She was just so different from Alana, who lied to anyone and everyone to get what she wanted, no matter who she hurt in the process. Fox told the truth, no matter how upsetting, and dealt with the consequences, hurting only herself. Alana expected to dominate her lovers. Despite her own strength, Fox had willingly surrendered to Bjorn, allowing him to set the pace. Alana often played victim, blaming others for her problems, all so unfair this and so unfair that. When she messed up, Fox admitted it, even to her own detriment, and he admired her for it. Bjorn would rather save a loyal villain than a disloyal hero. He would rather work with a truthful enemy than a deceptive ally.
He had no doubt the ferocious beauty would go to the mat for her man, putting her life in jeopardy to protect the one she loved, remaining loyal until the end. Alana only cared about herself.
Bjorn stiffened. Do I want to be Fox’s man…long-term?
“What thoughts tumble through your mind, hmm?” she asked, yanking him back to the present.
Only that you are everything I never knew I needed. Maybe, with Fox, he would experience true satisfaction.
She smiled slowly, the corners of her mouth curling up. Not with amusement, but wicked delight. “Look at you fighting yourself.”
He balled his hands into fists. Had he mentioned her perceptiveness?
“You won’t hurt me today if I refrain from attacking,” she continued. “I won’t go back to the dungeon willingly. So, how do we proceed from here? You gonna try to A, force me back in the dungeon, B, make out with me, or C, let me go? Make a decision. Just know that option A will get you battered, because I won’t go down without a fight…and I’ll probably behead you during my escape. I’ll give you three seconds to decide, then I make the decision myself. Three…two…”
Chapter Ten
“You chose option A? Seriously?” Fox shouted as Bjorn walked away from her cell. Somehow, the bastard managed to carry her to the dungeon without harming her.
“I have a meeting with the Sent Ones,” he called, never looking back. “I’ll return shortly, and we’ll finish what we started.”
“At least put a TV in here. And buy me an access pass to my favorite reality TV shows!”
Silence. She launched into a swift pace. Wearing a T-shirt, and only a T-shirt, she felt shockingly vulnerable. No, Bjorn and his mind-bending hotness made her shockingly vulnerable.
She should have killed him during their first meet-cute, but nooo, she let herself get captured, imprisoned, and whipped instead. Then she kissed him. Like a fool! Then, like a greater fool, she offered him three options to decide her fate, willingly ceding control to him.
Like the greatest fool of all, she’d pulled her punches during the ensuing grapple. Now, she occupied the same cell as before—with a few changes to the decor—Bjorn long gone. On his way out, he grumbled about needing to meet with the Sent Ones before he and Fox could finish what they’d started.
With a sigh, she settled atop the mattress. Yep, a mattress rather than a cot. He’d exchanged a dirty sheet for plush bedding. He’d also provided a small, round table piled high with an all-you-can-eat buffet of snacks and beverages. Chips, cookies, a carafe of wine, a block of cheese, fruit juice, candy bars, and bread.
Why be nice to her at all? And why the hell had she pulled her punches? At no point in the past had she ever hesitated to make a kill in order to self-preserve. Actually, she’d killed anyone who’d ever even uttered a threat. So why hesitate here and now, with him, with her appointed executioner? What made him so special?
Her hormones screamed, Hell-loo! He apologized for the whipping with words and action, and he isn’t even the one responsible. He’s a good guy, and one with a working moral compass. That is why he’s special. The fact that she’d never apologized for what she’d done to the ten…
I suck. And what had Bjorn meant, finish what they’d started? The fight about what to do with her, or the make-out session?
Shivers tumbled down her spine. I know which option has my vote. Focus up. How should she proceed from here?
She still didn’t want to harm Bjorn. But she did want…need another kiss. Bjorn had revved her engine, then left her aching. She yearned to have his big, strong hands back on her breasts, kneading. Longed for him to pinch her nipples. Craved his mouth on her—every inch. Would he take her hard and fast or tender and slow? What did he like in bed?
The demon stretched inside her mind, getting comfortable. What if this was his plan all along? Rev you up and leave you desperate for more, giving you false hope about a possible relationship. Just another form of punishment.
A lump grew in her throat. What if Distrust was…right?
Now, her stomach flip-flopped, suddenly queasy. She had a weapon available in her arsenal, something she hadn’t utilized yet. Not fully, anyway. That weapon? Bjorn’s attraction to her.
Whatever Bjorn’s intentions with the kiss and vow to leave her unharmed today, he wanted her. What if she made him fall in love with her? Anticipation sparked. Excitement, too. If she somehow won him over, he would prevent other Sent Ones from coming after her. Since they were the only species able to negate her portal-opening ability, stopping their attacks would be big. Huge!
How did they negate her portal-opening ability?
Distrust laughed, gleeful. You are so good at sex, you can make a two-pump chump fall in love with you? More laughter. Good luck with that. Guaranteed, he likes to ditch a bitch as soon as he nuts. And if you think you’ll get any pleasure out of the deal, you’re even stupider than I thought.
Unleashing our inner frat boy, demon? Go flame yourself.
If the fiend had called anyone but Bjorn a two-pump chump unconcerned about a “bitch’s” pleasure or emotional wellbeing, she would have agreed. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t believe such a thing of Bjorn. The male had too much honor…unlike the douchebags on her favorite reality shows.
The baby-fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she frowned. Next, the temperature dropped a couple thousand degrees, dark shadows spilling down the walls like ink on paper. Growing, spreading, covering more ground, getting closer and closer to Fox’s cell.
Her muscles went taut as realization struck. Alana had returned. Great! Just great. This should be fun.
A gust of smoke blew through the dungeon, only to part, revealing Alana. She strolled toward Fox, glaring. She wore another dress made of sheer scarves, displaying more skin than it concealed. She’d plaited her hair, then wound the multitude of braids into a crown. Rage iced her irises.
The woman had come for a reckoning, hadn’t she?
Fox comprehended there were two ways to play this. Prove Alana could not intimidate her, or pretend to be afraid, putting Alana at ease, thereby making her cocky enough to relax her guard.
“Who are you? What is your name?” the spouse demanded.
Afraid, Fox decided then. With the right incentive, she might be able to convince Alana to set her free…
Here goes nothing. Fox wrapped her arms around her middle and stepped back, as if she feared what Alana might do. “I—I’m Fox. No one.”
Alana must have craved a high, because she basically snorted Fox’s fear like a drug. “I felt Bjorn’s arousal and thought I’d do my wifely duty and put him out of his misery. I just left his bedroom. He wasn’t there. Want to guess what was? Your scent in his bed. If you’d like to live, you will tell me why.”
Fox balled her hands, fury rampaging through her. Put him out of his misery? Hardly. The bitch had planned to force Bjorn to sleep with her, no doubt about it.
Be scared, remember? Right. Schooling her features, she croaked, “I had been whipped…was dying. He put me in the bed to help me heal. I woke up and…I…I kissed him, but he pushed me away.” Truth. Would it push her over the edge?
Rage flared in Alana’s abyss-like eyes. “You dared to kiss my man? Bjorn the One True Dread is mine, and I do not share.”
If only Fox could cry on command. “It was a mistake. L-l
et me out of this cell, and he’ll never see me again. I promise!”
“I have a better idea.” A tendril of black smoke wafted from Alana’s nostrils. “I kill you, and he never sees you again.”
Fox recalled Bjorn’s warning about Alana. The woman could possess a body and drain it of energy.
Unable to open portals, Fox would be at a disadvantage once again. Plus, she’d never actually fought a Shadow, had only ever heard rumors about them. They were broken into two factions. The Lux—light—and the Sine Lumine—without light. The latter exhibited the worst traits of her three most-hated species: vampires, demons, and phantoms. Living dead who hungered for life? Check. Hive-minded and parasitic? Check. Able to become intangible and tangible, walking with spirits and the embodied? Checkmate. And Alana was their sovereign.
Fox shuddered. Doesn’t matter. I’m armed with my wits. I’ve got this. Sticking with her pretense, she rasped, “P-please, don’t hurt me. I don’t…I can’t…” Ugh. Am I overselling?
With a smug grin, Alana extended her arms at her sides. Dark shadows seeped from her pores, swiftly engulfing her in a cloud, attempting to bypass the cell’s bars, only to bounce back.
Alana cursed and tried to slip through the bars again. An-n-nd she failed again.
So. Only Sent Ones could enter the cells? Must, must, must find out how they negate our abilities.
On Alana’s third attempt, she ricocheted backward with more force, crying out in pain.
Do not smile. The corners of her mouth twitched. Seriously! Don’t you dare.
Ultimately, Alana gave up and stomped her foot like a child. “This isn’t over,” she grated.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” Fox repeated. “I’m just a poor nobody with—”
The woman vanished as quickly as she’d appeared, no sign of her remaining.
“—a lady boner for your demise,” she finished with a harder tone. No wonder Bjorn hated the woman. A one-minute conversation revealed a trash bag hidden beneath skin and smoke. Spoiled, selfish, without shame or guilt.
Killing Alana would be a privilege and a favor to Bjorn. Although, why hadn’t he killed Alana?
Whatever the reason, a four-part plan took shape in Fox’s head. Act charming to seduce Bjorn. Make him fall in love with me. Kill his wife. Get pardoned by the Sent Ones.
Despite the obstacles littering her path, Fox caught herself smiling with excitement. No part would be simple, or easy, but damn if they weren’t going to be fun.
* * * *
The door to Axel’s cloud was open.
Bjorn did his best to push Fox from his mind as he entered, Thane at his right side, Xerxes at his left. Like them, Axel was a former Warrior who’d received a promotion soon after a demon-possessed male set off a magical bomb in the heavens, killing most of the original seven as well as hundreds of others.
Axel reminded Bjorn of, well, him and his boys. Utterly untamed.
If you are so untamed, why are you playing it safe with Fox?
Not thinking of her. Not now.
He focused more surely on Axel. The male had black hair, electric-blue eyes, and a powerful build. He loved practical and impractical jokes with equal intensity, never took anything seriously, and enjoyed a new lover—or two—every night.
Unlike the other Elite, Axel wasn’t a full-blooded Sent One. No, not true. He might be. No one knew his parents. As a child, he had been found wandering around the heavens with a mind as blank as an unpainted canvas. He’d grown up to resemble another warrior Bjorn knew. William the Ever Randy, a powerful enforcer of mysterious origins, who was just as likely to stab a friend as an enemy.
No one knew William’s origins, either. Long ago, Hades had adopted him, making him a prince of darkness. One of only a dozen. There was no worse enemy to have.
If—when—Bjorn killed Fox, he would be declaring war with William, who allied with all Lords of the Underworld, including Galen, who allied with Fox. The Ever Randy had a No Harm, No Exceptions policy for his allies. A strike against any member of William’s crew equaled a strike against William himself, something Bjorn greatly admired. If anyone were to harm Thane and Xerxes, Bjorn would retaliate. No mercy.
Bjorn was only surprised William and Galen hadn’t teamed up to work together. Galen wanted his Fox back, and texted a new threat to Bjorn every day, claiming he would sneak into the Downfall and murder Bjorn in his sleep.
He balled his hands into hard fists. Not his Fox. Mine!
Why can’t I get her out of my head? No doubt the newly mated supervillain would try to make good on his threats soon. And if not Galen, any of the Lords and Ladies of the Underworld.
So why do I still crave Fox?
Tone low and quiet, Thane said, “I see no sign of the others.”
“Nor do I.” Since Bjorn had never been here before, he cast his gaze throughout the ten- thousand-square-foot structure. Luxury at its finest, with ornate furnishings. All gloriously preserved antiques. Countless crystal vases filled with roses. Portraits framed with solid gold. Plush rugs.
This did not fit the irreverent Axel in the slightest. Where was the stuffed roadkill wearing baby clothes? The posters of half-naked women? The blow-up dolls, or conversation starters?
The money-loving Fox would probably adore this place. No doubt Bjorn’s minimalistic approach to decorating struck her as sad. He popped his jaw. Not going to think about her anymore. Or their kiss. Or the long, long list of things he yearned to do to her exquisite body as her moans of rapture filled his ears, her sweet scent teased his nose, and her amazing taste tantalized his tongue.
Damn this! He wanted to think about her, so, he would think about her. The cherries on top of her attributes? Her intelligence and her dry sense of humor. The woman had a talent for reading each person and situation she encountered, and she possessed a merriment Bjorn did not recall experiencing himself in…ever.
He’d always been the serious one, even before his imprisonment and torture. But every time Fox spoke, he fought a smile. Boner garage. Seriously? Not to mention her love of reality TV. Even thinking about those things intensified his hunger for her, desire rolling through him like an avalanche, growing in strength and speed. His blood heated, and his muscles bulged with tension.
His friends must have taken his body language as a sign of distress, because Thane and Xerxes placed a hand on Bjorn’s shoulders. A gesture of comfort. Of reassurance. They could face anything, as long as they remained together.
Some of the tension seeped out of him.
Axel materialized in the living room, frowning when he spotted them. “There you are. Come.” He waved them over before vanishing.
Confused but unconcerned, Bjorn and his boys crossed the distance…
As soon as they passed an invisible threshold, the living room faded from sight. Instead, a dome with walls of energy surrounded them, the other Elites already there, standing in a circle. Every member of the Elite 7 owned wings of the purest gold. They wore white robes trimmed with topaz, a color representative of the Most High. But that was where their similarities ended. Together, they were an assortment of hair, eye and skin colors, sizes and heights, from all over the universe.
There was the uber-stubborn Zacharel…brilliant Calypso, known as Caly…and hot-tempered Ravensara. Also present, by-the-book Lysander, who used to be an Elite. Now, he was something more. He would be overseeing their meetings until he believed everyone understood their new position and the responsibilities that came with it.
Axel stepped into the center, saying, “I called this meeting because we have been tasked with a mission. Each of us is to recruit an army of one hundred Warriors and move to the Underworld, where we will team up with the Lords of the Underworld to slay Lucifer and his demons. Lucifer is the ultimate blame for the bombing that killed our friends. He has been building his army, and the number of soldiers grows daily—his demons, other immortals, allies, and even spirits of the dead.”
Move to the Underworld, the a
sshole of the immortal world? Icy fingers of dread crept up Bjorn’s spine, while white-hot fingers of fury slid down his sternum. “When is this move to take place?” One way or another, the Fox situation had to be dealt with beforehand. One way or another. He couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t cart her to Hell, where she would grow in power, thanks to Distrust. Where other Sent Ones might not resist the urge to tear her to shreds.
Unless taking her to Hell was the way to save her life?
An idea formed, not yet complete but worth mulling over.
“Ten days,” Zacharel replied, and Bjorn reeled.
Ten days to perfect his idea and save Fox. Ten days to do everything he longed to do to her body. Only ten. Not nearly enough.
As if he’d read Bjorn’s mind, Lysander said, “I’m assuming Fox the Executioner is dead, as ordered.” His tone was as dry as the desert.
While the strict male had lightened up since his marriage to a beautiful Harpy, one of the bloodthirstiest species in mythology, he still erupted over any hint of disobedience.
“She is imprisoned,” he admitted, earning a chorus of disappointed rumblings from everyone but Thane and Xerxes. “She is a resource. A rare Gatekeeper,” he added, unable to stop the words from leaving his tongue. Though the idea wasn’t fully fleshed out, he had to run with it. What other options did he have? “We can use her to get our armies in and out of Hell in seconds.” Most Sent Ones could not flash. Usually forced to fly, they wasted precious time in do-or-die situations. “We can even portal in and out of Lucifer’s home. Gatekeepers do not need to see a location before they can portal there. They only need coordinates. What’s more, we can portal our wounded to safety during battle.” If he could gain Fox’s cooperation. Could he? And could he trust her to follow through with any kind of bargain?
The chorus went quiet at least, everyone mulling over his words.
The Darkest Assassin Page 10
