The Darkest Kiss

Lucien's gaze fell back to Anya. His muscles were like stone. Heat stopped radiating from him, ice-cold determination taking its place.

She didn't want to die, but she didn't want Lucien to be punished on her account, either. If she'd just stayed away from him, none of this would have happened. Yeah, none of it. Not the kissing, the touching, the…loving?

No, she couldn't love him. Love would destroy her, caging her as surely as if she were in prison again. Just give Cronus the key.

I can't. She would lose everything. Her independence, her powers, her memories. She might even forget her own curse, sleep with someone and inadvertently bind herself to that man for eternity. Gods, what was she going to do?

'I cannot hurt her,' Lucien said with a proud tilt of his chin. His voice, however, was tortured.

'I thought not. It is hard for me to believe the Greeks once relied upon you for protection.' Tense pause. 'Hear me. You shall weaken with every day that passes in which I do not have that key.'

'What?' Anya gasped out.

'At first, I thought the warrior's love for his friends would spur him to act. Now I know. All along, it was you, Anya, who needed prompting.'

Anya floundered for the proper response, horror raining through her. 'Cronus—'

'I've seen the way you are with him. He isn't just a toy to you as you pretended, but someone who matters. And now you will have to choose what matters most—him or the key.' Cronus laughed, as if victory were already in his grasp. 'Can you hear the clock ticking? I can.'

And then there was only silence.

Cronus had gone, she knew that, for the slight hum of power that always accompanied his visits had faded. Her breathing became choppy, and she was barely able to draw enough air into her lungs. Lose Lucien? No!

'Do not say a word,' Lucien growled. He refused to look at her. 'Finding those artifacts is more important than ever. They are a source of his power and we can use them. We will gather supplies as planned and head out.'

'But—'

He stalked away, leaving her alone in the study.

Oh, gods. What the hell was she going to do?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

WHAT THE HELL WAS HE going to do?

He loved Anya. Lucien admitted that now. Knew it with a soul-deep intensity that could not be denied any longer. He loved her. He hadn't been able to kill her, and he could not abide the thought of her being bound to Cronus, the god king able to find her at every turn. Nor could he abide the thought of her being weak and powerless. Not when she had come to mean more to him than his own life.

She enjoyed stealing, often lied, could kill without remorse, had a bounty on her head, could not make love, and yet he cherished her more than he'd ever cherished Mariah. He hadn't thought such a thing possible. But Anya was the other half of him, the better half. She made him feel whole, complete, like a man rather than a demon. An attractive man, no less.

She gave him something to live for, wiped away his pain, his past, and—when she kissed him—his insecurities. Her sense of humor delighted him, her actions intrigued him. Merely being in her presence gave him more pleasure than sleeping with another woman ever had.

He knew of only one way to save her now. Find an artifact as quickly as possible and pray Cronus wanted it more than the key. He would gladly trade the artifact for Anya's life, Pandora's box be damned.

There was no way Lucien would allow Anya to give up that key now, that much he knew. She would lose her powers, her memories, the freedom she so valued. Her life? Without her ability to flash, she would be vulnerable to all kinds of attack. She would be helpless. Trapped. If a man decided to bind her by penetrating her, she would not be able to disappear or fight her way free.

With a roar, Lucien slammed his fist into the wall of the bedroom he'd occupied last night. A bedroom he'd shared with Anya. Beautiful, sparkling, fiery Anya. The wall cracked; blood trickled from the broken skin on his hand.

Anya was the one woman who saw past his scars to the man inside. In her presence he felt as if he could conquer the entire world, and he did not want that feeling to end. Holding her in his arms had been the greatest experience of his life. Nothing else compared. Nothing else came close.

Lucien scrubbed his throbbing hand down his face. Throbbing? Yes. It hadn't healed instantly, but remained cut. Dark blue and purple bruises were forming over his knuckles.

You shall weaken, Cronus had warned.

He laughed darkly. No matter what he did, what path he chose, he would weaken.

'We'll find it,' Anya said softly.

He whipped around. She leaned against the doorframe, a vision in white. Thick white fur coat, skin-tight white pants. White fur boots that climbed up her glorious legs. Pale hair spilled over her shoulders and down her chest. His heart skipped a beat.

She was holding a bundle of white clothing. 'You already knew that Cronus approached me yesterday. Well, you were right. He threatened me and that's why I was so mean to you. I didn't want him to know that I was…that I…' She gulped.

'I love you, Anya,' he admitted gruffly. 'I love you, and I can't—won't—hurt you. Understand?'

Her mouth dropped open and the clothes fell from her arms. 'Lucien. I—I—'

'You do not have to say it back. I've come to know you, Anya. You are wild and free and the thought of loving a man terrifies you.'

She gazed down at her feet. For the first time, she did not berate herself for it. He was pleased. He wanted her to be comfortable doing anything with him, even that.

'I feel for you what I've never felt for another,' she said quietly, 'and I'm happiest when I'm with you. Why else would I have hung around when you were doing everything in your power to get rid of me? But love…' She swallowed again, shook her head. 'I've spent my entire life trying to keep men at a distance. Somehow you worked your way under my skin, but I can't love you.' The last was said on a tortured breath.

'I know.' She would feel obligated to give up her freedom if she admitted that she loved him. He would not ask it of her. Not now.

'I've been on my own for a long time,' she said on a desperate laugh, 'and you and I both know just how long I have left. I can't place myself in someone else's keeping.'

'I know,' he said again.

'I just…I know I don't want you hurt. I…I need time to think.'

According to Cronus, Lucien did not have much time. Soon. The clock is ticking. Lucien would search for Hydra for however long he had. If he failed to find her, if he failed to win the artifact, he would not fight his fate, he realized then. Had already accepted it, to be honest. He couldn't hurt Anya and couldn't allow Cronus to have the key. If he had to die to ensure her safety, then he would die.

He loved Anya enough to willingly give his life for hers. Without hesitation, without reservation.

He had not been able to give his life for Mariah, but he had wanted to. Had wished for it all these long centuries. Until now. Now he was glad he'd survived. He lived and died for Anya. He would regret the past no more; he would not spend another millennium craving something he could not have.

He would enjoy Anya for as long as they could be together.

'Why do I feel so guilty?' Anya whispered, and there was shame in the undercurrents of her voice. 'Like I should give Cronus the key?'

There was only one answer: she did indeed love him. His heart swelled with joy and pride. And that was enough for him, knowing she loved him, even if she could not say the words. 'You will not give it to him. Promise