The Darkest Surrender lotu-9

by Gena Showalter

  What would she do if he left her after the games as planned?

  Normally she would tell herself she’d find a way to keep him. She would pat herself on the back for her strength and cunning, and bask in the knowledge that she could do anything she wished. Having just survived the ass-beating of a lifetime, she wasn’t quite so optimistic. Besides, what hope she did have had to be directed at the coming games.

  So, by gods, she would hoard a thousand different memories of Strider. Just in case. They’d keep her company during the long, cold winters alone, and sleep beside her during hot, sultry summer nights. No matter where he was or who he was with, she would never be without him.

  In order to make those memories, she first had to seduce him. Soon. Forget revenge. Even now her body hummed for him, desperate for deeper contact. If only he would let her drink from his jugular…

  She’d asked, repeatedly, and he’d said no, repeatedly. Did he not trust her? Or did he not trust himself? She imagined urging him to the mattress and splaying herself on top of him. Her breasts would mesh into his chest and her core would settle over his straining erection. And yes, he would have an erection. She would make sure of it.

  She would rub herself against him as she drank from him. He would moan, his hands settling on her ass to move her faster, harder against him. Soon that wouldn’t be enough, for either of them, and he would rip at her clothes. She would rip at his. They would be naked and—

  Before she could swallow another mouthful of his blood, he jerked away, removing her fangs from his vein and severing all contact. “Enough,” he said, panting. “You’re medicated properly now.”

  She’d been writhing on the bed, she realized, panting herself. Had been angling toward him, her legs parting, her core desperate for him. Gods, she was already wet, aching.

  He stood, walked away. He stopped and turned. Then he faced her, propping himself against the TV stand. She sat up, trembling and hot, enjoying her first full view of him since she’d exited the bathroom a few minutes ago, having showered and changed into the fresh clothes Bianka had brought her. At that time, he’d already positioned himself at the edge of the mattress and had merely motioned her over.

  She’d thought…hoped…but no. She’d reached him and rather than throw her down and conquer Kaialand, he’d tossed her down and fed her again.

  As she studied him, she lost her breath. His pale hair shagged around his fallen angel face. His lips were red, as if he’d chewed them. A lot. He wore a black T-shirt that read I Heart William.

  “William gave it to me,” he said with a shrug, noticing where her gaze had lingered.

  Just hearing William’s name made her snicker inside. The dark-haired charmer had a crush on her, and she couldn’t wait until he realized why she’d always turned him down. She’d probably laugh so hard she’d pee herself!

  Anyway, she didn’t care about Strider’s T-shirt, but about the pecs underneath it. They were hard and well-defined, his nipples slightly puckered—definitely lickable. At the shirt’s hem, she could see the bulge of his weapons, tucked into dark denim. That denim also covered the bulge of something else she’d really like to see, but whatever.

  With only the slightest twinge in her side, she pushed to her feet. “I need you to be brutally honest right now,” she said.

  Wariness cloaked his features. “Okay.”

  “How pretty do I look?”

  His gaze dropped, following the line of her body. She wore a red lace halter dress that veed in the middle, all the way to her navel. The hem stopped just below the curve of her ass.

  Strider’s pupils did that expanding thing, almost always a prelude to touching. “You need to put on a pair of pants.” His voice was a croak. And he did not move toward her.

  This was one of those times when “almost” sucked the big one. “Duh. As if I’d go out like this. I’ve got a pair…right…” She looked around. “There.” She stalked to the nightstand and lifted the “pants” in question. A scrap of red lace spandex that wouldn’t fall below her dress.

  With a quick step, step, tug, she shimmied into the material and once again faced off with her consort.

  His mouth hung open. “We were just sitting on the bed, together, and you were just drinking from me, your mouth on my skin, and you didn’t have any panties on?”

  “You mean you didn’t look?” she said with a pout. No wonder he’d left her so easily.

  “No. I wouldn’t let myself.”

  “Why?”

  “Damn it, Kaia,” he said, ignoring her. “You can’t just go around pantiless.”

  “Which is why I just pulled on a pair. Were you not watching?”

  His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “You said pants. That you were putting on a pair of pants.”

  “Yeah. Underpants.”

  “Just…” He popped his jaw and extended his arm in her direction, waving his fingers up and down her body. “Where are you going to hide weapons in that thing?”

  “Strider, please. Give me and my girls some credit.” She spread the deep V, revealing her braless breasts, her nipples flushed and beaded. Small, thin blades were strapped to her sides, just under her armpits. “We’ve been doing this since well before puberty.”

  “Sweet Jesus.” A strangled sound left him as she adjusted her dress back into place, and she fought a grin. The more he resisted her, the more he was going to find himself the recipient of these little peep shows.

  “Come on,” he said, voice husky once again.

  She closed the distance and twined her fingers with his, happy with the contact. “Want to make out?”

  “Sweet Jesus,” he repeated. Little beads of sweat popped up on his brow. “We’ve got plans. Remember? Big plans. We have to be somewhere.”

  So blood-drinking hadn’t been the only thing on his agenda. But then, sex clearly hadn’t been added. “Where’re we going?” she asked, careful to cut the disappointment from her voice.

  “You’ll find out.” After a quick perimeter check, he tugged her into the cool night air. First thing she realized was that they were still in Wisconsin. She hadn’t looked and she hadn’t asked. The moon was hidden behind clouds, casting pink and violet shadows in every direction. Snow covered the ground, trees stretching up…up…

  “You cold?” Strider asked.

  “Nah. This is nothing.” Besides, body heat radiated from him, enveloping her. “Any hint of Harpy or Hunter activity since I woke up?” Or hell, even for the two days she’d been down.

  “No. We hid you pretty well.”

  Even still, she kept her guard up. They walked several blocks before he stopped in front of a pickup and released her. Only took him three minutes and eighteen seconds to break in and gun the engine. She did not mention that she could have done it in two. His demon might view that as a challenge.

  She merely said, “Good job,” as he threw the truck into gear and sped down the road. “Now, tell me where we’re going because I do not like surprises. Unless they involve a man waiting naked in my bed,” she added just to taunt him.

  His grip tightened on the wheel and his knuckles leached of color. “I talked to your sister. Taliyah. We’ve got two days to get you ready for the next competition.”

  Wait just a sec. “You’re going to train me?” He thought she was so terrible a fighter she needed a few pointers? Well, why not? she thought with a bitter, inner laugh. She’d disappointed him with her loss, and she had no one but herself to blame. That didn’t matter. Shock and hurt blasted her like poisoned darts. This was not the kind of memory she’d hoped to hoard.

  “No, of course not,” he said, and she began to relax. Then he added, “I’m not going to train you.”

  She wanted to rant and rail at his lack of trust and support. She’d vowed to win the next round, hadn’t she? Yes, yes, she had. Her mind might have been hazed by pain, but she remembered that.

  Kaia held her tongue, though. Victory was as important to Strider as it was to her. He wasn’t d
oing this to be cruel. But damn it, even knowing why he’d set this into motion, the hurt escalated inside her.

  I’m good enough just the way I am. A plaintive plea in her head. “Why won’t you do the training?” she asked. Gods, was that whiny voice hers?

  There was a heavy pause before he admitted, “My demon.”

  What did the pause mean? He was lying? No, she thought next. He wasn’t lying. But she doubted his demon was the only reason. “And you’re afraid training with me will challenge him?”

  “Yeah. It’s happened before.”

  He’d once told her that everything was a challenge with her and that was one of the reasons they couldn’t be together. She’d thought he would soon come to see the merit in her challenges. After all, he experienced pleasure every time he won, and if he won multiple times a day because of her…

  So far, that mind-set had only backfired on her. He hated the pain that accompanied defeat so much, he viewed every competitor as a threat. The more she pushed him, the more he pushed away from her.

  That has to change. So. Okay. She would give him what he wanted, she decided. Peace. Smooth sailing. Utter tranquility. She’d be so easy to be with, he’d have more fun watching grass grow. Maybe then he’d take her to bed.

  Why couldn’t he like her for the girl she was, though?

  Why couldn’t anyone?

  “Fine,” she said on a sigh, hating herself for throwing a pity party. He was with her. He hadn’t taken off. Hadn’t searched for the Rod while she was too weak to stop him. “That’s fine. I’ll train with whoever you want.”

  The truck wound down the city streets, lights flashing over the windshield every few seconds. Kaia propped her booted feet on the dash and leaned as far back as her seat would allow. Her dress hiked up her thighs, revealing the edge of her panties.

  He kept his gaze on the road. “I didn’t expect you to agree with my plan.”

  Did he sound…disappointed? Nah. Just wishful thinking on her part. “I aim to please.”

  “I—” He smashed his lips in a mulish line, shook his head. She didn’t press for more—as her new plan for peace dictated—and he didn’t offer it. Several minutes ticked by in utter silence. Then, “Why don’t I have a nickname?”

  That clearly wasn’t what he’d wanted to discuss, but she could roll. Smooth sailing, she reminded herself. “Well, you haven’t earned one.”

  “So what do I have to do to earn one?”

  “Don’t know. Everyone’s different. It’s a we-know-it-when-we-see-it kind of thing.”

  Another bout of silence ensued, this one so tense and heavy she couldn’t have hacked through it with a sword and chain saw. She had no idea what was swirling through his head.

  “I thought you didn’t care what we called you,” she said, just to shatter the tension.

  “I don’t,” he gritted out. “I was just curious.”

  “Okay.”

  “Again with the agreeable attitude. Are you more injured than I realized?”

  She busied herself with plucking at her dress, trying not to let the comment get to her. “I’m not always a pain in the ass, you know.”

  “Stop messing with your clothes,” he growled.

  She froze, not even daring to breathe. He’d still not glanced her way, yet he’d known what she was doing? He was that aware of her?

  “Okay. Consider it done.” Smooth sailing was already paying off. Fighting a grin, she settled deeper into the seat and dropped her feet onto the floorboard.

  About an hour from civilization, they pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a dilapidated shack sporting a blinking neon sign that read Crazy Abel’s. There were a handful of other cars there and two big burly guys stumbling from the front door.

  “A bar?” she asked, trying not to pout. “A human bar?”

  “You get to play before you pay.”

  Really? Forget pouting. Excitement poured through her. “You should have told me. I would have worn my slutty outfit.”

  His narrowed gaze swept over her, lingering on her cleavage. He parked—nearly sideswiping another car—and she jumped out, halfway to the entrance before he’d even opened his door. She passed the still stumbling humans, grimacing at the smell of cheap beer and cigarettes. They whistled at her and changed directions to follow her.

  “How much?” one asked.

  Oh, no, he didn’t. She spun around, hands on her hips, teeth bared in a scowl. “What did you say?”

  “We’ll pay the price, whatever it is, we swear,” the other said. “After.” Both snickered, then the first patted the second on the back in a job well done, as if he’d just negotiated the deal of a lifetime.

  Before she could reply, Strider stalked over and punched them both in the back of the head. At the same time. They propelled forward, but he caught them by the hair before they could hit the ground, used his knees to slam into the back of theirs, and forced them both to kneel before her.

  “Apologize,” he commanded, and there was so much darkness in his voice she could almost smell the fire and brimstone. “Now.”

  Kaia’s heart fluttered. The men obeyed, babbling and crying. Strider lifted one and tossed him. The human went soaring and crashed into a car, the alarm suddenly screeching. The second man joined him a moment later.

  “Thanks,” she said, fighting the urge to melt into a shivery puddle at his feet. “My pleasure.”

  They entered the bar side by side.

  THE WOMAN WAS GOING TO SLAY him with that killer body of hers. Delicious curves were wrapped in a swath of material that might not pass for a bathing suit in some countries. Her skin was luminous, but lacking its multihued shimmer. She must have covered herself with total-body makeup. Not that he’d complain.

  Anything that would stop other men from desiring her had his stamp of approval.

  Who was he kidding? Men not desire her? That was never going to happen. No matter what she did to her skin, no matter what she wore, men would always desire her. The knowledge pissed him off—and filled him with pride.

  She considered Strider her consort. No one else.

  Resisting her was becoming harder. And harder. Literally.

  “Hey, who is—Anya? Gideon? Amun? And, like, a thousand others.” Kaia had to shout to be heard over the blaring music. She peered up at him with wide silver-gold eyes, soft with an emotion he couldn’t name. “How did you get all of them here?”

  A man could lose himself in those fathomless depths. “I asked and Lucien flashed.” More like he’d demanded and Lucien had dragged his feet. But who cared about details? “They’re only here for the night, though.”

  “Sweet! One night, I can love them. Two, and I always want to kill them.”

  “Just don’t mention,” he lowered his voice, “first prize. Okay?” They’d be all over his case about it. What he’d done with the Cloak of Invisibility would be thrown in his face. His motives would be questioned. His smarts. They’d want to stay, want to search for the Paring Rod, steal it.

  He and Sabin had already chatted. The others needed to guard the two artifacts they already had. They needed to protect the fortress in Buda. They needed to remain vigilant against Hunter attacks. If, however, the two of them failed to steal the Rod on their own before the final Harpy game kicked off, they would call for reinforcements.

  Tonight, while Kaia was distracted with her training, they were going to hunt down the Eagleshields. In fact, that’s what Sabin was doing right now. Peering down from the heavens, finding the seemingly unfindable. Boss man should be here any minute to drag him away.

  “I won’t mention anything about anything, I swear. And thank you!” A huge grin split Kaia’s red-painted lips and she clapped. Then she jumped up and planted a scorching kiss on his cheek before dashing away. Her mouth burned his flesh, perhaps imprinting his every cell.

  The past few days, all he’d been able to do was think about her. She’d been so pale, so still, so weak, and he’d been so desperate to
help her, yet unable to do more than feed her his blood…and crave. Oh, had he craved. Still craved.

  Something he’d realized, though, was that sleeping with her had to wait until after the games. Right now, he had to remain strong. He couldn’t risk being laid flat by losing a challenge. Any challenge. Even one in the bedroom.

  Once her well-being no longer depended on him, nothing would keep him out of those microscopic pants. He had to have her. Had to taste her, hear her cry his name. Hell, he planned to gorge himself on the woman, no matter the consequences. And not just once, as he’d thought to limit himself before, but over and over again.

  He watched as she threw herself into Amun’s arms. The warrior looked tired, and there were bruises under his eyes, but he appeared genuinely happy to see Kaia as he spun her around. Gideon, the punked-out keeper of Lies, grabbed her up and hugged her tight. She threw back her head and laughed before messing up his blue hair and tugging at his eyebrow ring. How carefree she was, how uninhibited.

  How mine, he thought darkly, then forced himself to add, for now, at least.

  Inside his head, Defeat perked up.

  Oh, no, you don’t. You just stay silent, you little prick. You weren’t invited to this party.

  A growl rang in his ears, and he recognized the sound as the war cry it was.

  You want to win the Paring Rod, right? Or would you rather return to Pandora’s box and rot? Because if I fail, Kaia’s our only hope. And if she fails, we’ll lose the artifact. If we lose the artifact, the Hunters could use it to get their hands on the box, suck you back inside. Eternally trapping you.

  Silence.

  Yeah. He’d thought so. There was nothing Defeat despised more than his memories of the box, the darkness and isolation. What he didn’t mention was that if he managed to steal the Rod, Kaia would hate his damn guts. She’d forgive him, though, as Juliette had forgiven her man for his dark deeds. Right?