The Darkest Kiss

Aias, the Captain of the Immortal Guard, she had kissed and made out with, as well. But when she called a halt to their heavy petting, he'd called her a tease and a whore—oxymoron-spouting bastard—and had pinned her down.

He'd scowled down at her and ripped at her clothes, his own pants. Fear had consumed her. She'd screamed at him, demanded he release her. He'd laughed. She hadn't been able to flash, hadn't yet had the ability since it had come with her father's one and only gift to her. She'd fought with every ounce of strength she possessed and ultimately managed to deliver the death blow, just as she'd been taught.

Anya had never regretted her actions. Not even when she'd been rotting in prison. No one took what belonged to her. No one.

'What are you thinking about?' Lucien asked, his voice husky with…arousal?

Why not tell him the truth? 'You. Sex. Theft. Another man.'

'A lover?' he asked, his voice dark now.

Jealous? 'Something like that.'

His eyes narrowed.

'Does the thought of me with another man fill you with rage, Flowers?'

'Hell, no,' he barked, tearing from her embrace and standing.

A sense of loss slammed into her. Gingerly she rose. Brushed the dirt from her fishnets. It's best this way, she told herself. You were too close to giving in to a man who may not even desire you. One who definitely wants to kill you.

'Let us return to our previous conversation. Ashlyn had to sacrifice herself to save Maddox,' Lucien said tightly. He strode back into what had once been the altar room, spinning and studying the open space. 'What can I sacrifice?'

'Lucien,' Strider called. 'It's getting close to chow time.'

'I just need a little more time,' he replied. He didn't look away from her. 'Anya? Sacrifice?'

'Are you asking if sacrifices were made here?' She'd lost the line of conversation, too troubled by her own unhappy thoughts. 'Yes. So?'

'Blood sacrifices?'

'Yes.' Where was he going with this? 'When the temple was moved to earth, blood sacrifices were made.'

'And what did the patrons who came to this temple sacrifice, exactly? What did they make bleed?'

Again she allowed her mind to travel back to those days. Even she had been worshipped by mortals then. Everyone ignored the gods these days, writing them off as the stuff of myth and legend. That didn't bother her as it did the others. She liked her anonymity.

'They sacrificed their family members,' she finally answered, stomach knotting. Oh, how she'd hated that. Another reason she was glad the days of old were, well, old. 'Mostly innocents were chosen. Virgins. They cut their throats and watched them bleed out.'

Lucien paled. 'That is what's expected here? What's needed?'

'Not always. Sometimes blood freely offered by the one in need is more of a sacrifice than killing someone else and would have done the trick, but no one wanted to consider that. They would have had to hurt themselves, and most people would rather chop up a loved one and call it a noble act.'

Some of his color returned. He withdrew a dagger from his boot, the metal whistling as it slid along the leather.

She backed away, palms up and out. 'What, you thinking of sacrificing me now?'

'You are neither a virgin nor a loved one,' he muttered.

Teeth grinding, she stopped abruptly, feet planting into the ground. Bastard. He had no idea about the former, and like she really needed the reminder about the latter. Like he'd had to point that out again. 'I'm getting a little tired of your insults, Flowers. I've helped you today. I helped you last week. I helped you a month ago.'

He sighed with regret. 'You are right. I'm sorry. That was uncalled for, and I will not say such a thing again.'

'Yes, well.' She hadn't expected him to apologize, and that he'd done so threw her off her A game. 'What are you—' Her words were cut off as he sliced his left wrist, then his right. Shocked, Anya rushed to him. 'You're insane, Lucien. Absolutely insane.' He wasn't going to die, she knew that. Still!

'We shall see.' The wounds were large and gaping.

Her wrists throbbed in sympathy. She'd once stabbed him, sure, but right now, this moment, she couldn't bear to see him hurt. She grabbed his arm and tugged one of his wrists to her, hoping to stanch the crimson flow with her costume. Some of his blood dripped on her, then the ground.

The moment it touched the sand, Lucien bellowed a roar and dropped to his knees. Her concern doubled. 'Lucien. What's wrong?' He was immortal and couldn't be killed by normal means, but that didn't stop her from worrying. He could have been cursed. He could have—

He roared again and clutched his stomach.

'Lucien. Tell me what the hell is wrong!'

His eyelids were squeezed shut; panting, he slowly opened them. Both of his irises were suddenly blue. Otherworldly, crystalline, churning like a storm. He stood to shaky legs and pulled from her grip as if in a trance, walking forward, toward the temple's only remaining wall.

'I can see it,' he said.

Relief nearly felled her. He was having a vision. In the old days, when a sacrifice pleased the gods or even the temple itself, a reward was given. Anya thought perhaps the temple was pleased to be used again. 'What do you see?' She had to force her arms to remain at her sides, so badly did she want to hold him.

'I might have found something,' he called, ignoring her.

All four of the warriors ran to him, swooping around columns like avenging angels. They spotted her and gaped. Her French maid costume was naughty and for Lucien's eyes only. Still, she didn't flash away to change. She didn't want to miss a moment of this.

The men didn't speak to her, though Paris did lick his lips in anticipation, as if she were a feast that had been prepared just for him. She rolled her eyes. Would have flipped him off, but thought he might try to take her up on the 'offer.'

'Why are you bleeding?' Strider demanded, withdrawing a dagger. A feral scowl was directed at Anya. 'And what the hell is she wearing?'

She flipped him off without any hesitation.

'The woman is not to be handled in any way,' Lucien said flatly, still focused on the wall. 'She is mine.'

Mine, he'd said. Smiling, she gave each Lord a taunting pinkie wave. 'You hear that? I'm his, so you can all suck dirt.'

Lucien muttered, 'And you had better keep your hands to yourself, Anya, or you will lose them.'

'Please. Like your buddies could best me,' she replied, unsure whether he heard or not. He gave no reaction.

As the Lords gathered around Lucien, she muscled right into their circle. And yeah, she pilfered a few daggers along the way. Gods, that felt good. She hadn't done enough of this lately, too consumed with Lucien. Stealing always soothed her riotous emotions, slowing her heartbeat and easing the seemingly constant ache in her stomach. The guys didn't realize what she'd done or they would have attacked her, she was sure. As it was, they let her through without comment.

What had Lucien found? What was he seeing?

Lucien splayed his arms, pushing everyone behind him and gazing at the wall once more.

'Lucien?' Strider said, clearly confused. Anya studied him out of the corner of her eye. He had blue eyes and blond hair, was tall and muscled, tanned. His features were roughly hewn, and he had a wicked sense of humor, which she normally preferred.

Why hadn't she been attracted to him?

'What do you see?' Paris asked. Eagerness and excitement hummed through the group.

'Waiting is fun,' Gideon said, glaring.

'Do you recall what the two mortal researchers told us about Zeus and the artifacts?' Lucien asked.

A murmur of yeses arose.