“Where could a monster hide in this?” Lucien asked, ignoring the compliment.
“She could be a chameleon,” Anya suggested. “She could be the color of snow and we could be standing on her right now.”
Everyone looked down. A few minutes passed, and nothing happened. There was a collective sigh of disappointment.
William focused on her, opened his mouth, closed it. Seeing the weapon strapped to her back and peeking over her shoulder samurai-style, he frowned. “Nice sword,” he said drily.
“Thanks.”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“If you’re nice, I’ll give it back to you in a year or two.”
“You’re so good to me.”
“I know. Now, I believe we were talking about Hydra.”
William paused, studied the land again. “Well. Where to now?”
“This way,” Lucien said, motioning them forward.
Anya stifled a groan but kicked into motion. “Don’t tell me we’ve got miles of hiking to do. I might just sink into a fit of the vapors.”
“Stay on alert,” Lucien said, and the three of them inched along for several hours.
At first, she felt like a piece of ice bobbing in a glass of soda. Then her entire body went numb. That should have made things easier, but it didn’t. Moving her arms and legs was like moving thousand-pound logs.
“Remind me why I like you,” William said, breaking the silence. “Remind me why I welcome you into my home time and time again, even knowing trouble’s going to follow you. ’Cause right now, I can’t remember.”
“You welcome her because she brings excitement and passion everywhere she goes,” Lucien answered.
Ah. She melted inside, sudden warmth combating the numbness. Grinning up at him, she patted his shoulder. He was holding up well. He hadn’t stumbled once, even though his legs felt like lead weights to him and Death was clamoring inside his head, demanding to collect souls, but wanting to stay with her.
Being able to read him so easily was wicked-cool, she decided. And knowing his sweet little evil demon purred for her, liked her even, was wondrous. Two bad boys for the price of one. Couldn’t get any better than that. Still, she hated that Lucien was suffering. Soon, she vowed. Soon that would end.
He reached over and squeezed her hand, as if sensing her plan to contact Cronus. Okay. Maybe this reading each other thing wasn’t so cool, after all. What would she do if he tried to stop her?
“Anyone know what Hydra is like?” she asked to distract him. “Good fighter?”
“She is unbeatable, and every time you cut off her head another will grow in its place.” William sighed, a little dejected. “Do you really think you can beat such a creature, Anya? You’re strong, but not that strong.”
One of the spikes in Lucien’s boot hit an icy rock that refused to break, and he stumbled. Weakened as he was becoming again, a moment passed before he was able to right himself. Anya didn’t want William to think Lucien was less a warrior, so she forced her hands to remain at her sides rather than reaching out to help.
“What’s wrong with you now?” William asked Lucien. “Anya wear you out or something?”
She slapped William’s arm. “Don’t talk about him like that. He wore me out.”
“Ow,” Willie complained. “That hurt. You’re stronger than you think and pack one hell of a punch.”
“Hush, you big baby. I thought I wasn’t that strong.”
“Well?” he prompted Lucien, not hushing. He did it just to spite her, she knew. “What’s wrong with you?”
Lucien shrugged. “If the enemy assumes I am weakened, he will underestimate me.”
William thought about that for several seconds, then nodded. “True. But I don’t see any enemies around.”
“Time will tell,” Lucien said.
Anya experienced a wave of pride. That’s my boy.
Another cold burst of wind cut through them. “What did you do with the Hunters’ bodies?” Lucien asked William.
“I took care of them,” was the staunch reply. “That’s all that matters.”
Anya had enjoyed fighting and killing them. They’d hoped to hurt and ultimately kill Lucien, and anyone who meant Lucien harm was now her enemy, as well. She would kill without hesitation. Without remorse. Without mercy.
“Why would you bother?” Ice chunks splattered from the toe of Lucien’s boot and stuck to his leg.
There was a slight hesitation as William lifted his mask and scrubbed the sheen of ice from his lips. Mist puffed around his face. “If someone found them, humans would flood these mountains in droves to investigate their murder.”
“Smart,” Anya said. “Gods, where the hell is Hydra? I don’t even see footprints and I’m starting to feel seriously PO’d, like I picked the wrong place and she’s moved out of the Arctic. That would make me a big dummy and severely damage my street cred.”
Lucien lifted his mask, lifted hers and pressed a quick kiss on her lips, decided that wasn’t enough and gave her a second kiss, lingering over her mouth and tracing the seam with his tongue. His sensual fragrance filled her nose, drugging her with passion. “You are not a dummy.”
“Yuck.” William pretended to gag. “That’s disgusting.” Then he gaped at her. “You’re bonded, aren’t you? You gave in to your curse. For him. Why?”
“Love isn’t disgusting, and that’s all I’m saying about that.” With regret, she pulled away from Lucien, righted her mask and slapped William’s arm. “Just wait until it’s your turn. I hope your soul mate drives you insane and wants nothing to do with you.”
“I could be so lucky.”
“We’ll see,” she said cryptically.
William ground to a halt, eyes practically glowing through the clear lenses shielding them from cold. “What do you know? Have you heard something? What have you heard, Anya?”
Wasn’t nice to tease him like this, she thought with an inward smile. He avoided love because of the prophecy that hung over his head. He’d never told her exactly what the prophecy was and she hadn’t had the patience to try to decode that cryptic book of ancient rhymes and ominous warnings.
“I haven’t heard anything,” she admitted. A week ago she would have lied and told him she knew something. She would have had him begging for the information, and that would have delighted her.
Lucien must be having a negative affect on her. Next she’d probably stop stealing. A grin curled the corners of her mouth. She’d probably be too busy having sex to bother with stealing, so that was a fair trade.
“You suck.” William sighed and pushed back into motion.
Though she was tired and only growing more so, Anya managed to keep pace beside him. Soon she was stumbling over every block of ice in her path. “How much longer are we going to look?” she moaned. “Not that I want to give up or anything. I don’t. I won’t. I’m just wondering.”
Lucien wrapped his arm around her, offering comfort, warmth and love. Her feet ached, she was bitterly cold, and yes, part of her wanted this night to be over with so she could be alone with him, pleasuring his body and—after the loving—thinking about how best to handle Cronus. But when Lucien was near her like this, none of the bad stuff mattered. Only finding that stupid cage mattered.
Suddenly William planted his feet into the ground. Anya only realized what he’d done when she glanced to the side and he was no longer there. She and Lucien shared a measured look before backtracking.
“What the hell is that?” William gasped out. He’d paled.
“Where?” She studied the surrounding area, noting that it appeared to be an exact replica of every other mile they’d trudged. “I don’t see anything.”
“There,” Lucien said, excitement in the undercurrents of his voice. He pointed.
She followed the line of his finger. At first, she saw only ribbons of dancing snow. Then, as amber moonlight glinted against the white flakes, she noticed the shimmery outline of an arched…doorway? Someho
w the air was thicker there, like clear, rippling water.
Whooping, she threw her arms around Lucien. “This is it. This has to be it! Where do you think it leads?”
“Perhaps it is nothing,” Lucien said.
William’s head fell back and he stared up at the starless sky. Praying? “Maybe we should turn back.”
“Hell, no,” Anya said, releasing Lucien and stepping forward. “Lead the way or step aside, Willie. We’re going through that thing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
PARIS HAD BEEN SHOCKED when Sienna actually stripped. That’s all it had taken to fill his cock with blood and lust: the sight of her naked body. She was too thin, as he’d suspected, her breasts small. But they were tipped with the prettiest nipples he’d ever seen. Pink, ripe, made for sucking.
He’d been shocked further when she’d climbed onto the table and straddled him. Shocked still when she’d slid down his swollen shaft without preamble, without any type of foreplay, her hot sheath swallowing him whole.
And yet, a woman had never been so wet or ready for what he offered. As she’d pumped her way up and down his shaft, he’d roared and roared and roared. He’d hated his chains because he hadn’t been able to plump her breasts. He’d hated his chains because he hadn’t been able to rub her clit.
Most of all, he’d hated his chains because he hadn’t been able to pull that plain little face down for a bruising, punishing kiss of teeth and tongue.
Didn’t matter, though, he now thought darkly. He’d be able to punish her soon enough.
She’d gotten off quickly, exploding with a fury that surprised him. So had he. In a matter of minutes, an orgasm had rocked him to the core—right along with a healthy dose of humiliation. He’d never come so quickly. Shouldn’t care, he’d told himself, because what none of his human captors could know was that, with every stroke of Sienna’s inner walls, he’d felt his strength returning. Felt himself grow stronger and stronger and stronger.
Right now she was collapsed on his chest, panting and sated, silent, body slicked with sweat. Do it. It’s time. Eyes narrowed, he gave a mighty jolt. The chains around his wrists and ankles broke, freeing him. After all his unsuccessful struggling, he was amazed by how easy it was.
At the clink, Sienna bolted upright. Her hair had come undone and fell all around her face in a wild tangle of browns. Her eyes were big and vulnerable, her skin flushed a rosy pink. Before she could jump off him, he grabbed her by the waist and hopped off the table, holding her under his arm like a sack of potatoes.
An alarm instantly screeched to life.
Yeah, the Hunters had been watching. He bent down and snapped up Sienna’s shirt. He shoved it over her head. “Dress.”
“Paris,” she gasped, struggling against his hold. “Don’t do this. Please.” She no longer sounded like the unemotional traitor who’d drugged him. She sounded like a woman who’d just had the best orgasm of her life and was scared for the life of her lover.
What a good little actress she was.
“You better keep your mouth shut, woman.” He didn’t bother with clothes for himself as he strode to the cell doorway. “I will hurt you. Quite happily, too.”
“If you try to escape, they might forget about unleashing your demon and kill you!”
“It’s not like you really care, and they’re welcome to try.” He hoped they did. He couldn’t hurt Sienna—yet—but he needed to hurt someone and release some of the tension inside him. Who better than a Hunter?
Some kind of dry spray rained from the ceiling, filling the cell with mist. It didn’t affect him, just caused his eyes to tear a little, but Sienna began gagging. “How do I open the door?”
She rattled off some kind of code. He punched the numbers into the small, glowing box on the wall and the door slid open. Lights suddenly popped on, drowning the shadows.
Paris maintained a tight hold on his bundle as he stepped into the hallway. Red velvet walls surrounded him; naked white statues towered from marble daises.
A cathedral? Seriously?
There was no time to ponder his location. A flood of Hunters raced toward him, each firing a gun. Pop. Whiz. No longer willing to keep him alive, were they? They were using silencers, he realized. Probably concerned with the noise level, which meant they were afraid to draw a crowd—which meant they were in a well-populated area.
The demon inside him snapped and snarled in rage, quickly and easily propelling him out of the line of fire. Sienna bounced at his side. Once, she gasped. But that was it, the only noise she made. Better, she stopped fighting him.
Barreling forward, he kicked two Hunters in the stomach and sent them sailing into a sculpture of the Virgin Mary. The sculpture wavered on her perch, and one of the Hunters dropped his semi-automatic. Paris snatched it with his free hand and began shooting, continuing to move forward at a rapid pace.
He turned a corner, found more Hunters and kept firing. More shots were aimed at him, but he dodged. Only three managed to graze him. When he ran out of bullets, he tossed the gun aside and grabbed another. They lined the halls—as did dead bodies. He flew around another corner, and Sienna’s breasts brushed his skin. He felt…no, surely not. He’d just had her. He could not get hard again. Not by her. But blood began to fill and harden his cock.
Never, in thousands of years, had he desired the same woman twice. He wasn’t even sure what would happen if he gave in to the urge. Would the demon inside him go crazy? Would he go crazy?
“Which way?” he demanded of Sienna when he came to a fork in the hall.
“Left,” she gasped out.
“If you are lying…”
“I’m not.”
He turned left and leapt into a full sprint. A towering double doorway loomed ahead, three Hunters racing from it. They raised their guns at him, their expressions intent. He tried to fire, but he had used the last bullet.
He ducked and dove, shouting, “Hang on,” to Sienna.
She did, winding her legs around his waist. He hit the ground and she bounced, and together they rolled into the Hunters, knocking them down like pins in the path of a bowling ball.
While they were down, he swiped up another gun and shot them in the skulls. Blood and brains splattered. Sienna whimpered, but didn’t speak. Paris experienced a twinge of guilt that she’d witnessed his most violent side, but quickly tamped it out. Her opinion of him no longer mattered.
He shoved through the doors and found himself outside. The warm night air was sweet, innocent. Looking around, he realized that he was still in Greece and that he had indeed been inside a cathedral. Humans stood on the steps, gaping at his blood-stained nudity and muttering about the commotion.
In the distance, he could hear the wail of a siren.
Steps swift, he made his way to the side of the building and into a darkened ally. Sienna moaned, and it was a pain-filled sound. His gaze sought her. She was limp as a doll.
“Look at me.”
She turned her head slowly, and he saw that her eyes were pooled with unshed tears, her features bright with anguish. He felt something warm run down his hip and frowned.
When he was certain they were alone, he set her down and looked her over. She’d managed to work her arms through the shirt and the material hung to her thighs.
His chest constricted. She was bleeding profusely, the shirt already plastered to her stomach in a wide crimson circle.
She’d been shot.
“Sienna,” he said, upset in a way he didn’t understand. He shouldn’t care. He’d meant to punish her. Had wanted to hurt her.
“Paris,” she gasped. “I should…have…killed you.”
As if the words had sucked the last of her strength, her head lolled to the side. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace. Only a heartbeat later, she died.
LUCIEN GRABBED ANYA’S ARM and stopped her just before she crossed through that thick, dappled patch of air. She glanced at him curiously, and he shook his head.
At first, the warrior gave no reaction. But then his eyes narrowed, and he shrugged. “Very well. I’ll go first.” Without another word, William walked past them into the glistening shimmer.
He disappeared as if he’d never been on the mountain.
Dear gods. It was a doorway. Lucien experienced a moment of joy. They might find the Cage of Compulsion after all. With the thought, his joy was tempered by apprehension. To win the cage, they might have to fight the mighty Hydra. He’d expected to do so, but the possibility had never been so real.
“After me,” Lucien told Anya and stepped forward before she could protest. “Be ready to fight.” He gripped a dagger in each hand, a little shaky and a lot weak, though he refused to succumb to either.
Whatever he’d expected the shimmers to feel like, they didn’t. They were dry and as light as air. There was no moment of suspension, no dizziness. One minute he was surrounded by snow and ice, the next he was in paradise.
Warm air beat around him, heating him, melting the frost and making him sweat.
“Wow,” Anya gasped behind him. She stepped up beside him, gripping the sword she’d stolen from William. “This is, like, amazing. Who would have thought a place like this was actually up in these mountains?”
William was—where? Lucien looked around the tropical island. There were lush emerald trees and blooming flowers of every color. The aroma of coconuts and pineapples scented the air, almost drugging. Definitely lulling. Beguiling. His brow wrinkled in confusion as his muscles relaxed of their own accord.
You were doing something. What? The answer—William, he suddenly remembered. The grass climbed up to Lucien’s knees. He kept searching, fighting past the languor still beating through him. There! William leaned against a giant silver boulder at the far left.
He’d removed his coat, hat and gloves. He wasn’t holding a weapon, but had his arms crossed over his chest. Determination gleamed on his face, though he did his best to appear nonchalant.
Lords of the Underworld Bundle Page 67
