weakened condition, she managed another of those frail, sweet smiles. “Makes two of us.”

Fireworks sparked in his bloodstream—that smile, so radiant, so lovely—warming him, arousing him, filling him with so much relief he was almost drunk with it. He opened his mouth to respond, not that he knew what to say, when Reyes sailed into the room, Aeron at his side. The other man’s short hair gleamed in the light.

Seeing them, Danika retreated to the wall, realized what she’d done and stepped forward again. She raised her chin again, reminding Maddox of Ashlyn in healthier moments.

He had assumed Reyes had left the fortress and traveled into the city for Danika’s purse, but Reyes’s hands were empty. Anger slithered through Maddox, provoking Violence as a child would a beast in a cage, running a stick over the bars.

A frown pulled at his lips. He’d hoped to see the last of the wretched demon today—at least until midnight arrived.

“Why are you still here? Go get that purse,” he commanded. Words he had never thought he’d say.

“I’ll take too long,” Reyes said, looking anywhere but at Danika. “Aeron is going to escort the female into town. He says he’s fine right now, that he has no desire to hurt her.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. I don’t want to leave without my family,” Danika rushed out on a panicked breath.

Aeron ignored her and pulled his shirt off over his head. “Let’s get this done.” He was tanned and muscled, a testament to his warrior’s soul. He sported so many tattoos it was hard to distinguish one from the other.

Maddox only recognized two: the black butterfly that flew along the waves of his ribs and the demon that stretched ugly wings over the contours of his neck. Just looking at him, anyone could tell he was a good man to have at your side and a bad one to have at your throat.

“Stop. There’s no reason to undress.” Danika shook her head violently. “Put your shirt back on. Right now, damn it!”

Grim determination emanated from Aeron as he approached her.

Danika locked her wild gaze on Reyes. “Don’t let him rape me. Please. Reyes, please.”

“He’s not going to touch you that way,” Reyes gnashed out. “You have my word.”

There was something very odd about him, Maddox noted. His black eyes were edged with scarlet, a color-match to the scarlet butterfly tattooed on Maddox’s back. Pain, it seemed, was working himself into a fit of violence. Over Danika?

The girl wasn’t pacified by his words, but Aeron continued his approach anyway. Danika scrambled from one side of the room to the other, strange noises emerging from her throat. Small, raspy pants, as desperate and feral as Reyes’s suddenly quickened breathing. Maddox felt certain that at any moment, Pain was going to leap at Wrath and attempt to claw it to death.

“Stop,” Ashlyn said.

Finally Aeron trapped the frantic woman in a corner.

She screamed as her arms and legs lashed out, trying to keep him at a distance. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me!”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Aeron said calmly.

She kneed the sensitive flesh between his legs. He gasped, hunched a little, but gave no other reaction.

“Fuck you,” she snarled, a wildcat that wouldn’t be tamed. “I won’t let you rape me. I’ll die first.”

“No rape. But if I must, I
will
knock you out. And you won’t like my methods, that I promise you.”

Far from subduing her, the threat merely enraged her further. She fought harder, slamming her elbow into Aeron’s stomach, kicking him in the groin a second time. Obviously growing weary of her struggles, Aeron raised his fist.

Ashlyn stiffened, moaned. “Stop this. I don’t need the pills. I don’t.”

“Do not hurt her,” Reyes growled.

Aeron didn’t strike. Yet. He ran his tongue over his teeth. “She made her choice.”

If he hit her and Ashlyn witnessed it, Maddox feared she would want to leave again, would once again insist he take her home. “Calm down,” he told Danika. “He only needs to accompany you into town.”

“Liar!” Snarling, she used her leg to boot Aeron in the stomach.

The warrior didn’t budge. Disgust fell over his features, and he tightened the fist he still held in midair. “I warned you.”

“Stop,” Ashlyn called hoarsely.

Maddox opened his mouth to utter his own command. He needn’t have bothered. Reyes beat him to it. One second Reyes was on the far side of the room, the next he was at Aeron’s side, gripping the man’s wrist. The two glared at each other for a long, silent moment.