The Darkest Surrender lotu-9

by Gena Showalter

  Don’t you dare speak up, he told his demon.

  Silence.

  Whew. “You’re damn straight I meant we’d scout them,” he finally said. A sharp stone scraped his stomach and he welcomed the sting. Helped clear his perspective. A discussion about goals—good. Fantasizing about his companion—bad. So, so wonderfully bad. “What’d you think I meant?”

  “Well, duh. I thought you wanted to hobble them.”

  Wait just a sec. “So it’s okay to bust your opponent’s kneecap before a competition, but it’s not okay to steal the grand prize for your…your…consort?” He almost couldn’t say the word. Doing so made their arrangement seem permanent, rather than temporary.

  She stopped to gape at him. “I can’t believe you just asked that. Busted kneecaps are expected among my kind. Even encouraged.”

  “I thought you’d never participated in the Harpy Games before?”

  “True, but I watched my mother when she did.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled. “You can do some hobbling.” Meanwhile, he’d stick to his original plan. While she decreased the number of her competitors, he would study the Harpy campsite. Layout, sentry placement, response times. “Use your hands, though, because knifing them seems a bit harsh.” Actually, he just didn’t want to accidentally track the blood inside the tents, leaving evidence of his intentions behind.

  “Say no more. I came prepared for a little nonslashing action.” She slid one of her elegant hands down her…panties? She did. Sweet heaven, she did. Right in the center, where she was probably warm and wet, ready for his mouth, his cock. “I’ve got something I think you might like.”

  Hell, yeah, she did. Stridey-Monster got real uncomfortable real fast, and yep, there was definite snakelike trailage behind him. Then Kaia shocked him by sliding her hand back up and holding out her palm. In the middle rested a small silver bar.

  Disappointed and surprised, he frowned. “What’s that?”

  “Watch.” She gripped one end and flicked her wrist. Snap. The bar grew several inches. Another flick, another few inches, until the damn thing resembled an oversize police baton. Or Stridey-Monster.

  “I want one of those,” he said.

  Her eyes glittered with relish. “I know, right. But hands to yourself, demon boy. This one’s mine. Now, come on.” She skidded back into motion.

  “Hey. I’m your consort. What’s yours is mine, Harpy girl.” And what’dya know? Saying the title hadn’t been such a chore that time.

  He crawled after her. Finally they reached the edge of the makeshift camp, as evidenced by the fire crackling in the heart of the grounds. In his early days here on earth, his hunting of Hunters had very often led him to camps just like this one. Multiple tents, boulders acting as chairs, and fowl roasting over the flames. Only, there’d always been soldiers patrolling the area.

  “No one’s here,” he whispered.

  “I know,” Kaia replied. She sighed, despondent.

  The occupants had left in a hurry. The scuff of their boots in the dirt was evidence of that, as though they’d been moving too swiftly to pick up their feet. The fowl was burned, charring more and more with every second that passed, plumes of black smoke wafting toward the sky. There was a water bottle lying flat, liquid gushing from it.

  “I heard them abandoning ship,” she added, “but I hoped there would be a few stragglers. Doesn’t anyone defend their turf anymore?”

  She’d heard them? When he, a trained soldier, hadn’t heard a goddamn thing? No need for an ego check. He sucked. Don’t forget Mission One. The Rod—and not the one in your pants. “I’ll give the place an inspection. You stay here and act as lookout.”

  “No way. I’ll give the place an inspection. You stay here.”

  “Damn it, Kaia. You better—umph.” Something hard wrapped around his ankles and jerked, sliding him backward. He twisted midway, sitting up despite his momentum, and shoved.

  There was a pained, feminine grunt as his assailant stumbled and he was released.

  Win, Defeat suddenly said, speaking up for the first time since they’d left the motel.

  Did. For the moment, at least. Female warriors surrounded him, glaring down at him. Each held some type of weapon, from machetes to axes to Neolithic daggers.

  Well, well. Slowly he stood, palms up and out, all innocence—all lie. “Evening, ladies. Something we can do for you?”

  Kaia settled into a crouch and squawked. A squawk he recognized. Her Harpy had just taken over. From the thought of him being injured? Or because another woman had put her hands on him? Either way, she was seeing the world through a haze of red and black, a need for blood thickening her tongue.

  “Mine,” she said in a low, dual-layered voice. That was the only warning she gave before she attacked.

  As she twirled that bat with a grace and purpose that astonished him, Defeat gave a whimper rather than another demand for victory. She moved like a dancer. A lethal, psychotic dancer who hoped to spend the rest of her life in prison. My kinda woman. Metal slammed against bone, the latter crackling. More grunts, a few groans.

  And then the battle was really on.

  He caught a glimpse of Kaia’s expression as she spun. Cold, merciless. Red flickers joined the black in her eyes. Like flames. True, crackling flames. He could feel their heat, causing sweat to bead over his skin. An azure glow even emanated from her skin. Not a Harpy glow, with those lovely rainbow shards trapped beneath the surface, but the hottest lick of fire.

  He remembered their kiss—again—and the way she’d burned him, how hot she’d been. A living furnace. It had turned him on, made him feel on top of his game. Now he wondered…

  Was she exhibiting some sort of power?

  Her claws slashed and her teeth cut. Bodies moved so quickly around her, his gaze couldn’t quite track them, but every few seconds Kaia would be thrown backward, as if someone had slammed into her. A heartbeat later, that someone would howl in pain—because they’d been burned?

  Win, Defeat growled, fear momentarily forgotten.

  Great. Give me a minute. There were a few things he needed to figure out. Namely, how to insert himself into the fray without running into Kaia’s fists.

  Win!

  The answer slid into place. Strider withdrew Jose, his Sig Sauer, from the waist of his pants. He’d come prepared, too, knowing he’d have to take out anyone who got in his way. Now, he just wanted to murder anyone who tried to “hobble” Kaia. That’s what friends did for each other.

  He fired a single shot into the air. Boom. Gasps, the rustle of clothing, the stomp of boots. Then, silence.

  “Back the hell up,” he snarled, lowering his aim. “Now. And before you start wondering if I have the balls to splatter your brains across the trees, let me put your minds at ease. I do.”

  Kaia stilled, panting and blood-splattered. The women quickly backed away from her. As fast as these winged stunners could move, they could have charged him, attempted to kill him. They didn’t. Either they realized he’d take a few of them out before they managed to reach him, as promised, or they feared his demon.

  Defeat hummed his approval, tiny sparks of pleasure warming Strider’s chest. More sparks than usual, considering he hadn’t exactly won yet. Then Strider recalled the very first challenge his demon had accepted regarding Kaia and these women.

  Anyone who tried to hurt her had to suffer. Nice.

  “You,” he said to Kaia. “Come closer.”

  She, too, obeyed. He brushed his free hand down her arm, a caress meant to calm, to comfort. But, shit! Touching her was like touching melted steel. Blisters immediately formed on the pads of his fingers. Did he care? Hardly. What was a little pain when her well-being was at stake?

  Eventually the raspy fury of her breathing decreased and the black faded from her eyes, the flickering flames dying. Her skin cooled.

  “First-class work out there, baby doll,” he said.

  “Anytime, sugar muffin.” Though the words were raw and
ragged, she spoke with only one vocal inflection. Her Harpy had been contained.

  He shifted his gaze. He and Kaia were still surrounded, but now the circle had grown even wider and he could make out individual features. Harpy after Harpy scowled at him. Dread poured through him as he moved in front of Kaia. His protectiveness probably bothered her, but he wasn’t going to let her take the lead in this. These were her people, and as her sister Gwen had once proven, family had a hard time killing family.

  Strider never had a hard time killing anyone. Call it a gift.

  Kaia moved to his side and threw the baton at…her mother’s feet. He wanted to curse.

  “Hello, Tabitha,” she said evenly.

  The dark-haired beauty stepped forward, her expression blank as she pondered him rather than her daughter. “Put the gun away, demon. For all your crowing, we all know you won’t use it.”

  Kaia moaned. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

  Grinning pleasantly, Strider angled the line of the barrel and squeezed the trigger. Boom. A high-pitched, disbelieving scream. He’d nailed the Harpy beside her. Blood spurted from a gaping thigh wound. The now-injured female hopped up and down before her strength drained and she fell to the ground.

  Win! Defeat giggled like a schoolgirl.

  More sparks of pleasure erupted in his chest as he notched a brow. “You were saying?”

  Tabitha peered at Kaia and cursed, then switched her attention to her trembling clanswoman and shrugged. “You merely grazed her, missing everything of importance.”

  “Did I? Well, then, let me try again.” Once more he squeezed the trigger. This time, the bullet grazed Tabitha’s thigh. She wore ankle-length black pants, and the material concealed the evidence of what he’d done. Nothing could hide the coppery tang saturating the air, however.

  A slight baring of her pearly whites was the only indication she gave that she’d been hit.

  “Oh, damn,” he said. “Missed everything of importance again. I might have to keep practicing. Who’s next?”

  Gasps of outrage abounded.

  Tabitha held up her hand for silence. Even the night birds obeyed, their chirps evaporating like mist. “Of course it would be you who fell for the old campfire trick,” she said to Kaia. “I’m not surprised.”

  “That makes two of us. You fell for the old your-enemy-has-fallen-for-the-old-campfire-trick trick.” She settled two fingers in her mouth and whistled, loud and high-pitched.

  Suddenly leaves rattled above him. He watched, wide-eyed, as Sabin, Lysander, Taliyah, Bianka, the Harpy called Neeka and several other females he didn’t recognize revealed themselves. They were high up in the trees, arrows notched and pointed at the competition.

  Defeat started humming again.

  What are you so happy about? They’d been there all this time and he hadn’t known. They could have slaughtered him before he’d even realized he was under attack. And he’d thought himself so skilled, so…undefeatable. Well, there was no need for any ego checks today. He more than sucked. He blew chunks.

  No reason to blame himself, though. Kaia and her Booty Camp had ruined his concentration.

  “This is a first,” Tabitha gritted out. Murmurs of admiration circled her, mixed with a few snorts of disbelief and several gasps of fury. “Now I am surprised.”

  “How?” His jagged tone matched her mother’s.

  Kaia didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I texted them before we left the motel.”

  Good thinking, but he hadn’t known that, either, which meant he more than blew chunks. “And you couldn’t have clued me in?”

  “No.” So simply stated, as if the thought had never entered her mind. “So, Mother Dearest,” she said, tuning him out. “Are you regretting your choice to cut your daughters from your team?”

  “No,” Tabitha said, as flatly as Kaia had and with no hesitation.

  Ouch. Kaia stiffened, but only for a moment. He didn’t dare glance over at her, didn’t dare wrap his arm around her waist and offer any more comfort. Now wasn’t the time. But later…yeah, later, despite his raging bodily needs and the danger to his self-control. Comforting her was part of his consort duties, and for the next four weeks, he was her consort. In all the ways that mattered.

  Sex didn’t matter.

  At least, that’s what he was going to tell himself. Over and over again, until he believed it. Or until a backlog of semen poisoned and killed him. He could plan to sneak off and indulge in a few one-night stands, he supposed, but he knew he wouldn’t. And not just because Kaia would permanently maim any females he so much as flirted with, but because, well, he didn’t want anyone else.

  He’d tasted Kaia’s sweetness, had felt the wickedness of her curves pressed against him, and knew no mortal woman could compare. But he’d get over this infatuation, of that he had no doubt. Even Haidee hadn’t held his attention for long.

  Haidee. Huh. He hadn’t thought about her much today, though she had consumed his brain for weeks. Classic Strider. Over the centuries, he’d been a major contender for the World’s Shortest Attention Span.

  “Do you truly think you can win the games?” Tabitha asked Kaia.

  “Yes.”

  “Against me?”

  “I hate to repeat myself, but yes.”

  That’s my girl. Well, his girl for now.

  “Juliette might have won the last eight games, but that’s because I wasn’t allowed to fight. As you know, I’ve never lost,” Tabitha said, stroking the medallion that hung from her neck.

  Again, Kaia stiffened, a wave of hurt blasting from her. A wave quickly suppressed. Did the necklace hold some significance? He made a mental note to ask Gwen, as he was certain Kaia wouldn’t give him a straight answer. She never did.

  “There’s a reason you’ve never lost. You’ve never fought me,” Kaia replied haughtily.

  She is going to be killed.

  The feminine voice stampeded through his head. Tabitha’s voice. The same voice he’d heard during orientation. Her attention hadn’t transferred to him, but he knew. “Like hell,” he muttered.

  Kaia threw him a disbelieving, offended look. “It’s true.”

  “I know that, baby doll. Wasn’t talking to you.”

  “Oh. Well. Okay.”

  Win! There was a tremor in Defeat’s tone, but still, the little bastard wasn’t going to back down. They’d decided to aid Kaia, and they would. She would not be killed.

  She is going to be killed—and there is nothing you can do to help her.

  “Stop it,” he commanded, gaze narrowing on the woman responsible.

  Tabitha blinked innocently. “Why is your consort speaking to me without my having addressed him first?” she asked Kaia. “Have you not taught him the proper order of things?”

  So the little man wasn’t supposed to speak to the women folk without an invitation? Screw that. “Just stay out of my head, Harpy, or I’ll make sure you regret it. By the way, how’s the leg?”

  She hissed at him.

  Win!

  I know, Strider reassured the demon. I told you. I won’t let anything happen to Kaia.

  Kaia blinked, too, only she appeared shocked. She didn’t question her mother, though, and he wondered if she remained quiet because she knew her mother wouldn’t answer or because questioning her mother would have revealed ignorance and ignorance would have been perceived as weakness.

  Harpies, man. Life seemed to be one big chess match for them. Ridiculous, if you asked him. And yeah, he got the irony. But he had to turn everything he did into a contest of wits and might. They didn’t, nor did they suffer afterward. They just did it for funsies.

  “Don’t concern yourself with my man,” Kaia finally said, her chin lifting.

  My man. He kinda liked the sound of that.

  His jaw clenched. This was pretend and he couldn’t let himself confuse pretend with reality.

  “I’m surprised you won a fearsome Lord of the Underworld,” Tabitha said.

 
“I’m not,” Kaia replied with a shrug. “I’m pretty much made of awesome.”

  Still not a flicker of emotion crossed Tabitha’s face. Not pride, nor disappointment. “I guess we’ll find out exactly what you’re made of tomorrow, when the games truly begin.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  PARIS, THE KEEPER OF Promiscuity—or Sex, as Paris called the demon—clutched two standard-issue daggers as he slinked through the back-alley shadows. Standard issue sucked. Sure, they sliced and diced just fine, but up here, with gods, goddesses, vampires and fallen angels, slicing and dicing wasn’t enough.

  Whatever. Keep going.

  Never ceased to amaze him how similar the immortal world was to the human one. In this heavenly metropolis, there were bars, shops, restaurants and hotels. Not to mention drugs and those who sold them. Whatever you wanted, you could get.

  Speaking of, I’ll want some ambrosia. Soon. Already he was shaky from withdrawal.

  No time to imbibe now. He couldn’t be late.

  Couldn’t afford to so much as talk to anyone. One look at his face, one inhalation of his scent, and people—no matter their species or gender—threw themselves at him.

  Perhaps he should have let them, he thought next. Sex derived strength from anything erotic, and Paris hadn’t yet supplied that crucial daily dose. But then, he hated sleeping with people he didn’t actually desire and tried to limit himself. And he’d get today’s influx of strength just as soon as he met with the goddess of weaponry.

  The female owned crystal daggers that could morph into any type of weapon the holder desired. He could have them, she’d said, for a price. No one ever wanted money from him, so he’d agreed to give her what she did want. Him. He’d whore himself, and that was fine. Whatever. He’d done so a thousand times before and would probably have to do so a thousand more. Eventually he’d get over the guilt and humiliation.

  He needed those crystal blades to rescue the female he did want. Sienna.

  His Sienna. Killed because of his actions, only to be brought back in soul form. A soul he could not see or hear. Yet.

  Cronus, the god king, had enslaved her and paired her with the demon of Wrath. To keep Paris away from her, Cronus had then trapped her in another realm. He would pay for that. After Paris saved her. And he would. He had a three-part plan.