Amun was always the one to break the bad news.
First, there would be denials. Then rage. Then sorrowful acceptance. But damn it, they shouldn’t have to live like this! They shouldn’t have to suspect everyone they encountered of using them.
For a moment, Amun’s image faded from Haidee’s mind and his thoughts quieted. She was shrouded in darkness and thought she might be lying down. What was that tickling her belly? she wondered.
Before she could discover the answer, those images of Amun returned, shifted. Now he was whaling on a human male, knuckles drilling into bone. The human was average height, on the thin side, and begging for mercy Amun refused to show.
Haidee didn’t have to wonder why. Like Amun, she somehow knew what this man had been doing to his little girl. And when Amun was done, when the man was dead, he used his demon to find the little girl a safe, loving home.
Images, fading again. Voices, quieting again. Seriously. What was tickling her belly? Whatever it was brushed whisper-soft heat over her sensitized skin. But again, before she could reason out what was happening to her, the images in her head returned, shifted and claimed her full attention.
This time she saw a shirtless, cut-up and bleeding Amun playing basketball with his friends. He was grinning, laughing silently and slapping each of his buddies on their backs between cheap shots.
The boys shouted good-natured insults at him. Insults he could only return with the lifting of a single finger. No one stuck to any rules, so there was lots of tripping, elbowing and even punching, and Amun loved it. No one could beat him because he knew every move everyone planned to make before they actually made it. Only, any time Strider went for the ball, Amun let him have it, even slowing his steps and pretending to stumble.
His past was as varied as hers, Haidee mused. But while she had always been a Hunter, driven by hate, he was so much more than a Lord of the Underworld. Which should not have been possible. A demon should be a demon. Evil, ruined. Amun cared, though. He uplifted.
He shouldered such a heavy burden. A burden he shared with no one because he would rather suffer forever than cause one of his friends to suffer a single moment more. That was love, not evil.
Love.
The word echoed through her mind. Maybe because she felt utterly connected to Amun just then, she couldn’t keep secrets, even from herself. She loved him, she realized. There was no denying it now, no questioning it. For all that he was, all that he’d been and all that he would be, she loved him. He was a warrior to his very soul, would always fight for what he believed in, would never buckle under pressure. When he cared, he cared deeply, intensely, and nothing and no one could shake that affection from him. Oh, yes. She loved him.
How did he feel about her?
She wanted him to care for her. Desperately. Because if they were going to be together, and she prayed that they were, his friends would be angry. Actually, “angry” was too mild a word. She doubted there was a word to accurately express the rage they would unleash upon him. But if he loved her in return, he could bear it.
How could she ask him to bear it? Even if he did, in fact, love her?
How could she ask him to carry yet another burden?
God, what a mess. If they were together, her friends—no, that wasn’t the right word. They’d never truly been her friends. Her coworkers would fume at her, too. They wouldn’t understand how she could adore a demon. They would attack Amun; they would punish her. And she knew that was exactly why Amun had pushed her away. He didn’t want her to suffer. Didn’t want her to have to “bear it,” either.
That bespoke caring, right?
What he didn’t know, however, and what she had to somehow show him, was that nothing would cause her more suffering than trying to live without him. For him, she could bear anything.
Perhaps he would one day feel the same for her. If he did, losing their friends wouldn’t be something to bear because they would have each other, could rely on each other, comfort each other…cling to each other.
They had shared each other’s blood all those centuries ago, creating a bond far more powerful than the hatred always simmering inside her. They belonged together; she knew it. She’d have to show him that, too.
Yes, she had loathed his kind for centuries. Yes, she had hurt him, and yes, he had hurt her. But that was in the past. Now, she only wanted to look ahead.
Look ahead. Again, the words echoed through her mind, and she was forced to face a hard truth. She couldn’t ask Amun to give up his friends. She couldn’t allow him to cut those friends from his life, whether he could bear the loss of them or not, whether he would cling to her or not. How could she expect such a thing? Those warriors had helped shape Amun into the wonderful man he was. He needed them, and they needed him.
If Amun would just give her a chance, she would do everything in her power to smooth things over. After a time, if his friends still couldn’t accept her, no matter what she did, she would leave.
So many ifs…so many possibilities.
Leaving would kill her, but for Amun, for his happiness, she would do it. All she needed was that chance.
Haidee. Wake up for me, sweetheart.
Amun’s deep voice reverberated inside her head, much louder than in her dreams, jolting her into awareness. She blinked open her eyes. Several seconds passed before she was able to orient herself, and when she did, she took stock. Muted light filled the cave. In the distance, she heard the drip, drip of water. She was sprawled flat on her back, practically…sweating?
Haidee, sweetheart. Can you hear me?
Amun again. “Yes,” she drawled. She stretched her arms over her head, back arching. The ground beneath her was soft, as if she rested on pillows.
Finally. Now look at me.
“Where are you?” Something tickled her belly again, causing goose bumps to sprout in every direction. Her gaze descended, and what she found left her gaping. A shirtless Amun was on his knees in front of her, her spread legs braced on his thighs. He wore pants. She wore panties. Only panties.
Both of his hands rested on her stomach, his fingers tracing designs around her navel, on her hips, just above the tiny patch of curls guarding her where she already ached.
“You have hands,” was the first thing she thought to say. She’d been so afraid, so uncertain.
His lips quirked at the corners, revealing an amusement he rarely displayed. Yes. I have my hands. I’m glad you noticed.
She’d stuffed his injured arms into the backpack, eased him to his back when he had passed out, and then she’d paced, checked on him, prayed, bathed, checked on him, prayed some more, cursed, checked on him and finally fallen asleep beside him. At last check, he had still been handless.
“How?”
The backpack, as you thought. Just took a while for everything to regrow. Now, enough about that. Do you remember when you woke me up with your mouth on my cock?
She gulped, licked her lips. “Yes.”
His eyes darkened and he flattened his palms on his thighs, as if he didn’t trust himself to keep them on her. His gaze drifted to her core, and a ragged breath left him. Good. You can’t dispute that it’s my turn to wake you up properly.
Meaning it was his turn to taste her…oh, yes, please, yes. Yet he didn’t lower his head. Didn’t make any other moves toward her, and every nerve ending she possessed went on alert, readying for his touch. Craving his touch.
“Amun,” she pleaded.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. First, he said, reaching back, you’re going to call Micah.
Wait. What?
He lifted a small black cell phone. I asked the pack for a phone that would reach the outside world.
“But—it’s okay.” She shook her head. “I don’t have to…not anymore, because I—”
You wanted to call him, and so you will. He held out the phone, forcing her to accept it.
She stared at the device for a long while, unsure whether Amun was trusting her or testing her.
If she made the call, would she hurt him? Make him think she wouldn’t take him anytime, anywhere, without his meeting certain conditions?
As soon as you’re done, I’ll start. The sensuality in his tone left no doubt as to what he meant. Just know that by doing this, you’re giving up your friends. You’ll never be able to return to them. They’ll despise you.
Was he…giving her a chance? The very chance she’d wanted? “I know,” she replied softly.
They might even hunt you.
“I know that, too.”
And you don’t mind?
“No. I’ll have you.”
Oh, yes, you’ll have me. His expression became fierce. I thought I could let myself have you for a little while, but I know now that a little while isn’t going to be enough. I’m going to find a way back, and I’m going to keep you. Now, always.
He wanted her now…always; she almost couldn’t process the news. Amun, with her, forever. He hadn’t offered any words of love, and she wasn’t going to ask for them. That could come later. For now, this was enough.
So what are you waiting for? Make the call.
Maybe he was trusting her as she hoped, maybe he was testing her as part of her feared, but in the end, anticipation decided her. She dialed, shocked when the sound of ringing filled her ear. She wanted this over and done with, Micah out of the picture completely.
Her former boyfriend answered on the second ring, a snarled, “What?”
“Micah?” she asked hesitantly. Her gaze locked on Amun, gauging his every reaction. He wasn’t looking at her, was looking just beyond her, his expression now a blank mask.
“Haidee?” Micah sounded baffled, relieved and overjoyed—and still angry—all at once. “Where are you? Tell me. Now.” With every word, his emotions were overtaken by determination.
She experienced a pang of guilt. “Yes. I’m alive. But no, I won’t tell you where I am. I—”
“Are the bastards monitoring this call?”
“No.” Not really. “Listen, I—”
“Tell me where you are, then, and I’ll come and get you.”
“No. That’s not why I’m calling. I just wanted you to know—”
“I thought you were dead,” he interjected, once more cutting her off. Now he sounded accusing. “I mourned you. I tried to track you, tried to save you. Tell me, damn it. Tell me where you are.”
“No. I’m alive, and that’s all you need to know.” Except… “I really need you to listen to me. I—”
“Who’s that?” a female voice murmured sleepily from Micah’s end of the line.
There was a beat of static, then a shuffle of footsteps as if he was pounding away from the intruder. In that moment, Haidee knew that he was sleeping with someone. Might have been sleeping with someone else even while they were dating. She couldn’t bring herself to care.
Had he ever wanted her, though? With her, he’d been content to keep things mostly hands-off. She hadn’t wondered why because she’d been happy with the status quo. But if he hadn’t wanted her, why had he stayed with her?
“If you’re alive, that means you’re helping them.” She didn’t have to ask who “them” was. And he didn’t even address the fact that a woman had spoken. “Otherwise, they would have killed you by now.”
“Yes,” was all she said on the subject. Let him take that answer however he chose. “I just wanted to call and tell you that we’re over. I don’t want to date you anymore.”
Amun, she noticed, had tensed, his fingers digging into his thighs and probably leaving bruises. He had no idea what Micah was saying, no idea why she’d said yes to the man. Yet he wasn’t interfering.
He was trusting her, she realized.
“Now you listen to me, you fucking bitch,” Micah suddenly growled, and there was so much hatred in his tone she was momentarily speechless. “You tell me where the hell you are, who you’re with and what you’re doing. I’m going to find you and take back what’s mine. Then I’m going to cut your fucking throat and dance in the blood. You don’t deserve—”
Click. Haidee severed the connection before he could finish berating her, shocked, at last upset, and unsure what had just happened.
Amun’s gaze finally met hers. He didn’t ask questions, just took the phone and tossed it over his shoulder. Then, without another word, he lifted her hips and stripped the panties from her, pulling her legs in front of him, one at a time. Mouth set in a grim line, he tossed the panties beside the phone. He repositioned their bodies the way they’d been.
Tears suddenly burned her eyes. How could Micah have said those things to her? Fucking bitch. Cut your fucking throat. Bitch, bitch, bitch. He’d been her friend. Hadn’t he? And yes, she had expected the Hunters to turn on her, but not that quickly. Not that violently.
You’re that distressed to lose him? Amun asked, and though the words were soft, she heard the fury—and even the insecurity—behind them.
“No.” She was the one who couldn’t meet his eyes this time. “He—he called me a terrible name, said terrible things.” And she didn’t want Amun to ever think of her that way. Even though he, more than anyone, had the right.
Like what? What name?
Amun hadn’t been furious before, she realized then. Now he was furious. If Micah had walked into the cavern, Amun would have killed him without hesitation. “Do you think I’m a…a bitch?”
No, he answered without any hesitation. His expression softened, gentled. I think you’re perfect, sweet…mine. And now I also think he can’t be related to me. He’s an idiot.
“Really?” She swiped her watery eyes with the backs of her wrists. “You don’t think badly of me, I mean.”
Really. We’re together, now and always, remember?
“I remember.” The hurt inside her eased. She was with the man she loved. That was all that mattered. “Amun?”
Yes.
As she finally met his gaze, her heart skipped a beat. His expression was heated, his gaze heavy-lidded, his brows a determined slash. His lips were red, as if flushed. Did his blood race as swiftly as hers?
Wonderfully dark skin pulled taut over the muscles of a warrior. She couldn’t see his butterfly tattoo, but she vowed to trace every inch with her tongue one day soon. Between his legs, his cock stretched past the waist of his pants, the head already beaded with moisture. Her mouth watered. She knew his taste, would forever be addicted to it.
“I want you,” she whispered.
Then by gods, you’ll have me.
Yes. Finally, they were going to make love. The restriction she’d so foolishly placed on their physical relationship had been vanquished. But even if she hadn’t spoken to Micah, she still would have given herself to Amun this night.
Such a pretty pink, he said, gaze moving to her sex. So wet for me already.
Even his words were a turn-on. “I ache for you. There, everywhere.”
His hands slid to her inner thighs, and he spread his fingers, almost, but not quite, brushing her where she most needed. Soft. One finger, two, glided up her slit, and she quivered, whimpered.
Like silk.
She wanted those fingers on her again, gliding yes, but lingering, too. Pressing. She lifted her hips, silently beseeching. He gave her what she wanted—sort of. He traced between those pouty lips, and he did linger, but not where she so desperately needed. He allowed one fingertip to push past her opening, but not deeply. He pushed just enough to swirl and stoke her need higher.
Play with your breasts. Let me see how you like them touched.
Not for a single moment did she consider objecting. She plumped them, kneaded them, pinched her nipples while he watched. The heat inside her grew…grew… “I want you to take me the rest of the way now,” she gasped out. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. “Please.”
A long moment passed in silence before he nodded. He didn’t fall on her, licking and sucking and tonguing between her legs as she expected, thought she wanted, but leaned forward, pr
essing them together. Since her thighs were draped over his own, the action spread her wider, brought her core into contact with his pant-clad erection, rubbing, creating the most delicious sense of friction between her legs and on her breasts. Her nipples rasped his chest.
“I thought you were going to…”
I am. First, though, I’m going to prepare you.
She gasped, hands sliding around his neck, nails sinking into his back. His head lowered, and his mouth opened up on one of her nipples. The heat was nearly unbearable, so much greater than what swirled inside her, but so necessary she didn’t even think about trying to shove him away. Then he was at last licking and sucking and tonguing her there, shooting startling sensation after startling sensation through her entire body.
She knew he was a big man. How could she not? He probably outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds and was nearly a foot taller than she was. But just then, the width of his shoulders practically engulfing her, she felt almost…dainty.
“Take off your pants,” she managed to gasp out as she arched against him. Sweet heaven, that felt good. “Let me feel all of you.”
No. Moment I do, I’ll be inside you.
“That’s the point. I’m prepared, I swear.”
We’re taking our time, woman. Get used to the idea.
She loved that he could talk to her and continue tormenting her nipple at the same time. And he did. Torment her. His teeth scraped the sensitive bud, but then he would quickly kiss away the sting.
When she was writhing against him, begging him for more, he gave her other nipple the same treatment. Hours seemed to pass as he contented himself with her breasts, plumping them, kneading them as she had done, never ceasing to bathe her nipples in the wet heat of his mouth.
You’re so beautiful, he said.
“Amun, please. More.”
You’re so strong and brave. And mine. Did I tell you that already? Mine.
“Yours,” she croaked. She tugged at his hair, forcing him to raise his head or lose a handful of strands. Onyx eyes shimmered, lines of tension branching from them. He wasn’t as relaxed as he would have her believe. “Kiss me. I need your taste in my mouth.”
The Darkest Secret (Lords of the Underworld Book 8) Page 30
