Sabin directed the men, telling them which stone belonged in which hole. He got a few of the placements wrong but she wasn’t worried. They’d figure it out. He was correct about hers, though, and when one man, a blue-haired, pierced punk, tried to pick up the appropriate stone, Sabin’s strong, tanned fingers banded around his wrist, stopping him.
The blue-haired one locked eyes with Sabin, who shook his head. “Mine,” he said.
The punk grinned. “Hating what we see, are we?”
Sabin just frowned at him.
Gwen blinked in confusion. Sabin hated looking at her?
One by one the women were freed, some crying, some attempting to hurry out of the chamber. The males didn’t let them get far, catching them and surprising Gwen by cradling them gently, even when the women fought violently. In fact, the most beautiful man in the group, he of the multicolored hair, approached the women one by one, softly muttering, “Sleep for me, sweetheart.”
Shockingly, they obeyed, sagging in the warriors’ protective arms.
Sabin crouched and palmed Gwen’s stone, the one that showed the man burning alive. When he straightened, he tossed it in the air, caught it easily. “Don’t run. All right? I’m tired and I don’t want to chase you, but I will if you make me. And I’m afraid I’ll accidentally hurt you.”
You and me both, she thought.
“Don’t…free her,” Chris suddenly sputtered. How long had he been awake? He lifted his head and spit out a mouthful of dirt. Bruises had already formed under his eyes. “Dangerous. Deadly.”
“Cameo,” was all Sabin said.
The female warrior knew what he wanted and stalked to the human, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and easily lifted him to his feet. With her free hand, she placed a dagger at his carotid. Either too weak or too frightened, he didn’t struggle.
Gwen hoped it was fear that held him still. Hoped it with every fiber of her being. She even stared at the tip of the knife, willing it inside the bastard’s throat, piercing skin and bone and causing unforgettable agony.
Yes, she thought, entranced. Yes, yes, yes. Do it. Please, do it. Cut him, make him suffer.
“What do you want me to do with him?” Cameo asked Sabin.
“Keep him there. Alive.”
Disappointment caused Gwen’s shoulders to sag. But with the disappointment came a startling realization. Her emotions were under control, yet she was very close to releasing her inner beast anyway. All those thoughts of pain and suffering were not her own. They couldn’t be. Dangerous, Chris had said. Deadly. He’d been right. You have to stay in control.
“Feel free to hurt him a bit, though,” Sabin added, his eyes narrowing on Gwen. Was he…angry? At her? But why? What had she done?
“Don’t set the girl free,” Chris repeated. A tremor rocked his entire body. He backed away, but Cameo, obviously stronger than she appeared, jerked him back into place. “Please don’t.”
“Maybe you should leave the redhead in her cell,” the tiny warrior woman said. “For now, at least. Just in case.”
Sabin raised the stone, stopping just short of inserting it into the hole beside Gwen’s cage. “He’s a Hunter. A liar. And I think he hurt her, but doesn’t want her able to tell us.”
Gwen blinked over at him in shock and awe. He wasn’t angry at her, but at Chris—a hunter? — for what he might have done. He truly meant what he’d said. He wouldn’t harm her. Wanted her free. Safe.
“Is that right?” Sabin asked her. “He hurt you?”
Cheeks heating in mortification, she nodded. Emotionally, he’d destroyed her.
Sabin ran his tongue over his teeth. “He’ll pay for that. You have my word.”
Slowly the embarrassment faded. Her mother, who had disinherited her almost two years ago, would rather see her dead than weakened, but this man—this stranger—thought to avenge her.
Chris swallowed nervously. “Listen to me. Please. I know I’m your enemy, and I won’t lie and pretend you’re not mine. You are. I hate you with every fiber of my being. But if you let her go, she’ll kill us all. I swear it.”
“Will you try and kill us, little red?” Sabin asked her, even more gently than before.
Used to being called “bitch” and “whore” by the men here, Gwen felt the sweet endearment drift through her mind with the potency of a rose-scented summer breeze. In their few minutes together, this man had managed to gift her with the very thing she’d dreamed about since being locked up: a white knight, determined to slay her dragons. Sure, she’d once thought that white knight would be Tyson or even the father she’d never known, but still. It wasn’t every day a dream came true.
“Red?”
Gwen snapped to attention. What had he asked? Oh, yeah. If she would try and kill him and his friends. She licked her lips and shook her head. If her beast overtook her, she wouldn’t just try. She would succeed. I have control. For the most part. They’ll be fine.
“That’s what I thought.” With a flick of his wrist, Sabin drove the stone home. Her heart thundered in her chest, nearly cracking her ribs. Gradually the glass lifted…lifted…soon…soon…And then there was nothing between her and Sabin but air. The scent of lemon and mint strengthened. The coldness she’d grown used to gave way to a blanket of heat that seemed to wrap around her.
She smiled slowly. Free. She was truly free.
Sabin sucked in a breath. “My gods. You’re incredible.”
She found herself stepping toward him, reaching out, desperate for the contact she’d been denied all these months. A single touch, that’s all she needed. And then she would leave, go home. Finally.
Home.
“Bitch,” Chris shouted, struggling against Cameo’s hold. “Stay away from me. Keep her away from me. She’s a monster!”
Her feet halted of their own accord, and her gaze swung to the wretched human responsible for all the distress, all the anguish, she’d endured for the past year. Not to mention what he’d done to her cell mates. Her nails elongated to razor points. Tiny, seemingly gossamer wings sprang from her back, ripping at the cotton, fluttering frantically. Her blood thinned in her veins, rushing through every part of her, fast, so fast, and her vision tunneled to infrared, colors fading as body heat became her only focus.
In that instant, she realized she’d never had any sort of control over her beast. Her darker side. It had swirled inside her all along, mostly quiet as it waited for the opportunity to strike…
Only Chris, only Chris, please gods only Chris. The chant rang through her mind, hopefully penetrating the bloodlust of her vengeful beast. Only Chris, leave everyone else alone, attack only Chris.
But deep down, she knew there would be no stopping the death toll now.
CHAPTER 3
From The First Moment Sabin had seen the lovely redhead in the glass cell, he’d been unable to remove his gaze from her. Unable to breathe, to think. Her hair was long and curled wantonly, blond streaked with thick locks of ruby. Her eyebrows were a darker auburn, but just as exquisite. Her nose was buttoned at the end, her cheeks rounded like a cherub’s. But her eyes…they were a sensual feast, amber with striations of sparkling gray. Hypnotic. Black lashes spiked around them, a decadent frame.
Halogens hung from hooks in the walls and drowned her in bright light. While that would have revealed another’s flaws and did in fact expose the dirt streaking her skin, it gave her a healthy glow. She was petite, with small, round breasts, narrow hips and legs long enough to wrap around his waist and hold on through the most turbulent of rides.
Don’t think like that. You know better. Yeah, he did. His last lover, Darla, had killed herself and he’d vowed not to get involved again. But his attraction to the redhead had been instant. So had his demon’s, though Doubt wanted her for another reason. It had sensed her trepidation and had purposely targeted her, wanting inside her mind, pouncing on her deepest fears and exploiting them.
But she was not human, they’d both soon realized, and therefore
Doubt had been unable to hear her thoughts unless she voiced them. That didn’t mean she was safe from its evils. Oh, no. Doubt knew how to size up a situation and spread its poison accordingly. More than that, the demon relished a challenge and would work harder to learn this girl’s nuances and ruin any faith she might have.
What was she? He’d encountered many immortals over his thousands of years yet he couldn’t place her. She certainly appeared human. Delicate, fragile. Breakable. Those amber-silver eyes gave her away, though. And the claws. He could imagine those digging into his back….
Why had the Hunters taken her? He feared the answer. Three of the six newly liberated females were clearly pregnant, which brought to mind only one thing: the breeding of Hunters. Immortal Hunters, at that, for he recognized two sirens with scars along the column of their necks where their voice boxes had obviously been removed, a pale-skinned vampire whose fangs were gone, a gorgon whose reptilian hair had been shaved and a daughter of Cupid who had been blinded. To prevent her from ensnaring an enemy in her love spell, Sabin supposed.
How cruel the Hunters had been to these lovely creatures. What had they done to the redhead, the loveliest of them all? Though she wore a tiny tank and skirt, he could see no scars or bruises to indicate mistreatment. That didn’t mean anything, though. Most immortals healed quickly.
I want her. Intense fatigue radiated from her, yet when she’d smiled at him in thanks for freeing her…he could have died from the sheer glory of her face.
I want her, too, Doubt piped up.
You can’t have her. Which meant he couldn’t either. Remember Darla? As strong and confident as she was, you still managed to break her down.
Gleeful laughter. I know. Wasn’t it fun?
His hands fisted at his sides. Fucking demon. Eventually everyone caved under the intense worries his other, darker half constantly threw at them: You aren’t pretty enough. You aren’t smart enough. How could anyone love you?
“Sabin,” Aeron’s cold voice called. “We’re ready.”
He reached out and motioned the girl over with a wave of his fingers. “Come.”
But his redhead had backed herself against the far wall, her body trembling in renewed fear. He’d expected her to beat feet, despite his warning of the consequences. He hadn’t expected this…terror.
“I told you,” he said gently. “We mean you no harm.”
Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged. And as he watched, the golden glow of her eyes deepened, darkened, black bleeding into the whites.
“What the hell is—”
One minute she was before him, the next she wasn’t, gone as if she’d never been. He spun, gaze scanning. Didn’t see her. But the only Hunter still standing suddenly belted out an agonized scream—a scream that halted abruptly as his body sagged, collapsing on the sandy floor, blood pooling around him.
“The girl,” Sabin said, palming a blade, determined to protect her from whatever force had just slain the Hunter he’d planned to interrogate. Still he did not see her. If she could disappear with only a thought like Lucien, she would be safe. Out of his reach forevermore, but safe. But could she? Had she?
“Behind you,” Cameo said, and for once she sounded more shocked than miserable.
“My gods,” Paris breathed. “I never saw her move, yet…”
“She didn’t…did she…how could she have…” Maddox scrubbed a hand down his face, as though he didn’t believe what he was seeing.
Again, Sabin spun. And there she was, back inside her cell, sitting, knees drawn to her chest, mouth dripping with blood, a…trachea?…clutched in one of her hands. She’d ripped—or bitten? — the man’s throat out.
Her eyes were a normal color again, gold with gray striations, but they were completely devoid of emotion and so faraway he suspected the shock of what she’d done had numbed her mind. Her expression was blank, too. Her skin was now so pallid he could see the blue veins underneath. And she was shaking, rocking back and forth and mumbling incoherently under her breath. What. The. Hell?
The Hunter had called her a monster. Sabin hadn’t believed it. Then.
Sabin stepped inside the cell, unsure of what to do but knowing he could neither leave her like this nor lock her back up. One, she hadn’t attacked his friends. Two, swift as she was, she could escape before the window closed and do serious damage to him for breaking his word.
“Sabin, man,” Gideon said, grim. “You might not want to rethink going in there. For once, a Hunter was lying.”
For once. Try once more. “Know what we’re dealing with here?”
“No.” Yes. “She’s not a Harpy, the spawn of Lucifer who did not spend a year unfettered on earth. I haven’t dealt with them before and I don’t know that they can kill an army of immortals in mere seconds.”
As Gideon couldn’t tell a single truth without soon wishing he were dead, his entire body wrapped in agony and riddled with suffering, Sabin knew everything he said was a lie. Therefore, the warrior had encountered a Harpy before—and he clearly didn’t mean the word in a derogatory sense—and those Harpies were the spawn of Lucifer and could destroy even a brute like himself in a blink.
“When?” he asked.
Gideon understood his meaning. “Remember when I wasn’t imprisoned?”
Ah. Gideon had once endured three months of torture at Hunter hands.
“One didn’t destroy half the camp before a single alarm could be sounded. She didn’t take off, for whatever reason, and the remaining Hunters didn’t spend the next few days cursing the entire race.”
“Hold on. Harpy? I don’t think so. She isn’t hideous.” That little nugget came from Strider, the king of stating the obvious. “How can she be a Harpy?”
“You know as well as we do that human myths are sometimes distorted. Just because most legends claim Harpies are hideous doesn’t mean they are. Now, everyone out.” Sabin began tossing his weapons on the ground behind him. “I’ll deal with her.”
A sea of protests arose.
“I’ll be fine.” He hoped.
You might not be…
Oh, shut the hell up.
“She’s—”
“Coming with us,” he said, cutting Maddox off. He couldn’t leave her behind; she was too valuable a weapon, a weapon that could be used against him—or used by him. Yes, he thought, eyes widening. Yes. “And she’s coming alive.”
“Hell, no,” Maddox said. “I don’t want a Harpy anywhere near Ashlyn.”
“You saw what she did—”
Now Maddox cut him off. “Yes, I did, and that’s exactly why I don’t want her near my pregnant human. The Harpy stays behind.”
Another reason to eschew love. It softened even the most hardened of warriors. “She has to hate these men as much as we do. She can help our cause.”
Maddox was undeterred. “No.”
“She’ll be my responsibility, and I’ll make sure she keeps her claws and teeth sheathed.” Again, he hoped.
“You want her, she’s yours,” Strider said, always on his side. Good man. “Maddox will agree because you never pressure Ashlyn to go into town and listen to conversations Hunters might have had, no matter how badly you want to.”
Eyes narrowed, Maddox popped his jaw. “We’ll have to subdue her.”
“No. I’ll handle her.” Sabin didn’t like the thought of anyone else touching her. In any way. He told himself it was because she’d most likely been tortured, used in the most horrendous way, and might react negatively to anyone who tried, but…
He recognized the excuse for what it was. He was attracted to her, and a man attracted couldn’t turn off the possessive thing. Even when that man had sworn off women.
Cameo approached his side, attention riveted on the girl. “Let Paris deal with her. He can finesse the cruelest of females into a good mood. You, not so much, and we clearly need this one in a perpetual good mood.”
Paris, who could seduce any woman, anytime, immortal and human alike? Paris, who
needed sex to survive? Sabin’s teeth ground together, an image of the couple flashing through his mind. Naked bodies tangled, the warrior’s fingers gripping the Harpy’s wild fall of hair, bliss coloring her expression.
Would be better for the girl that way. Would probably be better for them all, as Cameo had said. The Harpy would be more inclined to help them defeat the Hunters if she was fighting by her lover’s side—and Sabin was now determined to have her help. Of course, Paris couldn’t bed her more than once, would eventually cheat on her because he needed sex from different vessels to survive, and that would probably piss her off. She might then decide to aid the Hunters.
Bad idea, all the way around, he decided, and not just because he wanted it to be.
“Just…give me five minutes. If she kills me, Paris can have a turn with her.” His dry tone failed to elicit a single chortle of laughter.
“At least let Paris put her to sleep as he did the others,” Cameo persisted.
Sabin shook his head. “If she were to wake early, she would be scared and she might attack. I’ve got to get through to her first. Now get out. Let me work.”
A pause. A shuffling of feet, heavier than usual as the warriors were carrying the other women out. And then he was alone with the redhead. Or strawberry blond, he supposed the color was called. She was still crouched, still mumbling, still holding that damn trachea.
Such a bad little girl, aren’t you? the demon said, tossing the words straight into the Harpy’s mind. And you know what happens to bad little girls, don’t you?
Leave her alone. Please, he begged the demon. She cut through our enemy, preventing them from searching for—and finding—the box.
At the word box, Doubt cried out. The demon had spent a thousand years inside the darkness and chaos of Pandora’s box and did not want to return. Would do anything to prevent such a fate.
Sabin could no longer exist without Doubt. It was a permanent part of him and much as he sometimes resented it, he would rather give up a lung than the demon. The first he could regenerate.
Just a few minutes of quiet, he added. Please.
The Darkest Whisper lotu-5 Page 3
