The Darkest Warrior

by Gena Showalter

  He tracked William to a sprawling home, where large birds with metal beaks and claws guarded the perimeter. Once again, Puck was considered a nonthreat and ignored.

  The preoccupied William had no idea he'd been followed.

  See, Gillian? I'm the better warrior.

  Finding a shadowed alcove on a balcony, Puck watched through a window as William placed the brunette atop a massive bed and tenderly wiped her brow with a rag.

  "This isn't how I thought to spend your birthday week, poppet. You need to get better." Regret layered the male's voice. "Tomorrow is supposed to be the beginning...well, it doesn't matter right now." He brushed his knuckles along her jaw and said, "I'll be back."

  The barest protest escaped her before he flashed away.

  One minute passed, two. Ravaged by fever, Gillian tossed and turned. Puck hung back, awash in longing...sympathy?

  With a curse, he focused inward to fortify the ice around his heart. He'd had enough of emotion, enough of Indifference.

  How did the girl affect him so strongly, so quickly, anyway? And why was she sick? The potion should have strengthened her as she made the transition--

  The answer slapped him upside the head, and his lungs constricted. Morte ad vitam. She couldn't make the transition. Her little body wanted to evolve, and continued to try, but it wasn't strong enough to finish the deed; with every hour that passed, she would weaken further.

  She would weaken until she died.

  A surge of fury and fear caused the ice to crack. As Puck's claws cut into his palms, a shout of denial brewing in the back of his throat, Indifference protested with a growl.

  Careful. More ice. Now!

  Puck calmed, even as he acknowledged the unacceptability of this development. Gillian wasn't permitted to die. They had to wed, and he had to use her to gain William's allegiance.

  He would just have to proceed as if she would live--because she would! If William failed to save her, Puck would do so.

  He considered his options. Approach her now and initiate a conversation? But how would he begin?

  You know what they say--once you go beast, you'll always feast.

  No. All wrong. He had to make her feel strong, brave and free.

  Be mine, and you'll never again know weakness.

  She might take one look at him and die from fright.

  The outcome of a "meet cute" had never been so important. He needed to put his best foot--hoof--forward, needed to charm and seduce.

  He thought back to his predemon days. Females had feared him, the Undefeated, but many had encouraged him, anyway. But whatever charisma he'd had, he'd lost. And his appearance...

  Well, it hadn't always been the hindrance he'd expected. A certain type of woman liked his beastly form. Horns were in, and incredibly popular in romance novels.

  He knew this, because he sometimes read books to Winter, at her request. Apparently phrases like "her succulent nipples" and "quivering desire" sounded amusing in his monotone voice. Whatever. In every story, Puck had identified most with the villain, but he could certainly role-play the part of hero. He could act like a knight in shining armor, at least for a little while, and offer to rescue his damsel in distress.

  She wouldn't know the truth until far too late.

  With a plan in mind, he stepped forward.

  William materialized in the room with another immortal at his side, and Puck went still.

  "This man is a doctor," William said. "He's going to examine you."

  Her only response was a moan of pain.

  The doctor spent the better part of an hour examining Gillian. When he whispered the diagnosis to William and proclaimed there was nothing he could do, William punched him so hard he flew into the far wall.

  "Wh-what did he say?" Gillian asked.

  "Doesn't matter. He's a quack," the warrior announced. "I'll find you another doctor. A better one."

  He vanished, but still Puck hung back, expecting the male to return any--

  William appeared with a second doctor...then a third and a fourth. Each one checked the girl's vitals as she slipped in and out of consciousness, trembling as William barked orders and issued threats. Blood was taken, tests run, but the diagnosis remained the same.

  She would die sooner rather than later.

  "Go to the living room," William commanded the plethora of physicians. "Set up a lab. Do more tests. Find a way to save her or die yourselves. And if you think to sneak away, know that I will find you, and I will hurt you. You'll pray for the day I kill you."

  As they rushed to obey, he sat at the side of Gillian's bed, his expression gentling. "There, there, poppet." Once again, he wiped her brow with a rag. "You'll heal. That's an order."

  "What's wrong with me?" she managed to rasp. "What did Keeley give me?"

  "Something supernatural, but don't worry, I've got the best immortal doctors searching for a cure."

  Puck pursed his lips. Why keep the full truth from her?

  As Gillian fell into a fitful doze, the other male held her hand, perhaps attempting to will his strength into her fragile body.

  Puck wanted to hate the male. He was ready to get off the bench and in the game.

  At some point, William's father appeared. Hades, one of nine kings of the underworld. He was urbane but uncivilized. A tall, muscular man like William, with bronzed skin, jet-black hair and eyes so black they had no beginning or end. He had a silver hoop in his nose and stars tattooed on each of his knuckles.

  How many other tattoos were hidden beneath his pin-striped suit?

  "What's so special about her?" Hades asked.

  "I'm not discussing her with you," William snapped.

  "I'm discussing her with you, then. You can't be with her. You can't be with anyone. You know as well as I that your happiness walks hand in hand with your doom."

  "I'm searching for a way to break my curse and--"

  "You've been searching," Hades interjected. "For centuries."

  "My book--"

  "Is nonsense. A trick to make you hope for what can never be so that your demise will be sweeter--for your enemies. If the book could be decoded, it would have been decoded by now."

  Puck didn't agree with Hades. In all his research, he'd heard much about the book of codes meant to save William from death at a lover's hand. Multiple sources had confirmed the book's validity.

  "Did you come here to piss me off?" William grumbled.

  "Pissing you off is a bonus," Hades said. "I came to warn you."

  "Well, you've done both."

  "No, son, I haven't." The king's voice hardened, sharp enough to cut steel. "The warning is this--if I think you're falling in love with this girl, I'll kill her myself."

  William stiffened.

  In a deep freeze one second and boiling with rage the next, Puck bowed up.

  Kill Gillian, my key? Try, and see what happens.

  With a war cry, William launched himself at Hades. A fierce, bloody battle ensued, nothing held back. Punches to the nose and teeth. Elbows to the chest and gut. Knees to the groin. And yet, one opponent never actually tried to kill the other.

  They must have affection for each other, the way Puck and Sin--

  No. Not Sin. No matter the provocation, an adoring brother would not curse another to a hellish eternity, forcing him to exist rather than live.

  I would have rather died than hurt him. Now I'm willing to die in order to hurt him.

  As Puck waited for the fight to end, he did his best to calm. But a weird buzz soon began to vibrate in the back of his mind, and if not for Indifference, he would have blamed the sensation on impatience.

  Finally, Hades left. William petted the top of Gillian's head, muttered something about finding a better doctor and dematerialized.

  Showtime.

  Puck eased into the room, silent, and padded forward. Wait. Had he remembered to dress today? A quick glance down revealed his sheepskin pants had been torn so much they resembled a loincloth.


  No matter. Barbarian chic really made his horns pop, and fit the whole romance-novel-hero mystique he'd hoped to convey. He might even pass for Prince Charming--well, a prince in need of true love's kiss.

  Puck's pulse points spun into a wild rhythm when he reached the side of the bed and spied his future bride. He wasn't the only fairy-tale character in the room. Sleeping beauty lies before me.

  Dark ribbons of hair spilled over the pale pink of the pillow. Her eyes were closed, long black lashes throwing shadows over her cheeks. A rosy flush spread over her delicate features as she parted her lips.

  Practically begging for my kiss.

  Focus! Keep this short and sweet. No telling when William would return.

  "Gillian," he rasped, surprised by the husky tone of his voice.

  A sweet fragrance wafted from her. Breathing in, he detected a note of poppiberries, and his head fogged. His blood heated. The butterfly tattoo sizzled on his torso, surely melting his skin.

  Indifference snarled with more force and slashed at his mind. Trouble brewed.

  Fortify ice. Regain control.

  Gillian turned her head toward him and blinked rapidly before focusing on him. Panic filled her whiskey-colored eyes before she looked away--anywhere but Puck. Her mouth opened wide, as if she was trying to scream. Only a squeak escaped.

  "There'll be none of that now." To prove himself harmless, he tucked the covers around her, as he'd seen William do. "I'm not here to hurt you." Truth.

  The movement caused the razors woven into his hair to clink together, drawing her attention. Her gaze darted to him, and darkened with shock and dismay. He swallowed a curse. Romance novel heroes didn't usually smuggle weapons in their hair.

  Must proceed anyway. Puck wouldn't part with his razors; they were his saving grace. Anytime he was challenged, and had no sword or dagger, he plucked a razor free and started slashing.

  Tears rained down Gillian's cheeks, and her chin trembled. So vulnerable. So broken. A pang of...something lanced his chest.

  As gently as possible, he wiped her tears away. Skin as soft as silk and hotter than the sun.

  The action helped relax her, even as it hardened muscle after muscle inside him. Her panic began to fade--until her gaze snagged on the loincloth. Or rather, the erection underneath the loincloth. With a whimper, she began to thrash atop the bed in a desperate bid to escape.

  Thought he would take what she had not offered? Never. "Eyes up here, lass."

  Her gaze lifted up, up...she gasped, as if she'd noticed his face for the very first time. Confusion contorted her features before a deeper shade of rose spilled over her cheeks.

  Did she like what she saw?

  "I was told I could aid you." Again truth--he'd told himself. "That we can aid each other."

  Her brow furrowed, her confusion intensifying.

  "I wasn't told you belonged to William of the Dark." A necessary lie, and something the old Puck would have protested. Demon-possessed Puck had few scruples. Like everything else, means had ceased to matter. Only the end result. "I also wasn't told you were sick. Or human," he added. Look at me, female. So innocent. I know nothing about you, but my curiosity is great. Be flattered rather than frightened. "What are you doing with a male of William's...reputation?" There. Sowing dissent. A tactic he'd learned from Sin.

  "Wh-who are you?" she asked, reciprocating his curiosity.

  A good sign, aye? He sifted a lock of her hair between his fingers, savoring the sleek texture.

  Savoring? Puck?

  What is she doing to me?

  Indifference snarled.

  He purposely fixated on her question, and how best to answer--until she cringed, as if disgusted by his touch. Another pang, this one sharper, as he dropped his arm to his side.

  He wasn't upset by her reaction. He wasn't! "I'm Pukinn. You may call me Puck. I'm the keeper of Indifference." He forced himself to pause, as if he needed time to consider his next words. "I'm not sure you can aid me, but I think I'll allow you to try." Another lie. You will help me, female. One way or another.

  Was she intrigued?

  She remained silent, simply peering up at him, as if he were a puzzle she couldn't solve.

  Aye. Intrigued.

  Another pang razed his chest, creating fractures in his ice, allowing emotions he'd buried to rise to the surface of his mind. Arousal. Hunger. Impatience. Longing. Fury. More arousal. His body seemed to expand to accommodate the influx, the butterfly tattoo moving again. Muscles plumped and knotted. Skin stretched taut. Beads of sweat popped up on his brow and between his shoulder blades.

  Indifference geared up to deliver a lethal strike.

  No, no, no. Not here, not now.

  Concentrating on his breathing, Puck shifted from one booted foot to the other, never allowing his body to assume a warrior's stance...even though warriors took what they desired, when they desired.

  Reach out. Touch her. Satiate your hunger...

  No! He shouldn't hunger at all.

  Go. Leave her wanting more. "I'll return after you've gotten used to the idea." And after I've calmed.

  He opened his mouth to tell her he would find a way to save her--to plant seeds about the possibility, but Gillian's eyes had already closed. She'd fallen asleep. She must feel safe with him, at least on some level. Otherwise, adrenaline would have kept her conscious.

  Victory, within my grasp...

  Though every step away from her proved a special kind of hell, considering his lust for her, he returned to the balcony, intending to watch over her the rest of the night.

  "Well, well, well," a familiar voice said from behind him. "Who do we have here?"

  6

  Before Puck could turn around, hard fingers tangled in his hair and yanked, flinging him from the balcony. One of his razors slashed his cheek when he crashed into a bank of trees. Bark and sand sprayed in every direction.

  For a moment, as he lay upon the ground, a memory wafted through his mind.

  After a particularly gruesome day of training, he and Sin had huddled together, eating the rodents they'd managed to catch, because soldiers were responsible for their own food. If you didn't hunt, you didn't eat.

  I wish you'd stayed with Momma, Sin, but I'm so glad you're with me.

  You're my favorite person in all the realms, Puck. I'll stay with you always.

  But "always" hadn't lasted long, had it?

  Puck swallowed the bitter lump in his throat and forced the past from his mind. Fighting for breath, he sprang to his feet.

  In a whirlwind of black smoke, Hades appeared directly in front of him. "So. You're the one possessed by Indifference. I've wondered about the unlucky twit she'd given him to, all those centuries ago."

  Puck unsheathed a dagger, the metal glinting in the sunlight. "If you mean Keeleycael--Keeley--she gave Indifference to my brother, and he gave the demon to me."

  Gave. Such a pretty word for such a terrible betrayal.

  Then realization struck. Hades knew the truth of Puck's possession. Others assumed he was given Indifference while locked in Tartarus, a prison for immortals. Which was an understandable mistake.

  Long ago, when Zeus ruled Mount Olympus, twelve members of his elite army stole and opened Pandora's box--a container much like the one holding Indifference. Only, this one unleashed countless demons on an unsuspecting world, the worst of the worst. The soldiers were punished for their senseless act, and forced to play host to a demon, just like Puck. With more demons than soldiers, however, the leftovers needed a host. Select prisoners were chosen.

  Hades grinned a cold grin. "Keeley does nothing without understanding the grand finale."

  Keeleycael... Keeley... Gillian's friend was the infamous Red Queen.

  "Why would she meddle in my life? Why would she want me possessed?" Puck had done nothing to hurt her. Hadn't even known of her existence until she'd struck at him.

  "To save my son. Keeley and I were engaged at the time, and she knew I would do an
ything--and I do mean anything--to ensure his safety."

  Forcing Puck to play host to Indifference had somehow saved William's life? Ridiculous! He suspected Hades saw the past through the lens of his pride.

  But either way, Hades had made it clear he planned to destroy those who got in his son's way.

  Kill anyone who threatens my survival, and always retaliate for a slight.

  Indifference snarled as fury spiked.

  Inhale, exhale. Puck summoned the ice...to no avail, as if the king had negated his only defense. Or his emotions were too far gone already.

  "Would you like your freedom?" Hades asked. "Once, I ruled the demons. I could remove Indifference, no problem...but I would damage you in the process. A perk for me, since I enjoy damaging others."

  Fury, intensifying. "I'll pass."

  "Then listen up, little princeling, because it's story time." Hades stalked around him, menace in every step. "The Red Queen also told me that my life would change the day I flashed upon a warrior of unequaled strength and ferocity, who would help me fix my beloved son's problem. If I was a good boy and stopped myself from killing him. Now, here you are, sniffing around the very son and problem in question."

  Unequaled strength and ferocity--sounds like me. "Does this problem have a name?"

  "She does."

  She. Gillian, then. "She might be a problem for William, but she is a solution to me. I won't leave this realm without her."

  "Will you not, then?" Hades arched a dark brow. "Already possessive of her, despite only just meeting her. Despite Indifference. Well, consider my curiosity mildly piqued. Actually, a notch below mild. Slightly."

  If Hades thought to keep Puck from his future wife--from his future, period--Hades would die.

  "Is your strength and ferocity greater than mine?" Hades asked.

  No need to ponder. "Yes."

  "Let's find out for sure, shall we?"

  One second Hades stood out of striking distance, the next his breath fanned Puck's face.

  In swift succession, Puck blocked the first, second and third punch, saving his nose from being shattered. But Hades was touted as a master of strategy for a reason, and clearly expected the resistance; by forcing Puck to play defense, he was able to use his free hand to steal the other dagger sheathed at Puck's waist. Jab, jab, jab. Hades stabbed his kidney, liver and intestines.

  Any one of those blows could have killed a human. All three? Certain death. Though agonizing pains shot through Puck, warm blood flowing in crimson rivers down his legs, weakening him, he remained unfazed.