The Darkest Kiss

A bullet whizzed past Lucien's shoulder, close enough to graze his skin. Space was limited, and Lucien blocked the only exit. As two ran to him, gasping 'Demon' and clearly intending to plow him down and escape, he spun and stabbed, spun and stabbed. Both Hunters collapsed to the ground, red pooling around them.

Someone managed to squeeze off another shot, and this one did more than graze. This one lodged in his stomach. Despite the pain, he didn't fall. He stood his ground. For Anya.

A fire blazed in the room's center, crackling and emitting delicious heat. One of the Hunters grabbed a scorching log and swung it at her. She jumped out of the way, but not before a flame sizzled over her coat, burning fabric and probably blistering her delicate skin.

She cried out in fury.

A red haze fell over Lucien, one word filling his mind: Kill. He lurched forward, no longer feeling the pain in his stomach. Kill. Kill! He had the man's neck in his hands in the next instant, not caring that the human was slapping him or that the flames were licking his clothing, his flesh.

He twisted with all of his might.

Bones snapped, and the man stilled. The crackling stick fell from the Hunter's suddenly limp hand, though the fire still licked at Lucien. He wanted to kill the man all over again. He even dropped the body and stabbed his dagger into the man's heart, again and again.

'Mine,' he snarled. 'Do not touch what is mine.'

More. Kill more. He turned to the Hunters left standing—only to see that there were no Hunters left standing. They were dead, all of them. Lucien was panting as his sights slid to William, who was covered in blood and bending over one of the bodies, searching it. Kill, kill, kill.

'Lucien, you're on fire!'

Anya's voice penetrated his mind, shattering the death-craze, and he settled. She was all right. Unharmed. Alive. He drew in a calming breath as soft hands settled over his shoulders, patting him down. 'I'm here, baby. I'm here.'

His knees buckled, weakness suddenly slamming into him again. He hit the ground and cold seeped into him.

'You're going to be okay, lover,' she continued to coo. 'You're going to be okay. Say it. Tell me you're going to be okay.'

'Okay.' He felt the burn all the way inside him. He'd felt this way before, when he'd torched himself out of grief for Mariah. He had cried then; he smiled now. Anya was with him. Black winked in and out of his vision, the red haze completely gone.

'Lucien.'

Anya. His sweet Anya. He realized he didn't have to fear his temper around her. He could let go completely with her. Being near her always managed to soothe the demon and his own dark thoughts in ways nothing and no one else ever had.

'Close your eyes, baby. I'll take care of everything.'

His eyelids obeyed of their own accord. Stay awake. Don't leave Anya alone with William.

'Sleep.'

Once again, he couldn't help but obey.

ANYA GAZED AT LUCIEN as he slept.

'He may not even live out the rest of the night,' William said with an unconcerned shrug, never pausing as he searched the Hunters' bodies. What he was looking for, Anya didn't know.

She nearly flashed to him and stabbed him. Only the need to be near Lucien held her in place and saved William's life. 'Don't talk like that. He's going to be fine.'

'What's wrong with him, anyway? Isn't he supposed to be immortal? Every time I look at him, he's weaker.'

'Fucking Cronus cursed him.' I deserve a slow and painful death for allowing things to reach this point. Me, not Lucien. She hated seeing him like this.

'Why?'

'The god king is a bastard. That's why.'

William looked from her to the sleeping Lucien, from Lucien to her. 'Well, if I were you I'd go to the Big Guy and beg. Otherwise, your man is going to eat dirt for eternity.'

'I told you not to talk like that,' she snapped. She stared down at Lucien, remembering the way he'd jumped to her defense. All because she'd been burned. A burn that hadn't even reached her skin. Her heart skipped a beat. He'd erupted for her, and she was letting him suffer for it.

His breathing was labored, his skin charred. What kind of woman am I? Despicable, that's what. Not worthy of this man and his precious love. But even so, she couldn't live without him.

She loved him.

There. She'd finally admitted it. He was everything to her, and she couldn't imagine a single moment without him. Didn't want to imagine a moment without him. He was joy and he was passion. He was complex and honorable, sweet and tender, and the part of her that had always been missing.

She would have given Cronus the key then and there, but knew she would lose Lucien if she did so. She would not remember him, and she needed the memory of him. He was more a part of her than the key.

She was going to make love with him. Willingly. Without hesitation. Her eyes widened with the realization. Yes. That's exactly what she'd do. Maybe bonding with him would give him some of her strength, melding them body and spirit. Even the slightest chance overshadowed her fear of her curse.

Right now Lucien was unconscious, covered in blood and bruises and that blackened skin. One of the Hunters had managed to cut him across the forearm and shoot him in the stomach and neither wound was healing. Both were dripping blood all over the ice.

'I'm going to take him back to your house,' she told William. 'The search for Hydra will have to wait until his wounds are tended.'

'Hell, no.' The warrior jerked upright and scowled over at her. 'You're not welcome at my house anymore.'

'Well, you're going to have to find a way to flash there and drag me out because I'm going with or without your permission.'

'I'll retaliate!'

'Don't forget who has your book, and that I wouldn't mind tossing it in a nice toasty fire,' she warned, lying next to Lucien. She wound her arms around him, holding him as close as possible.

'Like I'd forget,' William grumbled. 'Fine. Go to my house. The vamps'll take one look at his wounds and make a meal of him. Or maybe I'll find Hydra while you're gone. Maybe I'll bribe her to eat you and spit out your bones.'

'Just for that, I'm ripping ten pages out of the book before I give it back.' Anya flashed the still-sleeping Lucien into the warm bedroom they'd shared only a few days ago, rolled him to his back and began cutting the clothes from his injured body.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

PARIS STARED AT THE PADDED white wall, his vision blurry, his mind foggy. He knew he'd been stripped and strapped to another table. He knew he hadn't had sex in days. But he didn't even have the strength to lift his head anymore. He'd been poked and prodded, and the Hunters had even sent in a blonde to arouse him so they could watch how the demon operated, but he hadn't been able to get hard for her.

This had happened only once before.

Long ago, immediately after his possession, he'd reached this point of desperation. He'd reached this point of weakness. Too feral for any mortal woman to approach, he'd been forced to accept the first person willing to fuck him.