“Very well.” He speared a crisp green bean. “What would you like to know?”
She propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her upraised palms. “Have you ever disobeyed a command from the gods?”
“No. But then, I was not ordered to do anything until the Titans won the heavens. The Greeks left us alone after bestowing Maddox’s death-curse.”
“Have you tried to disobey the Titans, at least?”
“Again, no. Not personally. But Aeron refused to kill those four women, and you have seen the results. Bloodlust has consumed him. He wants to kill everyone now. Even his friends. Maybe even himself. We had to lock him away, taking even more freedom than he lost when all of us were cursed with our demons. It’s something we vowed never to do to each other.”
“I understand,” she said, suddenly seeming lost in thought. “Losing your freedom is a punishment worse than death.”
“Yes.” Lucien studied her, amazed by what he saw. He’d never seen this playful woman quite so serious. She must be recalling the time she’d spent locked away, perhaps tortured. His hands tightened into fists. “How long were you imprisoned?”
She shrugged. “Seemed like forever and I believe ancient scrolls say a hundred years, but it was more like two.”
Clearly she meant to sound cavalier. She failed. “What did you do while locked away?”
“Think, pace, hurt. Talk to the man in the cell beside mine. He was a little cocky, but that was better than silence.” She sighed. “Have you ever fought the demon of Death?”
His brow furrowed in confusion. Better confusion that fury at what she had suffered. “What do you mean? Fought it physically?”
“No. I know it can’t leave your body unless you die or it’s sucked out. I know it’s trapped inside you and the two of you are one. But have you ever resisted its desire to take a soul?”
His entire body tensed. This was not a matter he usually discussed. Anya had revealed a part of her secret, however. He could do no less. “Yes.”
“And?” Her focus intensified, her eyes like a laser beam on him. “What happened?”
None of the warriors knew he had once been in love; none knew he had watched his lover slowly wither away, her body rotting. “If I do not escort a soul, its physical body suffers untold agony. More than any person should ever have to suffer. More than Fate intended.”
“Hit a nerve, did I? There’s a muscle ticking under your eye.” Rather than press him for more information, she ate the rest of the meal in silence.
As he watched her, the dark memories her questions had brought to the surface receded, replaced by desire. Take her. The words whispered across his mind. Maybe because every movement she made was more sensual than the last. Make love to her.
No. You are not a monster. Not anymore, at least. He could spend time with her, but nothing more.
When she finished eating, she stood. “Want to make out a little or just jump straight into the shopping?”
She had not removed the beige coat and looked toasty warm. More than that, she looked strippable. He wanted to be the one to warm her. “Shopping,” he forced himself to say. But he did not stand.
She shrugged as if his answer hadn’t mattered to her, and that irritated him. The irritation angered him. And the anger annoyed him. He should feel nothing.
“You can leave your weapons here,” she said with a teasing grin. “Hunters never come up this way. Neutral territory and all.”
“I do not remove my weapons. Ever.”
Her gaze traveled the long length of him in a heated caress. “Not even to shower?”
His cock stirred as he imagined her in the shower with him, water raining over her naked body. “Not even.”
“Why, Lucy. That’s totally barbaric.” She bit her lower lip and sauntered around the table, bending down to whisper in his ear, “But it’s something I’d like to witness firsthand.”
A fallen lock of her hair brushed his cheek, and he found his eyes closing in ecstasy. His blood suddenly caught fire, nearly raging out of control in seconds. Rather than kiss her as he so desperately wanted—stupid, dangerous…wonderful—he somehow found the will to rise and move away from her.
“You really know how to drag a party down.”
“Anya.”
“No. Not a word. Let’s get out of here,” she said, voice cracking slightly.
He was ashamed to realize his legs were shaking. He was so hard his cock actually hurt. One stroke, and he would come.
Anya didn’t look back as she strolled to the front door. Opened it, left the apartment, expecting him to follow. He took a moment to breathe in and out, letting the cold air soothe him.
Every muscle in his body was clamped down, eager and needy for her. Only her. Even the demon seemed to ache for her, no longer purring but roaring hungrily.
Think of the artifacts, the box. Think of Hunters. Think of holding Anya’s dead body in your arms.
That sobered him.
An angry whisper suddenly drifted past him. “I’m waiting, Death.”
Cronus.
Lucien’s blood chilled completely. Finally the god king had returned. Why here? Why now? Because your reprieve is over. The king had not materialized. What was he doing?
“You have failed me, Death. Over and over again, you have failed me.”
“I am sorry.”
“Liar!”
The boom of the word nearly burst his eardrums.
“You will not suffer for it,” the god added quietly, “but your friends will. I’ll start with Paris, sending him to a place where no women reside. I will prevent him from leaving and I will laugh as he weakens. I will laugh when he is forced to turn to other men for strength. And when I’m through with him, I’ll look to Reyes.”
Fight him, as Anya does. “You would kill them, then? Set their demons free to roam the earth in a crazed frenzy? No mortal will bow before you once the demons are through wreaking their havoc.”
“Zeus might not have been able to protect the people from your demons, but I can. Do you wish to hear what I’ll do to Reyes?”
Fight! “You would prevent him from hurting himself, I’m sure. Perhaps flood him with pleasure he is no longer equipped to handle.”
“Do you dare mock me?”
“No. Nor do I wish to do that with which you have charged me.”
“I am aware of that, Death. I am also tired of waiting. Which of us do you think will emerge the victor and receive what he desires?”
“What if—” Lucien pressed his lips together. Should he do this? Yes, he decided a moment later. He should. There was no other way. “Anya has something you crave. What if I procure it for you?”
For several seconds, there was only crackling tension.
Then, more calmly, Cronus said, “I will allow you to try. If you fail in this, you will bring me her body. If you fail in that, I will not be so lenient. I will do everything I claimed and more. And I’ll make you watch while I do it. Now go!”
A great gust of wind shoved Lucien forward. Cutting off a growl, he righted himself and followed the path Anya had taken. He found her in the lobby of the building, alive and well, though Cronus was nearby. He had to get that key from her. Right now, it was the only way he knew to save her. If he failed…
His stomach twisted into a painful knot. He would not fail.
He allowed his gaze to scan the building. There was a huge fireplace with a crackling blaze in the corner. Beside it, a desk was manned by two males staring at Anya in open approval. Lucien scowled. Unaware of the mortals, or perhaps uncaring, she tapped her foot impatiently and studied her bright pink nails.
They’d been red yesterday. Hadn’t they? Perhaps they’d been blue. She changed them every day, nearly as often as she changed moods.
Lucien hissed at the men as he strode past them, unable to hold the noise back. He was too raw to care about consequences. Too raw to care that being possessive of a woman like Anya would bring nothing
but heartache.
She’s not yours, and she can never be yours. Even if nothing else mattered, stealing her precious key would ensure that.
He didn’t speak as he passed her, but she kicked into motion beside him. He could feel her body heat and smell her strawberry scent—his two favorite things, he realized. His world would not be the same without them.
“What do you want to buy first?” she asked him, unaware of his thoughts and turmoil.
Lucien opened his mouth to ask about the key, but the words refused to form. Earlier, she had ended their conversation the moment it had been mentioned. He would have to soften her first, he supposed, and earn a bit of her trust.
“A coat would be nice,” he said. Though sunlight poured from the sky, chill wind beat against him.
“Then a coat you shall have. I know the perfect place.” She twined their fingers together and tugged him to the left.
Instinct demanded he pull away. He didn’t. Instead he tightened his grip, wishing he could hold on to her and never let go. She gasped, threw a sweet smile over her shoulder. Death rubbed against the corridors of his mind, reaching for her, wanting to touch her, too.
She ushered him down an ice-covered road. Cars meandered by and people strolled along the snowy sidewalks, in and out of the cobbled shops. All around were those majestic mountains. The gods really had outdone themselves with this spectacular scenery.
This could have been heaven.
“In here.” Anya tugged him into a shop named Machen Teegeback.
“Warm Muffins?” he translated, having mastered many languages over the years. “We just ate. And I thought we were shopping for a coat.”
She chuckled. “This isn’t a bakery, lover. It’s an outlet.” Inside were coats, gloves, hats and all the things he would need to stay warm. “Now, don’t you worry. Anya will dress you just right.”
With another delighted chuckle, she trekked through the store, throwing different colored coats at him. “This one will match your eyes. Well, one of them anyway.” Pause. “This one will look great against your skin.” Pause. “Mmm, this one has easy access to my new favorite place through the pockets.” Pause. “Oh, score! Look at this.” She held up the masculine version of the coat she wore before tossing it at him. “We’ll be twinkies while we’re climbing glaciers.”
Unless he found that key, she would not be traveling with him. Selfishly, he was disappointed at the thought. “I only need one coat. Which do you—”
With a furtive glance at the cashier, she stuffed a pair of large wool gloves inside her jacket.
He frowned, certain he was mistaken about what had just happened. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Stealing.” There was such relish in her tone, it was like a sexual high.
A shiver trekked the length of his spine. “You were not teasing about the food, then. Are you short of funds?”
“Hardly. I’m loaded.” She anchored her hands on her hips and pouted up at him. “Don’t tell me the big bad demon is upset. ’Cause you shouldn’t be. I’ll pay them back another day, Sally Sunshine. Maybe.”
“Return the gloves, Anya.” Is this the way to soften her? His jaw clenched. No, it wasn’t, but he refused to back down.
“No.”
“Very well. I will pay for them.” Lucien dropped the coats Anya had thrown at him, gently clasped her arm with one hand and pinched the gloves with the other. His palm brushed the side of her breast. Gulping, burning up, he gathered one of every item he needed, strode to the register, and paid with the bills Paris had given him earlier.
As they walked to the door, Anya fumed at his side. “I have to do it, okay?”
Her intensity surprised him. “Why?”
“You have your compulsions and I have mine. I can either burn the place down or take a measly pair of gloves.”
Understanding dawned. She had her own demon to fight, a dark nature she wished to control. He knew how hard such a thing could be. “I am sorry I took them away from you.”
A pause. A sniffed, “No problem.”
Carrying their purchases, he exited the building and stood at the curb, waiting for her to join him. Cold air slapped at him, but he didn’t pull the coat from its sack. His skin was still on fire from having Anya next to him.
He wanted her next to him again, and it had nothing to do with getting his hands on that key. A minute passed, and she did not exit. What was she doing? He turned and walked forward with every intention of reentering the shop.
The door flew open, however, and Anya emerged. Her lips curled in a smug grin. His skin heated another degree.
“I might have to dig through the ice as I search for this artifact. I need the proper tools,” he said. “Where can I acquire them?”
“Ugh. Digging will not be fun.”
“Fun is not the purpose of the trip.”
“Killjoy.” She reached into her jacket and withdrew a pair of black gloves. Using her teeth, she ripped off the tags. Then, staring him in the eye, she tugged the leather over her hands.
“You stole them?”
“That’s what I like about you, sweetcakes. You’re an observant kind of guy.”
Lucien shook his head, his lips twitching. He marched forward, forcing her to follow or be left behind. “Tell me why you must steal to prevent yourself from burning a building. You hinted, I deduced, but I would like to hear firsthand.”
She kept pace beside him. “Remember those wars Reyes mentioned that night at the club? Well, guess what? I did start them. When I first walked among mortals, I was insane with my need for disorder and my every movement seemed to spur them into fury. With each other, not me. Worse, I couldn’t look at a torch without knocking it over. Sometimes I didn’t even realize I’d done it until the flames were dancing at my feet and people were screaming. And those screams, oh, gods, those screams.” She sighed dreamily. “They were so delicious to my ears. Like auditory ice cream. More and more, I wanted to hear them. Needed to hear them.”
“Anarchy means to be without law. Perhaps, deep down, those screams represented the chaos your nature demands.”
“Yes,” she said, eyes widening.
“The demon inside me is Death. For the longest time, it craved the absence of life, no matter what I had to do to accommodate that desire.”
“You really do understand.” She shook her head, her expression a little shocked. A strand of hair fell, and she hooked it behind her ear. “One day I caught myself reaching out, about to cut a chandelier from a ceiling just to hear the glass shatter and the people shriek, when a woman walked by. She was wearing a ring and the diamond winked in the light, brighter than any chandelier. Gods, I wanted that diamond. I followed her and stole it. The moment I slipped it on my finger, this grinding need inside me just…quieted somehow. I’ve been stealing ever since.”
He was silent a moment. “You may steal from me anytime.” Sadly, he feared it was he who would soon be stealing from her. More than ever, he did not want to take her life. Like him, she could have become a living nightmare but she strove to be more. Better.
She tossed him a grin. “Thank you.”
His chest started aching. The key. Ask about the key. “Have you spent much time in the Arctic?” he found himself asking instead.
“A little. Oh, this is going to be fun! Well, aside from the digging part.” She clapped excitedly. “Just the two of us, snuggled up to keep warm, no worries about Hunters. I doubt any human could survive the cold for long. Now, come on. I don’t want to walk anymore. It’s a waste of time.” In the next instant, she disappeared.
He followed with no hesitation—
Arriving in Greece. The island, his rented home. He dropped his bags, not sensing or seeing any of the other warriors. They were probably still gathering supplies.
Anya plopped on the cream-colored leather couch as if she hadn’t a care. With a blissful sigh, she removed her stolen gloves, followed by her boots, revealing pretty white leggings. She tos
sed both aside. Next she removed her coat—revealing a white lace bra.
His eyes nearly popped out of his head. “That is what you have been wearing all day?”
She grinned wickedly. “Yes. Do you like?”
His cock swelled to life. Again. This time thicker, fuller. Harder, hotter. She was sexier now than when she’d worn the maid’s uniform—and she’d nearly felled him then. Thank the gods he hadn’t known what little she’d worn underneath. He might have killed everyone who looked at her, and then attacked her there in the snow.
He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. Her stomach was flat and the color of cream, her navel a sensual feast to his eyes. Her breasts were full and ripe, the pink nipples hazily visible and oh so hard. The leggings conformed to her body like a second skin.
“Well? Do you like?” she repeated, stretching out. Her feet were bare, the pretty nails glittering in the light. “You could have seen this and more earlier, but you were too busy being stubborn. Don’t be stubborn this time.”
“You are beautiful, Anya.”
“Come over here and kiss me, then,” she beseeched huskily.
“I can’t,” he croaked out.
“Why not?” She ran a fingertip down her stomach, around her navel. “It’s not like I’m asking you to screw me. Just kiss and touch me a little. And FYI, you should know this is the last time I’m going to offer myself to you. Your continued rejection is screwing with my confidence.”
A roar sounded in his head. Not touch her? Not kiss her? “Why not more than kissing and touching?”
“Because.” She crossed her arms over her middle, smashing her breasts together.
Holy gods. “Answer me.”
“Why should I? You rarely answer me.” Again she ran a fingertip down the planes of her stomach.
His gaze followed the action. He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. She would give herself to other men, but not him. The realization sunk in, and he ground his teeth together. Him, she would only allow to kiss her. He wasn’t good enough for anything else.
He wanted to hate her for that, but he’d done this to himself. He’d purposefully carved himself so that women would not want him. And though she obviously found him lacking, he still sought to save her life. “We need to discuss something, Anya.”
Lords of the Underworld Bundle Page 52
