The Darkest Secret

drive him so deep they might never be able to part. Haidee released another scream, her relief so potent she couldn’t keep it contained. She’d waited for this moment forever, it seemed.

She hadn’t been with a man in a long, long time, and she had never been this aroused, this willing to break apart and reform into someone new. To experience every sensation, nothing held back.

«Everything,» she said, a promise.

Everything, he agreed, a vow.

Then he was kissing her, and he was in her mouth, her blood, her bones, her soul. And yet that still wasn’t enough. She wanted to be inside him, too, a part of him always.

Mine, you’re mine.

«Always.»

He began to move, pounding forward, withdrawing, pounding forward again. Stretching her, burning her up, catching her on fire. Driving her higher and higher, toward that edge of insanity. She thrashed and she clung to him, almost afraid to fall this time.

Let go, sweetheart.

«The cold…» It was there, waiting.

Let go. I don’t care what happens. I need you. All of you, just as you vowed.

She heard the strain in his voice, knew he was near the edge, as well. And so she did it. She finally let go. She trusted him completely, opened herself up totally and let down her guard inexorably.

Instantly satisfaction slammed into her with the same ferocity that Amun did. Her body splintered, flew to the heavens, stars winking behind her eyes as she lost sight of his beautiful face. All the while, the fire spread… hotter and hotter… All the while, the ice stormed…colder and colder…

Amun trembled and bucked against her as wildly as she bucked against him, and then he was roaring, loud and long, coming, coming, coming so hard. She thought distantly that her body had been starved for him, was now drinking from him, and she might never be thirsty again. Would probably be sated forever. But still the fire spread, hotter and hotter. The ice, though, was fading, no longer storming inside her — because it was seeping into Amun.

At first, she loved the heat. Welcomed it, wanted more and tried to get it, pulling every bit she could from Amun’s body while giving him the ice, unable to stop herself. Soon, though, he was gasping, groaning, shoving away from her and severing contact.

Even without his touch, however, it was too late for her. She felt bathed in flames, no hint of ice left.

She screamed in pain, in agony, not knowing what to do. The flames should have lit her up, blazed bright, but they somehow surrounded her in darkness, darkness she couldn’t find her way out of.

She was dying. She had to be dying. That was the only time she’d ever battled such darkness and pain.

Sweetheart, oh, gods, sweetheart. What’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong. His hands smoothed over her face, and for once, it was not heat she felt from him. He was as cold as a meat locker, and she was envious.

I don’t know what’s wrong, she wanted to shout, but her jaw was locked together, the pain knotting her muscles and preventing her from moving, even in the slightest way.

Somehow, Amun heard her and replied. I don’t know, either, sweetheart.

Help me. Please. Any more and she really would die. Just then, she wanted to die.

I’ll find a way. I swear to the gods I’ll find a way.

The vow was the last thing she heard from him. The darkness thickened until she could see the slick texture of it, the evil that oozed from it. Like black oil, coating her…destroying her.

Demons, she realized with a moan. The demons—his demons — were now a part of her.

Chapter Twenty-Five

What the hell had he done to her?

Amun was in a panic. Physically, he had never felt better; he was clearheaded, sated, both energized and relaxed. Cold, yes. He was far colder than he’d ever been. Rather than destroy him, as the cold had done to the congo, he was strengthened. And yet, his woman now suffered unbearably. Her beautiful skin was flushed a bright red, but not from pleasure. She was racked with pain, her body curled into itself, her fingers actually gnarling as she screamed, over and over again.

He’d promised to help her, but he didn’t know how, had no medicine, could only ask for — the backpack, he thought suddenly. Some of his panic eased as his gaze landed on the angel’s gift. Of course. So simple. Please be simple. The backpack had given him back his hands. Now it would give Haidee back her life.

Amun grabbed the pack, his grip so tight he feared he would rip the material. Give me something to help her, something to save her. Though urgency bombarded him, he waited one second, two.

Trembling now, he reached inside and found — nothing. Help me help her, he demanded. Again, nothing appeared inside. Cursing, Amun upended and shook the material, but still he found nothing. The bag remained empty.

That didn’t mean…couldn’t mean… No. No! He refused to believe Haidee was beyond saving. She would survive this, whatever «this» was. She had to; he needed her. Had never needed a person more.

He didn’t care that she would be reanimated if she…if she…he couldn’t even think the word. She hated when that happened, hated the pain that followed. Hated her loss of memories.

She would survive, he thought again. She was the missing piece of his soul, a necessary part of his soul. How he’d ever lived without her, he didn’t know. But he did know that he loved her. Loved her strength, her courage, her wit and the tender way she cared for him, so at odds with the sexy, tough-girl look of her. He loved the way she gave herself to him, her body his to do with as he pleased, inhibitions vanquished.

He had only to kiss her, and she became a live wire in his arms. No other woman had ever responded to him like that. She truly reveled in his touch and wasn’t ashamed to beg for more. She made him forget they were on a mission, made him forget that anyone or thing existed beyond the two of them.

And she had chosen him. She’d known the consequences of cutting ties with the Hunters, of becoming Amun’s woman — he’d made sure of it — but she had chosen to be with him anyway.

He wasn’t giving her up. Once, he’d thought he could. Once, he’d thought their time together would end the moment they left this realm. Wrong. He was keeping her. Now, always. Just as he’d told her.

Hot, she whimpered. Hot. Tears trickled from her closed eyelids, catching in her lashes before running down her cheeks.

She was talking inside his mind. He’d thought he’d heard her earlier, had convinced himself he was mistaken, but now there was no denying the truth. The connection was complete. The barrier that had kept her out of his head, whatever it was, had clearly been shattered. Probably because he had utterly lowered his guard the moment he’d penetrated her.

He had been defenseless against her, vulnerable, and hadn’t cared. He had welcomed her, every part of her, inside and out. He had craved an unbreakable connection, no matter the consequences, wanting no secrets between them. The good, the bad, he’d wanted to share all of it. With her and no other. Just as she had said. All, everything.

He had to save her.

Amun eased beside her and gently, so gently, lifted her in his arms. He sat with his back propped against a rocky wall and settled her on his lap. At first, she struggled against his hold, every motion probably torturing her. Then the new coolness of his skin seeped past the new burn of hers. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, moaned and cuddled against him.