The Darkest Kiss (27 page)

Now she knew what those naughty fingers could do to her…

Trembling, she pulled him along after William, following the same path the warrior had taken. The hallway was well-lit with flickering gold bulbs. Wisps of colorful lace covered the lamps, which splattered rainbow hues throughout. The vampiresses' doing? Trying to domesticate the warrior?

There were no pictures or weapons on the walls as there usually were. She'd bet, oh, ten million American dollars on William having removed them last night after sating his vampires. He was well acquainted with Anya's penchant for theft—but too late to save his precious book. Silly man had had one of his witches cast a spell over the book's locked case a long time ago. A spell she had broken with her key.

“What is this book you mentioned?” Lucien asked, keeping pace at her side. “And did you really steal it?”

“A book of ancient prophecies decreed by the gods. And yes. I took it. William should have been a smart boy and studied it a few times over the centuries, but nooo, he was afraid he'd do more harm to his fate than good.” She rounded a corner. Stairs loomed ahead. Damn, but this place was huge. She wasn't used to walking it; usually she just flashed.

“See, one of the prophecies is about William. Written around the time he went to prison, if memory serves. Something about a woman. Of course, there's always a woman. Anyway, his prophecy is encrypted, like a riddle, and somewhere in the book is the key to decoding it and saving himself.”

“Anya! How could you fucking dare?” William shouted. His angry bellow echoed off the walls.

“I guess he found the fake.”

“Will he try to hurt you?”

She grinned. “Not while I have
his precious.
” She said the last in an evil demon voice.

Lucien just shook his head.

They turned another corner and were suddenly in the study. William was holding the fake she'd had made. First time she'd visited him here, she'd tried to pick a fight with him, had
needed
to fight. One of her mortal companions had died and her need for disorder had been high. William had been too sated to oblige her, falsely claiming he was more a lover than a fighter. He'd offered to sex her, though. She'd spent some time tossing and shattering glass instead.

Then she'd spotted the book in its tantalizing case. Blood-red rubies were embedded on its cover and spine. They'd called to her, a siren's song. Knowing what the book meant to him had made the stealing of it all the sweeter, she was ashamed to admit. She didn't suppose it would console him to know, though, that she was now a wee bit ashamed.

“The cover appears to be the same, but the pages are blank,” he growled.

She splayed her arms wide. “Sorry. I couldn't help myself.”

“Someone should have put you down a long time ago.”

“Like that would have done any good,” she muttered.

“Why do I like you? Why do I always allow you back? You and your fucking All-Key are a menace. Give me back the book, Anya!”

“How does everyone know about this key, yet I had never heard of it?” Lucien complained, tossing up his hands.

“Why don't you just take the key from her?” William suggested to Lucien with an evil grin.

“Shut up, Willie!” She stomped her foot and pushed a hand through her hair. “He already knows.”

“Everything?”

“Yes.”
Well, kind of.

William grinned. “Liar. So, Lucy,” he said, tossing the empty book to the ground and slapping his hands together.

“Did you know that if she gives you the key, she'll be giving you her memories? You'll know everything about her. Her every sin, every crime, every man she's ever touched. Even better, you'll know where she is every second of every day. She'll never be able to hide from you.”

Lucien flicked her a guarded glance. “True?”

Reluctantly she nodded. “All part of the All-Key's charm.”

“Who gave you this key?” Lucien asked her. “Why would anyone place such a burden on you?”

William took it upon himself to answer for her. “Her daddy dearest gave it to her when the gods finally decided on her punishment for murdering the captain of their guard. She was to be made an immortal sex slave. Fitting, don't you think? Tartarus knew of her curse, however, and knew what that would do to her. So he stepped in to play savior for once in his negligent life.

“Why do you think the immortal prison eventually fell? How do you think the Titans eventually escaped? Without the key he'd housed inside himself, both Tartarus the man and Tartarus the prison were weakened. Eventually, both crumbled altogether.”

True, all true. When she'd accepted the key inside herself, she'd been given some of her father's memories and had found herself attuned to his whereabouts. Even now, she had only to think of him and she knew where he was.

That's how she'd known Cronus had imprisoned him.

She'd gone back to Olympus, a place she'd sworn never to visit again. Out of guilt, yes, for all her father had given up for her. Out of love, too, because through his memories, she'd learned that Tartarus hadn't known about her existence until Themis uncovered the truth. After that, he'd wanted to be a part of her life but hadn't known how to go about it without further devastating the wife he'd betrayed or humiliating the lover who was already suffering for the night of foolishness they'd shared.

When Aias attacked her, Tartarus had wanted to cut out his own heart for not being there. And when she'd been in prison, he'd viewed himself as her protector, giving her extra blankets, food—until her sentence came in, and he'd had to choose between her life and his own.

Pushing the memories to the back of her mind, she focused on Lucien. His expression was still blank, unreadable in a way she despised. What thoughts were tumbling through his mind?

William clapped his hands again, as if satisfied with a job well done. “You want a guide? You've got a guide. Afterward, I get my book.”

She nodded, not proud of herself as she should have been.

“Then come on, you two. Let's get packed up. I'm eager to get started so we can get this over with.” William strode from the room, whistling under his breath.

A deceptive calmness, Anya knew. Nerves on edge, she gave Lucien's shoulder a little punch. “Anything you want to say to me?”

A gleam of hopelessness appeared in his mismatched eyes. “No matter how long or hard I research, I will not find a way to take the key from you without harming you, will I?”

She gulped. “No.”

“And if Cronus does gain possession of it, you will never be able to hide from him.”

“Right,” she said, looking at her feet. Damn it, she had to stop that! She peered up at Lucien through the thick shield of her lashes. Uncertainty swam through her as she closed the distance between them. “Does this change things between us? Make you want to give up on us?”

The hands that had delivered her such pleasure last night locked on her jaw and angled her head up. “Understand. I am here. I am yours. I'm not giving up.”

Oh, this man…Their lips gently met, soft, so soft, a mere brush, but she wasn't content with that. She might never be content with anything less than, well, everything this warrior had to offer.

“Harder,” she commanded.

Tongues thrust together, twining, rolling, as they drank each other in. He now knew beyond any doubt that he could not use the key to bargain with Cronus, but he still wanted her. He could not break her curse, but he still wanted her. She was overjoyed and relieved, and fell a little deeper under his spell.
He's mine.

If another woman ever—ever!—thought to take him from her, Anya knew herself well enough to know she would kill the bitch. Coldheartedly. Painfully. She couldn't imagine her life without him now. Didn't think she'd even really lived until the moment she'd first seen him.
Yes, he's mine.
Her hand tangled in his silky hair and she rocked against his erection.
Mine.

Even as the thought formed, a booming laugh rang out.

Everything inside Anya suddenly lurched. Her nervous system kicked into high gear, her heart pounding erratically. Sweat beaded on her palms. She didn't rip herself away from Lucien, but she did end the kiss and stare up at him, wide-eyed.
No. Not now.

He'd stiffened. His eyes were narrowed, she saw, with glints of the rage she'd encountered only that once in Greece. She'd never seen anyone so fierce. He looked as if he could happily kill everyone around him. Except her. His arms were still gentle around her waist.

“Cronus,” he said tightly. No body, just that awful voice.

Mouth dry, she nodded. “What do you want, oh, Great One?”

The god laughed again. “Right now I will settle for letting you know that I've discovered the best way to bring you to heel, Anarchy.”

A tremor worked through Lucien's body. “My king, she is—”

“Silence, Death. Once again you have failed to do your job, and I am done waiting. Slay her. Here, this instant.”

Lucien's gaze fell back to Anya. His muscles were like stone. Heat stopped radiating from him, ice-cold determination taking its place.

She didn't want to die, but she didn't want Lucien to be punished on her account, either. If she'd just stayed away from him, none of this would have happened. Yeah, none of it. Not the kissing, the touching, the…loving?

No, she couldn't love him. Love would destroy her, caging her as surely as if she were in prison again.
Just give Cronus the key.

I can't.
She would lose everything. Her independence, her powers, her memories. She might even forget her own curse, sleep with someone and inadvertently bind herself to that man for eternity. Gods, what was she going to do?

“I cannot hurt her,” Lucien said with a proud tilt of his chin. His voice, however, was tortured.

“I thought not. It is hard for me to believe the Greeks once relied upon you for protection.” Tense pause. “Hear me. You shall weaken with every day that passes in which I do not have that key.”

“What?” Anya gasped out.

“At first, I thought the warrior's love for his friends would spur him to act. Now I know. All along, it was you, Anya, who needed prompting.”

Anya floundered for the proper response, horror raining through her. “Cronus—”

“I've seen the way you are with him. He isn't just a toy to you as you pretended, but someone who matters. And now you will have to choose what matters most—him or the key.” Cronus laughed, as if victory were already in his grasp. “Can you hear the clock ticking? I can.”

And then there was only silence.

Cronus had gone, she knew that, for the slight hum of power that always accompanied his visits had faded. Her breathing became choppy, and she was barely able to draw enough air into her lungs. Lose Lucien? No!

“Do not say a word,” Lucien growled. He refused to look at her. “Finding those artifacts is more important than ever. They are a source of his power and we can use them. We will gather supplies as planned and head out.”

“But—”

He stalked away, leaving her alone in the study.

Oh, gods. What the hell was she going to do?

W
HAT THE HELL WAS HE
going to do?

He loved Anya. Lucien admitted that now. Knew it with a soul-deep intensity that could not be denied any longer. He loved her. He hadn't been able to kill her, and he could not abide the thought of her being bound to Cronus, the god king able to find her at every turn. Nor could he abide the thought of her being weak and powerless. Not when she had come to mean more to him than his own life.

She enjoyed stealing, often lied, could kill without remorse, had a bounty on her head, could not make love, and yet he cherished her more than he'd ever cherished Mariah. He hadn't thought such a thing possible. But Anya was the other half of him, the better half. She made him feel whole, complete, like a man rather than a demon. An attractive man, no less.

She gave him something to live for, wiped away his pain, his past, and—when she kissed him—his insecurities. Her sense of humor delighted him, her actions intrigued him. Merely being in her presence gave him more pleasure than sleeping with another woman ever had.

He knew of only one way to save her now. Find an artifact as quickly as possible and pray Cronus wanted it more than the key. He would gladly trade the artifact for Anya's life, Pandora's box be damned.

There was no way Lucien would allow Anya to give up that key now, that much he knew. She would lose her powers, her memories, the freedom she so valued. Her life? Without her ability to flash, she would be vulnerable to all kinds of attack. She would be helpless. Trapped. If a man decided to bind her by penetrating her, she would not be able to disappear or fight her way free.

With a roar, Lucien slammed his fist into the wall of the bedroom he'd occupied last night. A bedroom he'd shared with Anya. Beautiful, sparkling, fiery Anya. The wall cracked; blood trickled from the broken skin on his hand.

Anya was the one woman who saw past his scars to the man inside. In her presence he felt as if he could conquer the entire world, and he did not want that feeling to end. Holding her in his arms had been the greatest experience of his life. Nothing else compared. Nothing else came close.

Lucien scrubbed his throbbing hand down his face. Throbbing? Yes. It hadn't healed instantly, but remained cut. Dark blue and purple bruises were forming over his knuckles.

You shall weaken,
Cronus had warned.

He laughed darkly. No matter what he did, what path he chose, he
would
weaken.

“We'll find it,” Anya said softly.

He whipped around. She leaned against the doorframe, a vision in white. Thick white fur coat, skin-tight white pants. White fur boots that climbed up her glorious legs. Pale hair spilled over her shoulders and down her chest. His heart skipped a beat.

She was holding a bundle of white clothing. “You already knew that Cronus approached me yesterday. Well, you were right. He threatened me and that's why I was so mean to you. I didn't want him to know that I was…that I…” She gulped.

“I love you, Anya,” he admitted gruffly. “I love you, and I can't—won't—hurt you. Understand?”

Her mouth dropped open and the clothes fell from her arms. “Lucien. I—I—”

“You do not have to say it back. I've come to know you, Anya. You are wild and free and the thought of loving a man terrifies you.”

She gazed down at her feet. For the first time, she did not berate herself for it. He was pleased. He wanted her to be comfortable doing anything with him, even that.

“I feel for you what I've never felt for another,” she said quietly, “and I'm happiest when I'm with you. Why else would I have hung around when you were doing everything in your power to get rid of me? But love…” She swallowed again, shook her head. “I've spent my entire life trying to keep men at a distance. Somehow you worked your way under my skin, but I
can't
love you.” The last was said on a tortured breath.

“I know.” She would feel obligated to give up her freedom if she admitted that she loved him. He would not ask it of her. Not now.

“I've been on my own for a long time,” she said on a desperate laugh, “and you and I both know just how long I have left. I can't place myself in someone else's keeping.”

“I know,” he said again.

“I just…I know I don't want you hurt. I…I need time to think.”

According to Cronus, Lucien did not have much time.
Soon. The clock is ticking.
Lucien would search for Hydra for however long he had. If he failed to find her, if he failed to win the artifact, he would not fight his fate, he realized then. Had already accepted it, to be honest. He couldn't hurt Anya and couldn't allow Cronus to have the key. If he had to die to ensure her safety, then he would die.

He loved Anya enough to willingly give his life for hers. Without hesitation, without reservation.

He had not been able to give his life for Mariah, but he had wanted to. Had wished for it all these long centuries. Until now. Now he was glad he'd survived. He lived and died for
Anya.
He would regret the past no more; he would not spend another millennium craving something he could not have.

He would enjoy Anya for as long as they could be together.

“Why do I feel so guilty?” Anya whispered, and there was shame in the undercurrents of her voice. “Like I should give Cronus the key?”

There was only one answer: she did indeed love him. His heart swelled with joy and pride. And that was enough for him, knowing she loved him, even if she could not say the words. “You will not give it to him. Promise me. Promise me you will never give it away.”

Tears filled her eyes. Minutes passed in silence.

“Promise me, Anya. Give me that peace of mind.”

Her lashes were black and spiky, creating a shadow-fan under her ice-blue eyes. Or perhaps, in her anguish, bruises had formed there. Finally she said, “I promise.” Then she laughed without humor. “Great. Now I feel even guiltier.”

He reached out and sifted strands of her silky hair between his fingers. “You should not feel that way.”

“Then how should I feel?” She sniffled.

“Come here,” he said, giving the locks a gentle tug.

As she inched forward, her watery gaze landed on his hand. She gripped his wrist, turning over his palm, and frowned. “You're hurt.”

“A tiny scratch, nothing more.”

She lifted it to her lips and placed a soft kiss directly on the wound. “My poor baby. I don't like to see you hurting.”

Electric jolts shot up his arm, hot and hungry.
Oh, yes, he
loved this woman.
He traced the shadows with his fingertip, and then their gazes locked. “I would gladly be hacked to pieces to be so ministered to.”

“Do you think he can do it? Do you think you'll weaken?” she whispered brokenly, though they both already knew the answer. “You're so strong. You're so vital.”

“I will be fine,” he lied.

“Maybe I should, I don't know, talk to Cronus or something.”

Adamant, he shook his head. “You will not do that, either. He could make things worse.”

Sadness couched every beautiful plane and hollow of her face; she remained silent.

“I told you. We will find the artifact.”

“You guys coming?” William called, his irritation clear.

“In a minute!” Anya shouted without looking away from Lucien. “You need to get dressed. We can't have you turning into a popsicle, now can we?”

“Not again.” He spent the next heartbeat of time memorizing her face, drinking her in and branding her essence onto his every cell. She caressed his cheek all the while, clearly not wanting to leave the room, either.

“I put your gear on the floor,” she said.

He chuckled. “I know. I saw you drop everything.” He kissed her softly. “I'll see you downstairs.”

“Flowers, I—”

“Say no more, sweetheart. We'll find a way to make this work.”

A tear finally spilled over, racing down her cheek. “Sweetheart. You called me sweetheart.” Without giving him a chance to reply, she disappeared.

But he didn't think she left right away, because he could still smell strawberries, could still feel her gaze burning into him. Then the skin above his heart tingled, as if she'd just traced an X.

 

A
SULKING
W
ILLIAM HAD
refused to allow Lucien to flash him. Instead, the man had a helicopter take them to the coast of Greenland, where mountain met ice and many a human had died, forgotten and alone. The flying deathtrap could not go any farther, and Lucien was glad. He wanted out. The air was so cold, the engine kept sputtering, threatening to freeze.

He could have flashed before plummeting to the ground, so the thought of crashing didn't bother him. The fact that he was not in control bothered him. The fact that his stomach was in his throat bothered him. The fact that Anya's last memories of him might be of him hunched over and vomiting bothered him.

He nearly kissed the snow-covered land when he finally exited.

Three ATVs were already waiting for them, along with backpacks of food and water. William had seen to everything, not that Lucien trusted him. Lucien remained on guard, staying between the warrior and Anya at all times.

They climbed onto the vehicles, and he traded his lack of control for a sense of bleak isolation. An ocean of snow surrounded him. Beautiful, lovely to the extreme, but deadly. Was this how the demon had felt inside Pandora's box? Only instead of vast white there'd been nothing but eternal darkness?

“We can flash this stuff to where we need it,” Anya grumbled with a glance at the backpack behind her. Heated breath caused mist to curtain her face. “I don't see why we need to haul its weight around and let it slap us in the ass every time we hit a bump.”

“I agree,” Lucien said.

“Well, I don't,” William griped. “And obviously, you need me, so it's my way or no way.”

She flipped him off. Lucien grinned at her show of spirit. Much better than the broken woman who'd left him in the bedroom.

The wind was glacial, so sharp and biting it cut past the thermal bodysuit he wore and all the way to the bone. Already he could feel his blood crystallizing, as if someone were blowing ice directly inside his veins.

“We need to climb to the highest peak,” he told William. He'd checked his voice mail before leaving the house and, not surprisingly, he'd missed Torin's call while he and Anya…played. The warrior had left a message, saying he and Ashlyn had researched the area but had found no recent documented sightings of Hydra or any other beast. Too few people traveled up here, it seemed. The best place to look, Torin had advised, was the region's most dangerous area. The less traffic, the more appealing a spot it would be to a creature trying to hide.

“That's the one, then,” William said, pointing straight ahead. “And don't try to flash, leaving me behind. You won't reach the top without me since I've left little presents for my…uninvited guests along the way.” He paused, tilted his head. “In fact, just get flashing out of your mind, period. Maybe I should have told you earlier, but, well, you irritate me. I can't be flashed anywhere.”

“What makes you so sure you cannot be flashed?” Lucien asked.

“Just trust me. Attempting to flash me hurts everyone involved. I made the mistake of rocking Hera's world, so Zeus made sure no goddess would ever be able to flash me to safety. Jealous husbands are dumb. Then Hera found out I was also rocking other goddesses' worlds, and next thing I know, I'm keeping Anya company in the slammer. Some women are more trouble than they're worth.” William anchored a helmet on his head and motioned for them to do the same.

Lucien grabbed Anya's and looked it over carefully before he allowed her to do so. She gave him a secret smile before she pulled it on. His nostrils, lungs and chest stung as he donned his own. The crackle of Anya's breathing suddenly filled his ears. There was a headset built into the side, he realized, so they could communicate while they moved. Human technology could be a blessing.

“This is fun,” Anya said.

It was as though she was purring straight into his ear, and his blood finally heated, melting the ice.

William cranked up his ATV and started forward. Lucien and Anya followed just a few feet behind.

“Maybe now is a good time to tell you that a group of men entered the circle about…oh, three days ago,” William said into the headset. “Doubt they were looking for me.”

Lucien didn't have to see his face to know the warrior was grinning with relish. “How do you know?”

“They're human. I don't mess with human women.”

“Could it be Hunters?” Anya asked. Through the mask, Lucien could see her eyes blazing with curiosity.