The Darkest Whisper (31 page)

He chuckled. On and on he tongued her, his fingers never ceasing their ministrations. Her head thrashed back and forth, strawberry curls flying in every direction, body writhing.

“More,” she chanted. “More, more, more.”

When he brought a third finger into play, she immediately began spasming, holding him inside, muscles locking tight. He sucked her clit harder…longer…drawing out her climax.

Only when she screamed his name, only when she collapsed against the mattress limply, did he release her. He crawled up her body, cock begging to penetrate her tight little sheath. But he didn't. Not yet.

Her eyelids blinked open. Luminous amber irises peered up at him, white teeth nibbling at her bottom lip.

“I'm not going to hurt you, ever again,” he vowed, and then flipped her to her stomach. “Let me prove it.”

She gasped, instantly reared back to knock his weight off her, but he reached down and flattened his chest to her back, stopping the frantic flutter of her wings. She stilled.
Don't panic on me, darling.
Next he flattened his hands over hers, meshing his cock between her lower cheeks, his legs outside hers. He was panting, warm breath trekking wildly over her shoulders.

“I owe these precious wings a proper apology,” he said, lifting his weight. “Will you allow me to touch them?”

Thankfully, she didn't try to buck him off again. She did stop breathing, though. He heard the hitch of it in her throat. Unable to speak, she nodded.

“Make them stop,” he said. “Please.”

Gradually, the wings calmed.

Inch by inch, he covered each delicate wing with a kiss. They were soft, like silk, and cool to the touch, the perfect contrast to his heat. There wasn't a single hint of feathers, which surprised him. They were nearly translucent, blue veins intertwining from top to bottom, flowing like crystal rivers.

Just then he hated himself for what he'd done to her. How could he have bound these beautiful wings, even for a moment?

“I'm sorry,” he said. “So sorry. I shouldn't have done it. No excuse is good enough.”

“I—I forgive you.” The words were husky, wine-rich. “I do understand why you did it. I don't like that you did it, but I do understand.”

“I'll make it up to you, I swear it. I—”

“Need you inside me. Now.” Frantically she moved her backside against him, seeking the head of his shaft. “You've made me desperate. I need more.”

“Yes. Yes.” Wait.
Slow down
. “Fertile yet?”

“No.”

Speed back up
. Sabin gripped her hips and slammed all the way to the hilt. They cried out in unison. So good. Felt so good. Better than before, hotter, wetter. More fulfilling. They were connected, one being, fused together. She belonged to him, and he to her.

Bending down, he pressed his stomach to her back, reached around and thrummed her clit with one hand and kneaded her breasts with the other, attacking every possible pleasure-point. She lifted her body, grabbing the headboard again and sinking deeper onto his cock.

Shit, he wasn't going to last much longer. He was at the edge, had been at the edge for days already. But over and over he hammered inside her, slipping, sliding, no longer Sabin, only Gwen's man.

A scream suddenly reverberated through the room, and she was once again locking down on him, milking him. Just like that, Sabin hurtled over, pleasure consuming him, washing him in great waves of sensation.

They stayed like that forever, still joined, before collapsing against the mattress. Sabin quickly rolled to her
side, not wanting to smash her with his weight. Well, not wanting to smash her
again
.

Unable to release her, even for a second, he pulled her into his side and she eagerly snuggled against him. This, he decided, must be what heaven was like.

“Twice now you've asked me if I was fertile, which leads me to believe you can have children,” she said between breaths, the husky announcement breaking the silence. “Even Ashlyn is pregnant, though I assumed she had gotten that way before she arrived here. Oh, wait. Galen helped make me, so you guys
can
reproduce.”

“Yes, and yes, Ashlyn's child is Maddox's. The conditions for conceiving have to be just right, but we can indeed father kids. I'm sure you've read the stories of the gods impregnating humans.”

“Yeah, but you guys weren't born in the traditional way,” she countered. “You were created by Zeus himself. I would think you'd be…lacking in…you know…baby serum.”

Baby serum? He had to cut back a laugh. “We have a lot more hormones, white blood cells and other necessary components than humans. It's one of the reasons we're able to heal so quickly. Most females' bodies cannot handle that potent a…serum, so they begin fighting and killing it.”

“Think I could handle it?”

“I think you could handle anything.”

Gradually she relaxed against him. Might even have smiled. “Do you ever want to have kids?”

He never had before. His life had been too turbulent. But he liked the thought of creating a baby with Gwen. A baby just like her, increasing this new blessing in his life. “Yeah. Someday, just not yet. Not until it's safe.”

Her expression was pensive. “Safe.” She sighed and changed the subject. “I don't want you to stop fighting Hunters, but I don't know if I'll stay with you.”

“Fair enough.” Though he'd use his dying breath to convince her to stay. And he hadn't lied. He'd follow her. Wherever she went, he'd follow. Getting rid of him was going to be a bitch of a problem. “But don't expect me to watch you walk away and do nothing.”

“Well, you don't have to worry about that just yet. First, I'm going to help you find your friends. Can you trust me to do that?”

“Yes. I could discover you hugging Galen and I wouldn't doubt you.” He said it with confidence. Meant it. Gwen was the one thing in his life that he would never have to doubt.

A laugh bubbled from her. “That I would have to see to believe.” She traced her fingertips along his chest. “I need to talk to my sisters.”

“Good luck with that.” He captured them and brought them to his lips.

Another sigh. “I half expected them to leave. But deep down I knew they'd stay just to punish me for what I did to them.”

“They won't hurt you.” He wouldn't allow it.

She twined their hands and gave a gentle squeeze. “How are Danika and Ashlyn?”

“Grateful to you, worried about the missing men.”

Frowning, Gwen sat up, hair tumbling gloriously down her back. “I'm going to shower, clear my head. Will you call a meeting with everyone here in, say…an hour?”

He didn't ask why she wished to have the meeting, he simply trusted her, as he'd said he would. “Consider it done.”

G
IDEON WAS SLOWLY GOING INSANE
.
He'd lost track of time and didn't know how long he'd been trapped. A day? Two? A year? There wasn't a sliver of light to cling to, nothing to remind himself that there was a world out there—a world he would soon return to by fair means or foul.

First, he needed a little peace and quiet to think up an escape plan.

His demon, usually just a presence in the back of his mind, had yet to stop screaming inside his head. “In, in, in,” it cried, meaning, “Out, out, out.” “Need dark, need dark,” it sobbed, meaning, “Need light, need light.” Lies thought it was locked inside Pandora's box once more, unable to escape, forgotten, abandoned.

Apparently, the other demons thought the same. Lucien moaned frequently, though Anya was always there to soothe him. Reyes was surprisingly calm. He'd mutter Danika's name, then wouldn't speak again for hours. Amun growled and snarled low in his throat, as though he were fighting a horde of demons Gideon couldn't even imagine. The secrets that must be playing through his head…

Strider, who had been outsmarted and therefore had lost a mind game, constantly banged his head against the wall, his demon probably screeching, his body definitely
agonized. Gideon had seen the warrior lose only once, hundreds of years ago, but the consequences of that loss were imprinted in his memory. Never had he seen a grown man writhe with such force, tears streaming down his ashen face, eyes flashing anguish rather than the usual pride, teeth grinding so vigorously blood poured from them.

Concentrate, dummy
. Many times the entire group had tried prying the window shutters open or hacking through the brick walls. Anya, the only one who still had use of her abilities, muted though they were, had blasted tornados through the chamber, but she'd only hurt the men, not the building. Everything had been fortified and then refortified—with spells?—until their prison was seemingly unbreachable.

“I'm going to look for a way out again,” Anya said. She was the calmest of the group—an ironic twist, since she thrived on chaos. There was a rustle of clothing, a moan from Lucien, a coo from Anya, and then the shuffle of footsteps.

Gideon had always been reluctant to commit to a woman, preferring variety. Right now that seemed stupid. He had no one to think about, wish for, or dream of. No one to keep him focused, as Reyes had. No one to comfort him, as Lucien had.

What female would have you long-term?

What, he was possessed by Doubt now?

Thump.

“Sorry,” Anya muttered. “Who'd I hit?”

“I need—” Strider's breath sawed in and out, shallow and raspy, pained. “Help. Help me.
Please
.”

“Soon,” Anya promised, then cooed at him for a few minutes. More footsteps.

Bang. Scrape
.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” a voice boomed from what Gideon assumed were hidden speakers. And it didn't belong to anyone he knew. “Is it my birthday?”

The room grew eerily quiet, until Anya beat a hasty path back to Lucien, her heels clacking against the tiled floor.

Lights flickered on, chasing away the shadows. In that moment, sweet peace claimed Gideon. He blinked against the spots clouding his vision, seeing his friends for the first time in forever. Lucien was splayed across the floor, his head resting in Anya's lap as the goddess clutched him protectively. Reyes was slumped against the wall, grinning eerily. Strider was on his side, clutching his stomach, knees drawn to his chest, and Amun was beside him, petting his head, his own features glazed.

No sign of Hunters, though. The windows were still blocked, the door still closed.

“I wondered who had tripped my silent alarm. Had to take care of your friends in Buda before I could return here, though.” Cruel laugh. “We've been hoping you'd come here, ever since that article was published. I see our denial of this facility's existence had the desired effect and convinced you there was no way this could be a trap.”

With the sudden quiet in his mind, Gideon was able to sift that voice through his mental files, and
hello
. It belonged to someone he knew, after all. Dean Stefano. Second in command of the Hunters, answerable only to that sick fuck, Galen. Stefano hated Sabin for stealing Darla, his wife; said Darla would still be alive if the Lords and the evil they housed were in hell where they belonged.

Stefano's
evil knew no bounds. He'd sent Danika, an
innocent, to spy on them, planning to use her to capture—and torture—the Lords one by one. Not that his plan had worked. But he'd sent her in, and then tried to bomb the fortress with her in it.

Dread tightened Gideon's stomach, followed quickly by rage and sorrow as Stefano's words took root and spread.
Had to take care of your friends
. Understanding dawned. Hunters had been to Budapest. They'd fought—and they'd won, or they wouldn't be here now. Sabin would never have let them escape.

Where was Sabin now? Until the box was found, Hunters wouldn't kill the Lords, believing their demons would escape and cause more trouble. Had they imprisoned him? Tortured him? Pushing to his feet proved difficult, but Gideon did it. Swayed, but managed to stay upright. All but Strider did the same, extending their weapons, ready to do what was necessary despite their infirmities.

“Come in here.” Reyes waved his fingers in challenge. “I dare you.”

Stefano gave another laugh, this one genuinely amused. “Why should I? I can starve you, watch you waste away. I can poison your air, watch you suffer. And I can do all of those things without ever touching your filthy bodies.” There at the end, his voice had hardened, eagerness dripping from the sharp edges.

“Let the woman go,” Lucien called. “She's done nothing to you.”

“Hell, no.” Anya shook her head, pale hair flying in every direction. “I stay here.”

“How sweet,” Stefano said mockingly. “She wants to stay with her demon. Well, I think I'll remove her. Just for you, Death. I don't think you'll like what I do to her, though.”

Snarling, Lucien crouched, preparing to engage. His semiautomatic was raised, aimed. Ready. He looked brutal and savage, every inch Death. “Try.”

That's when a boy, around eleven years old, walked through the far wall as though he were a ghost. Gideon's eyes widened, his mind replaying the scene in hopes of processing the extraordinary event.

“Come with me,” the boy said to Anya. “Please.”

“Neat trick.” She slowly spun, arms spread. “You sent a child into the lion's den. Cowardly, don't you think? And do you really think your little pet can force
me
to do something I don't want to do?”

“Yes, I can,” the boy responded in all seriousness. “But there's no need to engage in violence.”

Lucien shoved Anya behind him, his eyes glowing red, his teeth sharp and bared. Seeing the usually stoic warrior worked into such a frenzy was almost painful. The man loved his woman and would die for her. Would rather die, actually, than to see her hurt.

Stealthily Gideon moved beside Death, unsure of what to do but knowing he couldn't passively watch. But really, who reeked of evil here? The men in the cage or the men who had sent a child into the midst of war?

Reyes, Strider and Amun flanked Gideon's other side, forming a protective wall around Anya.

“Come,” the boy said again, frowning now. “Please. I don't want to hurt you.”

“Isn't he wonderful?” Stefano asked with a laugh. “I do hope you like him, my newest weapon against you. I didn't plan to use him for a while yet. Then you had to venture into Egypt and steal my incubators. Incubators I
will
find and use again. Especially the one our friend Sabin so favors.”

“So glad to hear from you, Stefano,” Gideon said,
ignoring the taunts. “This is wondrous—” sick “—even for you.”

A pause. Then, “Ahh, Lies. A
delight
, as always. How tedious your demon must be. But I have good news for you. We've found a way to draw the demons from your bodies and place them inside someone else. Someone weaker, someone who will accept their imprisonment for the good of mankind. Which is what we've already done to Sabin. After we defeated him, of course. He put up quite a fight, Sabin did, but in the end he fell. Just. Like. You.”

Hell, no. Sabin wasn't dead. Sabin couldn't be dead. He was too virile, too determined. More than that, sucking out their demons and placing them in another body wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible.

“You don't believe me.” Stefano laughed again. “That's fine. You will when it happens to you. Besides, why do you think your friend isn't here, saving you?”

A fear Gideon had entertained himself.
Don't let Stefano get to you. He's lying. Later you can
—

Gideon slammed a fist into the wall at his right. Dust plumed around him. He hit it again and again, tears burning his eyes. He hit it so many times his bones cracked and his muscles tore. He'd spent thousands of years with Sabin, had thought to spend a thousand more.

“Poor Lies.” Stefano
tsk
ed under his tongue. “Without a leader. Whatever will you do now?”

“Fuck you!” Gideon screamed. “I'll kill you. Fucking kill you.” And he meant it with everything inside of him, it was the truth, something he planned to do, wanted to do,
would
do. “You will die by my hand, motherfucker!”

As the heated words echoed around him, his demon gave a shocked cry—then a pained one. The pain shoved its way into Gideon, tearing him apart cell by cell. Felt
like every one of his organs were splintering, his bones popping from their joints. Lies was clawing at his skull, falling to his feet, grasping for an anchor, biting at his toes as the pain drove it to madness. Still that wasn't enough. The demon swept through the rest of him, screaming, tearing his veins, leaving only acid behind.

Gideon's knees gave out, and he collapsed to the floor. The dagger he'd held in his good hand skidded out of reach. He'd known better. Allowing his emotions to overtake him was always his downfall. That's why he'd learned to hide everything he felt behind sarcasm. Idiot!
Stefano's defeated you now. Your enemy has the advantage. He can walk in here, grab you up, beat you, cut off your limbs, and there's not a fucking thing you can do about it.

“Hate…you…” he gritted out. Hell, he'd already told the truth once. Why not do it again? Say what he'd longed to say for so long. “Hate you to the depths of my soul.”

Again, the demon screamed. Screamed and screamed and screamed. Again the pain ripped through him, tore him apart.

He opened his mouth to reveal another truth.

“Ly-ing,” Amun said haltingly. “He's…lying…Sabin…alive.”

They were the first words the keeper of Secrets had spoken in centuries. His voice was raw, as though his voice box had been wiped with sandpaper and run through a shredder, each word like rubbing salt in a wound.

“You don't know that,” Stefano blustered. “You weren't there. He's dead, I promise you.”

Gideon stilled. Despite the agony, the torment of his current condition, he stilled. Stefano had lied to him.
Fucking lied to him, and he'd believed it. Gideon, who could sniff out a lie from a thousand feet away. He'd uttered so many over his lifetime, identifying them was as natural as breathing.

Amun roared and fell to his knees beside Gideon. The floodgates had been opened, it seemed, for one word, then one sentence, then one story after another rushed from the warrior, all told in the different voices of their creators. He spoke of murder, rape and abuse of every kind. He spoke of jealousy, greed and infidelity. Incest, suicide and depression.

None of the crimes were his own, but they might as well have been. They belonged to the people he'd encountered over the years, the Hunters he had drained of memory, and they were as clear to him as if he had lived them himself.

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, Amun rubbed his temples, writhing, grimacing, the spew of poison never slowing. “He didn't love me anymore, even though I did everything for him.” His voice was high, like a woman's. Gideon thought he heard a gasp over the speakers, but couldn't be sure. “Cooked and cleaned and slept with him even when I was too tired. All he cared about was his precious war. Though he still found time to screw our whore of a neighbor, over and over again. He treated me like I was garbage!”

“How are you projecting that voice? That's Darla's voice. How, damn you?” Stefano barked. There was no answer, only more of Darla's secrets. Gideon had no idea how the warrior had learned them. “Shut him up. Shut him up right now!”

The little boy jumped, startled, before rushing forward. When Lucien and Reyes grabbed at him, their arms misted through him, and both warriors screamed
in agony, the sounds of their pain blending with Gideon's, with Amun's. Then both men dropped like weights in an ocean, their bodies twitching as if they'd just received the shock of a lifetime. Anya crouched behind them, ready to spring forward if the boy tried to touch them again.