The Darkest Whisper

“Wait. Before we do any manhandling and maybe lose our throats, let’s try something else. Paris!” Strider barked, his gaze never leaving Gwen. “You’re needed.”

A determined Paris approached just as Sabin gave up the pretense of sleeping and popped to his feet. “Gwen,” he said, hoping to cajole her to calm before Paris could work his wiles. But she was having trouble catching her breath, hysteria curtaining her features. “Let’s talk about—”

“Demons…all around me.” She opened her mouth and screamed. And screamed and screamed and screamed.

CHAPTER 6

Demons. Lords of the Underworld. Once beloved soldiers of the gods, now reviled plagues of earth. Each man carried a demon inside his body, a demon so vile that even hell had been unable to contain it. Demons like Disease, Death, Misery, Pain and Violence. And I’m trapped inside a small aircraft with them, Gwen thought, her hysteria reaching new heights.

The plane, on the other hand, was shuddering and tilting, losing altitude at an alarming rate. That didn’t stop the Lords. They were closing in around her, encircling her, pinning her. Her heart drummed heavily in her chest, causing blood to surge through her veins and roar in her ears. If only that roar dulled the wild screech of the Harpy…No such luck. There was a tumultuous symphony inside her head, clanging, tolling, wiping away her sanity, tossing her down…down…into a black void where only death and destruction reigned.

Brutal and powerful as these warriors were, she should have suspected they were possessed by demons. The red eyes the first time she’d seen Sabin…the jagged butterfly tattoo on his ribs…

I’m so stupid.

Though Gwen had been watching these men the past few days, she must have been too tired, too hungry, too relieved by her liberation to notice the tattoos on the others, wherever they were. That, or she’d been too caught up in Sabin’s appeal. Actually, now that she thought about it, the warriors had always been fully dressed in her presence, as if they’d sympathized with what she’d been through and hadn’t wanted to frighten her by showing too much skin. But now she knew the truth. They’d simply been hiding their marks.

What demon possessed Sabin? she wondered. What demon had she observed, fascinated by every word and action? What demon had she imagined herself kissing and touching, clawing and writhing against?

How could her sisters adore these princes of evil? Well, the idea of them, anyway. To her knowledge, they’d never met. Who would have survived if they had? They were men without mercy or remorse, capable of any dark deed, and they were engaged in a never-ending war that stretched from past to present, sea to sea, death to death.

Each time she’d been told about them, her fear of predators skulking in the night and fiends hiding in the sunlight had multiplied. That was when she’d begun to fear the predator inside herself, for that was why she’d been told those stories. So that she might emulate the warriors. Even as Gwen had recoiled at the thought, the Harpy had soaked up every word, ready to prove itself.

I have to escape. Can’t stay here any longer. Nothing good can come of it. Either they’ll kill me next or my Harpy will fight all the harder to be like them. She might have been better off in the hands of their dastardly enemy.

“You have to stop screaming, Gwen.”

The harsh, familiar voice penetrated the chaotic mire flooding her mind, but still the shrieks persisted.

“Shut her up, Sabin. My fucking ears are bleeding.”

“Not helping, asshole. Gwendolyn, you have to calm down or you’ll hurt us. Do you want to hurt us, darling? Do you want to kill us after we saved you, sheltered you? We might harbor demons, but we aren’t evil. I think we’ve proven that to you. Did we not treat you and the others better than your captors? Have I touched you in anger? Forced myself on you? No.”

What he said was true. But could she trust a demon? They loved to lie. So do Harpies, a voice of reason piped up. Part of her did want to trust them; the other part of her wanted to jump from the plane. The still shuddering, still plummeting plane.

Okay, time to think logically. She’d been with them for two days. She was alive and well, with not even a scratch. If she continued to panic, the Harpy would break free from her hold, controlling her, hungry to wreak havoc. She’d most likely take out the pilot—perhaps even herself—in the inevitable crash. How foolish would she be, having survived captivity and the Lords only to end up offing herself?

Logic achieved.

As calm nudged its way into her mind, her high-pitched screams faded. Everyone stood frozen. In, out she breathed—or tried to, her throat felt swollen, blocked—now hearing the frantic alarm coming from the cockpit. Before she could work up another panic, the plane evened out and then everything quieted.

“That’s a good girl. Now back off, guys. I’ve got her.” Sabin didn’t sound confident, just determined.

Light winked into her awareness, and colors quickly followed suit, real life painting itself around her. Holy hell. Her vision had gone infrared, and she hadn’t even known it. The Harpy had been close, so damn close, to breaking free. It was a miracle that she hadn’t.

Gwen was still standing in the back of the plane, a grouping of red leather chairs around her. Only Sabin remained in front of her. The others had moved away, but they hadn’t turned their backs. Afraid to? Or were they protecting their leader?

Sabin’s chocolate gaze was leveled on her, fiercer than it had been even inside the catacombs, his daggers thrusting at men she now knew were Hunters. He had his hands raised, empty, palms out. “I need you to calm some more.”

Did he? she thought dryly. Maybe she would if she could draw enough air through her nose or mouth, but she still couldn’t manage it. Dizziness was creeping up on her, black once again sneaking into her line of vision.

“What can I do to help you, Gwen?” There was a shuffle of footsteps as he closed the rest of the distance between them. His heat seeped into her.

“Air,” she was finally able to force past the knot in her throat.

Sabin’s hands settled atop her shoulders, gently pushing. Her legs were too weak to offer any type of resistance, so she tumbled down—straight into one of those chairs. “I need air.”

With no hesitation, Sabin dropped to his knees. He inserted his big body between her legs and cupped her face, forcing her to focus on him. Intense brown eyes became the new center of her world, an anchor in a turbulent storm.

“Take mine.” His callused thumb caressed her cheek, abrading lightly. “Yes?”

Take his…what? she wondered, and then she didn’t care. Her chest! Constricting, pinching bone and muscle together. A sharp pain tore through her ribs and slammed into her heart, causing the organ to skitter to a momentary halt. Gwen jerked.

“You’re turning blue, darling. I’m going to place my mouth over yours, give you my breath. All right?”

What if this is a trick? What if—

Shut up! Even in her haze, she knew the eerie, ghostly whisper was not her own. Thankfully, it heeded her command and quieted. Now, if only her lungs would open up. “I–I—”

“Need me. Let me do this.” If he feared her response, he gave no indication. One of his hands trailed to the base of her neck and drew her forward, even as he leaned into her. Their lips pressed together, a heated tangle. His hot tongue pried her teeth apart, and then warm, minty air was sliding down her throat, soothing.

Her arms wound around him of their own accord, holding him captive, meshing them together chest to chest, hardness to softness. His necklace was cold, even through her shirt, and made her gasp. She greedily took his breath. “More.”

He didn’t hesitate. He blew inside her mouth, and another warm, calming breeze moved through her. Little by little the dizziness faded; her head cleared, darkness once more giving way to light. The frantic dance of her heart slowed to a gentle waltz.

A need to kiss him, truly kiss him and learn his taste, filled her. His origins, forgotten. His past, of no