The Darkest Pleasure

'How are you feeling?' Reyes asked him.

'Better.' That green gaze lowered to the plate Reyes held. 'Hungry.'

'Back off,' Reyes said. 'I'm glad you're better, but not enough to share.'

Torin's grin lost its edge of sadness. 'You almost make me wish I were still bed-bound. You'd have to bring me food with a smile. Oh, guess what?' he said, pivoting toward Anya. 'Your friend is climbing the hill. He keeps shouting that he wants to put you over his knee and spank you, so I decided not to kill him as Lucien instructed. Guy has a blade strapped to his left thigh, but that's the only weapon I detected. He should reach the door any—'

Knock. Knock.

Grinning, Anya clapped her hands. 'William's here!'

'What is he doing here?' Reyes asked. 'Lucien told him never to return or he'd kill him, and you hate him.'

'Hate him? I adore him! Even made sure he'd come back by holding his favorite book hostage. And FYI, Lucien was only teasing about killing him. They're BFF's now, I swear.' She bounded off, clapping happily.

'William!' the group in the kitchen heard a moment later.

'Where's my book, woman?'

'Where's my hug, you big teddy bear?'

'Is this the same William who drove Lucien crazy while Anya was recovering from the loss of her key?' Ashlyn asked, just as Maddox strode up behind her and enfolded her in his arms. 'And what book?'

'The very same,' Maddox said, nuzzling her cheek. 'The book, I don't know. This William did not strike me as the intellectual type. What's a BFF?'

'A best friend forever.'

Maddox frowned. 'I did not get the impression the two were best friends forever or even temporarily. Someone should lock the man up until Lucien returns.'

Ashlyn melted into her man. 'Anya seems to like him. I say we leave him alone. The more, the merrier, right?'

Reyes rolled his eyes. Every day in the fortress was a party now, it seemed.

While Ashlyn and the men engaged in a heated discussion about who would cook what, as well as what they should do about the mysterious William, Reyes finally made his escape, careful to hold the plate straight and the glass of juice steady as he stalked from the kitchen.

I hate you, Danika had said.

I know, he'd told her, and he'd meant it. He'd once held her and her loved ones prisoner. He'd helped bring her to the Hunters' attention. She had every reason to despise him. But now, he wanted to give her something good. Something she could smile about in the years to come. Even if it was only a simple meal.

Up the stairs he climbed, and still, he did not spill a drop. Most likely, she was still sleeping. He hated the thought of waking her, but knew it was for the best. The paleness of her skin and the shadows under her eyes concerned him. She needed sustenance.

While she's here, I'll see to her every need. She'll want for nothing.

He sailed into the bedroom, but stopped abruptly when he reached the edge of the bed. His mouth dried and the haze of red returned to coat his vision. The black sheets were rumpled. Empty.

Danika was gone.

CHAPTER SIX

AERON CROUCHED in his underground prison, fury flowing through his veins. Fury with himself, the gods, his demon. Reyes. He should have killed me. Too late now. I want to live. I want to taste the death of those women.

Darkness would have enveloped him completely, but he'd long since given over to his demon. His eyes glowed bright red, throwing crimson beams wherever he looked. Mud and rock surrounded him. He was buried so deep in the earth he could hear the screams of the damned, could smell the sulfur and rotting flesh wafting from hell's gates. He'd thought Lucien was the only warrior with access to the hereafter, but apparently Reyes had it, as well.

Wrath, his demonic companion, foamed at the mouth and chomped at the edges of Aeron's mind, desperate to escape this hated place. To act.

Too close to home, the demon shouted. Won't go back.

'No, you won't go back.'

Aeron couldn't survive without his demon; they were now one being, two halves of a whole, incomplete without the other. No longer was Aeron ready to die. Craving his own demise had been a momentary burst of madness, surely. Now he knew, now he accepted. He couldn't allow himself to be killed until the blood of those four women stained his hands, coated his arms and filled his mouth.

Mallory, Tinka, Ginger and Danika.

He smiled, practically tasting their deaths already. Cut their throats, Cronus, the king of gods, had commanded him. Do not leave their sides until their hearts stop and their lungs still. Aeron thought he might have resisted at first—innocent, they were innocent—but he could not be certain. Allowing those women to live seemed…abhorrent.

'Soon,' he promised himself. He trembled with anticipation.

He'd killed recently. He knew it, deep in his bones, but his memory was hazy. All his mind would provide was the image of an old woman splayed on the cold ground, blood crusted on her temples. There were tears in her eyes and cuts on her right arm.

'Don't hurt me,' she begged. 'Please, don't hurt me.'

In one hand, Aeron clutched a dagger. His other hand was pure claw, sharp and lethal. He lunged forward—

And then, as always, the vision faded completely. What had happened after that? What had he done? He wasn't sure. His only certainty was that he would not have backed away from the kill. He would not have left her alive.

Want out. Want up! Want to stretch wings and fly.

'I know.' Aeron jerked at his chains. They rattled and cut his already scabbed wrists, but they didn't budge. He bared his teeth in a scowl. Fucking Reyes.

Fucking Pain.

Aeron could not recall how Reyes had defeated him and carted him here, only that he had. A tortured 'Forgive me' still rang in Aeron's ears.

They were the same words Aeron used to mutter as he stood on the outskirts of Budapest, watching the humans, amazed that they blithely went about their days unconcerned about their inherent weaknesses and the knowledge that they would soon die. Some by his hand.

Aeron had sometimes erupted into blood-rages, Wrath judging and executing those who deserved his particular brand of punishment. Rapists, molesters. Murderers. Like me. Some, though, did not deserve what he did to them. Like the women.

He frowned. The thought was out of place in the chaos of his mind, a notion he would have considered before the gods tasked him with the beautiful death of the Ford women.

Suddenly rocks crumbled, falling from the far cavern wall and disrupting his brooding. Aeron's attention whipped to it, eyelids slitting. There was a narrow hole in the center, a pair of glowing red eyes—demon eyes like Aeron's—pulsing through it.

Aeron growled a warning. He was chained and weaponless, but he was not helpless. He had teeth. He would eat his foe, if necessary.

More rocks fell, widening the hole. Then a bald, scaled head pushed through. Those bright red eyes looked right and left before landing on Aeron. Sharp, glistening fangs appeared in a feral smile.