The Darkest Whisper (10 page)

“You don't fear for your life?” she asked. “If I give in to the Harpy, you might not live to gloat about the Hunters I've slain. Even immortals can be killed
under the right conditions
.”

“It's a chance I'm willing to take. Like I told you, they killed my best friend, Baden, the keeper of Distrust. He was a great man, undeserving of the death they delivered.”

“What kind of death was that?” After what they'd done to her fellow captives, she could only imagine.

“They sent a female to seduce him, and in the middle of the act they ambushed him and cut off his head. But if you want a more recent reason, the Hunters blame me and my brethren for every disease contracted, every loved one's death, every lie uttered, every violent act committed. They have tortured humans I was stupid enough to care for and they will do anything to bury me. Anything. Destroy anyone or thing, all while calling
me
evil.”

“Oh,” was all she could think to say.

“Yeah. Oh. Still think you won't be able to help me?”

 

S
ABIN WAS UTTERLY RIVETED
by the lovely girl in front of him. All that strawberry hair tumbling down her arms, spilling into her lap. Those golden eyes flecked with shimmery silver and shining brightly. That rosy color burning in those round cheeks.

More than her appearance, he liked this newfound spirit. Despite his earlier grumblings to the contrary.
Strength was damn sexy. Especially strength that didn't come naturally. Though she was timid by nature, afraid of him, this house, even her own shadow, she was sitting calmly on his bed, questioning him, head high, refusing to back down. She was truly a remarkable creature.

If she's not the world's greatest actress, that is
. Doubt.

Sabin growled. Gwen wasn't an actress. She'd been imprisoned and tortured by Hunters; she wasn't helping them.
You're irritating me with your suspicions
.

Maybe I'm keeping you and your friends alive. Better to be on guard than dead. After all, Danika came here under the guise of rescue while she was, in fact, feeding the Hunters information
.

Sabin swallowed.

Let me at the Harpy! I'll break her and get the truth.

He pictured Reyes and Danika as they were now. Happy, in love. Proof that bad intentions could morph into good.
You'll zip it. That's what you'll do
. As for him…

He glanced at Gwen, knowing—beyond a doubt—that he wasn't destined to have a fairy-tale ending like Reyes. Watching a man cut himself, a woman could get over. Losing all sense of self-respect, she could not. Gwen was already too close to that point.

What else had shaped her into the girl she was? Or rather, woman. She was older than both Ashlyn and Danika, after all.

He was curious about her, every little detail of her life. Family, friends, lovers. And she was curious about him, too, a discovery he liked more than he should have. Way more than he should have, actually. He'd wanted to answer all her questions, tell her everything, but knew the dangers of that. His self-directed irritation had made him snappier than usual. Snappier, but not any less aroused.

Just standing here, he felt desire heat him up from inside out. He wanted that hair tangled in his fingers, that lush body shivering beneath him, on top of him, her cries of bliss in his ears.

To stop himself from reaching out, he folded his arms over his chest, his shirt straining. Her gaze fell, locking on his left bicep. Damn. If she wanted him the way he wanted her, they were going to be in trouble. Lots and lots of pleasurable, oh, so wrong trouble.

Again his demon began pulling at its reins, desperate to get to her, to invade her mind and fill it with doubts. In fact, the whispers had already started:
You're not good enough, not pretty enough, not strong enough
. It took every ounce of his strength to keep them inside his own head. If they reached hers…

He knew how to battle the demon and quash the doubts; she didn't. She would crumble, just as the demon wanted.

Why couldn't she calm his torments as Ashlyn had for Maddox? Why couldn't she charm his dark side as Anya had for Lucien? Why couldn't she curb the cravings for evil as Danika had for Reyes? Instead, Gwen roused the beast inside him to a fever pitch.

“I honestly don't know if I can help you the way you want, but I do know I'm sorry for your loss,” she said, and there was genuine sorrow in her voice.

“Thank you.” How…sweet. He frowned. She needed to better protect her heart and her emotions. Hurting for him could do her no good. He paused. Now he was thinking like a boyfriend. Speaking of…“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Used to. Before.”

Before her captivity, he guessed. How had the relationship worked? Had the poor man had to watch his
every word and action so he wouldn't rouse her beast? “Do you miss him?” There'd been a trace of sadness in her tone.

“I did, yes.”

Okay, that…aggravated him. “Did he cheat on you? That why you asked all those silly questions?”

“Silly?” The pink tip of her tongue swiped angrily at her lips, and his cock jerked in response, imagining it elsewhere. On him. Say, midway down his body. “No, he didn't cheat on me.
He
was honest.”

For some reason, the comparison caused his aggravation to spike. “I'm honest. I told you before, I didn't lie about what I will and will not do. I can't.”

One of her brows arched. “What do you mean, you can't?”

“Not going there,” he gritted out. Gwen might need to further protect her heart, but he needed to better guard his words.

“Telling the truth about your willingness to cheat doesn't make you a better person than my human. Under no circumstances would Tyson have strayed. He loved me.”

Her human? Her human! “His name is Tyson? I hate to break it to you, but you dated a brand of chicken. And I wouldn't be so sure about his sense of honor. I bet he was nailing tail the moment your back was turned. And if he loved you so much, why didn't he try and find you?” Sabin inwardly cursed and pressed his lips together. The terrible words had not been his, but his demon's. Since he had the bastard on a tight leash, not allowing it to seep into her head, it had decided to escape another way.

Gwen blanched. “H-he probably tried.”

Guilt and shame overshadowed any lingering hints of
his annoyance. For all her bravado, she was still fragile. But really, this just proved his suspicions. A few measly doubts and she'd looked ready to crumble. He had to stay away from her.

Could he, though? He was drawn to her. He'd already arranged for her to sleep in his room. With him. Alone. Stupid! But it was the only way to guard her—from the others, from herself. And foolishly, he liked the thought of being near her. He enjoyed her. More than her beauty, she was witty—when she wasn't scared and silent, anyway—and endearingly sweet.

He had to wonder if all Harpies were as tempting and distracting as Gwen. Guess he'd find out, since he'd promised to bring her sisters here. A promise he hadn't wanted to make. At first. More Harpies meant more danger. More hassle. But then he'd realized that more Harpies also meant more weapons against the Hunters. Somehow, some way, he'd convince her sisters to help him destroy the men who had hurt their beloved sibling.

If
they love her
, Doubt said.
Did they even search for her when she was taken?

Damn. He hadn't thought of that. Gwen had been inside that cell for a year. They hadn't found her, hadn't saved her. Neither had that bastard Tyson.

His hands fisted at his sides. If the sisters didn't want to help him, fine. He had Gwen. He knew firsthand what she was capable of.

“Look, I'm sorry for what I said,” he forced out—apologizing sucked—and moved toward the door. “You want the room to yourself, fine. I can give you a few hours. Don't you dare leave this chamber, though. I'll have food sent up.”

She moaned in obvious pleasure, in want, but said, “Don't bother sending anything up. I won't eat it.”

He stopped, keeping his back to her. The more he looked at her, the quicker he softened toward her. “You're going to start eating, Gwen. Do you understand? I don't want you to think I'm like your captors, deliberately starving you.”

“I don't think that,” she said stubbornly. “But I won't eat. And you're just leaving me here, where the demons can get to me? Where are you going?”

“
I'm
a demon,” he said, ignoring her other question. He was getting good at that.

“I know.” Her voice was hesitant, barely audible.

His stomach clenched. She knew, but it didn't matter? More potent words had never been spoken. “I'll be close by if you need me. Just call. Actually, I have a better idea. I'll send Anya to sit with you. She and Lucien have had hours to…reunite. She'll keep you safe.” And trick Gwen into eating if necessary. If anyone could convince someone to do something they didn't want to do, it was the mischievous Anya. “Stay put.”

Only as he shut the door behind him, barricading Gwen inside lest she decide to risk bumping into one of his friends to explore, spy or even search for a phone to call the Hunters—
she's not working for them, damn it!
—did he realize he was about to knowingly pair a Harpy with the goddess of Anarchy. Great. He'd be lucky if his head was still attached in the morning.

S
ABIN STALKED THROUGH THE FORTRESS
, pained moans rising from the dungeons below and echoing off the walls. Someone was interrogating the prisoners. He should be down there, helping, but had to speak with Anya first.

Yes, he realized he was placing a woman before his duty, but this was a tiny thing, ensuring Gwen's comfort, and it shouldn't take too long. Never again, though, he assured himself. Next time there was some torturing to be done, he'd be the first one in line, Gwen be damned.

Still. Strangely, leaving Gwen felt…wrong. Part of him, a big part—fuck it, a very big part—thought he should be with her, easing her fears, assuring her that everything would be all right.

I can't assure a female of anything but misery
, he thought darkly. Especially a female he was desperate to kiss again.

That kiss on the plane had nearly slayed him. Nothing had ever been sweeter—or held the potential to be so amazingly explosive. But allowing himself to participate would have meant loosening his iron hold on Doubt, and had he done so, the demon would have drawn mental blood; it was the one outcome he didn't have to doubt. Already she'd been in a fragile state, frightened of who and what he was. Another kiss would be the epitome of stupid.

And why the hell had he made things worse, tainting her memories of her ex? How low was he, telling her there was no way the man she'd trusted had been faithful to her, no matter that his demon had driven him to say it? Worse, with every moment that passed, Doubt's determination to destroy what little confidence Gwen had strengthened. Maybe because Sabin had made her the forbidden fruit, constantly commanding the demon to stay away from her.

There was no help for that, though. If he stopped reining the demon in, Gwen's already shaky self-esteem would vanish. Her confidence would be obliterated. And he couldn't let that happen. He had to protect his weapon. Surely that was the only reason he cared about her state of mind.

He just had to figure out the best way to use her. Maybe he'd convince her to pretend to join the Hunters and cut them down from the inside. That certainly had possibilities.

Hunters had been trying such a strategy for thousands of years, Baden their greatest success. It was past time he used their own wiles against them.

Would he be able to convince Gwen to do it, though?

The question plagued him as he maneuvered through the fortress. Stained glass windows cast colorful prisms over the hallway and illuminated the dust dancing through the air.

Sabin hadn't lived here long, but even he could tell the new female residents had breathed life into the place. Their decorating had somehow chased away the gloom he'd noticed when he'd first arrived here. Ashlyn had selected the furniture. Sabin didn't know a lot about that sort of thing, but suspected they were expensive pieces, as they reminded him of the years he'd spent in Victorian England.

No longer was every piece a shade of red to hide the blood that Reyes spilled when forced to cut himself. Now there was an off-white lounge, a chair draped in pink velvet, a carousel horse, and a walnut-and-marble desk. There was even a nursery next door to Maddox and Ashlyn's room.

Anya had supplied the…extras. The bubblegum machine in the far corner, the stripper's pole he had to sidestep and the Ms. Pacman arcade at the side of the staircase.

Danika had painted the portraits lining the walls. Some were of angels, soaring through the heavens, some were of demons, skulking through hell, but each depicted a vision that she, as the All-Seeing Eye, had once had. Through those paintings, they were learning more about the spirits inside themselves, as well as the gods who now controlled them.

Of course, interspersed with the visions of heaven and hell were more “extras” from Anya. These happened to be portraits of naked men. To everyone's consternation, she'd managed to save them from the Hunters' bomb blast. Only once had Sabin attempted to take one down. The next day, he'd found a naked portrait of
himself
in its place. How the goddess had had it painted so quickly—and so accurately—he would never know. He would also never take down another of her pictures.

Sabin rounded a corner and stalked past the open doorway of the entertainment room, intending to take the second flight of stairs up to Lucien and Anya's bedroom. From the corner of his eye, he spotted someone tall and slender, and backtracked. He stopped in the entrance, Anya coming into focus. Dressed in an ultrashort leather dress and tall, spiked boots, she was as perfect as a
female could be. Not a single flaw to her. Except her warped sense of humor.

At the moment she was playing Guitar Hero with her friend William. Her head was bobbing to the erratic beat of music, tendrils of hair dancing all around her. William was immortal and had long ago been kicked out of the heavens just as the Lords had. While they had nearly destroyed the world with their misdeeds, his crime had simply been seducing the wrong woman. Or two. Or three thousand. Not unlike Paris, he'd bedded any woman who would have him, married or not. Even the god queen. King Zeus had found them together and, as William liked to say, “flipped out.”

Now his fate was bound to a book, a book Anya had stolen from him and liked to give back a handful of pages at a time. A book that supposedly predicted that a curse—one involving a woman—would befall him.

True to form, as he pounded on the drums, the warrior was eyeing Anya's ass like it was candy and he had a sweet tooth that had been long denied. “I could do this all day,” he said, eyebrows waggling.

“Pay attention to your notes,” Anya admonished. “You're missing them and dragging down the band.”

There was a pause, and then they both laughed.

“Don't praise him, Gilly! He didn't do
his best
. Only a girl with a cru—uh, never mind. Just—tell him how awful he is!” Anya twirled, fingers never slowing over the guitar.

Gilly was here? Sabin glanced around, but saw no sign of her. Then he noticed the earpieces both Anya and William sported and realized they were playing long-distance with Gilly.

Sabin leaned a shoulder against the door frame, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited impatiently until the end of the song. “Where's Lucien?”

Neither Anya nor William spun or gasped or acted as though they were surprised by his presence in any way.

“He's escorting souls,” Anya said, tossing her guitar on the couch. “Yes! I hit ninety-five percent. Gilly, you hit ninety-eight and poor William only hit fifty-six.” Pause. “What'd I tell you? No praising the man who harshed our mellow. Yeah, you too. Until next time, chica.” She removed her earpiece and threw it beside the guitar. Then she lifted a carton of cheese tots from the coffee table and started eating slowly, eyes closing in ecstasy.

Sabin's mouth watered. Cheese tots—his favorite. Somehow, she'd known he'd come here, seek her out; she meant to torture him, the tease. “Give me a bite,” he said.

“Get your own,” she replied.

William tossed his sticks in the air, caught them, then placed them atop the drum set. “Doesn't matter how many notes I miss, I still manage to make some beautiful music.”

“Ha! I totally carried you.” Anya downed the rest of the tots, her amused gaze on Sabin. She threw herself onto the couch, legs swinging over the side. “So, Sabie, I've been looking for you. Lucien tells me we have a Harpy in the house!” She clapped excitedly. “I adore Harpies. They're so wonderfully naughty.”

He didn't point out that she'd been playing games, not looking for him. “Wonderfully naughty? You didn't see her rip out the throat of a Hunter.”

“No, I didn't.” Her lips fell into a familiar pout. “I miss all the fun babysitting Willy.”

William rolled his eyes. “Thanks a lot,
Annie
. I stayed here, kept you company, helped you guard the females, and you wish you'd been off fighting. Gods, the blow you've just dealt me. I might even be tearing up.”

Anya reached over and patted his head. “Take a moment, collect yourself. Meanwhile, mommy is gonna chat with Doubtie poo. 'Kay?”

William's mouth quirked at one corner. “Does that make me the daddy?”

“Only if you want to die,” Sabin said.

A laugh booming from him, William trekked to the seventy-three inch HDTV and plopped into the plush recliner in front of it. Three seconds later, a flesh fest was in full swing, moans abounding. Once, Paris had loved those movies. But in the weeks before their jaunt to Egypt, only William had gone near them.

“Tell me everything about the Harpy,” Anya said, leaning toward Sabin, her face alight with interest. “I'm dying to know.”

“The Harpy has a name.” Was that…irritation in his voice? Surely not. What did he care if everyone referred to her as the Harpy? That's how
he
referred to her. “It's Gwendolyn. Or Gwen.”

“Gwendolyn, Gwendolyn. Gwen.” Anya tapped her chin with a long, sharp fingernail. “Sorry, not familiar.”

“Gold eyes, red hair. Well, strawberry-blond hair.”

Her bright blue gaze suddenly glittered. “Hmm. That's interesting.”

“What? The hair color?” Didn't he know it! He wanted to plow his fingers through it, fist it, spread it over his pillow, his thighs.

“No, that you called it strawberry-blond.” A tinkling laugh bubbled from her. “Does little Sabin have a crush?”

His teeth ground together in irritation as heat flooded his cheeks. A blush? A fucking blush?

“Aww. How precious. Look who fell in love while searching all those pyramids. What else do you know about her?”

“She has three sisters, but I don't know their names.” The words were raw, filled with violent warning. He was
not
in love.

“Well, find out,” she said, clearly exasperated that he hadn't done so already.

“Actually, I was hoping you'd find out. I need you to keep her company.”
Guard her
, a part of him wanted to beg.
Keep her safe
. Wait. Part of him wanted to beg? Seriously? “But William stays here. William does not go near her.”

Leather rubbed against denim as William turned in the chair. He practically glowed with intrigue. “Why can't I go near her? Is she pretty? I bet she's pretty.”

Sabin ignored him. It was either that or kill him, and killing him would upset Anya. Upsetting Anya was the equivalent of placing your head in a guillotine.

At times like this, Sabin found himself longing for the dull routine of battling and training that had comprised his life pre-Lords reunion. Then he had only five roomies and no annoying women—beyond Cameo, but she didn't count—or their horny friends to deal with. “Also, see if you can get her to eat,” he added. “She's been with me for several days and has only eaten a few Twinkies, but she threw them up immediately afterward.”

“First, I never said I'd babysit your woman. And second, of course she won't eat. She's a Harpy.” Anya's tone suggested he was a moron.

Maybe he was. “What are you talking about?”

“They only eat what they steal or earn. Duh. If you're offering her food, she
has
to turn it down. Otherwise she'll…drumroll please…throw up.”

He waved a hand in dismissal. “That's ridiculous.”

“No, that's their way of life.”

But that…surely it wasn't…hell. Who was he to say
something was impossible? For years Reyes had had to stab Maddox in the stomach at midnight and Lucien had had to escort the dead warrior's soul to hell—only to return it the next morning to a healed body and do it all over again the next night.

“Help her steal something, then. Please. Isn't petty theft your forte?” Later, he'd make sure food was lying around his room and easy to “pilfer.”

Suddenly a high-pitched cry of agony ripped through the walls, a sound that soothed Sabin's very soul. The Hunter interrogation had just reached a new level.
I should be there, helping
. Instead, he remained rooted in place, curious, desperate for answers. “What else should I know about her?”

Pensive, Anya stood, walked to the pool table and dug one of the balls out of a pocket. She tossed it into the air, caught it, tossed it again. “Let's see, let's see. Harpies can move so quickly the human eye—or immortal eye, as the case may be—can't register a single motion. They love to torture and punish.”

Both of those he'd already witnessed firsthand. The speed with which she'd killed the Hunter…the brutal way she'd attacked him…that had been all about torture and punishment. Yet every time Sabin mentioned attacking the other Hunters responsible for her treatment, she paled, a trembling mass of fear.

“Like any other race, Harpies can have special gifts. Some can predict when a specific person will die. Some can pull a soul from a body and carry it into the afterlife. Too bad more of 'em can't do that—it'd make my honey's job so much easier. Some can time travel.”