The Darkest Whisper

It worked. Amber met brown in a heated clash. “Wh-why not sex? And what are you going to do to me?”

Kiss you. Touch you. Give you a hickey—and an orgasm that will make you scream the roof down. No way William could question his claim on the girl after that. The lack of sex, well…Sabin’s control would snap and his demon would have free rein if he allowed himself to experience too much pleasure. So he’d do what he could: a little petting for him, a lot of petting for her.

Sure you have what it takes to please one such as her? Pretty as she is, she’s probably had scores of men. They’ve probably done things to her you’ve only dreamed about.

His jaw clenched. Old as he was, he didn’t have a tremendous amount of experience with women. While living in the heavens, he’d been too busy defending the gods to pursue his own pleasures. When first cast to earth, he’d been too evil, too crazed to want anything besides destruction. And once he’d gained a measure of control over the wickedness inside him, he’d quickly learned how bad he was for the opposite sex.

A few times, though, he’d considered himself in love and had chased the women shamelessly. Single, married, it hadn’t mattered. He supposed he and William had that in common. If he’d wanted them, he’d gone after them because the want had been such a rare thing.

Darla was the most recent—and devastating—example of his destructive impact. She had been married to a Hunter, Galen’s right-hand man. She’d come to Sabin with information, knowledge of where her husband and men kept their weapons, what they were planning. She’d seen the hypocrisy of the Hunter code, she’d said, and had wanted the war to end. At first, Sabin had thought she meant to act as Bait. To lure him and his men into a trap. But she hadn’t. Everything she’d told him had been accurate.

They’d soon become lovers. He’d wanted her to leave her husband, but she had refused because she would have been unable to help Sabin. He hated to admit this, but part of him had been glad about her decision. He hadn’t lost his mole. But every time she’d visited him, every time he’d taken her to bed, she’d left with a little less sparkle. All too soon, she’d become clingy, needy, desperate for a kind word. He’d tried, gods had he tried, to boost her confidence back up, telling her how beautiful and brave and intelligent she was. She had, of course, doubted him, so in the end it hadn’t mattered.

She’d called him after slashing her wrists.

He hadn’t gotten to her in time. No, Stefano beat him there and kept Sabin from seeing her one last time. He hadn’t even been able to attend her funeral, not wanting Hunters to catch sight of him.

Eleven years had passed since her death, but his guilt was as fresh and clear as if it had happened yesterday. He should have left her alone. If he had, Stefano might have grown tired of the chase and the battles and bowed out. Instead, fueled now by vengeance as much as fanaticism, the Hunter was as savagely determined to win as Sabin.

Sabin hadn’t been with anyone since, avoiding female companionship entirely. Until Gwen. Could she handle him, though? Even a little?

“W-well?” she stammered. “What are you going to do?”

He forced the demon’s worries from his mind. “I’m going to clean you.”

Again she shook her head. “I don’t want to be clean. I swear I don’t.”

“I don’t care,” he said, and advanced.

Panting, she fell back onto the bed once more and scrambled backward, not stopping until her shoulders hit the headboard. “I don’t want to do this, Sabin.”

“Yes, you do. You’re just afraid.”

“You’re right. What if I kill you?”

“I’ve handled Hunters for thousands of years. What’s a lone Harpy?” Brave words, but he couldn’t admit the whole truth. That he didn’t know what she’d do, how he’d react or what would happen if they were forced to fight each other. But he was willing to risk her wrath to see this done.

White-hot desire pushed itself into her eyes, lighting them up. “You truly think you can defeat a Harpy in attack mode?”

Up he climbed on the bed, closing more and more of the hated distance between them. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that. If it does, well, we’ll find out together.”

“No! That’s not good enough.” Her foot slammed into his chest, but rather than shove him away, the action sealed her fate. His fingers twined around her ankle and jerked her closer.

“We’ll never know unless we try.”

Then a tear escaped the corner of her eye and slid the length of her cheek, and his chest constricted. “Please,” she rasped brokenly. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt you.”

Don’t back down. “Like I said, there’s only one way to prove to you that I can handle anything you throw at me.” He hardened his heart against her tears; he had to. For her, for him, for peace inside this fortress, this had to be done. She had to be marked. Wanted to be marked, whether or not she admitted it. And like the warrior he was, he would see it through to the end. No matter what.

CHAPTER 12

Gwen couldn’t believe it. Sabin, the man she’d kissed, fantasized about, craved, relied on, viewed as a protector, a villain, the man she didn’t want to desire but desired anyway, had stripped her despite her shouted protests and wild kicking and hauled her ass into the shower stall before climbing in behind her. Pissed as she’d been—was, damn it—she hadn’t turned Harpy.

At first, she’d been shocked. Then nervous. Then excited. Each emotion had lasted only a few minutes, but each had been world-shaking. Why hadn’t she hurt him? Because Sabin had yet to make a threatening move? Because the Harpy loved physical contact as much as Gwen did and would take it wherever and however she could get it?

Right now steam enveloped her and Sabin, thick as clouds. Hot water cascaded down the planes and curves of her body. Nothing had ever felt so amazing—except for the naked man behind her, pinning her in, keeping her inside. She would not hook up with a demon, no matter how sexy he was. Would she? Her life didn’t need more weird. Did it?

Why couldn’t she make a decision? His demon wasn’t even pestering her, so she had no excuse.

Gwen wrapped her arms around her middle, not bothering to cover her breasts or the tiny triangle of hair between her legs. Why bother? Sabin was stronger and could pry her hands away in an instant if he so desired— and part of her wanted him to see her, to crave her. Still…

“Do you not realize you could have morning after regrets in the form of shredded skin and organs?” she asked.

Soapy hands settled on her shoulders, hot and wet, massaging. “You feel like silk. I doubt I’ll be regretting anything.” His voice was husky, rich…drugging.

Mmm, more. Her muscles loosened, her head lolling back and propping against the hollow of his neck. Stop. Tense up! Fight his allure. She tried, she really did, but her body refused to obey her mind. His ministrations simply felt too damn good.

I wonder if he finds you attractive. Or ugly.

Okay. Finally, she tensed. There was that beguiling, destructive voice. The demon, Doubt. So different in tenor from her own inner voice. Her jaw clenched painfully, and the Harpy squawked at the unwelcome intrusion. “Any way you can cap your friend? He’s annoying.”

“Such spirit. I like it. And the demon is hardly my friend.” Sabin’s thumbs traced her collarbone. He leaned down, his mouth at her ear, his breath a beautiful caress. “I don’t mean to change the subject, but have I told you yet that I find you utterly lovely?”

Gwen gulped, unsure of how to reply. Part of her still wanted to encourage him and part of her still wanted to shove him away before she forgot exactly why she had to resist him. He represented everything she hated about her life. Darkness, violence, chaos. More than that, he planned to use her to hurt his enemy. Nothing came before his hatred of the Hunters, not even the love of a woman.