Suddenly he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to be rubbed—or talked to. Damn his irresistible sexual magnetism.
“Easy now,” he told her, gripping her hips to ensure she slowed down. “I need a few minutes to recover from the excitement of having you here.”
Thankfully, she stilled. She twisted just a little, peering up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Want me to turn around?”
She smelled of peaches and cigarette smoke. “Actually, be a good girl and get me another beer from the kitchen.” He hefted her to her feet and gave her tight ass a pat. “I need to rebuild my strength or I’ll never be able to keep up with a woman as talented and beautiful as you.”
The action startled her, and she yelped, then threw a narrowed glance over her shoulder. “Beer?”
“Yeah, and sometime tonight,” he prompted, not wanting to give her time to question him further. “That’s a sweet girl.”
“Grab me one, too, sweetness,” Paris called. “Don’t pop the lid, though, all right?”
With a huff, she flounced inside. The kitchen sat right next to the patio, the glass doors allowing him to watch her as she dug into the fridge, turned and stalked back out. By the time she reached him, she had calmed down.
When she tried to sit back on his lap, he confiscated the beers and gave her a little push toward the pool. “Watching you swim is about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Show me that swan dive again, and transport me right back to heaven.”
“But I thought you wanted… If you’re sure you don’t…”
“I’m sure. I’m practically drooling just thinking about how graceful you are.”
Her shoulders squared proudly, and she raced off to do just that. Strider tossed Paris his beer.
“I just had the best idea ever,” William said the moment they were alone. Well, as alone as three guys could be with a backyard filled with strippers. He grinned evilly. “Let’s give Maddox a ring.”
Paris had dumped a baggie of ambrosia in the new bottle and had just taken a swig. The liquid caught in his throat, choking him. After banging a fist into his sternum, he regained his breath and said, “You mean propose to him? To grumpy ole Maddox? Shit, Willie, why didn’t you tell us you’re a masochist who swung that way? You’re so delicate, he’ll rip you to shreds the moment you climb into his bed. Plus, he’s hitched himself to Ashlyn. You try to lay a move on him, and that sweet thang will rearrange your face.”
Rolling his eyes, William withdrew Paris’s cell phone from the pocket of the swim trunks he’d borrowed. “I mean call him, you idiot. What’s with you tonight? Permanent brain damage? We’ll breathe heavily and ask him what he’s wearing. I bet no one’s phone sexed him before.”
“Hey!” Paris frowned as he eyed the small black device. “I had that stashed in my bedroom.”
“I know. That’s where I found it when I was snooping through your things.” As always, William was unrepentant about his sins. “So who has the titanium balls to actually do it, huh?”
Defeat raised his arm like a schoolboy, the only kid in class who knew the answer to the seemingly impossible mathematical equation on the board.
Enough from you already! You had your “more.”
“Why Maddox?” Strider asked. If anyone could kick his ass over the phone, it was the keeper of Violence. The warrior would probably find a way to reach through the line and strangle him the moment he started describing all the naughty things he supposedly planned to do to him.
William flashed his perfect white teeth. “Because he’ll curse the most, and that’ll make me laugh the hardest. Now, are you in or not?”
“Give me that effing phone,” Strider grumbled, opening his palm and waving his fingers.
“Effing?” William laughed with genuine amusement. “You ever realize how polite you get when you’re hammered? And you know what they say. A man’s true character is revealed when he’s toasted. So you gotta face facts, man. You’re a closet gentleman.” He shuddered. “Loser!”
“The heck I am!”
Even Paris laughed at that.
Strider snatched the phone out of William’s hand and started dialing. Yeah, Maddox—like every other warrior—was on speed dial, but Strider didn’t know the order Paris had them listed and he didn’t want to ask. If Strider wasn’t first, he didn’t want to challenge the bastard to fix the mistake.
A few seconds later, Strider realized he’d dialed the wrong number because some dumb kid answered with a “What’s up, yo?”
Strider quickly hung up and tried again, carefully pecking at the keys. After the first ring, he switched to speaker.
Maddox answered a few seconds later, his voice raspy with the force of his panting. “Something wrong, Paris?”
William and Paris were on the edges of their seats, peering over at Strider with utter glee. He hadn’t seen either warrior that happy or relaxed in a long time, and he realized they had needed this vacation as much as he had.
Strider blew into the mouthpiece, then moaned as if he were buried deep inside a woman’s body. He tried not to grin.
“Paris?” Maddox asked, confused. “You there? You okay?”
Both warriors tried to cut off their laughs, smashing their knuckles into their mouths, but snorts managed to escape.
“You naked, big boy?” Strider asked in his best imitation of an aroused female. “Because I am.”
More snorting followed his words.
“Strider? And don’t try to deny it. I recognize your voice. What the hell are you doing with Paris’s phone? I thought you were in Rome. And furthermore, what the hell does it matter if I’m naked or not? You have exactly two seconds to explain or I’m going to reach through the line, rip your tongue out of your mouth and—”
There was a pause, static, a muttered, “Give me that,” by an indignant female. Then the normally quiet and reserved Ashlyn was demanding, “Did you just drunk dial my husband?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Strider said, and the other two finally burst into laughter, falling back in their chairs, their bodies shaking with the force of their mirth. “A guy’s gotta have some fun. Even if it’s the fun he puts in his own funeral. So is he? Naked, I mean.”
“No, for your information, he is not. He’s working out. I, uh, kind of incited him to rage so he’s beating the crap out of a brick wall.”
The laughter continued for several minutes, until even Ashlyn was chortling. “You boys are incorrigible. This isn’t funny! He’ll probably destroy the other wall when we hang up.”
“Good. He needed to get out of bed and finally do something besides—” Strider stopped himself before he said something else Maddox would rage over.
“Besides pleasuring me?” Ashlyn finished for him, anyway. “You’ll change your mind when you next see him. Lately, he’s a nervous wreck about the babies. He’s picking fights with everyone he meets and has even been arrested. Twice. We’re going to make our way back to the fortress in the next week or so. He needs you guys. Because, and please don’t laugh when I tell you this, if we’re alone much longer I’m going to murder him in his sleep.”
Strider chuckled. “Bet you’re wishing you hadn’t saved him from his death curse.” Once upon a time, Reyes had been forced to murder Maddox every night and Lucien had been forced to escort his soul to hell. Ashlyn managed to reverse the curse, sparing them all.
“A little peace and quiet isn’t too much to ask for, you know?” she said loudly. Then, in a softer tone, she added, “So everyone’s good?”
“Don’t be nice to them,” Maddox barked in the background. “You need your rest, and they interrupted.”
“Oh, hush,” she replied. “If you had your way, I’d be resting every minute of every day. And like I can really rest while we’re outside, in the middle of town, while you destroy another building. Besides, I miss them and want to talk to them.”
That shut Maddox up. He could deny his precious Ashlyn nothing.
“We’re great. Me
, Willie and Paris are on vacation. Together,” Strider added. He relaxed against his lounge, his free hand anchored under his head, wondering if he’d ever have such an easy relationship with a woman. “You guys good? No trouble lately?”
“Besides Maddox’s temper? Not even a hint of it.”
He didn’t ask where they were or what, exactly, they were doing. Besides destroying public property. He didn’t want to know. Ignorance was bliss. Besides that, if Hunters ever managed to pull their heads out of their asses and capture him, he wouldn’t have any secrets to spill.
Secrets. Amun. Ex.
His jaw clenched. You weren’t going to think about them, remember? “How are Stride and Stridette?” Friend that he was, he’d taken the massive burden of picking names for the twins upon himself.
“He’s means Liam and Liama,” William called, but a shadow then passed over his features, his grin fading.
“Madd and Madder are kicking like professional soccer players,” she replied, her voice softening with love and affection. “I swear, we’re gonna have our hands full when they finally get here.”
“By the way, you’ve ruined a perfectly good prank call with all this baby talk, Ash,” William scolded her.
“Seriously,” Paris said with a nod.
She laughed with unvarnished delight. “No more than you deserve, boys.”
“Hang up the phone, woman,” Maddox suddenly said, grim. “Someone’s coming.”
“Uh-oh. I have to go now,” she said and hung up before anyone could reply.
Strider tossed the phone to Paris, who missed. “Think they’re in trouble?”
“Nah,” Paris said, plucking the device before William could. “The someone who’s coming is probably Maddox himself.”
“Yeah, he’s probably dragging her back to wherever they’re staying so he can make a prank call of his own,” William said, adding, “on her body.”
Before Defeat could throw in his own supposition, Strider changed the subject. “So now what are we going to do?” Out of habit, he scanned his surroundings.
The girls were watching them, he realized, confused by their amusement but clearly charmed by it. They were wearing dreamy expressions, as if they were already planning a triple wedding.
“I guess we could grab a female or two and head to our bedrooms.” Paris didn’t sound enthused by the prospect. At least he wasn’t going to deny himself his daily dose, though.
“Yeah,” William replied, and he actually sounded depressed.
Strider knew Paris’s problem. The woman he had desired above all others, the first woman he’d ever been able to have sex with more than once, had died in his arms, gunned down by her own people. Hunters. Like Ex.
This time, Strider didn’t even attempt to cut off his thoughts of her. Yet. Had she been among the shooters? Probably. There was no bitch more coldhearted. Literally. He’d never met anyone whose body was as cold as that girl’s—except those he’d sent to the morgue, of course. Like he’d once sent Ex.
Was she cold because she was still dead? Was she akin to the walking dead?
The possibility was worth considering. Later. Right now, he wanted to figure out William’s unusual somberness. A much safer topic. Was there someone the warrior wanted but couldn’t have? Someone he’d lost? Was that why he was so hands-off when he used to be a worse degenerate than Strider? Seriously, he hadn’t touched a single stripper. Not even to slap a rump.
“So am I the only one who sees the dead girl at Paris’s feet or what?” William asked conversationally.
Strider and Paris stiffened in unison. Dead girl?
Strider was the first to find his voice. “What do you mean?” He looked, hard, but saw no hint of a dead…anything.
“Is this a joke?” Paris demanded, and there was no denying the menace in his voice.
“No joke, I swear.” William held up his hands, all innocence. “She showed up a few minutes ago and just kinda threw herself on the ground beside your chair. Dude, she’s got her hands wrapped around your ankle.” His gaze remained in the same spot, as if he were studying her. “She’s got dark hair and dirt-smudged skin. Or maybe those are freckles. She’s wearing a ripped white robe and black wings are growing out of her back. Ohhh, she’s got nice hands. Look at those things. I bet she does all kinds of naughty things with them.”
Paris was on his feet a second later, wild gaze darting over the concrete surrounding his chair. “Where is she? Where, damn it?”
A frowning William pointed at the exact spot Paris was standing. “You’re on top of her. Hey, girl. Girl. I don’t think he can see you. Or feel you. I don’t think grabbing on to him like that is gonna help you.”
Paris jumped back and, with an urgent moan, fell to his knees, patting the area in question as if he were putting out a fire. “I don’t feel her. Are you sure she’s here?” Desperate, uttered in a rush.
“Uh, yeah.” William’s brow furrowed several seconds before smoothing out as comprehension dawned. “I guess I never told you guys, but I see dead people. Oh, and look. There’s Cronus.”
Cronus, the god king. Strider’s eyes widened, but he saw no bright light to announce the sovereign’s sudden appearance. All remained as it was. No, not true. Paris had stiffened, fury bathing his face, his teeth bared in a fearsome scowl.
Cronus had given them medallions to hide them from the gods, but had since taken them back, saying the Lords had abused them. Meaning, Cronus wanted to know where they were at all times. Here was proof.
“Hey, buddy. How you doing?” William waved. “You taking the girl?” Pause. “Wow, you’re brave. Doesn’t look like she wants to leave with you.” Another pause. He didn’t seem to care that he was having a conversation with himself. “Okay, then, but go easy on her. I think Paris likes her. Well, bye.” He waved again.
Paris listened, growing more and more agitated. At the “bye,” he launched himself at William, his roar shattering the ease of the night.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HAIDEE FOUGHT THROUGH THE thick, black cloud in her mind, hearing grunts, groans and hisses in the distance. Heavy eyelids blinked open, and through a misty haze she saw a tall, muscled warrior standing over her, a solid leg on each side of her hips. Amun. Her sweet Amun.
He slashed his serrated daggers with swift proficiency, his wrists arcing as his hands overlapped, quickly sailing apart and nailing a target. Or several targets at the same time. Thin, scaled bodies—snakes, she thought groggily—fell all around her, crimson rivers flowing under her. In death, their red eyes were fixed on her, their fangs forever bared but useless.
Those bodies continued to rain as Amun continued to slash, and a more fantastical display of male aggression and skill she’d never seen. But no matter how many reptiles he killed, more flew from the tangle of limbs, desperate to bite him. Many had already succeeded. His arms were covered with tiny punctures, his own blood dripping and blending with theirs.
None of the snakes had reached her, however. Every time one of them angled in her direction, either from in front or behind, he noticed and attacked. He protected her, even though he left his sides wide open to do so, allowing several other sets of fangs to sink deep.
She should help, do something, anything, but her limbs refused to obey her command to move. She drew in a deep breath—the air, so sweet, so pungent—trying to find her center, trying to tap into a reservoir of strength. Only lethargy greeted her.
Amun was panting, sweating, probably tiring and definitely needing her to do—her eyes were closing again…open, damn it…closing…thoughts fragmenting…darkness.
THE NEXT TIME HAIDEE managed to pry open her eyelids, she saw wide, rocky walls painted red with blood and depicting horrific images that blurred at her sides as she…floated? Even from the swift glimpses she was afforded, she managed to spot three stabbings, two rapes and countless burnings.
Worse than the images, however, she saw an actual human body hanging from the domed ceiling, crows eating at i
ts rotting flesh. What. The. Hell?
Hell. The word echoed in her mind, rousing her memory. She had entered hell with Amun. Her dream man. Her enemy. Her obsession.
Her head felt too heavy to turn even the barest inch, so she moved her gaze instead—and found herself peering up at his beautiful dark skin. He cradled her in his arms, his chest littered with tiny, seeping holes. He stared straight ahead, his chin jutting stubbornly, his lips pressed into a thin, mutinous line.
He must be in pain, she thought, yet he carried her with careful, easy steps, doing his best not to jostle her. Such tenderness…such a darling man.
Would she ever figure him out?
She tried to open her mouth to thank him, to apologize for not aiding him in the Realm of Snakes, for actually hindering him, but no words emerged. Her lips refused to even part, lethargy still pumping through her at an alarming rate. Damn it. She owed him something.
He must have sensed her internal struggle, though he never looked down, never slowed his gait. Easy now, he said, that husky voice wisping through her mind. Don’t try to talk. Sleep, heal.
That. She could give him that. Obedience, just this once. Or again. With him, the lines had always been blurred. She closed her eyes and let the darkness once again consume her.
HAIDEE STRETCHED HER ARMS over her head, back arching, legs kicking out. In the back of her mind, she knew she’d grown used to hard, twig-laden ground, cramped cells and general discomfort. But, oh, not this time. The mattress beneath her was soft and smelled deliciously of peat smoke and flowers. And sweet Lord above, she heard a crackling fire, felt wave after wave of delicious heat caressing her skin.
Only two things marred the luxury of the moment. A dull headache throbbing in her temples, and a gnawing sense of emptiness in her stomach. Both demanded attention. Now. She blinked open her eyes, taking stock. She was sprawled on her side, lying on a bed of soft, colorful petals. Inside a murky, barren cave. Had Amun picked the flowers from the forest and brought them here, just to ensure her comfort?
The Darkest Secret (Lords of the Underworld Book 8) Page 18
