The Darkest Lie lotu-7

by Gena Showalter

  She'd swallowed the lump in her throat. "And how will I get that with you?"

  "I'm creating an army. A holy army of warriors the likes of which you have never seen. You can be a part of that."

  That's how he planned to find someone to protect, cherish and love her? "No, thank you."

  "I cannot do this without you."

  Why? She was too frail to win a physical altercation and had always been a little too timid to call anyone on their shit. That's why Dean Stefano, her boss, had always used her in the office, researching demon lore. She'd been flabbergasted when he'd asked her to seduce Paris and at first, she'd said no.

  Then she'd seen his picture. No man was more exquisite, sensual in ways no mortal could ever hope to be. Her heart had raced and her palms had actually sweated, desperate to touch him. As plain as she was, no one like him had ever paid her any notice. As beautiful as he was, she hadn't understood how he could house such evil.

  The desire to meet him, to see that evil for herself, had become an obsession. So she'd finally said yes. She'd arranged an "accidental" meeting in Athens. He'd been interested in her, which had made her feel special. She almost hadn't drugged him, had almost sent him on his way. But then she'd noticed the red tint bleeding into his eyes, glowing, broadcasting his malevolence for the entire world to see. There'd been no denying his origins then. He was evil, even though he kissed like an angel. And maybe, just maybe, if she helped destroy him, the world really would become a better place to live. Maybe child abductions really would end. So she'd done it. She'd drugged him.

  And she had died for her efforts.

  And, terribly enough, what did she regret most? Not enjoying him, fully, completely. Just the two of them, worries forgotten. What came in only a distant second? Not killing him.

  "Join me," Cronus had added, "and you'll meet Paris again. I swear it. He'll be yours to do with as you please."

  His words were proof that he did indeed know what she wanted, whether she would admit it aloud or not. See Paris again? Have the warrior at her mercy? Yes! And yet, it hadn't been enough. "No."

  "But more than that," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, "I will ensure you see your sister again."

  She'd nearly grabbed him and shook him, so great was her shock. "You know where she is?"

  "Yes."

  "And she's alive?"

  "Yes."

  Thank God. Thank God, thank God, thank God. "Then yes," she'd said without hesitation. "Yes, I will help you. Now. Hurry. Please."

  "You are saying that you will be mine, my soldier. Yes?"

  "Yes. If you take me to my sister."

  "I will. One day."

  Her sense of urgency intensified. "Why not now?"

  "Your mission comes first. Do you agree?"

  No. But she'd said, "Yes." Anything to see her precious Skye again.

  "Then it is done." He'd grinned slowly, satisfaction radiating from him, and whisked her to this palace in the heavens.

  Had she gotten to see her sister yet? No. Had he trained her to fight? No. Had he sent her on that mission, whatever it was? Again, no. He'd simply kept her here, alone unless he visited or summoned her, with nothing to do but think. And hate.

  She'd tried to leave, but she couldn't. She was bound to Cronus in a way she still didn't understand. A way she couldn't refute or disobey. Whatever he asked of her, she did, compelled by a force she could not defeat. Even though she'd tried to do so, countless times.

  "I asked you a question," Cronus said now, drawing her from her memories and straight back to the pain pulverizing her. "How are you?"

  "Worse." A whimper.

  He sighed. "I had hoped otherwise, for I'm eager to use you."

  "What's wrong with me?"

  "Oh, did I forget to tell you?" He laughed, the sound carefree. "You now carry the demon of Wrath inside you."

  Everything inside her stilled. The screams. Her spirit's heartbeat. Even the darkness ceased swirling. The demon of Wrath was...inside her?

  No. No, no, no! She was not one of them. Couldn't be one of them. "You're lying. You have to be lying."

  "Hardly. It's trying to make itself at home in your mind, and its wings are sprouting from your back."

  Panic built, spread. Wings, he'd said. Exactly as she'd suspected.

  "I'm sure you can hear its thoughts by now, urging you to do things you wouldn't normally want to do."

  Oh. God. He had. He'd truly done it. He'd paired her with a demon. Noooo! This time, the word was a wail inside her. He'd made her the very thing she'd fought against. The very thing she'd hoped to destroy.

  A sob burst from her. "You bastard! You've cursed me!"

  He huffed and puffed, insulted. "How dare you take that tone with me? I've blessed you. How could you fight for me as a mere human, a lost soul? The answer is simple. You could not. And so I gave you a way to do so."

  The tears streaming from her eyes burned as if they were carving grooves into her cheeks. "You ruined me in the process."

  "One day you will thank me," he said confidently.

  "No. No. One day I'll kill you for this." A vow.

  Heavy silence slithered between them, a hungry snake ready for its meal. "You threaten me even though I brought you a present." He tsked. "Someone you were dying to see." Skye?

  Not daring to breathe, Sienna forced her eyelids open, and through the blur of her vision she saw that there really was a female standing next to the god king. The girl reached his shoulders, had a mane of dark hair like Sienna's own and olive skin. Her facial features were obscured by shadows, but that didn't stop Sienna's heart from thundering inside her chest.

  Trembling, Sienna reached out. "Sister?"

  There was a rustle of clothing as the pair moved away from her. "You don't deserve a present today, pet. Therefore, you will not get one."

  "Skye!"

  Silence. The two turned away and marched off. The girl never uttered a word of protest.

  "Skye!" she shouted again. "Skye! Come back. Talk to me." The last choked from her, tangling up in the hard knot forming in her throat.

  Again, there was no response.

  Sienna collapsed against her bed, new sobs racking her. How could Cronus have done this to her? How could he be so cruel?

  He must pay. He must suffer.

  The deep voice whisked through her head, and she jerked in shock and revulsion. Shut up, shut up, shut up. I know what you are. I hate you.

  The insult had no effect. He must pay. He must suffer as you suffer.

  Expecting the voice this time, she didn't jerk. She stilled. She even began to ponder. The demon of Wrath was inside her. And helpless and sick as she was, there was nothing she could do about that. Yet. So why not use it? Just once? Just to balance the scales and make things right?

  "H-how? How do I make him suffer as I now suffer?" Oh, God. She was talking to a demon. Stop! It was weird and wrong...yet oddly freeing. There would be no stopping. Cronus had to pay for this.

  You must steal that which he values most.

  "And that is?" Whatever the answer, she would do as the demon suggested and steal it. She would not hesitate. Cronus had thrown her into this terrible fire; he could burn with her. "His wife? His children?"

  His power.

  "All right." Another vow. But just how was she supposed to steal power from a god?

  He will pay. He will suffer.

  Yes. Gradually, her tears dried and her heartbeat calmed. The lump in her throat dissolved. Cold seeped through her, filling her up, consuming her. "He will pay. He will suffer."

  "VISIT HELL? No damn way."

  Amun stood in front of the large plasma screen in the entertainment room, facing William. This had been the only way to get the man's attention. Whenever Amun had knocked on William's bedroom door, he'd been told to go away. Whenever he'd followed William into town, the warrior had ignored him as he plundered his way through the female population, one—or two—at a time. Sometimes the bastard had eve
n done his business with Amun standing there.

  Now, William was a captive audience. Because Amun had brought in reinforcements. Anya, the goddess of Anarchy. As powerful and vindictive as she was, she could make anyone do anything she wanted at any time. Especially William.

  The two were best friends and loved to torture each other. Which was why Anya had stolen some book that belonged to William. A very important book, apparently, and one the warrior needed to save himself from some curse. The two were always careful to keep those details buried behind inane thoughts while in Amun's presence.

  He could have sifted through their minds to gain the answers, of course, but hadn't. He didn't need any more secrets, thank you very much.

  He did know that whenever William acted like a "good boy," Anya returned a few pages to him. So when Anya challenged William to a game of "Guitar Hero," along with Gilly, a teen who now lived at the fortress, William had accepted. The three were positioned around the TV, where Anya had stated they would remain until Amun had said his piece. Or signed, as the case was.

  We need your help rescuing Legion, Amun began.

  "Sorry, but I have plans elsewhere," William said darkly. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning, and I'll be gone for a few weeks."

  "What plans?" Gilly demanded, fingering the butterfly necklace Lucien had given her earlier. A necklace exactly like the one Amun, Anya and William also wore. They had been told to wear them always, to block their actions from the prying eyes of the gods. "Why didn't you tell me you were going somewhere?"

  Whoa. What was that? Pure possessiveness had layered her words.

  You're mine, he suddenly heard Gilly think. We belong together, not apart.

  O-kay. Amun massaged the back of his neck. He hadn't needed to know that.

  Expression tight, William tossed his drumsticks in the air, caught them and twirled them. "Doesn't matter why I kept you in the dark. I'm going and that's final."

  And wow. William usually joked about everything. He took nothing seriously. That he was in this temper...

  I've got to stop this, William thought. This can't go on.

  Good. That was good.

  "This trip is final, you said?" Anya arched a brow at her friend, her lips curling in challenge. She was engaged to Lucien, keeper of Death, and was one of the most beautiful females Amun had ever seen. Not surprisingly, Lucien indulged her every whim. "You didn't yet clear this trip with me, either."

  "You can't go without me," Gilly said.

  "I can and I will. And don't threaten me, Anya. This is one thing I will see through no matter what you do to my book."

  Her expression a storm cloud of fury, Gilly tossed her bass guitar on the floor. The plastic cracked. Exactly as she imagined her heart was doing. "You promised to protect me always. How can you protect me if you're gone?"

  She had straight brown hair and big, beautiful brown eyes. She was average height, but had more curves than any seventeen-year-old girl should have. And William was clearly doing his best not to look at her.

  He was failing. Must...stop. Why can't I make it stop?

  As though a book of his own opened up in Amun's mind, with everyone's secrets filling the pages, Amun suddenly knew exactly what was going on. Gilly thought she was in love with William. William was attracted to the girl and horrified because of it. She was too young for him.

  But while William could do nothing about his desire for Gilly, he could do something about his thirst for justice. Gilly had been terribly abused as a child, and William had tracked down her family with every intention of killing them in the slowest, most painful of ways. That's where he was going. To Nebraska to have his revenge. Wouldn't be difficult, either. The mother was a housewife and the stepfather a doctor.

  "I didn't lie to you. I will always protect you," William told her gently. He stood, reached for her, but realized what he was doing and dropped his arms to his sides. "You have to trust me on this."

  Amun clapped his hands for their attention. Help me help Aeron and then I'll help you with the girl's family.

  William's attention had already wandered. He hadn't watched Amun's hands and had no idea what Amun had said. As Anya realized what Amun was implying, her blue eyes widened. Rather than voice the words for him in English or Hungarian, allowing Gilly to understand, she spoke to William in the language of the gods. The rough sounds were music to Amun's ears, reminding him of the carefree years he'd spend in the heavens.

  "I don't need help," William growled in the same language. Stiff, he tangled a hand through hair the color of the darkest night. "Actually, I want to do this alone. And besides that, Legion annoyed me. I'm glad she's gone. I think it's safe to say I wouldn't rescue my own mother from hell. If I had one. I wouldn't even rescue Anya."

  "Thanks," the goddess said with a roll of her eyes. "But listen. Aeron isn't glad she's gone." Her voice was gentler than Amun had ever heard it. "Which means Lucien isn't glad. Which means I'm not glad."

  William remained unmoving. "Don't care."

  "Lucifer is afraid of you, Willy. In hell, you'll be able to do things and go places Aeron and Amun can't."

  For a moment, William's mind opened, gearing up to recall exactly why Lucifer feared him. But then he shut down the memory, which meant that Amun couldn't read it, not without digging, and that still wasn't something Amun wanted to do.

  "Again," William said with a shrug. "Don't care."

  Just as stubborn, Anya persisted. "William, think about what you're turning down. When you're with Gilly's family, you won't know what they're thinking, what they fear, what other terrible things they've done. But Amun will. He can tell you. And you can do more than hurt and kill them. You can terrorize them."

  Gilly tossed her hands in the air. "Will someone please speak in English and tell me what's going on? Someone? Please?"

  "No," Anya and William said in unison.

  "God! You guys are so lame. You want to act like I'm not here? Fine. I'll do you one better. I'll leave. I don't know why I hang around you, anyway." With that, Gilly flounced out of the room.

  Scowling, William jabbed one of his sticks through his drums. "Fine. Count me in, Amun. I'll go to hell with you and Aeron. Afterward, you'll help me deliver hell to my humans. Got it?"

  For better or worse, Amun nodded.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WHEN SCARLET sat up and opened her eyes to a brand-new evening, she had no idea what to expect. After her "we had a son" bombshell, Gideon had basically gone into shock. He'd been silent, withdrawn, and she hadn't forced a confrontation because she'd wanted him to have time to absorb the astonishing news.

  Before he could do so, however, the sun had risen and she'd fallen asleep, lost to her demon. She'd been too distracted to participate in their usual terror games and didn't even know who they'd targeted.

  "Were you lying? Don't tell me!"

  The words whipped at her, and she quickly focused. Gideon hadn't moved her from the forest. Trees still surrounded her, birds and insects still sang. The spring still bubbled, and mist still wafted. There was no waning sunlight, no violet sky, only a thick blanket of dark, heavy clouds. A storm was brewing.

  In more ways than one.

  Gideon was bathed in shadows. Shadows her gaze had no trouble penetrating. His blue locks were wet and plastered to his brow, his cheeks, yet were still a gorgeous frame for the upsetting lines of tension that spread from his temples to his mouth. His eyes were like lasers, boring past the mental shields she surrounded herself with. His expression was tight, fierce, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a scowl.

  He stood in front of her, a dagger in each hand.

  Breath suddenly trapped in her throat, she swept her gaze over her body. There were no cuts on her arms or legs, and her dress was in one piece. There wasn't a single spot of blood to indicate he'd injured her.

  Okay. So. He hadn't attacked her in fury. Did that mean he could get away without saying, "Who aren't you today?" Did that mean he could get away with not ki
ssing her awake?

  Gods, his kiss. She reached up and traced her fingertips over her mouth. A mouth that still tingled. His tongue had plundered and taken and given. Taken so much passion. Given so much pleasure. His hands had been everywhere, touching her, learning her. And his body, so hard and hot against hers, had transported her back to the heavens. Locked up, helpless still, but uncaring because she had her man. A man who loved her.

  It had been so long since she'd given in to the demands of her body. So long since she'd lost control. Gideon hadn't seemed to mind that loss. No, he'd seemed to enjoy it. He'd come on her belly and marked her as if they still belonged together.

  Afterward, she'd wanted to cuddle up to his side. She'd wanted to kiss his neck and breathe in his musky scent. She'd wanted to spill every secret, talk about everything they'd once shared.

  But she knew him, knew this man who had no clue about what she'd once meant to him. And she'd known beyond any doubt that that's what he had planned. He'd taken her from prison into paradise, simply for answers. Answers he would attempt to unearth through fair means or foul.

  He'd always been that way. When determination set in, Gideon was more stubborn than she was. It was as annoying as it was wonderful. For once he'd decided that she was to be his bride, he'd moved heaven and earth to make it happen. Despite the odds against them.

  She wouldn't be used in that way, however. She wouldn't let him think he could fuck her—or almost fuck her—and get his way.

  "Scar. You're not pissing me the hell off. Don't pay attention to me." He tossed one of the daggers with a lethal flick of his wrist. "Don't tell me what I don't want to know."

  Scarlet whipped around, following the movement of the blade. The tip was now embedded in the tree trunk, vibrating. And there were hundreds of grooves in the bark. He'd been tossing that thing all day, it seemed.

  "No," she said softly, facing him again. "I wasn't lying." Steel was not something she would lie about. Ever. For any reason. He had been—was still—the most important person in her life.