The Darkest Surrender (22 page)

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, S
TRIDER’S
ears were bleeding and his mind was echoing the lyrics from Naughty By Nature’s “O.P.P.” Didn’t help that Kaia and Bianka were
still
singing. Badly. So damn badly. Not that he’d ever admit that last part aloud. Kaia looked so happy squawking her heart out and he didn’t want to taint an activity that gave her enjoyment. But seriously. He was willing to bet a cat being skinned had better pitch. And yeah, he’d put good money on that bet, not to mention his body and his demon.

Once the girls had started, they hadn’t stopped. Tragically, though hours had passed, neither of them had developed laryngitis.

Besides the humans, who had all taken off at closing, the lucky bastards, no one had dared leave the bar. Not the Lords, the Skyhawks, the angels, nor the Eagleshields.

To the Harpies, this was another type of contest, plain and simple. Who could outlast the other? For once, Strider was willing to lose. He would have left, writhed in (grateful) pain for a few days, but damn it all to hell, he had to protect his little Harpy.

A few times, one of the Eagleshields attempted to head up onstage, take over and put everyone out of their misery. Strider jumped up, ready for action, but Lysander and Zacharel, who still couldn’t be seen by anyone but Strider and Sabin, immediately formed an impenetrable wall of muscle no one was able to pass.

And the Harpies had tried, hitting, kicking and clawing, until finally giving up in frustration. Of course, Kaia and Bianka were blamed, and he’d heard murmurs of wonderment. What type of strange powers did the twins wield?

Good. Let them wonder.

Knowing the angels had Kaia’s back allowed Strider to switch his focus to Juliette and her boy toy Lazarus, who kept their focus centered on Kaia. He didn’t like that. Didn’t like that
at all.
And he wasn’t going to stand for it.

Just behave,
he told Defeat,
and we’ll be fine. I’ll handle this.

Despite the noise that had left the demon whimpering and begging for a one-way ticket back to hell, Pandora’s box,
anything
to escape, Defeat snorted.

So. No cooperation today. That wasn’t gonna stop him, however.

Before he could talk himself into waiting, planning, Strider closed the distance and kicked a chair over to Juliette’s table, the back slats pressing into its surface edge. He eased down backward and propped his elbows on the tabletop.

Immediately he felt the tension in the room escalate, thicken, and he didn’t need to look to know Amun and Sabin had just taken up posts behind him. They had his back, always.

Juliette finally deigned to study him, her soft lavender eyes sweeping over his face and body unhurriedly, languidly, lingering in places they shouldn’t. “Wish and I shall receive. I wanted you to approach me, and so you did. But I must admit, I expected you to do it sooner.”

If she’d truly wanted his attention, by fair means or foul, she would have tried harder to get it. She wouldn’t have waited for him to make a move. Well, if she’d had a pair of balls, she would have. Kaia went after what she
wanted, no hesitation. And that, he decided, was exactly how a woman should be. Determined, eager. Sexy.

This one craved revenge, though, her every move designed to help her achieve it. So his approach meant something, he just didn’t know what.

“Why?” he asked, genuinely curious.

She was momentarily taken aback, as if she’d expected him to wax poetic about her beauty, beg for lenience for Kaia, or even grab her up and screw her brainless right here on the table.

“I have something you crave, do I not?”

“Like?”

“The Paring Rod. Yes,” she added at his start of surprise. “I know all about you Lords and your quest for Pandora’s box. I know you need four artifacts to find it, and the Rod is one. Why else do you think I offered it?”

Rather than answer, he asked a question of his own. “How’d you get it?”

A smile bloomed, smug and patronizing. “I never share my secrets.”

Oh, really. He glanced back at Amun. The big, dark warrior was frowning, his features tense. When he caught Strider’s gaze, he gave an abrupt shake of his head. Huh. Could he not read her mind?

That was rare.

For that matter, why hadn’t Sabin used Doubt against her? Or had he tried and, like Amun, failed?

Strider returned his attention to Juliette, keeping Lazarus in his peripheral vision. The fucker hadn’t spared Strider a glance, was still watching Kaia. “Well, to backtrack a bit,
the winner
will have something I want,” he lied. He
would
get his hands on the artifact before that final game. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe otherwise.

“Same thing,” she said with a shrug. “Because, either way, Kaia will win nothing.”

Defeat growled.

Good boy.

Gideon had recently told Strider that it was possible for the demons to escape their bodies and enter others—not permanently and not for long, but just long enough to destroy the person’s mind. Strider would love for Defeat to ravage Juliette, to convince her of her weakness, that she could never hope to win
anything.

They’d have to try it. Later.
Always later.
He dared not risk messing with the unknown now.

“When Kaia loses,” Juliette went on, “I’ll expect you to come to me. And maybe, after you beg, I’ll allow you to please me. And maybe, after you please me, if you can, I’ll let you use my Rod.”

Use my Rod. “That’s what he said,” Strider snickered.

She blinked at him. “That’s what who said?” When he offered no response, she demanded, “What did he say?”

Kaia would have understood the joke. Probably Kaia would have pretended a beer bottle was the Rod and jacked it off while laughing. Gods, he dug her sense of humor.

“Well?” Juliette prompted.

“Nothing,” he said on a sigh. One thing he knew. No matter what happened, he would beg this female for nothing. Were he to seduce her, even to distract her, Kaia would be hurt. Feel rejected all over again. Which was exactly what this vengeful female desired, and that was not a game he would play.

“Well, I don’t care who he is or what he said.” She tossed her hair over one shoulder. “I’m far more beautiful than that redheaded harlot and you
will
beg for me.”

Anger? No, that was too mild a word for the emotion suddenly sizzling inside his chest. Even Defeat snarled. “Actually, you’re not. There’s
no one
more beautiful than Kaia. And by the way, she’s not a harlot. She’s mine. And
no, I won’t be begging you for anything but your departure.”

Her nostrils flared at the insult. “Is that so? Well, let me ask you a question, Strider, keeper of the demon of Defeat. You are one of the fabled Lords of the Underworld and I have researched you meticulously. You prize victory above all things. So why would you of all warriors choose to be the consort of Kaia the Disappointment?”

That. Was. It. His wee Harpy was getting a new name, pronto. “Kaia is many things to me, but a disappointment isn’t one of them. But riddle me this.”
You coldhearted bitch.
“Did your consort
choose
to be with you?” He motioned to the tattooed chains with a tilt of his chin. “’Cause I’m betting he’d shave your head from your neck without a second’s hesitation.”

At last Lazarus attended to those at his table. “You are correct,” he said, and a minute amount of Strider’s hate dulled.
Minute
being the key word. Strider would still, gladly, shove a dagger through the guy’s heart.

“You just shut your mouth,” Juliette snapped at her consort.

Though glaring, his expression one of molten rage, Lazarus obeyed.

Juliette’s narrowed eyes remained on Strider. “He’s honored to be with me, I tell you.”

Really? “Defensive much?”

Already sharp nails lengthened into claws and black bled into her eyes. Oh, goody. Her Harpy was about to come out and play.

Strider struck while he still could. “Well,
I
really am honored to be with Kaia, and if you try another stunt like you did at the first game, siccing everyone on her at the same time, I will take it as a personal challenge. In your research, did you discover what happens to those who challenge me?”

More black, the whites of her eyes nearly completely gone. Until Lazarus reached over and patted her hand. That was it. A single pat. The black gradually receded and her nails retracted.

Strider had watched Sabin calm Gwen multiple times, but for the first time he was floored by the power a consort truly had over his Harpy. Floored by how much a Harpy
needed
that consort.

But Lazarus was clearly a slave, here by force. So why had he calmed the very woman who had enslaved him? Shouldn’t he revel in her upset? And furthermore,
how
had Juliette captured him? Not once, but twice? The man had once cut his way through a Harpy village and come out the winner. Hell, he was the son of Typhon and a Gorgon, which meant he had powers beyond imagining.

Had he
allowed
her to capture him? That seemed like the only explanation that made sense. But why would he have done such a thing?

So many questions and none of them could be answered. Strider made a mental note to call Torin and ask the keeper of Disease to work some computer magic, see what he could dig up. Beyond a doubt, something was going on here.

“You can’t do anything to me, warrior.” In control of herself once more, Juliette smiled that smug smile. “Not without casting blame on Kaia. Everyone will see her as the weak loser she really is.” A dramatic pause before she continued in a singsong voice, “Again.”

Exactly what Kaia had once told him. He had believed her, but had discarded the importance of her feelings in light of his own goals. He still did—life and death trumped bruised emotions every time. But now, he was
pissed.

Win,
Defeat said on a low snarl.

Strider knew what his demon wanted.
My pleasure.
Before the games ended, Strider was going to “do anything”
to Juliette, without having blame cast on Kaia. Challenge issued, challenge accepted.

That was the very reason he’d needed to stay away from the woman, but he wasn’t sorry he’d approached. He was glad. The bitch would pay for everything she’d said today, as well as everything she’d done in the past.

“We’ll see,” he said with a grin of his own. His list of accepted challenges was adding up. Protecting Kaia from other Harpies—a challenge he’d nearly lost, would have lost, if she hadn’t recovered from her injuries. Because she had,
because of his blood,
he was still in the running. Acquiring the Paring Rod—a work in progress. And now this, destroying Juliette.

“Yes, we will see,” Juliette replied. “Oh, and warrior. You should know something. If the Rod is stolen from me, or if I’m injured before the games end, Kaia will be killed. My clan is
very
eager to act.”

Trying to tie his hands, and damn, she was doing a good job. How could he keep Kaia safe from an entire Harpy army? A cold sweat broke out over his skin at the thought.

The singing stopped, at last.

Absolute silence suddenly reigned, as if everyone was too afraid to even breathe for fear the noise would jump-start another tune. But, no. Footsteps echoed, and then Kaia was tugging a chair to the table.

“Strider,” she said tightly.

“Baby doll,” he replied, hoping his fear was masked.

“Thank the gods,” Juliette said, amusement never wavering. “Your singing was terrible. My eardrums needed a break.”

Strider cupped Kaia’s nape and massaged.
Steady.
“I thought she sounded lovely.”

Kaia’s chin lifted. “Thank you.”

“Seriously, baby doll. I could listen to you for hours more.”
But please don’t make me.

Defeat might have whimpered.

“That’s because you’re a man of good taste.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

The imprint her mouth left behind burned deliciously and he barely restrained the urge to reach up and stroke the mark. When she began to pull away, he tightened his grip on her and held her in place. He liked having her nearby. Especially now, with Juliette’s threat ringing in his already suffering ears.

Kaia watched him for a moment, confusion curtaining her delicate features. Then she schooled her expression to reveal only bored expectancy and turned back to her nemeses. He was happy to note Juliette had watched the tender exchange, fury building in her lavender eyes.

“I second the motion. Listening to that was pure pleasure,” Lazarus said, speaking up for only the second time. Before, his voice had been deep, almost unremarkable. Now it was hypnotic. Sexual. “Kaia the…Strongest, isn’t it?”

Strider gripped the hilt of the dagger sheathed at his side. Bye-bye, minute dulling. Hello, renewed, even more powerful hate.
Talk to her like that again. I dare you.

Juliette laughed. “Is that what she called herself? The
Strongest?
”

Twin spots of pink painted Kaia’s cheeks. “And you’re Lazarus the Tampon, aren’t you?” Juliette sputtered.

Lazarus merely blinked. “I had heard that is how you and your sisters speak of me, and for so very long I have wanted to ask why you refer to me as a woman’s hygiene product. Because I made you bleed?”

Now Kaia was the one to sputter. “Just…you…learn to take an insult the right way, damn it!”

He inclined his head in agreement. “I will endeavor to please you, of course.”

Strider and Juliette experienced the same reaction to the bastard’s words. Irritation. As evidenced by the fact that they both jumped to their feet. Her chair skidded out behind her. His remained between his legs. Amun and Sabin drew closer to him. Kaia—still perched in her chair—shoved them backward, clearly intent on being Strider’s shield. And sword.

Lazarus rose, too. “So. This is go time, as the humans say?” No concern had entered his tone.

“This—” Juliette began harshly.