The Darkest Night

'I don't understand your question. Am I married? No. Do I have a boyfriend? No. But I do have friends, and people will worry about me,' she rushed to add, as if suddenly realizing she'd made herself vulnerable.

Who did she hope to convince? Him? Or herself?

'They'll search for me. They will,' she insisted when he failed to respond.

'But they will not find you,' he said, confident. The four last night hadn't made it up the hill. Her other friends wouldn't, either.

Her hand fluttered to her throat, drawing his attention to the pulse hammering there. Why did he find himself so entranced by the beat of her heart, compelled to touch the evidence of its movement?

'I didn't mean to scare you,' he told her. He wasn't certain which of them was more surprised by his words —Ashlyn or himself.

'I don't understand you,' she whispered.

Neither did he understand himself. And the more he stood here talking to her, the less sense he made. He straightened. 'Clean yourself up. I will return later.' Not giving her a chance to counter, he stepped into the hall, shutting the door without a backward glance.

Better this way. From the moment he had asked her if she belonged to a man, the demon had begun to churn inside of him, eager for a fight. If he stayed, he would touch her. If he touched her, he would take her. But he did not want to risk tangled bodies and heated kisses turning to biting, clawing and a too-rough pounding.

The delicate woman inside his room would not survive.

'Damn this,' he growled. Ashlyn was, beyond any doubt, the sweetest-looking human he'd ever encountered. His mouth still watered for her; his besieged body wept for her. Hurting her was not his desire, no matter that she had admitted to knowing about the demon, as only a Hunter or Bait could. No, he wanted only to pleasure her.

Turning, he locked the door from the outside. Switching the tumblers was something else he'd done in anticipation of her seduction. Jumping from the bedroom's terrace would be the only other way out, and he doubted she wanted to fall five stories and land on jagged rocks. Still, he'd glued the window leading to the terrace shut, just in case.

Maddox stalked down the hallway, praying the other warriors had not fled for the day. When he'd awakened in his already-healing body, his first thoughts had been of Ashlyn. He had prepared his room and a meal for her and sought Lucien, finding him in the entertainment room and demanding to know what happened.

'Dungeon,' the man had muttered, a strange glint in his eyes.

Furious, Maddox had raced from the room, desperate to assure himself that she was in the same condition he'd left her in: alive and untouched. He'd thought that at least his friends would have given her food, water and blankets. Wrong. She could have frozen to death. She could have starved. And they wouldn't have known.

Had they expected him to passively accept such a thing?

Wrong again.

One glance at Ashlyn's dirty, frightened features and he'd wanted to kill someone. He'd barely leashed the urge, telling himself she'd soon be lying in his bed, naked, open to him. And while that had calmed him, it had not calmed the demon—had only managed to incite it further.

Now Violence needed an outlet for its growing rage. For only then would Maddox be able to touch Ashlyn without fear of snapping that fragile little body.

Body… Ashlyn… two words sure to arouse him when used in the same sentence. Luminous as she was, she was every fantasy he'd ever had come to life, and he planned to sate himself inside her, over and over again, taking her in every position imaginable and even some that weren't.

Soon she would want that, too.

Desire had glistened in her eyes when she'd looked at him, and she had constantly reached for him, clearly hoping for some sort of physical contact. He'd even smelled her arousal, a perfume of passion, innocence and that delectable honey. He frightened her, though, and that fear overrode her desire.

You should be happy that Bait fears you.

Should, he inwardly scoffed. How he was coming to hate that word.

Was she Bait, though?

When he'd mentioned the four humans who'd followed her, she had appeared genuinely surprised. Horrified by his actions, true, but most women were horrified by war and carnage.

More perplexing still, she had freely admitted to knowledge of the demons. He hadn't tortured her for the information. Why would Bait willingly do such a thing? Why not pretend she thought he was human to lower his defenses?

And so far, she had not tried to lead him from the fortress, nor had she tried to let anyone inside. But then, she hadn't yet had the freedom to do so, he reminded himself. And she wouldn't.

What confused him most of all, however, was that she had tried to save him from his friends. That, he couldn't rationalize away. Saving someone she'd meant to harm was ridiculous. She could have been harmed herself.

She was a walking contradiction to his black-and-white world.

Tomorrow he would deal with her true reasons for being here. Today, well, today was meant for other things.

His boots clicked against the floor, the sound echoing from the walls. The entertainment room loomed ahead and he quickened his step. The spirit purred in anticipation as his bones ached for a fight.

When he stood in the wide expanse of the doorway, he saw popcorn scattered over the floor and ground into the crimson rug. His trained eye spotted several splotches of dried blood. Obviously Reyes had been here. For once, the TV was switched off. Balls littered the surface of the pool table, as if someone had stopped a game midway through.

But no sign of the men, not even Lucien. Where had everyone gone?

Maddox stormed through the fortress, bypassing the luxuries they'd acquired over the years. The hot tub, the sauna, the gym, the makeshift basketball court. None of that would help him.

He reached Paris's room first and burst inside without knocking. The black silk-covered bed was rumpled but empty. The blow-up dolls Torin had purchased were sprawled in every direction, a rapt but useless audience. Whips, chains and a variety of sex toys Maddox couldn't identify lined the walls. They weren't in use, which meant Paris should be inside the fortress. Somewhere.

Shaking his head, Maddox stalked down the hall.

Fight. Fight. Fight.

He tried to ignore the demon's voice as he entered Reyes's room. No Reyes, and no sexual toys. Instead there were weapons. All kinds of weapons. Guns, knives, throwing stars. There was a blue wrestling mat on the floor with more dried blood splattered over it. There was a punching bag, a few dumbbells. Several holes marred the walls, as if someone had punched the stone until it crumbled into sand.

He would have to patch those up later.

Fight, fight, fight.

Lucien's room was locked, and no one answered when he knocked. Aeron and Torin's rooms were empty. Frustration rode Maddox's shoulders. Black spots were beginning to wink in and out of his line of vision.

Fightfightfight.

He craved Ashlyn, but he could not have her until the urge for violence was tamped—and that could not happen until he found the men. All of which only made him angrier. He strode back into the hall, his biceps flexed, the blood rushing through them blistering hot.

Fightfightfight!

'Where are you?' he shouted. He punched the wall once, twice, leaving a groove identical to the ones he'd seen in Reyes's room. His knuckles throbbed, but it was a good pain, a pain that made the spirit rumble happily.

Maddox stopped and punched the wall again.

He didn't have a lot of time. Midnight would come again. Death would claim him. Before that happened, he had to lose himself in Ashlyn. Had to know every inch of her body, for the torment of not knowing was far worse than burning in hell each night.

What if the woman doesn't truly desire you? the demon taunted. What