The Darkest Secret

He shouldn’t have patrolled the city for Hunters tonight. Strider and Gideon could have handled the duty, no problem, despite their recent injuries. They’d offered; he’d turned them down, already sensing trouble on the outside and wanting to keep them safe.

Thankfully, he’d only found three enemy soldiers, and killing them hadn’t been a hardship.

The Hunters hadn’t planned to engage. Amun’s demon had sensed that right away. The men had wanted their female, their Bait, on the inside first. They thought she had succeeded, but they were waiting for confirmation. The moment he’d realized that, Amun knew he’d have to wipe one of the Hunter’s minds to find out who «she» was and when and where she would contact them. He’d have to absorb memories, perhaps even memories of mutilating his own friends. ’Cause yeah, he’d see through Hunter eyes, as if he was a Hunter.

«Amun, man,» someone called from outside his room. It was Sabin. «Chow time.»

He walked to the door and knocked, signaling he’d heard. Just as soon as he cleared his head, he’d join them. The memories were still unfolding, even though he’d already uncovered the information he’d wanted. The «she» belonged to Kane, keeper of Disaster.

The warrior rarely dated, too afraid of hurting those around him, but the human female had captured his interest. He’d have to be told. Amun would have to be the one to tell him.

Amun was always the one to break the bad news.

First, there would be denials. Then rage. Then sorrowful acceptance. But damn it, they shouldn’t have to live like this! They shouldn’t have to suspect everyone they encountered of using them.

For a moment, Amun’s image faded from Haidee’s mind and his thoughts quieted. She was shrouded in darkness and thought she might be lying down. What was that tickling her belly? she wondered.

Before she could discover the answer, those images of Amun returned, shifted. Now he was whaling on a human male, knuckles drilling into bone. The human was average height, on the thin side, and begging for mercy Amun refused to show.

Haidee didn’t have to wonder why. Like Amun, she somehow knew what this man had been doing to his little girl. And when Amun was done, when the man was dead, he used his demon to find the little girl a safe, loving home.

Images, fading again. Voices, quieting again. Seriously. What was tickling her belly? Whatever it was brushed whisper-soft heat over her sensitized skin. But again, before she could reason out what was happening to her, the images in her head returned, shifted and claimed her full attention.

This time she saw a shirtless, cut-up and bleeding Amun playing basketball with his friends. He was grinning, laughing silently and slapping each of his buddies on their backs between cheap shots.

The boys shouted good-natured insults at him. Insults he could only return with the lifting of a single finger. No one stuck to any rules, so there was lots of tripping, elbowing and even punching, and Amun loved it. No one could beat him because he knew every move everyone planned to make before they actually made it. Only, any time Strider went for the ball, Amun let him have it, even slowing his steps and pretending to stumble.

His past was as varied as hers, Haidee mused. But while she had always been a Hunter, driven by hate, he was so much more than a Lord of the Underworld. Which should not have been possible. A demon should be a demon. Evil, ruined. Amun cared, though. He uplifted.

He shouldered such a heavy burden. A burden he shared with no one because he would rather suffer forever than cause one of his friends to suffer a single moment more. That was love, not evil.

Love.

The word echoed through her mind. Maybe because she felt utterly connected to Amun just then, she couldn’t keep secrets, even from herself. She loved him, she realized. There was no denying it now, no questioning it. For all that he was, all that he’d been and all that he would be, she loved him. He was a warrior to his very soul, would always fight for what he believed in, would never buckle under pressure. When he cared, he cared deeply, intensely, and nothing and no one could shake that affection from him. Oh, yes. She loved him.

How did he feel about her?

She wanted him to care for her. Desperately. Because if they were going to be together, and she prayed that they were, his friends would be angry. Actually, «angry» was too mild a word. She doubted there was a word to accurately express the rage they would unleash upon him. But if he loved her in return, he could bear it.

How could she ask him to bear it? Even if he did, in fact, love her?

How could she ask him to carry yet another burden?

God, what a mess. If they were together, her friends — no, that wasn’t the right word. They’d never truly been her friends. Her coworkers would fume at her, too. They wouldn’t understand how she could adore a demon. They would attack Amun; they would punish her. And she knew that was exactly why Amun had pushed her away. He didn’t want her to suffer. Didn’t want her to have to «bear it,» either.

That bespoke caring, right?

What he didn’t know, however, and what she had to somehow show him, was that nothing would cause her more suffering than trying to live without him. For him, she could bear anything.

Perhaps he would one day feel the same for her. If he did, losing their friends wouldn’t be something to bear because they would have each other, could rely on each other, comfort each other…cling to each other.

They had shared each other’s blood all those centuries ago, creating a bond far more powerful than the hatred always simmering inside her. They belonged together; she knew it. She’d have to show him that, too.

Yes, she had loathed his kind for centuries. Yes, she had hurt him, and yes, he had hurt her. But that was in the past. Now, she only wanted to look ahead.

Look ahead. Again, the words echoed through her mind, and she was forced to face a hard truth. She couldn’t ask Amun to give up his friends. She couldn’t allow him to cut those friends from his life, whether he could bear the loss of them or not, whether he would cling to her or not. How could she expect such a thing? Those warriors had helped shape Amun into the wonderful man he was. He needed them, and they needed him.

If Amun would just give her a chance, she would do everything in her power to smooth things over. After a time, if his friends still couldn’t accept her, no matter what she did, she would leave.

So many ifs…so many possibilities.

Leaving would kill her, but for Amun, for his happiness, she would do it. All she needed was that chance.

Haidee. Wake up for me, sweetheart.

Amun’s deep voice reverberated inside her head, much louder than in her dreams, jolting her into awareness. She blinked open her eyes. Several seconds passed before she was able to orient herself, and when she did, she took stock. Muted light filled the cave. In the distance, she heard the drip, drip of water. She was sprawled flat on her back, practically…sweating?

Haidee, sweetheart. Can you hear me?

Amun again. «Yes,» she drawled. She stretched her arms over her head, back arching. The ground beneath her was soft, as if she rested on pillows.

Finally. Now look at me.

«Where are you?» Something tickled her belly again, causing goose bumps to sprout in every direction. Her gaze descended, and what she found left her gaping. A shirtless Amun was on his knees in front of her, her spread legs braced on his thighs. He wore pants. She wore panties. Only panties.

Both of his hands rested on her stomach, his fingers tracing designs around her navel, on her hips, just above the tiny patch of curls guarding her where she already ached.

«You have hands,» was the first thing she thought to say. She’d been so afraid, so uncertain.

His lips quirked at the corners, revealing an amusement he rarely displayed. Yes. I have my hands. I’m glad you noticed.

She’d stuffed his injured arms into the backpack, eased him to his back when he had passed out, and then she’d paced, checked on him, prayed, bathed, checked on him, prayed some more, cursed, checked on him and finally fallen asleep beside him. At last check, he had still been handless.

«How?»

The backpack, as you thought. Just took a while for everything to regrow. Now, enough about that. Do you remember when you woke me up with your mouth on my cock?

She gulped, licked her lips. «Yes.»

His eyes darkened and he flattened his palms on his thighs, as if he didn’t trust himself to keep them on her.