The Darkest Secret

picking up little details about the room along the way. He hadn’t cleaned in a few days, had been too busy guarding Amun, so his clothes were scattered throughout. His iPod hung from his nightstand, the earbuds wrapped around a lamp.

How the hell had it gotten there? Oh, yeah. He’d tossed it over his shoulder last night, uncaring where it landed.

«Torin texted me and told me Amun was doing better, but damn,» Lucien said, once again dragging him from his thoughts. «You scared ten years off my life.»

«You’re welcome. Eternity’s too long, anyway.»

«Not when you’re with the right woman.»

He experienced a flash of jealousy that so many of his peeps had found the «right woman» already. And damn it, he was as sick of being jealous as he was of everything else.

«Talk to me,» Lucien said. «Let me help you, whatever’s going on.»

«Nothing to talk about.» He needed to forget Haidee, lose himself in another woman, in the heat and wetness of her body. An appropriate woman. Someone inexperienced, though not a virgin. Someone he wouldn’t have to work his ass off trying to win, then work his ass off again to please. «I need a break, that’s all.»

«You summoned me with a ‘now’ because you need a break?»

«Yeah. You’ve been on break for weeks, it seems. Let someone else have a turn.»

Silence, thick and heavy, enveloped them. Lucien studied him, and whatever he saw in Strider’s expression caused him to lose his air of irritation. «All right. I’ll take you wherever you want to go. For Torin’s sake, someone needs to take your place before we leave. He’d never admit it, would even deny it, but he needs some help running this heap.»

Gods, he loved his friends. Lucien wasn’t going to question him further. Was just going to give him what he’d asked for.

«I’d do it,» Lucien continued, «but I’m busy. I haven’t been vacationing as you seem to think. I’ve been — and currently am—guarding the Cage of Compulsion in a place Rhea can’t reach. And I can’t tell you where that is. Torin asked me not to say anything since there’s a Hunter in residence.»

The cage was one of the four godly relics needed to find and destroy Pandora’s box, and in desperate need of that guarding. Strider knew that wasn’t the only reason Lucien refused to move back into the fortress. The god queen was out for blood, and the man didn’t want his Anya in any more danger than necessary. Strider could dig. «William’s here,» Strider said. «He can—'

Lucien was already shaking his head. «He’s useless. He grows bored too easily to be relied upon. He’ll forget whatever duty he’s promised to perform and head into town for a little some-some.»

Some-some. Someone was picking up his woman’s vernacular. «Apparently he’s related to Lucifer. That has to count for something.»

«Believe me. I know who he’s related to,» Lucien replied dryly. «That doesn’t change anything.»

«Yeah, but he’s strong. No one will want to mess with—'

Again Lucien shook his head. «Nope. Like I said, he’s unreliable. He’ll think of himself first and everyone else not at all.»

«I know.» William wasn’t demon-possessed. He was a god, according to himself, and had spent centuries locked in Tartarus — a prison for immortals — for sleeping with the wrong woman. Hundreds of them, in fact. He’d even slept with Hera, the former god king’s wife, and had been stripped of some of his supernatural abilities as further punishment. Exactly what those abilities were, he wouldn’t say.

Strider liked the man, even though, as Lucien had said, he looked out only for himself. Even though he could turn on you in a heartbeat, stabbing you in the back — or rather, the stomach — as Lucien had experienced firsthand.

My kinda guy, Strider mused. And since William wasn’t wanted here, maybe he’d want to leave with Strider. Strider made a mental note to text him before taking off. Never hurt to vacation with a friend.

So. Who did that leave to guard the fortress and those inside? «Kane and Cameo,» he said with a nod. Disaster and Misery. «Since Amun’s better, they can return from wherever they are.»

Lucien pondered for a moment, then nodded in turn. «All right, then. It’s settled.»

«One more thing. Tomorrow I need you to contact Sabin.» Strider planned to be too wasted to be coherent. «He needs to return, too, and meet the female Hunter up close and personal. But don’t call him until tomorrow, okay?»

While Torin had apparently been texting, Strider had been calling both Lucien and Sabin every day, giving them updates on Amun’s health. Only thing he hadn’t told them — yet — was Haidee’s identity. He didn’t know why. He’d certainly meant to share, but every time he’d tried, the words had congealed in his throat.

All he knew was that he still wasn’t going to tell them. Like him, they’d find out the truth as soon as they talked to her. And when they did, Strider wouldn’t have betrayed Amun’s trust, but would still have done all he could to safeguard his friend from the murdering bitch’s influence.

Shit. He was getting worked up again, fighting a need to stomp back to Amun’s room and do some damage.

Win? Defeat asked.

Oh, no. We’re not going there.

«Consider it done,» Lucien said.

«Good,» he replied, tangling a hand in his hair. «’Cause I really need this break.»

Once again Lucien asked no questions. He merely straightened and gave another nod. «Pack while I hunt down the lucky twosome and bring them home.»

«No need to pack.» He had his weapons. That’s all he needed.

For the first time during their conversation, Lucien’s lips twitched into the semblance of a smile. «Twice you’ve said you need a break. We both know nothing will change in a day or two. You’ll still be stressed, on edge. So I want you gone for at least two weeks, and that’s a nonnegotiable requirement if you expect transport. Pack.»

Death didn’t wait for Strider’s reply. He simply disappeared.

Strider packed.

William the ever randy, as the shitheads here had started calling him, lay propped on his bed, a mountain of pillows behind him. His covers were tucked around his waist and legs, cocooning him in a way he despised but refused to complain about because his Gillian Shaw — nicknamed Gilly, also nicknamed Little Gilly Gumdrop, though only he was allowed to call the seventeen-year-old human that last one — was responsible. She had a huge crush on him, and she had thought «tucking him in» would soothe him.

Unlike the tucking in, he’d done everything he could to discourage the crush. She’d told him she wanted to date a nonsmoker, so he’d immediately taken up the habit. Was even now sucking a disgusting cloud of ash into his mouth and blowing smoke in her too-appealing, perfectly sun-kissed face.

She gave a delicate cough.

Tragically, the smoke failed to diminish the loveliness of her features. Big, wide eyes of the purest chocolate. Sharp cheekbones that hinted at the passion she would one day be capable of giving. A pixie nose, slightly uptilted at the end. Lush pink lips. And framing all that beauty was a cascade of midnight hair.

With a sigh, he smashed the cigarette butt into the ashtray beside him. Maybe it was time he took up drinking.

«Liam,» she said softly. Her nickname for him. A name he would kill anyone else for using. Maybe because it was hers and hers alone. She sat beside him, her hip pressed against his, warm and soft and completely feminine. «I have a question for you.»

«Ask.» He could deny her nothing — except a romantic relationship. Not only because she was too young, but because he…well, he liked her. Yeah, shocking. William the Perfect — a much more suitable name for him — friends with a female other than Anya. The world should have ended.

But, in many ways, Gilly truly was his best friend. When he’d returned from hell, unable to care for himself, she had done so. She had fetched his food, endured his dark moods as the pain became too much, and washed his