The Darkest Secret (Lords of the Underworld Book 8)

by Gena Showalter

  That was not the reaction she’d expected or wanted. “Amun, I—”

  He tore his gaze from her and pushed to a stand. If you want me to summon the angel, I’ll find a way to do so. He can return you to your…friends. You don’t have to do this. Don’t have to help me.

  “I’m not leaving you,” she told him, angry now. “And you saw for yourself that you weren’t the one who killed me. You tried to save me. More than that, I blamed you when I—”

  You blamed me, and rightly so! He swiped up the backpack, commanded it to provide clean clothes for both of them and then tossed her a shirt and jeans. The robes are good for the caves, but not for movement. You need to change. We’re leaving.

  “Listen to me. I wrongly blamed you and—”

  We’re done discussing this. Change. Now.

  He’d never, ever treated her like this, even when they’d first discovered who the other was, and she had no idea how to reach him, how to make him understand. Shaking, Haidee removed the robe and tugged on the new clothing. “We—we can’t leave yet. Not until we know what we’ll be facing.” She claimed the backpack and said, “Give us instructions for successfully navigating the next realm.”

  When she reached inside, she found a small, yellowed scroll.

  Without a word, Amun took the backpack and settled the straps over his shoulders. With every second that passed, he seemed even more removed from her, and still she didn’t understand. She didn’t blame him for what had happened, so why did he blame himself?

  Because he’d failed? Because he feared failing again? “Amun,” she said, trying again to reach him. She had to reach him.

  Come, he replied, striding from the cave, forcing her to follow or be left behind.

  The scroll crinkled as she unwittingly tightened her grip. “I’m not going to let you shut me out,” she said, knowing he couldn’t hear her but feeling better just saying the words.

  She forced herself to relax and trail after her man—and he was her man, there was no question of that now—as he headed into the unknown.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  VACATION SUCKED. Strider sat in the passenger seat of the caddy William had stolen, peering out at the barren landscape and waning sunlight. This was the road trip from hell.

  After the debacle with the invisible girl, who just had to be Paris’s obsession, Sienna, Paris had flipped his ever-loving lid and attacked William for not preventing the god king from leaving with her. It had taken all of Strider’s strength—and a dagger through his friend’s broken heart—to defeat the hysterical warrior.

  Afterward, bleeding and far from calm, Paris kicked Strider and William off his ranch, along with the strippers. But Paris had soon realized Sienna could escape Cronus again and return to him, and without William, he wouldn’t be able to see her. So, the injured Paris had tracked them down and insisted on coming with them. Not a difficult task since they’d merely hiked to the mailbox at the end of his driveway and decided to rest. For a few hours.

  Ambrosia hangovers sucked as much as vacations.

  They’d been on the open road for countless hours, and for most of those hours Paris had shouted for Cronus, issuing threats and generally annoying the hell out of everyone. Finally, though, he’d quieted and now slept fitfully in the back seat, blood loss having drained him. Just before falling asleep, he’d vowed to call Lucien and demand the keeper of Death flash him to the heavens when his injuries healed.

  Paris was going hunting for his female.

  That kind of obsessive desire for one specific woman wasn’t smart, and Strider acknowledged that he himself had been speeding in that direction with Ex. Unlike Paris, he had willingly given the woman up, and suddenly, he was grateful. Had he continued down that path, he eventually would have fought Amun for her.

  Fighting a friend for a woman was the epitome of stupid. Wrong on every level.

  One, he valued his friendships. Two, no woman was worth the trouble she caused when he knew he would one day lose interest in her. Three, a Hunter really wasn’t worth the trouble she caused. Four, sex was sex. A man could get it anywhere, as proven by his time at Paris’s ranch.

  He sighed and concentrated on the shitty scenery. Trees. Rolling hills. And—oh, hells yeah. A convenience store, dead ahead.

  “Pull over,” he commanded.

  “What?” William flicked him a now’s-not-the-time-to-joke glance. “We just got a little peace and quiet and you want to ruin it all just to piss? You’re such a baby.”

  “Red Hots, dude.” He’d ruin anything for a mouthful of those. “Now pull the fuck over.”

  “Oh, Gummy Bears. You should have said so.”

  The car merged right, hit the service road and finally halted abruptly in front of the twenty-four-hour shop. Burly truckers hustled in and out, as well as families traveling the countryside.

  William jerked a thumb toward the backseat. “What about sleeping beauty?”

  “He’s not gonna kill himself while we’re gone.”

  “Do you have any self-preservation instincts?” Ice-blue eyes glittered with sardonic humor. “I meant, what if he wakes up, steals our car and abandons us?”

  “Easy. We steal a truck and play chase. I’ve always wanted to drive a big rig.”

  “I like where your head’s at, Stridey-Man. Maybe we’ll do that anyway.”

  Out of habit, Strider performed a perimeter check before exiting. During the drive, when he hadn’t been lost in thought, he’d been watching for a tail. So far, so good. Not once had he spied anything suspicious. To be honest, that was kind of disappointing. He’d expected Haidee’s boyfriend to come after him. Shit, the guy had sworn to spill Strider’s guts and remove each of his limbs. Oh, well.

  He and William entered the store side by side, then split up. They still wore their swim trunks, but they also wore T-shirts and flip-flops, so they weren’t totally inappropriate as they strutted down the isles, grabbing what they wanted. Still. People stared. Maybe because they were giants compared to everyone else, both in height and muscle mass. Maybe because of the telltale bulge of weapons at their waists. Or maybe because William opened a bag of Doritos and ate while he shopped. Hard to tell.

  “You see any Gummy Bears?” William called.

  Strider balanced five boxes of Red Hots and five boxes of Hot Tamales in the cradle of one arm as he scanned the racks. “Nope. Sorry.” He grabbed a few Twinkies for Paris and threw them on top of his pile. They weren’t fried, but hell. Women ate sweets when they were nursing broken hearts, and Paris was definitely acting like a woman. Guy would be grateful for anything.

  Strider was snickering to himself as he mixed a suicide at the soda fountain. Paris, acting like a woman. What was new about that? When the fizzing liquid reached the rim, he popped the lid and straw in place. Hard to do one-handed, but he managed it. He sipped. Nice.

  Behind him, gasps resonated. He whipped around, expecting trouble with William—only to spy a scowling Lucien with his hand resting on the shoulder of a stunning redhead. She was a tiny little thing, only reaching his shoulder, but damn was she curved. Her breasts strained the lacy tank. Her waist flared around low-rise jeans. Really low-rise. So low it was obvious she wasn’t wearing any panties. She couldn’t be. Her legs were lean and long enough to lock around his back.

  He wanted to curse.

  “Kaia?” Strider blinked, certain this was only a nightmare. A Harpy, the deadliest race on the planet. Here. Stinking up his vacation even more. And he’d thought the night couldn’t get any worse.

  “Oh, yummy. A Big Gulp.” She closed what little distance there was between them and jerked the cup from his kung fu grip. Then, without waiting for his permission, she slurped the contents. “Thanks.”

  Not a challenge, not a damn challenge, he told his demon.

  Still. Defeat perked up inside his head. Thank the gods the beast didn’t urge him to act. Yet.

  Kaia’s features wrinkled with distaste. “Yuck! What is this stuff? Batter
y acid?”

  “It’s a little of every kind of soda they’ve got,” he gritted, reaching out his free hand and waving his fingers. “Now give it back and tell me what you’re doing here.”

  Her sensuous lips pulled back from her teeth as she hissed, her gray-gold eyes flickering with incandescent striations of silver and deep, dark lines of black. “Mine.”

  That wasn’t a challenge, he mentally shouted.

  Defeat practically twitched against his skull, a wee bit agitated but still not insisting Strider do anything.

  He allowed his arm to fall to his side. Harpies could only eat what they stole or earned, everything else made them sick, so he knew she had to take what she could, when she could. He also knew Harpies were as possessive about their stuff as he was, and Kaia now considered the drink hers. But if she pushed any more, his demon would want him to do something. Strider knew it, felt it. Yet there was no damn way he could challenge a Harpy in front of humans. That was something better done in private—where he could have his ass handed to him without being humiliated in front of others.

  “I asked once, but I’ll do it again. What are you doing here?” He switched his focus to Lucien before she could reply. “What’s she doing here?”

  Lucien met his stare and gave a pitying sigh. “She was bored, so she called me and asked me to take her to you, and because I like my testicles where they are, I decided to indulge her.”

  “Take her to me?” Strider thumped his chest to make sure Lucien and Kaia understood who “me” was. “Why me?”

  Neither responded to his question.

  “My friend, I wish you a good night. She’s your pain in the ass now,” Lucien said, and after saluting Strider with the same irreverent pinky wave Anya was fond of giving, he strode out of the store to find a nice, deserted corner outside where he could disappear without witnesses.

  Strider returned his attention to Kaia. She fluttered her lashes at him, all innocence and feminine wiles. If he hadn’t sparred with her a few times in the past, if he hadn’t known exactly how dirty she fought, going for the groin at every opportunity, he might have believed the act. Even knowing, he had a hard time convincing himself of her extraordinary ability to deceive.

  She was here for a reason, and he wasn’t going to like it.

  His only consolation was that he liked looking at her. Truly, if the gods had asked him to design a female, Kaia would have been it. She had a deceptively delicate bone structure and long red hair that curled to her waist. She had the face of a wicked pixie, the fangs of a pissed off snake and the body of a porn star, minus the implants. And her skin, oh, gods, her skin.

  All Harpies possessed skin like hers. Like polished opals and crushed diamonds, glinting with all the colors of the rainbow. They had to cover every visible inch with cosmetics and clothing because men became slobbering fools whenever they saw that skin. Strider had caught a glimpse only once—during one of their practice sessions, her shirt had ridden up to her navel—and he’d instantly lost control of his body. He’d become consumed by the need to penetrate her.

  She’d covered herself before he had attacked, and the urge had passed. Eventually. Even then, remembering, he wanted to strip her, take her.

  No way. No way in hell. She might be the loveliest female he’d ever beheld, but she would be more trouble than a Hunter. She was a consummate liar and an unrepentant thief. She killed indiscriminately, and well, she was stronger than him. Talk about embarrassing!

  Plus, the first time she had visited her sister Gwen at the fortress, Strider had noticed several of the warriors eyeing her as if she were a lollipop. She hadn’t seemed to notice or care, and he hadn’t wanted to compete for her affections. He’d made the right decision, too.

  He still couldn’t believe she’d slept with Paris.

  Paris. Ah, okay. Her need to find “Strider” was beginning to make a little sense. He was with Paris, so what better way to spend time with the warrior without admitting what she really wanted?

  That didn’t bother Strider, but damn it all to hell, he didn’t like being used. “If you’re here to win Paris’s everlasting love, you’ve already failed. He now knows beyond any doubt that Sienna is still out there, and he’s desperate to reach her. You’re not going to make him jealous by cuddling up to me and you’re not—”

  “Will you just shut up?” Kaia snatched a box of Red Hots and popped open the lid.

  He snatched it back before she could eat a single one, and Defeat purred with satisfaction.

  “Hey!”

  “Mine,” he snapped. Enough was enough.

  Rather than attack him, she merely anchored her free hand on her perfectly shaped hips. “Lookit. I didn’t want to kick things off this way, but you’re being an asshat. So here it is. Paris was a one-time thing and not just because he can’t ever come back for seconds. Yeah, he gave me about a bazillion orgasms, but afterward I didn’t like how I felt and I couldn’t stop thinking—never mind.” She was scowling as she shook her head. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m not here to see him. I wanted to see—”

  “Kaia, darling,” William said, nearly leaping over a stand of beef jerky in his haste to reach her.

  Strider frowned, but he wasn’t sure why.

  As William pulled her close for a hug, the bastard grinned with utter delight, as if Kaia was just the thing he’d needed to relieve an eternity of boredom. “Are you here to fight the strippers who just enjoyed hours of my company?” He patted her ass in approval.

  “Hardly,” she said, tossing her glorious mane of hair over her shoulder with a single flip of her wrist. “I’m here to thank them for keeping you occupied. Please tell me they’re still with you.”

  William pretended to wipe away a tear. “Knife through the heart, my sweet. Knife through the heart.”

  Gods, they were annoying. William had been trying to get into Kaia’s pants for months. She, of course, liked to string him along.

  Which was another reason Strider would never make a play for her.

  Kaia would challenge him more than most, and she wouldn’t care if he lost. Hell, she would want him to lose, even though the loss would bring him days of physical agony. Her sense of rivalry was just as highly developed as his own.

  “We’re on vacation, Kaia,” Strider grumbled. “You weren’t invited.”

  She waved away his words as if they were unimportant. “Deep down I knew you meant to invite me, so ta-da. Here I am. You’re welcome.”

  “It’s scary how well you know us. Here, pay for this,” William said, dumping his candy into Strider’s arms. “We’ll be in the car. Making out.”

  At first, Kaia remained in place, watching Strider. Whatever she wanted from him, he must not have given to her, because she blew him a kiss and allowed the black-haired warrior to lead her off. Not even trying to hide her actions, she stuffed a Twinkie in the back pocket of her jeans and grabbed a couple magazines before stepping outside.

  Strider’s jaw ached from the grind of his teeth as he strode to the register. For some reason, people moved out of his way as quickly as possible. Even the ones standing in line, waiting their turn.

  “Uh, I wouldn’t bring this up, except I kinda have to and everything,” the overweight cashier began nervously, “since it’s on camera and my boss, like, watches the film sometimes, but, uh, the little lady took a—”

  “I know. Just add it all up.” After he paid, he stomped outside, the bag filled with candy slapping his thigh with every step. The cool night air failed to dampen his sudden black mood. At least you’re not thinking about Ex now.

  Hardly a silver lining. And one that didn’t last. He’d maybe, big maybe, exaggerated his attraction to Ex. If he’d really wanted her, he wouldn’t have slept with someone else earlier today. He would have fought for her affections now rather than eventually, no matter how foolish fighting your friends over a woman was.

  Look at Paris. Guy needed sex to freaking survive, but he hadn’t spent quality sh
eet time with any of those strippers.

  That didn’t lessen the sting of being rebuffed, though, and maybe that’s why he’d thought he wanted Ex so damn badly. Because she hadn’t wanted him. Because she’d been a—what? A challenge. A challenge he claimed he hadn’t wanted. And he didn’t!

  Damn it. No more challenges. He was taking a break if it killed him.

  He reached the car, saw that Kaia had stolen his seat in front and practically ripped the back door from its hinges. He climbed inside and settled beside the still sleeping Paris. And what the fuck was that smell? Cinnamon rolls?

  He decided to take his irritation out on her. “You wearing perfume?” he growled, kicking her stolen seat so she’d know he was talking to her.

  She twisted to peer back at him, a smile clinging to the edges of her I’m-not-wearing-any-panties mouth. He’d known she wasn’t wearing any, the little teaser, but he hadn’t needed that kind of confirmation.

  Dude. It’s a smile, not a glance up a skirt.

  Oh, shut up.

  He was talking to himself now. Wasn’t that just great? “Well?”

  “Nope, no perfume, but I did visit a bakery just before I hunted Lucien down. Why? Do I smell as sweet as sugar?”

  No, damn it, she smelled like she needed a good licking.

  Kaia, in bed. Naked. Splayed. His mind liked the image, and hell, so did his demon. While Strider would rather die than accept another challenge—figuratively speaking, of course—his demon would go insane without them. Beast fed off the high that came with their victories.

  But he wasn’t going to let himself go there with Kaia. Not today, and not ever. Kaia wouldn’t just challenge him more than most; she would challenge him about everything, and he would never have a moment of peace.