The Darkest Secret

The desires were dark and sultry, insidious as they snuck past his defenses and wrapped around his every cell, changing the very fabric of his being. He was Amun no longer, but Haidee’s man.

That title was not something he could tolerate. Not for long, at least.

Still. He was on the right path, he decided. If he had her, he would tire of her. How could he not, when she was who she was? And when he tired of her, when the newness of her touch and taste and scent wore off and he no longer needed her to beat the demons back to maintain his good sense, he could do his duty and slay her. But until then…

He would just have to continue protecting her.

The rustle of clothes died, and he pivoted on his heel, facing her. A smart man would never have given an enemy his back in the first place. But then, a smart Lord would never have allowed a Hunter to live long enough to dress.

Haidee stood by the side of the bed, arms hanging at her sides, her hands empty. His gaze raked her, and he told himself the perusal was necessary, that he needed to check for hidden weapons. The pink T-shirt and jeans she had donned belonged to Gwen, another petite female, but still they bagged on little Haidee. Despite her feminine curves, she was too thin.

Irritation joined his other emotions. Over the past however long Strider had been in charge of her care, the warrior had most likely given her enough food to survive. No more, no less. She’d probably lost pounds she hadn’t been able to spare. That would change now that Amun was in charge. Causing needless suffering wasn’t his style.

She had toweled off her hair as best she could, but still the blond-and-pink locks dripped onto her shirt, wetting the material covering the delicate frame of her shoulders.

«What now?» she asked in her raspy voice.

She hadn’t shifted under his scrutiny, he realized. She had stood still, allowing him to look his fill. Perhaps she’d studied him, too, because tiny flickers of the mating heat had returned to those distracting eyes.

He liked that she liked the look of him. Usually, with Paris and Strider and, hell, Sabin around him, women found the roughness of his features too…well, rough.

Sit down, he told her. Now we talk.

«More talking?» She didn’t sound enthused.

Yes, more talking. He would not allow her to irritate him into forgetting what needed to be said, he vowed. Sit.

With only the barest hint of hesitation, she obeyed. She perched at the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap.

Thank you. Now, it was time to show her the rest of his cards. Her reaction would dictate their next course of action. Amun spread his legs, braced his knees and prepared to defend himself from attack.

«What are we going to talk about?»

Me. You guessed my identity, but I doubt you know exactly what that means. So here it is, flat out. I’m possessed by the demon of Secrets. He waited for a reaction; he didn’t get one. In the shower, he’d merely played with the details, never actually admitting he was possessed.

«And?» she demanded.

No, he would not allow her to irritate him. And you know about immortals, but do you know anything about the heavens and hell?

«I know they exist.»

That was a start. Recently I ventured into hell to rescue a friend.

She gulped. «You rescued another demon?»

In a way. Legion had been demon, but had bargained with Lucifer for a human body. A human body she still possessed. She wasn’t — isn’t — evil. Well, not totally — and she was being tortured.

«She?»

Did he detect a note of jealousy or was that wishful thinking on his part? Yes. During the few days I spent down there, I was…overcome by demon thoughts and urges.

When he offered no more, she nodded.

Those thoughts and urges are a part of me now, driving me…

«Insane?»

Now he was the one to nod, though his was stiff. Only when I’m with you do those things become manageable.

Wariness fell over her lovely features like a curtain, but she didn’t attack. «Why me?»

I have no idea.

«Guess.»

He released a sigh. Perhaps for the same reason I can project my voice into your head.

«That tells me nothing,» she said, pursing her lips.

How adorable she was, just then. A pouty princess. The thought made him frown. Whether we like it or not, there is something between us. Maybe, because of that, the demons know what I know, and they’re afraid of you. Afraid of Hunters.

«Maybe. So…you hate these thoughts and urges?» Her question was soft, almost hopeful.

Why hopeful? Because she wanted to believe the best of him? Yes. Beyond anything.

She peered down at her lap, where her fingers were linked and now twisting together. He hadn’t expected such calm. Not from her, a demon-hater, when he’d just admitted to being poisoned by all kinds of evil.

Was she playing him? Lulling him into a false sense of relaxation? If so, what was her ultimate goal?

He should know; his demon should know. More than ever he hated that he couldn’t read her. Hated that the two times he’d peeked inside her mind, he’d seen her smiling. Heard her laughing.

Hated, because the images were branded inside him, a part of him, haunting him. Hated that even so, he craved another glimpse.

«Why did you tell me this?» she asked.

Because of my affliction and your affiliation, we can’t stay here. I’m a danger to my friends, he told her, expecting her to argue. If she remained in one location, her associates had a better chance of finding her. And you, well, you’re a danger to them, too. As much a danger as they are to you.

He didn’t want either group to find her. Plus, his twenty-four hours were almost up, and every noise outside the door had him stiffening. Sabin was liable to burst into the room with a flamethrower at any moment.

«Yes, we need to leave,» she replied, thick lashes finally lifting. «So where do you propose we go?»

Such pragmatism was admirable. Combine that with the we and the heat of her gaze, and she presented a powerful aphrodisiac. You wish to stay with me?

«Of course.»

There was no «of course» about it. Why did she want to stay with him? His suspicious soul floundered for an answer, and found only one: she was playing him. Perhaps she even meant to lead him to her fellow Hunters, just as she’d done to Baden.

Amun’s hands curled into fists. Fists so tight and hard his already damaged knuckles cracked from the strain.

«Amun?» she prompted.

His name on her lips…another aphrodisiac. We will go to the only place I can purge the thoughts and urges.

Her eyes widened. «You can purge them?» Once again she sounded hopeful, as if she truly cared.

Though the prospect rocked him to the core, he revealed only mild surprise. While you slept, I spoke with someone in the know. And the conversation had pissed him off royally.

«You must return to hell,» the angel Zacharel had said, unconcerned, when Amun sought him out.

What? Amun had mentally shouted. When he remembered to sign, his motions