The Darkest Surrender (Hqn)

by Gena Showalter

  “Feathers. Galen?”

  He nodded. “Sabin said there are no tracks, so it’ll be impossible to hunt either one of them from here. They must have flashed somewhere.”

  “But…why host one of the competitions here if she couldn’t watch?”

  “Maybe her absence was unexpected. Maybe she’d planned to be here, but something stopped her.”

  “And the Hunters?”

  “Maybe she issued orders to kill you before she took off, or maybe someone else was leading them.”

  Kaia straightened, peered at him, head tilting to the side as she pondered. “There’s only one person I know who hates me enough to—” She frowned. She’d taken two steps toward him but now stopped abruptly and looked down at her feet. “I’m stuck. Strider, I’m stuck!”

  He tried to move toward her—but couldn’t. Just like hers, his feet were glued in place. He, too, looked down and frowned. The cave floor was…thinning? Yes, that’s exactly what it was doing. Thinning, losing its rigidity, turning to…mist.

  In a desperate bid to hold on to his woman, he reached out. Just before contact, they fell in unison, whooshing down…down…

  Down.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  KANE AWOKE SLOWLY, THOUGH he gave no indication the synapses in his brain were kinda, maybe firing again. He’d gone to sleep in pain, drugged, and sadly, that had happened many times before in the past few…days? Weeks? He’d trained himself to come out of a stupor and take stock before moving a muscle or uttering a word.

  He ached like a boxer who’d just lost the big match after going eighteen rounds. Though many of his injuries had already begun to heal, the deepest of them still etched his name in the May Not Recover book of regrets. And wouldn’t you know? His demon loved it, every bit of it, giggling inside his head, soaking up the effects of the catastrophe—then and now.

  Kane had a beefy guard on each arm, holding him up, dragging him down a long, winding cave that smelled of sulfur and decay, human feces and acrid fear. He tried not to gag. He knew the scents well, his demon having cohabited with them for centuries.

  There was also a guard in front of him and five behind him. None of them gave any sign they knew he’d awoken.

  As he planned an escape—picturing angels swooping in (not gonna happen), his friends busting through caves walls (again, a no-go) and him turning green and hulking (only in his dreams)—fury flash flooded him. He wouldn’t have to do anything. In the end, his demon would destroy these humans. Disaster lived for moments such as this. And if Kane died in the process, so what?

  He remembered the explosion, remembered William being wheeled away from him and tossed into a different vehicle. William. Was the immortal alive? Being tortured? Probably. The fury intensified. These men would pay. No matter what.

  You hear me, Disaster? They need to pay.

  The giggling became a gleeful laugh that razed the entire circumference of his skull.

  Wait for my signal. None of the guards had any idea about the devastation they were soon to face. And they wouldn’t. Until it was too late.

  When his leader, Sabin, took off to battle Hunters, Kane was often left behind. Too many little disasters ruined their efforts, even sabotaged them. But sometimes…sometimes Kane was sent in alone. When that happened, no one walked away.

  “—too heavy,” one of the guards was panting. “Let’s just leave him here.”

  “Can’t. Doctor’s orders. We transport him to the gate, or we don’t come back.”

  “I’m sweating like a pig.”

  “You are a pig. BBQ much, you fat bastard? The walk is doing your tub of lard body some good.”

  “Eat shit and die, asshole. I have a glandular condition.”

  “I’m with Duane. He sweats any more,” someone else said, “and he’s liable to burst a vessel or something. He won’t make it back, gate or not.”

  The temperature was a bit uncomfortable, the humidity so thick you practically needed a knife to cut through it. They were clearly hauling him deeper into the earth, closing in on the gate to…hell? But how would Hunters know how to do that? Why would they do that? That wasn’t their usual M.O.

  Capture, torture and now kill to steal the demon from inside him, that was what they lived for. This made no sense. Made him uneasy, as if he might not be dealing with who he thought he was dealing with.

  He wasn’t going to take time to question them. They’d proven their intentions when they’d pulled their little “look at my pretty bomb” routine. He just had to figure out the best place for his demon to work. Their final destination, most likely—in more ways than one. The “gate.” The deeper they were, the less likely innocents were to be in the way.

  In the distance, he heard the click of a hammer being cocked. No one around him seemed to notice. The guards continued chattering. Was someone about to shoot Kane? Or the guards? His demon prowled through his skull, ready to act, to destroy something, someone.

  Not yet. Not yet.

  The laughter grew in volume. Pretty soon, Disaster would strike, no matter what Kane did or said.

  If the gunshot was meant for him, he’d survive. But he didn’t want to act just in case his friends were here to rescue him. Hope blasted him. When the crack reverberated, his guard grunted. Kane’s left side was released, sagging toward the ground. The guard on his right cursed. The chatter ceased. “What the—”

  “Who was—”

  Another crack.

  Kane’s right side was released as well and he smacked into the dirt-laden floor. He lay still, even when a heavy weight slammed into him, pushing the air from his lungs in one mighty heave. One of his guards, he thought, was now unconscious, probably dead.

  Yep. Warm liquid pooled on his back, dripping down his sides.

  Crack, crack, crack. There was no time for the men around him to prepare or hide. They fell, lifeblood gushing from the bullet holes in their chests, ending them. The entire gunfight lasted less than a minute, over and done without any resistance.

  A rescue, yes, but still he didn’t move or speak. He simply waited. Cautious…

  Footsteps pounded. He recognized the heavy thud of boots.

  “You see him?” someone called. A male, unfamiliar.

  Shit! Hope withered, died. Not his friends. So who the hell did that leave?

  “I got him! He’s here.”

  The guard was rolled off him.

  “He alive?”

  A rustle of clothing, then hard fingers were digging into his neck. “Yep, sure is. Maybe not for long. His pulse is thready, so we’ll have to act fast.”

  “That doctor is one lucky bitch. If he’d died before we got here…” Rage and hate layered the man’s voice. “I might knock her around, anyway, for disobeying her orders.”

  “No, you won’t. She’s not one of us, and besides, her hubby would have your head. Let’s just take the guy to Stefano and let him decide what to do.”

  Stefano. Galen’s right-hand man, a Hunter top dog, and an all around pain in the ass. Too bad the bastard wasn’t here. But just like that, Kane began to understand. Hunters had blown up the house. Hunters had taken him to that female doctor, who was not a Hunter but married to one, ensuring he survived. Hunters had not had him carried down here. The female had, against her husband’s orders.

  The husband must have found out and killed her accomplices.

  “Demon animal,” the guy who’d checked his pulse muttered as he straightened. A booted foot slammed into Kane’s stomach, rubbing a few of his organs against his spine.

  Kane willed his eyelids to remain shut. Willed his muscles to remain lax. Meanwhile, Disaster churned in his head, now a seething cauldron. Not yet, he repeated. If they planned to cart him to Stefano, he could finally, at long last, destroy the bastard, taking out as many of his enemy as possible—even if it meant taking out himself, too. That’s what he’d planned to do here, anyway. A change of location hardly mattered on that score.

  Of course, when
Kane kicked it, his body would no longer be able to contain the evil inside him and his demon would be unleashed upon an unsuspecting world. Disaster would escape, crazed, hungry, desperate to create tragedy after tragedy.

  That had happened to Kane’s friend, Baden. He’d died—beheaded by Hunters—and his demon, Distrust, had roamed the earth unfettered. Perhaps that was why nations had fought each other for so long. They always suspected the other of foul deeds and even fouler intentions. Perhaps that was why so many marriages had failed over the years.

  Then, not long ago, the Hunters had somehow managed to find Distrust and pair the demon with a new host, one of their choosing. A female. She had yet to challenge the Lords, probably still too lost to the evil inside her to do more than moan and writhe and beg for relief.

  “Diego?” someone muttered.

  “Yeah,” a man with a slight Spanish accent replied.

  “You ready?”

  “Yes, sir.” There was a nervous tremor to the words.

  “Markov, Sanders, hold his arms. Just in case he wakes up before he dies. Billy, cut deep and cut fast. There’s no room for error.”

  “I’m not stupid. We’ve gone over this a thousand times,” was the belligerent reply from the man who’d kicked Kane.

  “Yes, we have, but this is go time, our one and only chance. If we aren’t careful, his demon will escape the cave before Diego can absorb it.”

  O-kay. There would be no waiting, no reaching Stefano, Kane decided. They were going to murder him and try and pair his demon with a Hunter, thinking to control Disaster and use the demon to fight for their cause. To destroy his friends. To rule the world.

  Cue evil overlord laugh, Kane thought dryly, then sobered. This was serious business.

  Get ready, he told his demon.

  The churning quickened, quickened, and the entire cave shook. Just a little. Just enough to cause dust to plume in the air and pebbles to fall from the ceiling, thudding on the ground.

  “What’s that?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Just hurry. Let’s get this done. Knife?”

  “Here.”

  Strong hands suddenly gripped Kane’s arms and flipped him over so that he was lying on his back. Those same hands pushed, hard, pinning him in place. Kane didn’t wait a second longer.

  Now!

  The shaking increased swiftly, the falling pebbles becoming falling boulders. Boom, boom. Boom! Someone screamed in pain. Kane was released. There was another scream, a round of curses.

  Finally, Kane opened his eyes. Just in time, too. A boulder was heading straight for him. He rolled out of the way, coughing as his mouth filled with dirt and debris. The abrupt movement tore the stitches riding the curve of a rib.

  His gaze panned his surroundings in one swoop. He was in a cave, just as he’d suspected, though it was more spacious than he would have believed possible, branching in several different directions. No wonder the Hunters had so easily overpowered his original captors. Not even an army could protect itself from ambush here. There were too many places to hide.

  The Hunters scrambled for cover. The shaking continued and the rocks rained down. Another scream, a grunt. The crunch of breaking bone.

  Kane lumbered to his feet. That’s the way, buddy. Keep at it.

  “Don’t let him escape,” someone shouted.

  “Got him in my sights!”

  Crack.

  A sharp pain lanced through his leg. A dark curse left him. Someone had shot him. He hurried to one of the darkened enclaves, dodging the boulders along the way. More shaking, more boulders. Soon he would be trapped. If he wasn’t already. But there was no way to stop a disaster of this magnitude once it had started.

  He honestly didn’t mind the prospect of dying. He’d almost died a thousand times before and had long ago prepared himself for the eventuality. At least he was taking these Hunters with him. Not that Kane would give up without trying to save himself. His warrior instinct would allow nothing less.

  He searched the shadows for a way out…saw the barest crack of light to the right. Not stopping to think, he dove for it, jerking at the rocks, widening the airy space, ignoring the twinges of pain shooting through him.

  “Kane!”

  William? He stilled, stiffened. Shit. Shit! If he killed his friend…

  Crack.

  “Human!” William shouted angrily. Someone must have shot at him. “You’re gonna hurt for that.”

  Boom, boom, boom.

  “Get out of here,” Kane shouted. “Run!”

  “Kane, damn it! Where are you? I didn’t knock Nurse Ratchet out and travel all the way down here to my least favorite place just to play hide-and-seek with you. Get your ass over here!”

  Kane pushed to his feet, inhaling more dust. He raced out of the safety of the enclosure—just in time to see William grab a Hunter by the throat. He wasn’t paying attention and didn’t see the massive rock descending on him.

  And because Kane was watching William, he didn’t see the massive rock descending on him.

  “SWEET SUNRISE, THAT was amazing.”

  Paris rolled away from the grinning, panting female and her glistening sweat-sheened body to peer up at the ceiling. As he’d hoped, Arca hated Cronus and hadn’t minded betraying the god king. As he’d dreaded, she’d had a price— Paris’s body, his demon’s scent arousing her the moment he stepped inside her chamber.

  He’d just spent the past hour pleasuring her in a way he was sure she’d never been pleasured. She had enjoyed every second of his attention, while he had loathed himself, his actions.

  You do what you have to do.

  He hadn’t had to worry about interruptions. The spacious bedroom was hidden in the back of the harem. A bedroom Arca couldn’t leave. Cronus had actually cursed her so that she would experience utter, absolute agony if she stepped outside the spacious boundaries of her “home.” And having learned from the mortals and their mistakes, the king had ensured there were no windows for the goddess to utilize.

  Clearly, the king had thought it was better to deprive Arca of sunlight and fresh air than to chop off her long, silky hair.

  She propped herself up on her elbow and stared down at him, white braids draped over her shoulder. “Well?”

  “Yes, that was indeed amazing,” he said automatically, as he’d said to a thousand others.

  Her smile slowly waned. “You could at least try to sound convincing.”

  Sighing, he studied her. He’d been with countless others over the centuries, and she was by far the loveliest. But appearances mattered little to him. What was a beautiful face when a monster could very well lurk beneath? All that mattered was how the other person made you feel, inside and out.

  He doubted Arca was a monster inside. She had spent so many years in captivity, both on earth and here in the heavens, that she should have been warped, a shrew at the very least, but when he’d strolled inside, she hadn’t yelled at him. Hadn’t fought him. She had peered at him with wide blue eyes, clasped his hands and smiled, so lonely and desperate for attention, any attention, that she’d caused his chest to constrict.

  And when he’d tried to question her about Sienna, when she had shaken her head and said, “After,” already lost to the lust-haze his demon created, Paris had given in without protest.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, letting his voice dip with husky promise. Another skill he’d perfected over the years. “It’s just, you wore me out, sweetheart. I have no energy left.”

  She chuckled and fell beside him, snuggling into his side. “Cronus won’t find out, I promise. So if you want to return to me…”

  He remained silent. He couldn’t sleep with her again. His demon wouldn’t let him. Even if he spent hours kissing and touching her, his cock would remain flaccid and useless. Always did around anyone he’d already bedded, and really, Paris wouldn’t have wanted a repeat, anyway. He felt guilty enough, sleeping with anyone other than Sienna.

  He’d had her and he could have her agai
n. He could get hard just thinking about her. Which was why everyone he’d nailed after her was like a slap in her beautiful face. Like she wasn’t good enough for him. Like she couldn’t satisfy him. But he couldn’t save her if he died and he really would die if he remained celibate.

  Plus, he felt guilty for another reason. These lovers of his…they didn’t want him, not really. If not for his demon, they might not have ever slept with him, might have turned him down flat, found him unattractive, whatever. So, in a way, he was forcing them to be with him.

  As always, his mind cringed away from the thought.

  “What’s wrong?” Arca asked. “You tensed up.”

  He forced himself to relax and rubbed her arm up and down, a gentle caress. “Earlier I mentioned a woman. A slave, killed and in soul form, and now possessed by a demon. Wrath. Her soul is invisible to the naked eye.” He tried not to reveal his own sense of desperation. “Do you know of whom I speak?”

  She twirled a braid around one of her fingers. “Yes. I remember. You want to know where Cronus is keeping her.”

  Easy, steady. “Do you know the answer?”

  “I haven’t heard anything, no.”

  He closed his eyes, fighting a rush of disappointment and regret. He’d thought…he’d hoped…he’d been so sure…

  “But,” she went on, “I do know where he kept prisoners he couldn’t control, people he didn’t want anyone to find, before his imprisonment in Tartarus.”

  “Tell me.” The words rang out with more force than he’d intended.

  “I’ll do better than that.” Her arms tightened around him, and she trembled. “I’ll show you.”

  His stomach churned. Can’t alienate her. “You know that isn’t possible, sweetheart,” he croaked. “You have to stay here.”

  “But…” She sat up again, expression tight as her braids fell around them, framing them. “Please. I have to leave. I can’t stay here any longer. I hate it, and I’m slowly going insane. Please.”

  He cupped her cheeks, trying to be gentle. “Tell me where to find this secret place and once my mission is done, I’ll come back for you. I’ll find a way to save you.”