The Darkest Night

Lucien and Reyes hadn't taken her last night as they'd claimed, and that saved their miserable hides. Barely. They would pay, though. Oh, they would pay. Violence needed some sort of retribution before it could forget.

'I don't want you to have to watch. I won't be alone, sweet. Pain and Death will be with me.'

'Yeah, but they won't snuggle you.'

He contained his grin. 'You are mine, woman, and I am yours. Until you, my life was desolate. I existed, but I didn't truly live. Now I live, even in my death.' The words were as close to marriage vows as he would ever come, he was sure. She would always be his, and he would always be hers.

Tears welled in her amber eyes. 'That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.'

'All I want you to do is think about what you are asking.' If he had to watch her die over and over again… Sickness churned inside of his stomach. 'The blood, the horror of it…'

'I know what I'm asking,' she said, determined. 'I still want to stay with you.'

Once again, need replaced all else. 'You're going to take a shower. Paris says human women love them, that they help relax and soothe.' He sat up, dragging her with him. Finally, finally.

No, not yet. Soon. He would make Ashlyn's first time special, even if it killed him.

She twirled the ends of her hair around her finger. 'Are you going to join me again?'

Maddox forced himself to shake his head and the spirit roared in fury. Why not now? 'If I shower with you, I'll take you. Totally and completely.'

Her gaze slanted over to him, hot, so hot, and he felt the force of it vibrate through him. 'Like I told you, I know what I'm asking,' she whispered.

Gods, he wanted to kiss her. But if he kissed her, he wouldn't stop kissing her until he was inside her, pumping, pounding, sliding. 'There's something I have to do first.'

'Afterward…' She didn't finish her sentence, but then, she didn't have to.

'Afterward,' he promised. Oh, yes. Afterward.

Slowly, the spirit smiled. For the second time in two days, man and demon were in perfect agreement.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ashlyn hurried through the shower, wondering what it was that Maddox had to do. The water was hot, soothing, and washed away the trials of the night. Not the hated memory of holding her lover's bloody body in her arms, but the physical effects. The fatigue, the nearly debilitating sense of despair, the rage at what had been done to the man she was coming to love.

The man who might be coming to love her in return.

The feelings might have come upon them quickly, but it just felt right. She wanted so badly to be with Maddox. Wanted so badly to hold and touch him, to give and receive pleasure. To bask in these new feelings of lightness. He no longer considered her Bait, and he wanted her to stay with him. Now and always. Her lips lifted in a slow, happy grin.

How am I going to break his death-curse?

The thought drifted through her mind, overshadowing everything in its path. Her smile faded. Surely there was something she could do to save him from an eternity of dying, only to be resurrected knowing he'd have to die again. No one deserved to be tortured like that.

Ashlyn rested her forehead against the dewy white tile. Surely somewhere in the world, in some time period, a human had talked about the gods and how to break their  stupid, unfair curses. She'd probably heard something over the years, but if so, it had blended into all the other voices.

Now, at least, she knew what to listen for.

Maddox wouldn't want her to leave the fortress for that, she was sure, so she'd have to go without telling him. Besides, she couldn't hear the voices when he was around.

Until you, my life was desolate, he'd said. I existed, but I didn't truly live. Now I live, even in my death. Fierce protector that he was, he'd consider his own suffering a small price to pay for keeping her safe. Already she knew that much about him.

She'd leave at night, while he could do nothing to stop her, then sneak back in the morning.

Don't think about that now. There's time enough for spy games later. In just a little while, she was going to make love with a man. With Maddox. His big, strong hands were going to caress her entire body. His mouth was going to taste her. His penis was going to slide deep inside of her.

She shivered. First desperate to leave, now desperate to stay. Somehow, some way, she was going to contact McIntosh and let him know she was okay. Not now, though. After. After she experienced the most intimate of acts and knew how it felt to be joined with someone.

Selfish of her, yes. But she couldn't have stopped herself for any reason.

Without a doubt, Maddox was going to finish what they started this time. The tight coiling of his muscles as he'd held her on the bed had promised as much. And the white-hot look he'd given her before leaving the room had only solidified the knowledge.

No longer would she worry that he'd abandon her afterward, as so many men had done to so many women throughout the centuries. Maddox was intense and passionate and different. He didn't need to lie or issue false promises to get what he wanted. He had only to take.

Yet he chose not to. He wanted her to give.

Warm water soon became cold. Ashlyn turned the knobs, shutting off the steady stream. Drip, drip. Almost time, she thought, and moisture instantly pooled between her legs. Her nipples were as hard as rocks.

Droplets slid down her skin, chilling her. She imagined Maddox licking them off, shivered again and nearly moaned. She grabbed a towel and patted herself dry as best she could before anchoring the fluffy white material under her arms so that it draped from breasts to knees. Eager, she exited the bathroom on a cloud of steam.

Maddox wasn't in the bedroom.

She frowned… until her toes brushed something soft and she glanced down. Violet silk scarves formed a winding trail, leading from the bedroom to the room next door. When she stood in the entryway, she gaped in delighted surprise.

She'd been in this room before, when she'd crawled over the balcony and through the window, but it hadn't looked like this. Dust had covered everything then. The sheets, even. Now it was a room made for pleasure. Sconces glowed from the walls, golden light flickering over a bed of black silk. Maddox had cleaned it. For her. Her heart swelled in her chest, beating wildly.

Where was he?

The balcony doors were open, inviting fresh, cold air inside. She approached, her heated blood making her indifferent to the frigid temperature. Maddox gripped the balcony rail, his back to her, dark hair—damp, she noticed—in disarray. His shoulders were wide, tanned and bare.

She'd never seen his bare back before.

There was a huge butterfly tattoo that stretched from the top of his shoulders to just below the waist of his pants. It was red, almost neon, and it looked angry. Mean. As if it could leap off his back and slice her in two. Odd, she mused. Butterflies were such delicate creatures, she never would have imagined one could appear so menacing. Or that a man as, well, manly as Maddox would have such a design tattooed on his body.

'Maddox,' she whispered, her voice breathless.

He whipped around as if she'd shouted. A frown tugged at his sensual lips. In that moment, he wasn't the lover who'd left her to shower and prepare for hours of pleasure. He was the warrior who'd tried to leave her in the forest alone.

'Everything okay?'

'There is a blanket tied to that balcony.' He pointed to the right, but didn't remove his narrowed gaze from her face. 'Do you know anything about that?'

Besides their night in the forest, he'd rarely looked at her in anger. That was usually directed at someone else. So having those violet eyes—now framed with red the exact neon shade of his tattoo—aimed at her like an