The Darkest Secret (27 page)

WIN!

Guns were dropped and knives grabbed. This close together, bullets were simply too risky. Strider slashed. Someone screamed. He slashed again. Someone else screamed. A blade slicked through his wrist, but he maintained his grip and ducked, punching, tip extended.
Contact
. He hit all the way to the spine.

On and on the lethal dance continued. He was bleeding profusely but still energized. He was winning. He even managed to toss someone into the fire. Screams, grunts, groans and whimpering abounded. But by the time the last Hunter fell, Strider was losing strength fast.

He was also grinning.

He had done it. He had won.

“Who's your daddy, bitches?”

Defeat chortled inside his head, jumping up and down, glorying in the victory. Heat filled his veins, pumped him up. In a little bit, he would feel the sting of every slice, the rest of his energy gone, but for now, he felt invincible.

“Strider?” Kaia stepped into his line of sight. Firelight licked at her, illuminating her beautiful skin. The makeup she always wore must have sweated off, because she glimmered with every color of the rainbow.

In seconds, his cock was painfully hard.
It's just the
sexual high,
he told himself.
You don't want her. Not really.
Gods, her skin…his mouth watered for a taste.

Concentrate, he had to concentrate. He hadn't seen her fight, but he had heard the results. Now her hair was in tangles, and blood was splattered over her cheeks and arms. “Well?” he demanded. “How'd you do?”

Frowning at his waspish tone, she gestured behind her. He wanted to curse when he spied the pile of men she'd defeated. He didn't have to count to know she'd won their challenge. His stomach tightened with dread as he waited for his knees to buckle and acid to fill his veins, destroying the pleasure.

One minute passed, then another. Nothing happened.

“I didn't kill any of mine,” she said, buffing her claws. “I just knocked them out. So feel free to do the honors yourself.”

Wait. What? She'd
let
him win? Surely not. That was as un-Harpylike as, shit, baking an apple pie with ingredients she'd purchased—with money she'd actually earned. “Kaia—”

“No, don't say anything. The main guy, the one who wants you a lot more dead than even these guys did, isn't here. I checked. I told you he was wily, so there's no telling where he is or what he's doing.”

“Kaia,” he repeated, trying again. What he would say, though, he didn't know.

She spun away from him, as if she couldn't bear to look at him a second more. “I'll leave you to it, then. Goodbye, Strider.”

Before he could say another word, she was gone, the tiny wings on her back giving her a speed he could never hope to match.

He stood there for the longest while, peering down at
the mound of unconscious men she'd left for him. He'd won, she had made sure of that, yet in that moment, he'd never felt more like a loser, and he didn't know why.

H
AIDEE KNEW SHE WAS DREAMING
. How else would she be seeing flashes of Amun's life? How else would she hear what he was thinking? Currently, she saw him pacing through a sunlit bedroom she didn't recognize, his hands alternating between scrubbing over his eyes and pressing into his ears as he fought to subdue the many voices chattering inside his head. Voices that whispered one human memory after another.

He could deal with them, he knew, but his friends could not. They had enough to agonize over and didn't need to know the vile things people thought about them, the atrocities committed every day in the homes around them.

He shouldn't have patrolled the city for Hunters tonight. Strider and Gideon could have handled the duty, no problem, despite their recent injuries. They'd offered; he'd turned them down, already sensing trouble on the outside and wanting to keep them safe.

Thankfully, he'd only found three enemy soldiers, and killing them hadn't been a hardship.

The Hunters hadn't planned to engage. Amun's demon had sensed that right away. The men had wanted their female, their Bait, on the inside first. They thought she had succeeded, but they were waiting for confirmation. The moment he'd realized that, Amun knew he'd have to wipe one of the Hunter's minds to find out who “she” was and when and where she would contact them. He'd have to absorb memories, perhaps even memories of mutilating his
own friends. 'Cause yeah, he'd see through Hunter eyes, as if
he
was a Hunter.

“Amun, man,” someone called from outside his room. It was Sabin. “Chow time.”

He walked to the door and knocked, signaling he'd heard. Just as soon as he cleared his head, he'd join them. The memories were still unfolding, even though he'd already uncovered the information he'd wanted. The “she” belonged to Kane, keeper of Disaster.

The warrior rarely dated, too afraid of hurting those around him, but the human female had captured his interest. He'd have to be told. Amun would have to be the one to tell him.

Amun was always the one to break the bad news.

First, there would be denials. Then rage. Then sorrowful acceptance. But damn it, they shouldn't have to live like this! They shouldn't have to suspect everyone they encountered of using them.

For a moment, Amun's image faded from Haidee's mind and his thoughts quieted. She was shrouded in darkness and thought she might be lying down. What was that tickling her belly? she wondered.

Before she could discover the answer, those images of Amun returned, shifted. Now he was whaling on a human male, knuckles drilling into bone. The human was average height, on the thin side, and begging for mercy Amun refused to show.

Haidee didn't have to wonder why. Like Amun, she somehow knew what this man had been doing to his little girl. And when Amun was done, when the man was dead, he used his demon to find the little girl a safe, loving home.

Images, fading again. Voices, quieting again. Seriously. What was tickling her belly? Whatever it was brushed whisper-soft heat over her sensitized skin. But again,
before she could reason out what was happening to her, the images in her head returned, shifted and claimed her full attention.

This time she saw a shirtless, cut-up and bleeding Amun playing basketball with his friends. He was grinning, laughing silently and slapping each of his buddies on their backs between cheap shots.

The boys shouted good-natured insults at him. Insults he could only return with the lifting of a single finger. No one stuck to any rules, so there was lots of tripping, elbowing and even punching, and Amun loved it. No one could beat him because he knew every move everyone planned to make before they actually made it. Only, any time Strider went for the ball, Amun let him have it, even slowing his steps and pretending to stumble.

His past was as varied as hers, Haidee mused. But while she had always been a Hunter, driven by hate, he was so much more than a Lord of the Underworld. Which should not have been possible. A demon should be a demon. Evil, ruined. Amun cared, though. He uplifted.

He shouldered such a heavy burden. A burden he shared with no one because he would rather suffer forever than cause one of his friends to suffer a single moment more. That was love, not evil.

Love.

The word echoed through her mind. Maybe because she felt utterly connected to Amun just then, she couldn't keep secrets, even from herself. She loved him, she realized. There was no denying it now, no questioning it. For all that he was, all that he'd been and all that he would be, she loved him. He was a warrior to his very soul, would always fight for what he believed in, would never buckle under pressure. When he cared, he cared deeply, intensely, and nothing and no one could shake that affection from him. Oh, yes. She loved him.

How did he feel about her?

She wanted him to care for her. Desperately. Because if they were going to be together, and she prayed that they were, his friends would be angry. Actually, “angry” was too mild a word. She doubted there was a word to accurately express the rage they would unleash upon him. But if he loved her in return, he could bear it.

How could she ask him to bear it? Even if he did, in fact, love her?

How could she ask him to carry yet another burden?

God, what a mess. If they were together, her friends—no, that wasn't the right word. They'd never truly been her friends. Her
coworkers
would fume at her, too. They wouldn't understand how she could adore a demon. They would attack Amun; they would punish her. And she knew that was exactly why Amun had pushed her away. He didn't want her to suffer. Didn't want her to have to “bear it,” either.

That bespoke caring, right?

What he didn't know, however, and what she had to somehow show him, was that nothing would cause her more suffering than trying to live without him. For him, she could bear anything.

Perhaps he would one day feel the same for her. If he did, losing their friends wouldn't be something to bear because they would have each other, could rely on each other, comfort each other…cling to each other.

They had shared each other's blood all those centuries ago, creating a bond far more powerful than the hatred always simmering inside her. They belonged together; she knew it. She'd have to show him that, too.

Yes, she had loathed his kind for centuries. Yes, she had hurt him, and yes, he had hurt her. But that was in the past. Now, she only wanted to look ahead.

Look ahead. Again, the words echoed through her mind,
and she was forced to face a hard truth. She couldn't ask Amun to give up his friends. She couldn't allow him to cut those friends from his life, whether he could bear the loss of them or not, whether he would cling to her or not. How could she expect such a thing? Those warriors had helped shape Amun into the wonderful man he was. He needed them, and they needed him.

If Amun would just give her a chance, she would do everything in her power to smooth things over. After a time, if his friends still couldn't accept her, no matter what she did, she would leave.

So many ifs…so many possibilities.

Leaving would kill her, but for Amun, for his happiness, she would do it. All she needed was that chance.

Haidee. Wake up for me, sweetheart.

Amun's deep voice reverberated inside her head, much louder than in her dreams, jolting her into awareness. She blinked open her eyes. Several seconds passed before she was able to orient herself, and when she did, she took stock. Muted light filled the cave. In the distance, she heard the
drip, drip
of water. She was sprawled flat on her back, practically…sweating?

Haidee, sweetheart. Can you hear me?

Amun again. “Yes,” she drawled. She stretched her arms over her head, back arching. The ground beneath her was soft, as if she rested on pillows.

Finally. Now look at me.

“Where are you?” Something tickled her belly again, causing goose bumps to sprout in every direction. Her gaze descended, and what she found left her gaping. A shirtless Amun was on his knees in front of her, her spread legs braced on his thighs. He wore pants. She wore panties. Only panties.

Both of his hands rested on her stomach, his fingers tracing designs around her navel, on her hips, just above
the tiny patch of curls guarding her where she already ached.

“You have hands,” was the first thing she thought to say. She'd been so afraid, so uncertain.

His lips quirked at the corners, revealing an amusement he rarely displayed.
Yes. I have my hands. I'm glad you noticed.

She'd stuffed his injured arms into the backpack, eased him to his back when he had passed out, and then she'd paced, checked on him, prayed, bathed, checked on him, prayed some more, cursed, checked on him and finally fallen asleep beside him. At last check, he had still been handless.

“How?”

The backpack, as you thought. Just took a while for everything to regrow. Now, enough about that. Do you remember when you woke me up with your mouth on my cock?

She gulped, licked her lips. “Yes.”

His eyes darkened and he flattened his palms on his thighs, as if he didn't trust himself to keep them on her. His gaze drifted to her core, and a ragged breath left him.
Good. You can't dispute that it's my turn to wake you up properly.

Meaning it was his turn to taste her…oh, yes, please, yes. Yet he didn't lower his head. Didn't make any other moves toward her, and every nerve ending she possessed went on alert, readying for his touch.
Craving
his touch.

“Amun,” she pleaded.

A muscle ticked in his jaw.
First
, he said, reaching back,
you're going to call Micah.

Wait. What?

He lifted a small black cell phone.
I asked the pack for a phone that would reach the outside world.

“But—it's okay.” She shook her head. “I don't have to…not anymore, because I—”

You wanted to call him, and so you will.
He held out the phone, forcing her to accept it.

She stared at the device for a long while, unsure whether Amun was trusting her or testing her. If she made the call, would she hurt him? Make him think she wouldn't take him anytime, anywhere, without his meeting certain conditions?

As soon as you're done, I'll start.
The sensuality in his tone left no doubt as to what he meant.
Just know that by doing this, you're giving up your friends. You'll never be able to return to them. They'll despise you.

Was he…giving her a chance? The very chance she'd wanted? “I know,” she replied softly.

They might even hunt you.

“I know that, too.”

And you don't mind?

“No. I'll have you.”

Oh, yes, you'll have me.
His expression became fierce.
I thought I could let myself have you for a little while, but I know now that a little while isn't going to be enough. I'm going to find a way back, and I'm going to keep you. Now, always.

He wanted her now…always; she almost couldn't process the news. Amun, with her, forever. He hadn't offered any words of love, and she wasn't going to ask for them. That could come later. For now, this was enough.

So what are you waiting for? Make the call.

Maybe he was trusting her as she hoped, maybe he was testing her as part of her feared, but in the end, anticipation decided her. She dialed, shocked when the sound of ringing filled her ear. She wanted this over and done with, Micah out of the picture completely.

Her former boyfriend answered on the second ring, a snarled, “What?”

“Micah?” she asked hesitantly. Her gaze locked on Amun, gauging his every reaction. He wasn't looking at her, was looking just beyond her, his expression now a blank mask.

“Haidee?” Micah sounded baffled, relieved and overjoyed—and still angry—all at once. “Where are you? Tell me. Now.” With every word, his emotions were overtaken by determination.

She experienced a pang of guilt. “Yes. I'm alive. But no, I won't tell you where I am. I—”

“Are the bastards monitoring this call?”

“No.” Not really. “Listen, I—”

“Tell me where you are, then, and I'll come and get you.”

“No. That's not why I'm calling. I just wanted you to know—”

“I thought you were dead,” he interjected, once more cutting her off. Now he sounded accusing. “I mourned you. I tried to track you, tried to save you. Tell me, damn it. Tell me where you are.”

“No. I'm alive, and that's all you need to know.” Except… “I really need you to listen to me. I—”

“Who's that?” a female voice murmured sleepily from Micah's end of the line.

There was a beat of static, then a shuffle of footsteps as if he was pounding away from the intruder. In that moment, Haidee knew that he was sleeping with someone. Might have been sleeping with someone else even while they were dating. She couldn't bring herself to care.

Had he ever wanted her, though? With her, he'd been content to keep things mostly hands-off. She hadn't wondered why because she'd been happy with the status quo. But if he hadn't wanted her, why had he stayed with her?

“If you're alive, that means you're helping them.” She didn't have to ask who “them” was. And he didn't even address the fact that a woman had spoken. “Otherwise, they would have killed you by now.”

“Yes,” was all she said on the subject. Let him take that answer however he chose. “I just wanted to call and tell you that we're over. I don't want to date you anymore.”

Amun, she noticed, had tensed, his fingers digging into his thighs and probably leaving bruises. He had no idea what Micah was saying, no idea why she'd said yes to the man. Yet he wasn't interfering.