The Darkest Kiss

William continued to motor along without retaliating, almost as if he felt he deserved the chastisement. Snow and ice whipped from the chains and tires of the man's vehicle, blustering around them and making their visibility hazy. His posture was stiff, predatory, as if he expected to be attacked at any moment.

Something was terribly wrong with this situation. What, Lucien could only guess. Sadly, none of his guesses were optimistic.

TIME PASSED SLOWLY considering the sense of urgency pounding through her. Urgency and pain. Anya's ass hurt like hell. The heavy bag strapped to her four-wheeler did indeed slap at her as she'd suspected it would. Gods, she hated this. Hated not knowing the best course of action, hated not being able to read an entire situation. All she knew was that Lucien was the best thing to ever happen to her, William was clearly hiding something and she was miserable.

And if…when Lucien began growing weak—because of me, she thought guiltily—he would not be able to fight Hydra, even if they found her, placing him in greater danger. So many ifs. But Anya couldn't abide the thought of Lucien being hurt. He loved her. He'd admitted it without shame, without hesitation, and he'd meant it. Tenderness and joy had infused his confession, warming her body and soul. He loved the woman she was, not the woman he wanted her to be.

They had to find Hydra; they just had to. She'd once thought to use the artifacts to bargain for her own life. Now she knew she couldn't do that to Lucien. Instead, she was going to use them to bargain for his life.

Cronus would still hunt her, of course, because he would never stop desiring the key. Unless she killed him, which wasn't a bad idea. She might give it a shot, she thought, pursing her lips. After all, who better to murder a king than Anarchy?

Lucien would be pissed if he knew what she was thinking. He wouldn't want her to place herself at risk, no matter that she did so for him. For them. But she'd rather deal with his anger than watch him die slowly and painfully.

This is beginning to sound like love.

She shut down the thought before it could spread and deepen. If she admitted that she loved him, she wouldn't be able to resist making love to him. Already she was close to giving in. No matter the consequences. If she gave in, however, and he did die, she would be consumed with eternal grief and bound to a dead man. Not even the All-Key could break that tie.

Her stomach lurched with nausea. Her body numbed. No. No, no, no. Never. He's not going to die. Don't think like that. You're going to do everything in your power to save him. Besides, she suspected she'd be consumed with eternal grief anyway.

She wanted to reach out and take his hand. She wanted to jump off her ATV and onto his and snuggle in his lap. Wanted to feel his arms around her, holding her close. She didn't. Now was not the time. The stakes were too high.

Later, she promised herself.

As they continued through the snow, she found no hint of human invasion. No footprints or tire tracks. Perhaps the Hunters had already turned back. A girl could hope, anyway. She didn't want them near Lucien.

'Trip wires up ahead,' William suddenly warned. 'Follow me and don't deviate.'

She and Lucien slowed down, getting behind the warrior in a straight line. Anya had the middle and Lucien claimed the rear. Her protector.

'How do you know?' she asked.

'I put them there,' he muttered. 'A man has to protect himself when immortals are always trying to sneak up on him.'

Maybe the Hunters hadn't turned back. Maybe they'd been killed. 'Any other little gems you've got waiting out here?'

'Oh, yeah,' he said, but he didn't elaborate.

'Like what?' Lucien asked.

Anya could hear the tension in his voice. He's worried for me, the sweetie. Again she wanted to jump on him.

'Bombs, poison berries, ice caves,' William said. 'You know, all the B-movie stuff.'

'Nice,' Anya said. But her smile at the thought of all that mischief faded as a new thought occurred to her. What if the Hunters laid a trap for us?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

THEY RAN INTO THE HUNTERS three days later in the middle of the mountain.

Lucien should have been happy about that. There was nothing he liked more than killing those delusional zealots. Well, except for Anya. He liked her more than a good fight. But this time, he wasn't happy. Wasn't excited on any level.

He was weak and only growing weaker.

At the moment, he wasn't sure he could fight a mouse and win, much less a determined Hunter.

He'd known this would happen, but he hadn't expected it so quickly. If the days hadn't been so treacherous and the nights so cold, maybe his strength would have lasted longer. But they'd had to abandon their vehicles yesterday, the incline simply too steep. Now they relied on ice spikes, climbing for hours at a time and resting only when absolutely necessary. They ate one meal a day. They didn't really need more. Canned soup, barely heated. Anya could have flashed, but he suspected she didn't want to leave him.

Every night he, Anya and William stopped and set up camp, Anya conjured a fire and the three of them huddled together in a tent for warmth. He never slept, but stayed awake guarding Anya, cherishing every moment they were together. With mortality creeping up on him, he didn't want to miss a single second. He loved holding her close, her strawberry scent enveloping him.

Both William—bad—and Anya—good—seemed to be thriving, yet he could barely carry his pack anymore. He shivered constantly and had even fallen on his face a few times.

Like now.

Anya's arms suddenly banded around him, holding him steady. 'Everything's going to be fine once we get to the top,' she said. 'You'll see.'

Mortification rocked him. He was so weak, he could no longer flash. The demon had tried to pull him into the spirit world a few times, but had been unsuccessful and was constantly clamoring in his head, clawing at the doors of his consciousness, making him crazed.

Death couldn't leave him and travel to the souls on its own, because man and spirit were bonded and could not survive apart. Well, Death could survive, but not happily and not without dire consequences, as Lucien had tried to tell Cronus.

The tip of Lucien's boot hit a block of ice, and he stumbled again. Anya's grip tightened and he was able to right himself. Damn this! Cronus had not exaggerated. At this rate, Lucien would be dead in a week.

'Maybe we should leave him here and continue alone,' William suggested.

'No!' he and Anya shouted in unison. He didn't want Anya to go on without him. He still didn't trust William.

'You're slowing us down, Death,' William said flatly. 'I'm ready to get home to my bloodsuckers and my book.'

Death, the warrior had said. Neither he nor Anya had told William that Lucien was possessed by the spirit of Death—only that it was pursuing Anya. Who had told him, then?

'Just leave him alone,' Anya snapped. She stopped, forcing William to do the same. Glaring, she launched into a tirade about the warrior needing a curling iron shoved up his ass and flipped to its highest setting.

Lucien suspected she did it to give him a moment to rest. Trying to find his breath, he braced a hand against the icy wall of the mountain ledge. What he hated most about his weakness was his inability to protect his woman. He—

Saw footprints, he realized with a frown.