The Darkest Night

'Really?' she asked hopefully. She angled her head, peering up at him.

'Really.'

Her features softened; she even smiled. 'What convinced you?'

'You.' He looked at her in wonder because it was still a surprise to him. 'Your sweetness, your ability. Your virginity.'

'So you… wanted me?' she asked, unsure now. 'Not because you desired answers from me but because…'

'But because,' he assured her. 'You make me burn.'

Happiness sparkled in her eyes, like rays of sunshine stamping out the night. She snuggled still deeper into his side, breasts meshing into his chest. 'I'm glad the Institute brought me to Budapest.'

His body had begun to stir, to ready, to desire more. Until the Institute was mentioned. Violence growled. 'You are not going back to them.'

'You and your demands.' Not realizing his sudden turmoil, she continued blithely, 'You know, I've heard a few tidbits about Pandora's box here and there. Did I tell you that the Institute is always interested in tracking down supernatural relics mentioned throughout history in myth and legend?'

He stiffened. 'Will you tell me what you heard about the box?'

'Let's see…' She tapped her chin. 'I heard that the box is hidden. Where, I don't know. But supposedly it's guarded by Argus and even the gods themselves can't get to it.'

Maddox absorbed this news with shock. Argus was a huge beast with over one hundred eyes, enabling it to see everything that happened at all times. Legend claimed it had been killed by Hermes, but legend was often a lie told by the gods to fool mortals.

'I also heard a conflicting story,' Ashlyn continued, 'that the box is actually guarded by Hydra, not Argus. The common denominator in both stories, though, was that the—' She gave another gasp.

'What?'

'If the box ever resurfaced, the demons would be sucked back inside. That's good, right?'

He shook his head. 'For the world, perhaps, but not for me. Without the demon, I will die.'

'How can you know that? I mean—'

'I know it,' he interrupted, thinking on what she had said. Hydra. A poisonous serpent with multiple heads. If that was true, the box was buried deep in the ocean. But which story was he to believe? One or both or neither? If the rest of what she had heard could be believed, that the demons could be sucked back inside if the box were found…

'I could, I don't know, do a more thorough search for the box. Make it my top priority.'

'No!' That would entail having her leave the fortress, placing her in danger. 'I know I told you to tell me everything, but now we must choose a less volatile topic.' Violence was prowling his mind, more agitated with every word. While Maddox now believed the demon did not want to hurt Ashlyn, he wasn't willing to take a chance. He would talk about flowers and moonbeams—he cringed—if it meant maintaining this delectable inner peace.

'Is there a way to break your death-curse?' Ashlyn asked. So much for flowers and moonbeams.

'No.' He shook his head. 'There is no way.'

'But—'

'No.' He would not allow her to try and bargain with the gods, hoping to find a way to save him. He was not savable. More than that, he was not worth the effort. He was more monster than man, even if he sometimes tried to convince himself otherwise. 'That is a subject best dropped, as well.'

She trailed a fingertip down his sternum, deliciously warm breath fanning him. 'What subject can we talk about, then?'

He splayed his fingers over her bottom and squeezed. 'Have you heard any more voices during your time here?'

'Unfortunately.' She arched slightly, the action nearly imperceptible, in an effort to be closer to him. 'I heard every word spoken by those four women. Who, by the way, should be released immediately.'

'They stay.'

'Why?'

'That, I cannot tell you.'

She drummed her fingertips. 'At least tell me what you plan to do with them. They're nice. They're innocent. They're scared.'

'I know, beauty. I know.'

'So you're not going to hurt them?' she insisted.

'No. I'm not.'

Her palms flattened, just above his heart. 'Does that mean someone else is?'

His blood heated erotically, singeing his veins. 'I'll do everything in my power to make sure they aren't. All right?'

Her lips pressed into his neck and her tongue flicked over his pulse. 'All right, but I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure they aren't, either.'

He hated denying her anything, so he clasped her chin, forcing her to face him, and gave her what he could. 'I'm sorry you had to listen to their conversations. Never again will I put you in a room where humans have been.'

'It wasn't so bad this time.' Her fingers curled around his wrists, soft, gentle. 'And I don't hear anything when you're around, no matter who's spoken.'

'I wonder why. I am not complaining—I am glad, just curious.'

'Maybe the voices are afraid of you.'

He almost grinned.

'Actually, I wonder why I can't hear any of your friends' past conversations. I mean, I've always been able to hear other supernatural beings.'

'Maybe we operate on a higher tier of existence.'

She did grin.

'Still, we will make sure I am always around you,' he said, and it would be his pleasure. 'That way, the voices will never bother you again.' What about when you're dead? The thought caused him to stiffen. There was no one to watch her then. No one to protect her.

Sensing his anger, she frowned. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.' He would not think of the coming death now. He had Ashlyn in his arms and he was going to enjoy her, savoring this small amount of time they had together. 'No more talk of the women or curses.'

'Well, now you've taken away most of our common ground.' Her gaze lowered, fastening on his lips. She shivered. 'I've traveled all over the world for the Institute, but I never dreamed I'd meet someone like you.'

'Strong?'

A chuckle escaped her. 'Yes.'

'Handsome?'

'Of course.'

'Sharp of wit and skilled with a sword?'

'Absolutely.' Another chuckle. 'But I mean a man… friend… guy. Oh, I don't know what to call you!'

He savored her amusement—and her earnest words. 'Just call me yours. That is all I want to be.'

Everything about her softened. 'Tell me something about yourself.' She tugged her face from his clasp and once again snuggled into his body. She didn't remove her hands from his wrists but slid them down his arms and around his neck, as if she feared letting him go, even for a second. He feared it, too. He wanted her desperately. And would have her, he swore, after they showered, all traces of blood and death removed. 'Something you've never told anyone else.'

He could tell her that he liked classical music rather than the hard rock his friends preferred, but that information lacked the deeply personal touch she obviously craved. And Maddox found that he wanted her to know him better than anyone else in the world.

His sense of peace—true peace—deepened. All because she was here with him. Because she had cried for him and cared for him. Because she didn't judge his past sins or revile him. Because she wanted to learn about him, too. Because only he eased her torment.