The Darkest Surrender lotu-9

by Gena Showalter

  “Oh, and one other thing. Bianka thinks this is a trap.” Gwen angled Sabin’s head up and sank into his lap. Automatically the warrior wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. “She thinks the Skyhawks, Kaia especially, will be targets, everyone out for revenge.”

  Kaia…a target for every Harpy with a grudge… Now his blood heated for a different reason, the need to rage an inferno inside him. “Men are allowed to go?”

  “Consorts and slaves, yes, and they’re more than allowed, they’re encouraged. Blood is medicine to Harpies, and those consorts and slaves help the injured participants heal.”

  “Does Kaia have a…slave?” He croaked the question. On one hand, he wanted her to have one, to be safe. On the other, he already wanted to murder the ugly prick.

  Defeat snarled, no trace of amusement in the sound. Or his usual fear.

  This isn’t a challenge, buddy. Or was his demon upset by the thought of someone besides Strider hurting Kaia?

  In a sick, twisted way, that kind of made sense. His sense of possessiveness was highly developed, with his enemies especially, but even with friends. Kaia was a bit of both.

  Thankfully, Defeat offered no reply. Strider didn’t need the added complication of fighting Kaia and/or anyone who challenged her. She wasn’t his responsibility. She wasn’t his problem.

  “No,” Gwen finally said, sadness creeping into her tone. “Kaia doesn’t have a slave.”

  Relief, so much relief. “We’ll find her one, then.” Fury, so much fury.

  “No.” Those strawberry-blond tresses slapped her face as she shook her head. “She thinks you are her consort.”

  Yeah, once upon a time Kaia had said something like that to him. He’d believed that she believed, but he’d also believed she was mistaken, that she was letting simple attraction confuse her. Not that there was anything simple about her attraction to him. She wanted the best of the best for herself, and he couldn’t blame—

  Ego check. He massaged the back of his neck with his free hand. Rephrasing: she wanted someone strong, capable and handsome. Shit. Ego check, he thought again. She’d wanted someone somewhat handsome.

  No. That didn’t work. When a fact was a fact, there was no getting around it. She’d wanted someone extremely handsome, and he fit the bill. But…

  Paris was handsomer.

  Handsomer wasn’t even a word, damn it. Was it? Yeah, it probably was, and had most likely been coined because of Paris. “So?” he said with more force than he’d intended.

  “So, she won’t take anyone else,” Sabin blurted. “Harpies are territorial, possessive and stubborn as hell. Meaning, they’re just like you and can’t compromise worth shit.”

  Gwen frowned. “Hey!”

  “Sorry, baby, but it’s true.” Then, “Kaia will take you or no one,” he said to Strider. “That’s just the way it’s sliced.”

  “Which is why…” Gwen inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, her gaze locking on Strider with menace. “You know I love you, right?”

  He gave a stiff nod. Shit, shit, shit. Him or no one. A blessing and a curse. He didn’t have time for this. He didn’t want this. He couldn’t spend any more time with her. Had already said goodbye to her.

  A goodbye that had come close to rousing his demon. With every step he’d taken from Kaia’s home, Defeat had prowled through his head, wanting to act, to pin her and take her—victory would be so damn sweet—but not allowing himself to do so. Loss would be so damn painful.

  Strider had never been happier that the demons of Pandora’s box were afraid of the Harpies. And with good reason. They were descendants of Lucifer, the master of all things demonic.

  Plus, Defeat had seen Kaia fight. No matter what weapon she used—gun, blade, claws, fangs—she blazed through her opponents faster than the eye could track. Nice qualities in a date, sure, and definite aphrodisiacs. If your very existence didn’t depend on your victories, as his did.

  Strider finished off the last of his candy, and chucked the empty box into the trash bin beside Sabin’s desk. Swish. Two points!

  Defeat purred his approval, little sparks of satisfaction shooting through Strider’s veins.

  “—listening to me?” Gwen asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” he lied, gaze quickly finding her. She was no longer perched on Sabin’s lap. Now she stood a few inches from Strider, her legs braced apart, her hands fisted at her sides. He recognized that pose. “But, uh, give me a refresher. You were saying…”

  She rolled her eyes. “I was telling you that you only have two days to take care of any pressing business you might have. Because even though I love you, I’m going to make sure you attend the games. Kaia needs you, and you will be there for her. Or else.”

  His attention flicked to Sabin, all what-are-you-going-to-do-about-this. Sympathy filled every curve and hollow of the man’s face, but there was no hint of determination or ire. Okay, so. His fearless leader would be doing nothing. Perfect.

  He glared at Gwen. “Don’t even think about challenging me,” he snapped. “I won’t hesitate to retaliate.” Of course, one little scratch on the girl and Sabin would attack him. He’d have to go berserker on his boss, but two victories for the price of one? Bring it.

  “As if I would ever use your demon against you,” she replied, startling him. “God, I can’t believe you think so little of me.” She truly sounded offended. Just as he opened his mouth to apologize to her, she said, “I’m only planning to beat the crap out of you, tie you up and have Lucien flash you to where the first meeting is being held. Jeez! Cut me some slack.”

  “Only” planning, she’d said. He pursed his lips. “You do realize that beating the crap out of me and tying me up would be, what? Using my demon against me. The loss would destroy me.”

  “Oh.” Her features fell. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Then she raised her chin, reminding him of Kaia all over again. “I’ll still do it, though. Just make this easier on yourself and agree to go with her. Please.”

  “Begging doesn’t work on me. Neither does crying, just so you know.” Once upon a time when he’d done the dating thing, he’d learned that begging and crying were forms of feminine warfare. Women wanted something, and they did anything to get it.

  Admirable, but it hadn’t taken him long to harden his heart against such wiles. Or to decide that long-term relationships simply weren’t for him. As easily as he’d learned about his partners’ ploys, they’d learned about his.

  He had to win, and they always tried to use that to their advantage. How many times had he heard some variation of, “Bet you can’t spend the whole day with me and like it?” Countless.

  “Well?” Gwen demanded. “Yes or no? Easy way or hard way?”

  “How long?” he gritted out.

  “Four weeks,” she replied, clearly hopeful.

  She could have said “eternity,” so emphatic was his reaction. Four weeks. Four damn weeks with Kaia. Feeding her, protecting her, guarding her with his body if the opportunity presented itself.

  His cock twitched with eagerness. This isn’t something to look forward to, you idiot. He’d guard her with his body if circumstances demanded. But even with the rephrase, this had trouble written all over it. Getting in and getting out as swiftly as possible was his M.O. now, and one that worked for him. No one had time to learn his quirks—or use them against him.

  Kaia, though, she already knew, and she never hesitated to challenge him. Part of him liked the thrill of that, yeah. You couldn’t win if you never entered the game, and she was all about the game. On the flip side, you couldn’t lose, either.

  “What about our war with the Hunters?” he asked Sabin. If there was anyone who liked winning as much as Strider, it was Sabin. Dude would have sold his mom on eBay just to fund a battle. If he’d had a mom, that is.

  “I’ve already talked to Cronus,” Sabin replied. “Galen is currently out for the count, too injured to cause trouble, and Rhea is missing.”

  Galen, the imm
ortal warrior possessed by the demon of Hope—also, ironically, leader of the Hunters. Rhea, the biggest bitch of a god queen ever to control half the heavens. Both topped his long list of enemies.

  “Missing? Still?” He’d known she had disappeared, but he’d kinda figured she’d gone into hiding, since her husband had discovered her most recent treachery against him—convincing her sister to act as his mistress and spy on him—and wanted to punish her. “Is foul play expected?” Not many beings could successfully abduct a goddess.

  “Yeah, though Cronus won’t share any deets.”

  Maybe because he didn’t have any. That might explain why Cronus had summoned Amun. No one was better at obtaining answers than the keeper of Secrets. “This is the perfect time to strike the Hunters, then,” he forced himself to say.

  “No, actually, it’s not.” Sabin cocked a brow. “Remember that girl we saw, the one who accepted the demon of Distrust into her body?”

  “No, Sab. I forgot,” he said dryly. They’d both been in the Temple of the Unspoken Ones, and watched as the beings manipulated the air to reveal what was happening an entire continent away.

  Galen had somehow found the unfindable. The lost demon of Distrust, crazed and worked into a frenzy. He’d then trapped Distrust inside a room and convinced the beast to possess someone else. A female, a Hunter.

  Though they’d made inquiries, they’d never learned anything more about the girl. Not her location, not her condition.

  “Attitude.” Sabin tsked under his tongue. “Anyway, Cronus has decided he wants her. He’s got Amun looking into it.”

  Ah. So that’s why Amun had been summoned. Rhea be damned, he supposed. But if Sabin knew this, that meant Haidee had known. Which meant she hadn’t wanted to share the information with Strider. A little punishment, he was sure, and he couldn’t blame her.

  “What does the girl have to do with us kicking some Hunter ass now?” he asked.

  “The Hunters will be scrambling to keep her hidden and too busy to attack us.”

  “So you hope. But again, if that’s the case, there’s no better time to strike.”

  “If we can find them. Without Amun, we have to rely on our lame-ass detective skills.”

  Hardly. “We’ve got Ashlyn.” Maddox, the keeper of Violence, had married a woman with the ability to stand in one location and listen to all the conversations that had ever taken place there. No one could hide from her.

  “Haven’t you heard? She’s currently bedbound. The twins she’s carrying had a sudden growth spurt. She’s so big, she needs help getting to the bathroom. Maddox thinks she’ll deliver soon.”

  Poor bastard was probably going crazy with worry. Ashlyn was (mostly) human, and therefore as delicate and fragile as a glass vase. Nothing like Kaia, who could— Do not go there. “I don’t know about you, but I’m a damn good detective.”

  Sabin shrugged. “Okay, think of it this way. I had a choice to make. Take advantage of our advantage, or take care of my wife. Guess which one I picked?”

  When had Sabin become such a pussy?

  “At least we don’t have to worry about our boys being hurt because we left them behind.”

  As if they’d have to worry about that, anyway. The “boys” were as competent as Strider. Not to mention the fact that they were possessed by baddies like Pain, Disease and Misery. They were all but feral and had no need of babysitters, battle forthcoming or not.

  “Well, I still can’t go. I have plans,” Strider said. And I can’t waver, that’s all there is to it. “I promised Paris I’d help him in the heavens.”

  “Help him later,” Gwen said, butting back in to the conversation. “Kaia needs you now.”

  His body reacted instantly, skin prickling with awareness— Kaia needs you—cells awakening—Kaia needs you—shaft thickening, hardening—Kaia needs you…needs you to touch her, strip her, fill her up.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said raggedly, then strode into the hall and headed to his own bedroom before Gwen could threaten him a second time. Once there, he shut himself in and moved to the room’s center, gaze locked on his walls, mind buzzing.

  He and Kaia had the same decorating tastes. Weapons had covered her walls the same way they covered his. He wondered if, like his, each piece in her collection belonged to the humans and immortals she had defeated over the centuries.

  Kaia. Defeat. Two words that had become synonymous to him.

  Harpies were all about survival of the fittest, and that he could dig. Because of Gwen, he knew that sleeping in front of humans—or anyone but their consort, for that matter—was forbidden. He knew they were not allowed to reveal a single weakness to anyone—even their consorts. And they were never, ever to steal from their sisters. If they broke any of those rules, they were punished.

  Damn it, what the hell was he going to do about her? She could take care of herself against anyone except another Harpy. Plus, Kaia would need every advantage she could get. Like, first and foremost, resting. She would need to rest between games, whatever those games might be. She thought Strider was her consort, so she would only rest with him at her side.

  Second, she would need someone to ensure she ate properly. Look how she’d allowed herself to waste away in jail.

  Third, she would need someone to guard her back if she stole anything, and knowing her, she would steal a lot of somethings. Preferably someone who didn’t have to guard her—or his—own back, as well.

  Half the participants usually died, Gwen had said. Half. Harpies showed no mercy, took no prisoners. For whatever reason, Kaia would have a bull’s-eye on her back.

  If he did this, if he went with her…he would have to find a way to steel himself against her appeal. Because, no matter what, he couldn’t sleep with her. Not just because of Paris, but because she would view any intimate contact as a commitment, as a Harpy/consort bond. A forever kind of bond. No way was he signing on for a lifetime sentence.

  Could he resist her, though?

  Better question: Could he protect her? If her enemies learned who he was, they could use his demon against her. They could challenge him to hurt her. They could challenge him to destroy her.

  Win? Defeat said, raspy voice drifting through Strider’s head.

  Shit. I stopped myself from going there, so you do the same. Please.

  Win, the demon repeated, a demand this time. A demand that held a tinge of fear.

  Too late, he thought. Defeat had gone there, and there’d be no backing off. Win, against any Harpies who try to hurt Kaia?

  WIN.

  Yep. Against the Harpies who tried to hurt Kaia. Why? She isn’t your favorite person. Why have me protect her?

  Win, win, win.

  Why he’d expected an answer, he didn’t know. Unlike some of the other demons, his had a very limited vocabulary. Guaranteed, he’d gotten the short end of the stick. But…maybe Defeat recalled just how good a victory over Kaia felt, and wanted more. If she died, he couldn’t have more. Or maybe, possessive as even the demon was, Kaia was their personal battlefield, and others weren’t allowed to play there. Ever.

  What he did know? He was going to the Harpy Games.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KAIA LOVED WATCHING MOVIES, but right now, she felt like she had the starring role in a horror flick called Slumber Party Massacre. Only instead of a sleeping bag and a teddy bear, she carried a hatchet—call her sentimental—and a serrated blade.

  She strode with her sisters down a long, dark hallway, seemingly alone, weapons clutched in their hands, too. Weapons were also hanging from their waists and rising from their backs. If the Bad Guy truly had been watching from the shadows, waiting to strike, he probably would have seen them moving in slow motion, their hair blowing in the breeze. Also, scary music would have been playing in the background.

  Too bad this wasn’t Hollywood.

  Taliyah was in the middle. She was the oldest among them by far, as well as the strongest, the deadliest. Tall, slender, pale from head
to toe, she looked like an elegant ice queen—and had a personality to match. Emotions were not something Taliyah allowed herself to experience. While Kaia had always striven to be like their mother, Taliyah had opted to be the opposite. Logical, level-headed, a planner.

  Bianka and Kaia flanked her sides, with Gwen on Kaia’s left. At one end of the Estrogen Brigade was Sabin, at the other was Lysander. Typically at events such as these, consorts were supposed to trail a few feet behind, but these men were hardly archetypal. They were equals. Beloved. Determined to protect.

  Each of the women radiated a white-hot tension that blended perfectly with Kaia’s own. All thanks to the very stupid Strider. He wasn’t going to support her. Earlier today Gwen had led her to believe…had made her think…hope…crave…oh, well. Strider hadn’t shown up, even though she and her sisters had waited outside for half an hour and were now late to the meeting.

  Stupid, stupid Strider.

  Doomed, doomed Kaia.

  Well, she had finally written him off and admitted that she was better off without him. He was rejection, humiliation and heartbreak wrapped in a pretty package. She could find another pretty package without all the extras, thank you.

  At least Bianka and Gwen would be well-guarded, and that eased her stress somewhat. But if anyone so much as threatened them because of what Kaia had once done, she would turn the Slumber Party Massacre into Blood, Bath and Beyond, a documentary by Kaia Skyhawk.

  And if anyone teased Bianka about dating an angel, well, they, too, would have a starring role in that documentary. Sadly, she had a feeling there were going to be a lot of starring roles.

  At first glance, Lysander looked every inch the do-gooder. His hair gleamed as if the strands were gold silk. His skin was just as pale with only the faintest hint of rose. He wore a long white robe, his golden wings tucked in, the tops arching over his shoulders. He had no visible weapons. But then, he didn’t need them. He could create a sword of fire from nothing but air. Only after a second glance would the Harpies realize he was a warrior through and through, muscled and brawny, with a ruthless determination to protect what was his.