The Darkest Kiss

appeared to him bald? Probably call her 'ugly' and 'gullible' and resist her more fervently. 'Jerk.'

And yet, foolishly, she missed him.

When he'd slipped into the spirit realm to escort those souls to hell, she had flashed to the humans' home, knowing he would soon arrive. Seeing him again had affected her deeply. She'd almost thrown herself at him, glad that he was healthy and whole, face and neck already healing; she had only managed to suppress the urge by suppressing her emotions, as well.

Afterward, she had returned to her beach in Hawaii, dejected, and had shimmied into her favorite white one-piece. Now she strolled along the water's edge flinging glistening sand in every direction, hair hanging down her back, damp and curling. The sun glowed hotly, stroking her skin. Waves lapped at the pink grains, washing some away, and all the emotions she'd momentarily overridden lapped at her just as determinedly.

'All I wanted to do was help him.'

And what had she gotten in return for her generosity? He'd pretended to want her, even chained her to his bed—then vanished. That still hurt. She'd been desperate for him, and he hadn't been able to get away from her fast enough. 'I am such a moron.'

Why couldn't she forget him?

No man had ever affected her like this, and despite her curse, she'd dated plenty! All had been mortals, amusing for a little while as they showered her with the compliments she'd always craved from the gods, but most had been as forgettable as she wanted Lucien to be. The more memorable ones had become her friends, even though she had refused to sleep with them.

One by one they had died. Casual though the friendships were, their loss had hurt her, their humanity a weakness she'd come to despise. She no longer hung with humans, hadn't for several years, and some nights she was so lonely she found herself snuggling with the teddy bear she'd stolen from the grand opening of a Toys 'R' Us.

With Lucien, she wasn't lonely. She was excited. Every moment with him was a surprise. And he wanted nothing to do with her.

Grrr! From this point on, she would stay away from him. Would make him come to her. He'd have to eventually, if he hoped to obey Cronus. Patience, though, had never been her strongest virtue, and in spite of everything, as the day ticked by she realized she craved another sight of him.

'I'm not a moron. I'm a fucking moron.' Watching Lucien fight had to be the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. Ev-er. He'd been lethal strength and total Death, fast and fluid as he'd wielded those daggers. His mismatched eyes had glowed with the promise of eternal damnation, and she'd found that irresistible.

Still did.

She liked sparring with him. She enjoyed his company, was bored when parted from him.

Seriously. None of that made sense. As grave as he was, he should have been dull. Yet he amused her, challenged her and made her feel alive. Odd, since he was possessed by Death.

Did he feel anything for her? Anything at all besides disdain and irritation? If so, he hid it well. Except when he kissed her. Then he was another man completely. Passionate and tender, a little wild. He kissed with his entire body, showering her with desire and that rose-scented flavor.

'Who am I trying to fool? I'm going back to him.'

Cronus had chosen her executioner well. She couldn't stay away from him, didn't want him to stay away from her, and might even let him try again to kill her, just for another kiss.

'Might be fun,' she murmured, flashing.

IT WAS THE STRAWBERRY-SCENTED breeze that first alerted Lucien to Anya's presence when he materialized on the Greek island after escorting a group of souls to heaven. There'd been a bus accident in the States, a carefree troop on their way to a church social. They'd been hit by a drunk driver and every one of them had died.

A waste. Thankfully he'd numbed himself enough that even the children failed to affect him anymore. He couldn't allow them to; as much death as he dealt, he'd be a mess if he did.

You're a mess right now, thinking of Anya.

The thought came from him, but his demon was quick to respond.

Need another kiss.

Lucien wasn't surprised this time. Whenever the woman approached him, Death purred like an excited kitten. A phenomenon he still did not understand. Why do you want her? He hated the thought of anyone, even the demon, craving her as he did.

Tastes good.

There was no refuting that.

More and more, Lucien could feel Cronus's anger radiating down at him. It was a burn in his gut, a churning in his soul. The king would not wait much longer, would surely curse him soon if he failed to act. Or curse his friends.

Yet just the thought of seeing Anya again lit an inexorable fire inside him, overshadowing the thought of both her death and his punishment. Since that fight with the Hunters two days ago, he hadn't gone to her and she hadn't appeared to him. He'd missed her as she'd once claimed to miss him.

Lucien searched the Temple of the All Gods for some physical sign of her. He saw moss-covered columns, mounds of crumbled stone and pools of crystal water. No Anya.

So many times he'd pictured her here. In his mind, the pillars were gleaming white with lush emerald ivy and provided the perfect frame for her exotic beauty. In his mind, the puddles were bubbling pools and she liked to frolic. Naked.

'Anya,' he said.

She didn't respond.

He waited several minutes, then called her name again.

Again, nothing.

'I know you're here.'

Nothing. What game did she play now?

Trying not to frown, he bent over a sand pile and sifted through the grains. If he couldn't coax her out of hiding, at least he could begin looking for evidence of the four artifacts' existence.

Something soft brushed his shoulder blades and the scent of strawberries became stronger, filling his nostrils, tantalizing him; he didn't turn, didn't acknowledge the sensation. Not outwardly, at least. Inside, he shook.

'Whatcha doing?' she asked. Finally she materialized.

Stomach tightening with arousal, Lucien focused on her. Dear gods. Her clothes…He gulped. She leaned against one of the towering white columns. Crumbling rock and Parisian marble walls stretched around her, intricate patterns framing her perfect pixie face. Wisps of hair caressed her, and he experienced a momentary burst of jealousy.

He wanted his fingers to caress her, and nothing else.

She wore a transparent white gown—did she have an endless supply?—that draped one shoulder and bared the other's sun-kissed glory. A braided gold belt wrapped around her waist, hugging her curves. A slit rode the entire length of her thigh, revealing inch after inch of smooth, creamy skin, as well as a hint of snow-white panties.

Suddenly Lucien had trouble breathing. With the sun hitting just behind her, he could see the outline of her strawberry nipples.

Strawberry. A word he would forever associate with Anya.

Make her leave. She's a distraction you cannot afford.

Want her to stay! the demon growled.

If only. 'Not many more hours of light, so…' His voice was hoarse.

Hurt glimmered in the blue depths of her eyes. 'So get lost? Is that what you're saying?'

'Yes.' He turned away from her—for the best, you know it—and scooped another handful of dirt.

Kiss her. Kisskisskiss.