The Darkest Whisper (4 page)

Thankfully, his action didn't send her into another rage. She merely released a deep breath.

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Wh-what?”

Still moving at an unhurried pace, he brushed a strand of hair from her face and hooked it behind her ear. She leaned into his touch, even nuzzled her cheek against his palm. He allowed the caress to linger, savoring the softness of her skin when deep down he recognized the thin ledge of danger he walked. To encourage his attrac
tion, to crave more of her, was to condemn her to utter misery as he'd done Darla. But he didn't pull away, even when she gripped his wrist and guided his hand through the silkiness of her hair, clearly wanting to be petted. He massaged her scalp. She practically purred.

Sabin couldn't recall a time he'd been so…tender with a woman, not even with Darla. Much as he'd cared for her, he'd placed more importance on victory than on her well-being. But at that moment, something about this girl drew him. She was just so lost and alone, feelings he knew well. He wanted to hug her.

See? You're already craving more
. Frowning, he forced his arm to fall to his side.

A slight cry of despair escaped her, and maintaining what little distance there was between them became even harder. How could this needy creature have so savagely slain the human? Didn't seem possible, and he wouldn't have believed it had the story simply been relayed to him. He'd had to see it. Not that there had been much to see, given how quickly she'd moved.

Perhaps, like him, like his friends, she was captive to a dark force inside her. Perhaps she was helpless to stop it from treating her body as a puppet. The moment those thoughts struck him, he knew he'd guessed correctly. The way her eyes had changed color…the horror she'd exuded when she had realized what she'd done…

When Maddox slid into one of his demon's violent rages, the same changes overtook him. She couldn't help what she was and probably hated herself for it, the little darling.

“What's your name, red?”

Her lips edged into a frown, a mimic of his. “Name?”

“Yes. Name. What you're called.”

She blinked. “What I'm called.” The shallow rasp in
her voice was fading, leaving a dawning awareness. “What I'm—oh. Gwendolyn. Gwen. Yes, that's my name.”

Gwendolyn. Gwen. “A lovely name for a lovely girl.”

Traces of color were returning to her face, and she blinked again, this time dragging her attention to him. She offered him a hesitant smile, one that spoke of welcome, relief and hope. “You're Sabin.”

Exactly how sensitive were her ears? “Yes.”

“You didn't hurt me. Even when I…” There was wonder in her voice, wonder tinged with regret.

“No, I didn't hurt you.” He wanted to add,
Nor will I
, but he wasn't sure that was true. In his single-minded quest to defeat the Hunters, he'd lost a good man, a great friend. He'd healed from countless near-fatal injuries and had buried several slain lovers. If necessary, he would sacrifice this little bird to the cause as well, whether he desired her or not.

Unless you soften
, Doubt suddenly piped up.

I won't
. It was a vow, because he refused to believe otherwise. And it was a reinforcement of what he'd already known: he wasn't an honorable man. He
would
use her.

Gwen's gaze skittered past him, and her smile vanished. “Where are your men? They were right here. I didn't…I…did I…”

“No, you didn't hurt them. They're just outside the chamber, I swear it.”

Her shoulders sagged as a sigh of relief escaped her. “Thank you.” She seemed to be speaking to herself. “I—oh, heavens.”

She had just spotted the Hunter she'd slain, he realized.

She paled again. “He—he's missing—all that blood…how could I…”

Sabin purposely leaned to the side, blocking her view and consuming her entire line of vision. “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”

Those unusual eyes swung to him, now lit with wild interest. “You have food? Real food?”

Every muscle in his body tightened at the sight of that interest. There was an almost euphoric edge to it. She could be toying with him, pretending to be excited by what he offered in order to relax his guard for an easier escape.
Must you be like your demon and doubt everyone and everything?

“I have energy bars,” he said. “Not sure they can be classified as food, but they'll keep you strong.” Not that she needed any more strength.

Her lashes drifted closed, and she sighed dreamily. “Energy bars sound divine. I haven't eaten in over a year, but I've imagined it. Over and over again. Chocolate and cakes, ice cream and peanut butter.”

A whole year without a crumb? “They gave you nothing?”

Those dark lashes lifted. She didn't nod or reply in the affirmative, but then, she didn't have to. The truth was there in her now-grim expression.

As soon as he finished interrogating the Hunters, every single one he'd found in these catacombs was going to die. By his hand. He'd take his time with the kills, too, enjoy every slash, every drop of blood spilled. This girl was a Harpy, spawn of Lucifer as Gideon had said, but even she did not deserve the gnawing torture of starvation. “How did you survive? I know you're immortal, but even immortals need sustenance to remain strong.”

“They put something in the ventilation system, a special chemical to keep us alive and docile.”

“Didn't fully work on you, I take it?”

“No.” Her little pink tongue slashed over her lips hungrily. “You mentioned energy bars?”

“We'll have to leave this chamber to get them. Can you do that?” Or rather, would she do it? He doubted he could force her to do anything she didn't want to without ending up cut and broken, maybe dead. He wondered how the Hunters had trapped her. How they had gotten her here and lived to tell the tale.

A slight hesitation. Then, “Yes. I can.”

Once again moving slowly, Sabin clutched her arm and helped her to her feet. She swayed. No, he realized, she snuggled up next to him, seeking closer contact with his body. He stiffened, poised to pull away—
keep her at a distance, have to keep her at a distance
—when she sighed, her breath trekking through the slashes in his shirt and onto his chest.

Now
his
eyes closed in ecstasy. He even wound an arm around her waist, urging her closer. Utterly trusting, she rested her head in the hollow of his neck.

“I've dreamed about this, too,” she whispered. “So warm. So strong.”

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, felt Doubt prowling the corridors of his mind, rattling the bars, desperate to escape, to obliterate Gwen's ease with him.

Too much faith
, the demon said, as if that were some sort of disease.

The perfect amount, if Sabin were being honest with himself. He liked that a woman was looking at him as if he were a prince of light rather than a king of darkness, someone she needed to run screaming from. He liked that she'd allowed him to soothe her torment.

Foolish of her, though, he had to admit. Sabin was no one's hero. He was their worst enemy.

Let me talk to her!
the demon demanded, a child denied a favorite treat.

Quiet
. Causing Gwen to doubt him could very well rouse the feral Harpy, placing his men in danger. That, Sabin would not allow. They were too important to him, too necessary.

Distance, as he'd realized before, was needed. He dropped his arms and stepped away. “No touching.” The words were a croak, harsher than he'd intended and she blanched. “Now come. Let's get out of here.”

T
HE WOMAN WAS GOING TO KILL HIM
, and not because she was stronger and more vicious than he was. Which, if he thought about it, she was. He'd never ripped a man's throat out with his teeth, and he was damned impressed that Gwen had. She'd made the Lords of the Underworld look like marshmallows.

Two full days had passed since Sabin and his crew had rescued her from the pyramid. The only time she'd seemed content was at her first glimpse of the sun. Since then, she had not relaxed. Or eaten. The energy bars she'd so wanted, she had merely gazed at with utter longing before shaking her head and turning away. She hadn't even showered in the portable stall he'd had Lucien fetch her.

She didn't trust them, didn't want to risk poisoning or the vulnerability of unconsciousness or nakedness, and that was understandable. But damn it, he was seething with the need to
force
her to do those things. For her own good. Without the shit that had been pumped into her cell, she had to be feeling every bit of her starvation. She had to be exhausted and dirty as she was—from the past two days, as well as her confinement, which was strange because the other women had been clean—she couldn't possibly be comfortable. Forcing her, however, was not an option. He liked his trachea where it was.

Only thing she'd taken from him was clothing.
His
clothing. A camouflage tee and military fatigues. They bagged on her, even though she'd rolled the arms, waist and legs, but there wasn't a female who'd ever looked better. With that wild fall of strawberry curls…those take-me-to-bed lips…she was utter perfection. And knowing the material she wore had once touched his body…

I need to end my self-imposed celibacy. Soon.

The moment he returned to Buda, that's what he'd do. Find a willing woman who wanted only a good time and, well, show her a good time. No one would get hurt because he wouldn't be sticking around. But maybe then his head would clear and he'd figure out how to deal with Gwen.

Something else that bothered him was the way Gwen had planted herself in the corner and watched him no matter who entered his tent. Him. As if
he
were the biggest threat to her now. He'd snapped at her that day in the cavern, yeah, telling her not to touch him, but he'd also ensured that she remained on her feet on the trek through the desert to set up camp. He'd stayed with her, guarded her while the other warriors went back to the pyramid to search for anything they might have missed the first go-round. Did he really deserve the death glares?

Maybe…

Shut up, Doubt! I don't need your opinions.

Don't know why you care what she thinks. You've never been good for women, now have you? Funny that I now need to remind
you
about Darla.

Crouched on the sandy floor, Sabin closed the lid of his weapon case with a forceful snap, locked it and turned to the bag of food he'd had Paris bring him.

Darla, Darla, Darla
, the demon sang.

“Like I said, you can shut the hell up, you dirty piece of shit. I've had all of you I can take.”

Gwen, still in the far corner, jerked as though he'd screamed. “But I didn't say anything.”

He'd lived among mortals for a long time and had trained himself to converse with Doubt inside his head. That he'd forgotten his training now, in the presence of this skittish yet deadly woman…mortifying.

“I wasn't speaking to you,” he muttered.

Paler than usual, she drew her arms around her middle. “Then to whom were you speaking? We're alone.”

He didn't answer. Couldn't. Not without lying. Since Doubt's inability to lie had long ago spread to Sabin, he had to stick to the truth, evade, or he'd be sleeping for the next few days.

Thankfully, Gwen didn't press the issue. “I want to go home,” she said softly.

“I know.”

Yesterday, Paris had questioned all the freed women about their confinement. They'd indeed been kidnapped, raped, impregnated and told their babies would be taken from them and trained to be defenders against evil. Afterward, Lucien had flashed all but Gwen—who had told Paris nothing—to their families, who would hopefully hide them from Hunters in the peace and comfort that had been denied them during their captivity.

Gwen had asked to be taken to a deserted stretch of ice in Alaska, of all places. Lucien had reached out to take her hand, despite her failure to cooperate, and Sabin had stepped between them.

“Like I said in the cavern, she stays with me,” he'd said.

Gwen had gasped. “No! I want to go.”

“Sorry. Not gonna happen.” He'd refused to face her, afraid he'd cave and release her despite the fact that her strength, speed and savagery could win him this war, thereby saving his friends.

By gods, he'd dreamed of an end, a victorious end, for too many years to count; he couldn't put Gwen's needs and wants before that victory.

Too badly did he want Galen, the person he hated most in this world, defeated and imprisoned.

Galen, the once forgotten Lord, was the very man who had convinced the warriors to help steal and open Pandora's box. He was also the man who had secretly planned to kill them all, then capture the demons they'd freed, becoming a hero in the eyes of the gods. But things hadn't worked out as the bastard hoped, and he'd been cursed to house a demon—Hope—right alongside the other warriors.

If only that had been the end of things. But as further punishment, they'd all been kicked out of the heavens. Galen, still determined to destroy the men who'd called him friend, had quickly assembled an army of outraged mortals, the Hunters, and this endless blood feud had erupted. A feud that only intensified with every year that passed. If Gwen could aid Sabin in even the smallest way, she was too valuable to release. She, however, thought differently.

“Please,” she had begged. “Please.”

“I'll take you home one day, but not now,” he'd told her. “You could be useful to us, to our cause.”

“I don't want to help with
any
cause. I just want to go home.”

“Sorry. Like I said, it's not gonna happen any time soon.”

“Bastard,” she'd muttered. Then she'd frozen, as if she
hadn't meant to say that aloud and now thought he would launch forward and beat her. When he didn't, she'd calmed a bit. “So I've traded one captor for another, is that it? You promised you wouldn't harm me.” Soft, so soft. Even sadly resigned, and that had…hurt him. “Just let me go. Please.”

Obviously, the girl was afraid. Of him, his friends. Of herself and her deadly abilities. Otherwise, she would have tried to ditch him or bargained for her release. But not once had she done so. Did she fear what they would do to her if they caught her? Or what she would do to them?

Or, as Doubt liked to whisper in the dark of night, did she have more sinister plans? Was she Bait, a very convincing trap laid by the Hunters? A trap meant to ruin him?

Not possible, he retorted every time. Such timidity couldn't be faked. The trembling, the refusal even to eat. Which meant her fears, whatever they were, were real. And the more time she spent with him, the more those fears and doubts would grow. They would become all that she knew, all that she thought about. She would question every word out of her mouth, every word out of
his
mouth. She would question every action.

Sabin sighed. Others here were already questioning his actions, and not because of his demon. At her plea, Lucien's expression had hardened—a rare thing, for Lucien was always careful to contain his emotions. After ordering Paris to guard her, he'd whisked Sabin to the home they'd rented in Cairo, where they could talk away from the others. Away from Gwen.

A ten-minute argument had ensued. And because flashing always sickened him, causing his stomach to churn, he hadn't been at his best.

“She's dangerous,” Lucien had begun.

“She's strong.”

“She's a killer.”

“Hello, so are we. Only difference is, she's better at it than we are.”

Lucien frowned. “How do you know? You've only seen her kill one man.”

“And yet you would ban her from our home for that very killing—despite the fact that it was our enemy she killed. Look, Hunters know our faces. They're always on the lookout for us. But the only ones who knew her are now dead or locked up. She's our Trojan horse. Our own version of Bait. They'll welcome her and she'll slaughter them.”

“Or us,” Lucien had muttered, but Sabin could tell he was considering the point. “She just seems so…fainthearted.”

“I know.”

“Around you, that will only get worse.”

“Again, I know,” he growled.

“Then how can you think to use her as a soldier?”

“Believe me, I've weighed the pros and cons. Fainthearted or not, spirit broken down by me or not, she has an innate ability to destroy. We can harness that for our own benefit.”

“Sabin…”

“She's coming with us, and that's that. She's mine.” He hadn't wanted to claim her, not that way. He didn't need another responsibility. Especially a beautiful, apprehensive female he could never hope to possess. But it had been the only way. Lucien, Maddox and Reyes had brought females into their home, therefore they could not deny entrance to his.

He shouldn't have done that to her, should have just let her go for both their sakes. But as he'd reminded himself
already, he'd placed his war with the Hunters above everything else, even his best friend, Baden, keeper of Distrust. Now dead, gone forever. He could make no exceptions for Gwen. She was coming to Budapest, like it or not.

First, though, he was going to feed her.

Crouching a few feet in front of her, putting them at eye level, Sabin began unwrapping Twinkies and unsealing Lunchables. He poked a straw in a juice box. Gods, he missed the home-cooked meals Ashlyn prepared and the gourmet cuisine Anya “borrowed” from Buda's five-star restaurants.

“Have you ever been inside an airplane?” he asked her.

“Wh-what do you care?” She lifted her chin, yellow fire snapping in her eyes. But that hot gaze wasn't on him. It was on the food he was spreading on the paper plate beside him.

A show of spirit. He liked it. Definitely preferred it over the stoic acceptance she'd displayed earlier. “I don't. I simply want to ensure you're not going to—” Shit. How could he phrase this without reminding her of what she'd done to the Hunter?

“Attack you out of fear,” she finished for him, cheeks heating with embarrassment. “Unlike you, I don't lie. You take me on a plane that isn't headed to Alaska and there's a very good chance you'll meet my…darker half.” The last words were choked.

His eyes slitted dangerously, his mind caught on the beginning of her speech. He wadded up the plastic wrappers scattered around him and shoved them into the cloth trash bag. “What do you mean, unlike me? I've never lied to you.” That he was still conscious proved it.

“You said you meant me no harm.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “And I didn't. Don't.”

“Keeping me here is harming me. You said you'd free me.”

“I did free you. From the pyramid.” He shrugged, sheepish. “And as long as you're uninjured physically, I consider you unharmed.” A sigh slipped from him. “Is it really so bad, being around me?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Ouch. “Doesn't matter. You're gonna have to get used to me. The two of us will be spending a lot of time together.”

“But why? You said I could be useful; I haven't forgotten that. What I don't understand is what you think
I
can do.”

Why not tell her everything? he thought. It could soften her toward him and his cause. Or it could frighten her even more and finally send her running. Would he be able to stop her?

Not knowing what he wanted of her had to be torture, though, and she'd suffered enough. “I'll supply you with any piece of information you want,” he said. “
If
you eat.”

“No. I—I can't.”

Sabin lifted the plate, circled it around. She followed every movement as though entranced. Sure that he had her attention, he lifted one of the Twinkies and bit into half.

“Can't,” she said again, though she sounded exactly as she looked: entranced.

He swallowed before licking away any remaining cream. “See. Still alive. No poison.”

Hesitantly, as though she simply couldn't help herself any longer, Gwen reached out. Sabin placed the dessert in her hand, and she immediately snatched it to her chest.
Several minutes ticked by in silence, and she did nothing but eye him warily.