The Darkest Craving lotu-11

by Gena Showalter

  Kane swallowed a roar, remembering her words in the cave.

  I will take you to the human world—and in return, you will kill me. I’ll have your vow first.

  Maybe he hadn’t believed her then. Maybe he’d been too lost to his own pain to care. But now, the fact that she wanted to die...not just no, but hell no. He would die first.

  “Why did you dodge my blows?” Strider demanded of the girl.

  “I told you. Instinct. But I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

  Mine, Kane heard again, a deep, rumbling growl rising...rising...escaping. “Mine! Touch her and I’ll kill you.”

  Both Sabin and Strider stared at him with astonishment. Kane had always been the calm one, and had never before raised his voice to his friends. But he wasn’t the man he used to be—wouldn’t ever be that man again.

  “Please,” she begged the warrior, those eyes swirling with flecks of baby blue. How desperate she sounded.

  How much more hotly his rage burned.

  Something terrible had to have happened to her to make her feel death was the only option available. Had someone...had she been forced—he couldn’t finish the thought. He would erupt. Or bury his head in the hollow of her neck and sob.

  He peered up at Strider. Big, blond Strider, with his navy eyes and warped sense of humor. “Bind her. Gently. Bring her with us.” He would help her.

  “What?” She held up her hands, palms up, and backed away from the warrior. “No way. Just no way. Unless you’re planning to take me to an undisclosed location, so no one will see the blood.”

  He could have lied. Instead, he remained quiet as Sabin assisted him to his feet. Broken bones that had only recently been reset screamed in protest, and his knees nearly buckled, but he held steady. He wouldn’t allow himself to go down. Not again. Not in front of his min—the girl.

  “Sorry, honey cakes,” Strider said, “but you don’t get a say in what happens next. You’re gonna live and not die, and that’s that.”

  “But...but...” Her gaze found Kane and pleaded. “I’ve wasted so much time with you. I have no one else to ask for help.”

  “Good.” Any man who thought to give her what she asked for would die the worst of deaths.

  “Good? Good! Oh!” Anger overshadowed everything else, and she stomped her foot. “You heartless, overgrown lout!”

  “Because he won’t hurt you? That’s a first.” Strider reached out, intending to grab her.

  In a snap, she kicked out her leg, nailing the male between the legs. As Strider hunched over, gasping for breath, she bolted for the door, tossing over her shoulder, “I’m so disappointed in you, Lord Kane!”

  She vanished into the night.

  He tried to follow after her, but curse his weakness, his knees buckled. “Come back, female! Now!”

  She never reappeared.

  Kane experienced a tidal wave of rage that made a mockery of what had come before. He would get her back. He would stalk through the night, grab everyone he spotted, and, if they couldn’t point him in the right direction, rip their spines out of their mouths. He would leave an ocean of blood in his wake, and she would have only herself to blame. He would—

  Do nothing, Disaster finished with a laugh.

  It stung all the worse because Kane could only remain crumpled on the floor.

  “Bring her back to me,” he shouted to Strider.

  Moaning in agony, the warrior toppled to the floor. He’d just been bested by a puny little girl; his demon would be throwing out pain for the next several days.

  “Go!” Kane commanded Sabin.

  “No. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  “Go!” he insisted. “Bring her back.”

  “Yelling at me isn’t going to change my mind.”

  Kane tried to crawl to the door, but dizziness crowded into his mind, stopping him. He spit out a mouthful of curses.

  Could nothing go right for him? Not even once?

  Disaster started laughing all over again.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Realm of Blood and Shadows

  A week later

  KANE ROSE FROM the king-size bed and padded to his private bathroom. Already naked, he stepped into the shower. Hot water beat against newly healed skin, all the bruises and scabs finally gone. And yet, his muscles had yet to unknot.

  The fury he’d experienced at the loss of his rescuer had yet to fade, and hatred for Disaster was a constant burn in his chest. And his memories...they were the worst.

  They came during the day. They came during the night. He could be lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and all of a sudden he would be transported back to hell, his wrists and ankles bound. He could be in the shower, like now, with the water raining over him, and all of a sudden he would see the dirt, blood and...other things once caked on his skin, and no amount of scrubbing would make him clean.

  He was pretty sure the wires in his brain had gotten cut during his torture. And as he’d healed physically, those wires had been reattached in the wrong places. Darkness had become a perfume that constantly wafted from his pores. Hungry anger now simmered inside him, desperate for a target.

  No one was safe.

  He’d lost his appetite. He could no longer sleep. Sudden noises made him scramble for a weapon.

  Once, he’d rolled with the punches life threw at him. Once, he’d been a softer, nicer guy. Now, there would be no more rolling. Now, he was a raging bull, at times too violent to contain. Any wrong was punished immediately—no one would ever think him weak enough to challenge again.

  The shambles of his room proved it.

  He soaped up, rinsed off and towel dried, every action stiff, forced. Standing in front of the mirror, he studied his foggy reflection. His skin was pale. Dark hair dripped water down his shoulders and chest. Because of the weight he’d lost, his cheeks had yet to fill out. His lips were compressed into a thin line, as though they’d never known a smile. Maybe they hadn’t. Any memory with an accompaniment of amusement no longer seemed to belong to him. Everything positive had happened to someone else. Surely.

  But the worst thing about him? His eyes were no longer a mix of brown and green. They were a mix of brown, green—and red. Demon red.

  A sense of repugnance grew. Disaster was attempting to control him. And the demon was actually succeeding, whispering reminders about what had happened inside that cave.

  A hand here...a mouth there...so helpless...

  How dirty was Kane now? How tainted?

  A whip across your legs. A dagger along your ribs.

  How much of a failure was he?

  Hot breath on your wounded skin...kisses...tongues...

  Fighting to breathe, Kane flattened his hands on the edge of the sink. He hardly cared when the porcelain cracked. He wanted to rip Disaster out of his chest, and strangle the creature with his bare hands.

  Yes. That’s the way his tormentor would die.

  Soon.

  If he could get his mind right, at least a little, he could figure out a way to make it happen. But any time he wasn’t plagued by gut-wrenching memories, he was plagued by thoughts about the girl from the motel. The Fae. He ached as he’d done when she’d touched him. He tensed. He cursed.

  He yearned.

  He remembered the adoration painted on her face as she looked at him, as if he were someone special. A look he still didn’t understand—but wanted to experience again.

  He replayed the silly words she’d spoken to him.

  I never lie—except for the few times I do, in fact, lie, but it’s never intentional, and I’m totally telling the truth right now, I promise.

  You weigh, like, ten thousand pounds. But they’re glorious pounds.

  I’ve been crossing off the seconds in the calendar in my heart.

  He wanted to know what else she would say.

  Who was she? Where was she? What was she doing?

  Were memories she’d rather not recall afflicting her? Was she hurt
? Alone? Scared?

  A few times, fear had wiped away her adoration and sass, leaving her with nothing but tremors.

  He understood all too well the difficulty—the desperation—of an inescapable past.

  Had she found someone to end her? Had she ended herself?

  Or was she still alive?

  His arms dropped to his sides as his hands fisted. She was his. She—

  Wasn’t his.

  Still, he wasn’t going to take care of his problem until he’d taken care of hers, was he? He couldn’t leave her out there, desperate and afraid, possibly in danger. The girl had saved him from the most horrific situation of his life. Even though she’d run away from him, he had to step up and save her from what had to be the most horrific situation of hers.

  She was right, after all. He owed her. And he would pay up. Just not the way she wished. He would fix her life the way he couldn’t fix his own. Then, one of them would be happy.

  She deserved to be happy.

  If she still lived.

  He sucked in a sharp breath. She had better still live, or he would...he would... He punched the mirror, shattering the glass. The sound of tinkling bells filled the small enclosure. Several pieces arrowed into his leg, cutting into his thigh. A gift from Disaster, he was sure. Gritting his teeth, he removed the shards.

  After he helped the girl, he could concentrate on killing the demon. He wouldn’t give up until he succeeded. He couldn’t take this anymore, and he didn’t want his friends to have to take it anymore, either. He was too much of a danger to those around him, and there were too many innocents here.

  He would leave today, he decided, and he wouldn’t ever come back.

  Sorrow settled heavily on his shoulders, weighing him down. He couldn’t talk to his friends about his decision. They wouldn’t understand. They would try to talk him into taking another path. They might even lock him away for his “own good.”

  They’d done it once before.

  Kane wouldn’t sneak away, but he wouldn’t admit the truth, either. He would say his goodbyes, as if he meant to return after his rescuer had been saved. Only he would know this was it. The end.

  Jaw locked, Kane strapped weapons all over his body. There were multiple blades, two Sigs and several clips. He dressed in a black T-shirt and camo pants, then tugged on his favorite pair of combat boots. He stomped from the bathroom, glass crunching under his feet, his mind a field of evil laughter.

  Stupid demon.

  During Kane’s absence, his friends had moved into a fortress in the Realm of Blood and Shadows, a kingdom hidden in a pocket between earth and the lower level of the skies. He strode down the hall, his gaze on the walls covered with pictures of a beautiful blonde female in various outfits and positions. Lounging on a velvet-lined couch, standing in a rose garden, dancing on a table. Blowing a kiss. Winking.

  Her name was Viola, and she was a minor goddess of something or other, as well as the keeper of Narcissism. He couldn’t help but compare her to sperm: she had about a one in three million chance of becoming a human being with actual emotions. The girl irritated the fire out of him.

  He pounded down the stairs, then down another hallway, this one littered with ridiculous portraits of the warriors wearing ribbons and lace and smiles—and nothing else. They’d been painted by a dead man, if ever Kane met the guy, and had been commissioned by Lucien’s fiancée, Anya, the goddess of Anarchy, without permission.

  Finally Kane reached his destination. Maddox and Ashlyn’s bedroom. His first stop on the Tour of Goodbyes.

  Maddox was the keeper of Violence. Ashlyn was the new mother of the warrior’s twin babies.

  For a long while, Kane watched Ashlyn, silent. She was a delicate beauty with honey-colored hair and skin, and she swayed in a rocker, singing to the bundle of joy clutched lovingly in her arms. Beside her, Maddox swayed in a second rocker. He was a brute of a man with black hair and violet eyes, and seeing him kiss the tiny fingers wrapped around his pinky did something to Kane’s insides. Twisted and knotted them, until he experienced the same lance of pain his pointy-eared rescuer had caused.

  What was that?

  William the Ever Randy—aka the Panty Melter, Kane thought with an eye-roll—sat at the edge of the king-size bed, a pink comforter plumped around his battle-honed body. Somehow, the feminine coverlet failed to diminish the savage intensity of his strength. He wasn’t demon-possessed. No one knew what he was, exactly. All they knew was that he had a temper rivaled by few, and a mean streak longer than any Kane had ever before encountered. He smiled when he killed his enemies—and laughed when he stabbed his friends.

  “When’s it gonna be my turn?” William whined. “I want to hold my preciouses. Preciousees? Whatever. I want!”

  O-kay. That was new.

  “They aren’t yours,” Maddox snapped, doing his best to whisper for the sake of the babies.

  “They kind of are. I delivered them,” William pointed out.

  “I conceived them.”

  “Big deal. Most guys can do that. Not many have the know-how to slice a woman from hip to hip and dig the little creatures out of her...uh, never mind,” William said as a fierce growl rose from Maddox.

  Expecting a fight, Kane stepped inside to claim the baby.

  William’s electric blues swung his way. “Disaster. Couldn’t stay away from the most delightful darlings ever born? Oh, yes, you are,” he cast at the children. “Yes, yes, you are.”

  Baby talk. Disgusting.

  The negative reaction surprised him. Once, he would have been right there beside William, saying the same things, in the same manner. In the dark of night, he used to dream of such a happily ever after for himself. A loving wife. Adoring children. Then the minions had tried to steal his seed and he...he...

  “Don’t call me by the demon’s name,” he snarled, then realized his fervency had caused the children to jolt awake and cry. Shame coursed through him. “Sorry. But I’m not that disgusting piece of—” Yelling again. “Sorry. Just watch your mouth, okay?”

  “Hush now,” William said sternly, and Kane had no idea who the command was for.

  Didn’t matter, really. Everyone quieted.

  Ashlyn glanced over at Kane, her amber eyes welcoming. She looked nothing like Kane’s woman—no, not his, he quickly amended—and yet she reminded him of the girl. The delicacy of her bone structure, perhaps. Or the depth of her concern for those around her, maybe. “Do you want to hold Urban?”

  “No, thank you,” he replied at the same time Maddox said, “No, he doesn’t.”

  A stilted moment of silence elapsed.

  Kane ignored the hurt the words caused. The refusal was justified. He was a danger to everyone he encountered. Had his mind not been such a mess, constantly feeding the demon the tastiest of meals, light bulbs would have been shorting out and the walls and floors would have been cracking.

  “I just wanted to get a look at them before... Well, I’ll be leaving a little later today. I’ve got a female to help.” He cleared the clog of emotion from his throat.

  “Well, come on, then,” Ashlyn said. “Sabin and Strider mentioned the pointy-eared woman from New York. I like the sound of her.”

  “She’s...” Magnificent. Lovely. Witty. “Something.” His insides tightened as he approached the rockers.

  William stood to do the same, remaining by his side, stiff, his hand poised over the hilt of a dagger. To protect the babies from Kane’s affliction? Yeah. Probably.

  Can’t blame him.

  “You gettin’ so close to me ’cause you’re trying to taste my flavor, Willy boy?” he said to the warrior who had yet to back off. Teasing was better than raging. Or worse. Crying.

  “Maybe.” William allowed a few more inches of space. “But you just ruined it. Flavor? Seriously? I like my conquests with a little more maturity.”

  “I’m mature. I’m even old enough to plow your mom.”

  “Please. She would eat your liver for lunch and you
r kidneys for dinner.”

  “Could you guys be any more disgusting?” Ashlyn asked.

  “Yes,” they said in unison.

  Urban chortled, as if he understood. The kid had a full head of black hair, and his eyes were the same shade of violet as his father’s—though they were far more serious and too intelligent for a newborn. As Kane looked him over, two horns rose from the baby’s skull, and black scales appeared on his hands.

  “Defensive actions?” he asked.

  “We think so,” Ashlyn replied, sounding somewhat embarrassed. “He doesn’t mean any insult.”

  “I know.” He shifted his gaze to Maddox. The female child, Ever, had the honey-colored hair of her mother, the strands wound into tight little curls. Her eyes swam with orange and gold flames, and a mouthful of teeth peeked out from under her lips.

  The twins had been born a little over a month ago, and yet they appeared quite older.

  The boy stared at Kane as if plotting his murder.

  The girl looked him over and dismissed him, concentrating on William and holding out her arms. Grinning, William claimed her from her father. She nuzzled against the warrior’s neck, resting her head on his shoulder and sighing with contentment.

  “Isn’t she the best?” William said, his grin widening. “She used to have claws, but they shrank. Didn’t they, princess? Oh, yes, they did, but they’ll come out to play if some dumb loser ever tries to take what you don’t want to give, won’t they?”

  Another sharp pain tore through Kane’s chest. “The children are beautiful,” he told the beaming parents, and he meant it. He removed a bejeweled dagger from the sheath at his side, and handed it hilt first to Maddox. “This is for Ever, from her uncle Kane.”

  Maddox nodded his head in acceptance.

  He palmed the matching dagger, and placed it on the small table beside Ashlyn. “This is for Urban.”

  She offered a soft, sweet smile in thanks. “How wonderfully thoughtful. The children will love them, I know it.”

  “Well, I don’t. Put those dangerous things away,” William chided. “My darlings can’t play with knives for another couple of months. And why are you giving them presents now? Why can’t you wait until the appropriate time and—” His gaze zeroed in on Kane, and he pressed his lips together.