Текст книги "The darkest seduction"

Автор книги: Gena Showalter

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“Answer me,” Paris snapped.

“Nope,” William said. “I don’t just plan to stare.”

A growl erupted from the warrior. They both knew he’d just implied he meant to do more.

Good. Maybe William would survive what came next, maybe he wouldn’t. “I like your shirt,” he said, directing the compliment to Sienna. “I reallylike your pants.” She wore a plain white T-shirt, dirt-smudged and torn, and baggy cargo pants. Her tennis shoes were missing laces.

“I… Thanks?” Her brows knit with her confusion.

“May I make a wardrobe suggestion, though?”

Another growl sounded from Paris before she could reply, a hand darting out and wrapping around William’s windpipe. Pinpricks of red glowed inside those ocean-blues. No, Paris’s irises were no longer blue. They were black, no difference between pupils and the rest. “Are you now implying her clothes will look better on your bedroom floor?”

So. Much. Fun.“Who, me?” He couldn’t breathe, so the words squeaked out. No, Paris did not regret coming here.

“Paris,” Sienna said, utterly calm. “I know I have no right to ask this, but will you please not kill him? I’m not a fan of the rotting body scent.”

Tighter…tighter…then the pressure eased, fell away. “Show us what you found.”

Interesting. She wielded a lotof influence. He wondered if Paris realized how much—and exactly what the warrior thought of the development. But no matter what, William assumed the plan was still of the get-rid variety. No relationship lasted without trust, and these two had not a spark of it between them. Even as Paris eyed William like a slab of beef to carve for dinner, he kept Sienna in his crosshairs, as if afraid she’d bolt, or even do a little carving of her own.

“Come on, or you’ll be ticked I didn’t show you sooner.” William turned on his heel and marched down the hallway and up another flight of stairs to the third floor. He didn’t have to look back to know the couple followed him. Paris’s booted footfalls reminded him of stampeding buffalo.

He slowed his pace and Paris came up beside him. At some point, the warrior had picked Sienna up. She was cradled in his arms, her wings tucked around her, her head resting in the hollow of his neck. Even more interesting was the fact that she hadn’t uttered a complaint.

Her gaze met William’s, steady as a rock. She frowned. “Wrath goes silent around you. He doesn’t show me any of your perceived sins. Why is that?”

Oh, no. He wasn’t veering down that conversation path. Not with a former Hunter and a dead, though brought back to life, newly possessed whatever the hell she was. “You’ll have to ask him.”

“I did.”

He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “And?”

“And he offered no response, so I decided it’s because you have to live with yourself, a punishment worse than anything Wrath could mete out.”

Miracle of miracles. The demon wasn’t tattling on him. “The answer will just have to remain a mystery, then. Oh, and a word of warning. Smart mouths really crank my chain. Keep talking dirty to me, baby.”

She rolled her eyes.

Paris inserted himself into the conversation with a hesitant, “Did he show you mine?” That he didn’t threaten William proved the depths of his uncertainty about what Wrath might have broadcast.

William had seen Paris aroused (not on purpose), playful, pissed off, blood-soaked, stubborn, drugged out, relaxed, stressed and everything in between. But he had never seen the warrior frightened. Just then, Paris was frightened, his expression haunted, his muscles knotted over bone.

“Yes,” she replied so quietly he had to strain to hear.

A taut beat of silence. “Do you want me to put you down?”

“No!” Color flooded her cheeks when she realized just how loudly she’d shouted the word. “No. I like where I am.”

From a mouse to a lioness. Adorable really, and William thought he might make a pass at her when Paris finished with her. Because, even as fierce as Paris was about her, he would let her go. Resolve had bled into the fear. Even though Paris had suspected she would not want to be touched by a man who had done the things he’d done, even though she had proven him wrong and that had to be a relief, he was determined to live without her.

“I just meant that, uh, my back hurts,” she added. “I need your support.”

“Like a good jockstrap,” William said, patting his boy on the shoulder. “But then, that’s Paris for you.”

Even with Sienna in his arms, Paris managed to give him a two-fingered salute. Mentally, of course, but William saw it all the same.

“I should have asked him to finish you off, rather than to let you go,” she muttered. Then, “Are we heading to the fifth floor?”

Ah. So she knew what was up there. “Yes.”

“Why?” Paris asked.

“You’ll see,” William replied.

Sienna opted to ruin the surprise. “Other demon-possessed immortals are up there.”

“Other demon…” Paris increased his speed, leaving William eating his dust. “Are they armed?”

“No,” she said, “but they’re trapped.”

“Show me.”

“That’s what Iwas trying to do,” William muttered as he chased after them. One day it would be nice for someone to place himfirst. Not a lover, though, and not the girl who haunted his dreams. The girl he would protect with his life now and always. She wasn’t meant for him.

His one true love would die—or kill him. It had already been foretold, and there was no other option.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CAREFUL TO KEEP HIS MIND on the situation at hand, rather than on his aching, needy body, Paris stopped in the center of the fifth-floor hallway. He was shocked by what he found. Only Sienna’s slight weight in his arms, her tropical, feminine scent in his nose, her silky hair brushing against his skin, grounded him.

Funny, that. The magnification of her drugging scent should have sent him flying straight into a round of withdrawal—or chewing at her neck. Instead, the need to protect her, even from himself, beat everything else.

There were three immortals up here, a female and two males. They stood at the back of their rooms, staring at him, making no moves toward him. He’d never met them, which meant he hadn’t locked them in Tartarus before his possession. Still, they were glaring at him. Did they know who he was? Whathe was?

I want them,Sex said.

Wow. What a shock.

A whiny I’m becoming weaker by the minutefollowed.

Believe me, I know.How he longed for the days when Sex retreated into the land of silence and led him simply through urges. Now, do me a solid and stuff it.

That’s what I’m trying to do!

Crude bastard.

Like Paris was really any better. Over the years Paris had slept with thousands of different people for thousands of different reasons, and not all of them had been about passion. He truly needed to take a woman, like, yesterday, and that’s one of the reasons he was here, to be with Sienna again. But he hadn’t so much as kissed her, even though he was desperate to do so, because he didn’t want to be with her for any reason butpassion.

Mutual desire mattered.

She desired him, yes. At least, he was pretty sure he’d caught the scent of her arousal while she’d offered to “service” him, but he’d treated her shabbily. She’d looked at him with those sad, watery eyes, hopeful for forgiveness, and he’d snapped at her.

Damn it, he didn’t want her apology or her gratitude. Didn’t want her pity, and certainly didn’t want her to want him because of his demon’s pheromones. Had he taken her up on her offer, gratitude and pity would have been in that bed with them, as well as anger, distrust and regret. He hadn’t done the ménage thing for a long time.

Maybe he should have taken what he could get, though. Waiting was kind of stupid. Case in point—his current weakness. More than that, Sienna might not give him a second chance. She might run, as he’d feared. It was just, she wasn’t like any of the other women he’d been with, and he didn’t want to treat her as if she were.

What makes her different from the others?

The question sprang from deep within him, throwing him. She was gutsy, but so were others. She was witty, but so were others. She was sometimes sweet and sometimes spicy, but again, so were others.

Mmm, spicy.

Stupid Sex. Anyway. Sienna was also guarded, yet vulnerable. Determined, yet kind. She was willing to go to any lengths to see a mission through to the very end. Just like him. She had seen visions of his past, yet had thrown no judgment his way.

Once, Paris had asked Aeron exactly what the demon revealed in regards to him. The reply had been brutal: all the hearts you’ve broken, all the tears you’ve caused.That’s what Sienna had seen and forgiven. So, yes, she was different, and he liked those differences.

She stiffened when Paris returned to the first door from the landing. That suggested there’d been conflict between her and the man inside. So, of course, Paris studied the guy intently. He was tall, muscled and glaring more fiercely than the others, as if Paris were already tagged and under a microscope. Handsome, if you were into deeply tanned skin and freaky bicolored eyes. Not that Paris was jealous or anything.

But just how much time had the guy spent with Sienna?

“That’s Cameron. He’s the keeper of Obsession,” she said with a tremble.

A tremble born of fear…or desire? I won’t ask. I won’t.With the way they’d left things in the room, and hell, with the things Paris had done since their first parting, the answer wasn’t his business.

“Has he ever touched you?” Damn. He’d asked, and with a whole lot of force.

She looked surprised. “No. The same invisible doors that keep me inside the castle keep them imprisoned in their rooms.”

Her voice. Would he ever get enough of it? His ears hummed with sensation every time she spoke. “Did you want him to touch you?” He had to stop this.

“Never!”

A beautiful reprieve. “Then he can live,” Paris muttered. He repositioned her in his arms, reached out and, yep, sure enough, there was an invisible block preventing him from entering the room.

“So you’re not going to murder him? That’s quite generous of you,” she said dryly.

Irreverent humor from her, with him, was a shocker every time. In each instance they’d been together—and granted, there weren’t many—things had been serious between them, gravely so. He liked that she now felt comfortable enough to tease him.

“I try.” He stopped at the second doorway.

“This is Púkinn, aka Irish. He’s bonded with Indifference,” she informed him.

Indifference was half man, half animal. Horned, clawed and furred. Something out of a nightmare. For real. The man beast just looked Paris up and down and turned away, as if Paris were of no importance.

At the third door, Sienna twirled the ends of her hair around her finger. “Here we have Selfishness,” she said with a hint of…anger? Or the same stinging jealousy he (hadn’t) felt?

“She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” Sienna asked.

“Yes.” The female had the same bicolored eyes as the first male, the same deeply tanned skin. She was attractive, there was no denying that, but he hungered only for the woman in his arms.

“Her name is Winter.”

“That’s great. How long have you been here?” Paris asked, looking down at Sienna instead of the immortal. Her lids were downcast, her lashes causing shadows to tumble over her cheeks. “How long have theybeen here?”

“I’ve lost track.” The pink tip of her tongue slid over her mouth, leaving a glistening sheen of moisture. “They were here first, though.”

I want to taste her. Iwill taste her.

His blood heated another degree. Get in line.

With all of Paris’s experience, he was clueless when it came to this woman. What would soften her toward him totally and completely? Not just light a fire under her sympathies, but truly seduce her? She had changed since they’d last met in Rome, but she was still just as much of a mystery to him.

That she’d cried, that she’d apologized, that she’d sounded sincere, all were far more than he’d ever unexpected from her. Try hell had just frozen overshocking. But she had, on all three counts, and she’d looked at him like she’d never looked at him before. As if he were a man worthy of affection and attention. As if he weren’t some dirty, disgusting thing on the bottom of her shoe. As if shewanted to protect him.

How the hell was he supposed to deal with that? How was he supposed to react?

Was he a fool for wanting to believe her? Hell, not wanting to, but actually doing so.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been so offended by her offer to service him. Maybe he should have just taken her up on it. He’d had her on a bed. He could have stripped her, spread her legs and pounded inside her. Her hands would have been all over him, her passion cries ringing in his ears.

He cut off a bitter laugh. He was all twisted up, confused, waffling and contradicting himself. He didn’t trust her; he trusted her. He wouldn’t touch her without passion; he’d touch her any way he could get her. And shit. Why hadn’t she run from him, despite her vow? Or was she too busy regretting her offer to service him to launch into motion?

And really, what did that mean to her? That he could take her here, now, anytime, or that she would go down on him? Don’t think about that.He’d just get hard again.

The bitter laugh escaped. Make that, just get harder. His erection had yet to dissipate, acting like a heat-seeking missile as the female immortal strolled to her doorway, her hips swaying in a totally feline way. Didn’t matter that Paris wasn’t attracted to her. His demon saw, his demon wanted.

Part of him had hoped that being in Sienna’s presence would stop this kind of thing from happening. But, no. Even though he could have her again, his demon still sought other women and always would.

I’m such a prize.No wonder she’d once hoped to slay him.

As carefully as he was able, he set Sienna on her feet. When she moved to his side, he dragged her back in front of him, pressing his erection between the curves of her ass. He hissed at the beauty of the pleasure. Pure, undiluted. Yet…

She had stiffened, he realized. At least she didn’t jump away, and she didn’t chastise him. Eventually, she even softened against him, as if she was exactly where she wanted to be. Well, hell. She must have feared he’d set her away from him, rebuffing her, and that’s why she’d gone board-rigid—and why she’d relaxed when he hadn’t. Talk about an ego boost. He wanted to beat his chest King Kong–style.

“Tell me what you know about them,” he said, barely stopping his hands from flattening on her stomach, burrowing under the waist of her pants and seeking the warm, wet heart of her.

“About who?” the immortal in front of him asked. “And who the hell are you?”

One question answered, at least. They didn’t know him, either. “Wasn’t talking to you,” he said.

The female splayed her arms. “Then who? You’re alone.”

“Like hell I’m—”

“They can’t see me,” Sienna interjected. “I’ve listened to some of their conversations, and that’s how I know who and what they are.” As she spoke, her stomach growled.

The sound gave him the excuse he needed. He moved his hands to her belly and rubbed. “Hungry?”

“Yes.”

Then he would feed her. He would like that, he thought. Would like knowing he was fulfilling at least one of her needs. “What do you eat?” What couldshe eat?

“I don’t. And it’s only recently, within the last few weeks, that I’ve developed an appetite.” She covered his hands with her own, her skin growing clammy. “Cronus brings me a glass of something sweet once a week. He forgot this time.”

A glass of something sweet. Sweet. Sweet.The word echoed in his mind, an answer to one of his earlier questions sliding into place. Hisstomach bottomed out as he said, “Is it transparent, with tiny purple beads floating inside?”

“Yes.” Her neck craned, allowing her to look up at him, and he watched as her brow wrinkled. “How’d you know?”

That bastard!Paris kept the curse inside his head and his expression neutral. “Does it taste like coconut, this liquid?” he asked, ignoring her question.

“Yes. But again, how did you know? Do you know what it is? He’s never told me.”

Yeah, he knew what it was, and now understood why she smelled as delicious as ambrosia. Cronus had done more than enslave her. He had condemned her. And he would pay. Oh, would he pay.

For better or for worse, though, vengeance would have to wait. Cronus liked to visit Torin, keeper of Disease, and have the computer genius find things for him. Currently he wanted cell locations for the Hunters, and had given orders for the Lords not to attack. Torin was giving him the info, all right, but only a piece at a time, as per Paris’s request, keeping the king busy traveling back and forth between the heavens and earth as he stalked his prey and did whatever he did to them. That way, he had little time for Sienna. But “little” had been too much.

I should have gotten here sooner.There was no way to fix the damage that had been done to Sienna. There was no cure for what ailed her. Paris would have to tell her, have to prepare her for what would happen when she was out of here and on her own. Not now, though. She would be upset, and rightly so. More than that, he wanted to first taste her blood to be sure.

“Yo. Dude. Who the hell are you talking to?” the immortal demanded. “Don’t make me ask again.”

“Or you’ll what?” he snapped. “Flip me off? Call me names?”

Winter opened her mouth to respond, and judging by the fire in her eyes, the words would scorch, but then her gaze shifted to Paris’s right and her lips pursed in disapproval.

Oh, goodie. William had just decided to throw himself into the convo.

“You again,” she said, and she did not sound happy.

“I know,” the warrior replied with a heartfelt sigh. “You’re so lucky to see me twice in one day. You’re honored by my presence, yada, yada, heard it all before. Let’s just move on, shall we. I don’t handle fawning very well.”

She flashed a scowl full of fangs, and Paris did a double take. Fangs? She was a vampire? He knew such creatures existed, knew William liked to bed them, but he’d never met one himself.

“They’re not going anywhere, and Sienna’s hungry,” he said. “Let’s find the kitchen. I—”

Suddenly the immortal female stumbled backward, landed on her ass. Her skin leached of color, and as she crawled farther and farther from the doorway, her gaze began moving throughout her chamber. She was babbling about shadows and pain. The same babbles erupted from the other doorways.

Sienna dug her nails into Paris’s arm, a great shuddering wave moving through her. “No. No, no, no.”

“What?” The panic spread into him. He forced her to turn, to face him. “What’s going on?”

“They’re coming.” Her eyes filled with horror as she peered up at him.

“Who is?”

“The shadows. The pain.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I think I do,” William said, all hint of teasing and self-praise gone. “And if I’m right, we’re in trouble, Paris.” Never had he sounded more solemn. “Hold on to your girl, because I’m not sure how many of us will be walking away from this.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“WHERE’S MY WOMAN! My…woman…need…her…”

Viola watched as the hulking black-haired giant tore down the other half of the entertainment room. The TV, pool table and an odd assortment of other things had been destroyed already. So had everything in the room next door, and the room next to that one. She knew because Maddox had busted down the walls between them, giving her a clear view into the other side of the fortress. Only rubble remained.

The other warriors jumped on the giant, again, knocking and pinning him down. Still he fought, screaming viler curses than she’d ever heard, even from the prisoners locked in Tartarus. Last time, his friends had lost their hold on him. This time, they managed to keep him there. Still, she was kind of scared, a foreign emotion for her.

“Where is she? I have to find her!”

The last word left him, and he just sort of collapsed into the mess, sobbing so hard his ribs had to be cracking. Tears filled her own eyes, but she blinked them back. He wanted his wife back, the loss of her destroying him.

“We’ll find her,” someone said.

“She and the babies will be unharmed.”

“Be at ease, friend.”

The warriors spoke calmly, but even she heard the tension and doubt in their voices. Maddox cried harder.

Viola felt like a voyeur. She felt useless. There was too much emotion here, too much loss, and she’d never handled this kind of thing well.

“Stay calm, we all have to stay calm.”

“We’ll have answers soon, and we can head out.”

“Just a few minutes more.”

“He has her,” Maddox managed to say between shudders. “That bastard has her. I don’t know where to look. There’s no sign…nothing… Just the feather, just the feather.”

One by one the warriors released him, and inched backward. Maddox stayed down by choice, his hand moving over his face to shield his eyes from the too-bright light overhead. How deeply he must love his woman and their unborn babies. Viola had suspected when she’d watched them together earlier, but seeing thisproved she hadn’t realized the limitless depths.

“We’ll go hunting,” Cameo said, speaking up for the first time since they’d heard Ashlyn scream and Maddox roar.

Viola wished the female warrior hadn’t spoken then, either, and had to rub her chest to ward off the ache Cameo’s shattering voice always left behind.

“Tonight,” the one named Reyes growled. There was a deep gouge in his neck, blood dripping from it. “No later.”

“We managed to get hold of Amun, and he’s on his way back to Buda.” Strider, the fiercest in the room, was actually trembling. His gaze kept returning to his wife, who stood a few feet away with her sister, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was here and well. “He’ll learn something. Point us in the right direction.”

“And if not him, Lucien will handle this,” Anya said, ever the proud girlfriend. Lucien had taken off to track Galen’s spiritual trail.

“Galen wouldn’t dare hurt Ashlyn or the babies.” Haidee, Amun’s girlfriend, paced back and forth, back and forth, too agitated to remain in one place.

“Gideon and Scarlet are coming home with Amun. Scarlet can tell you if the babies are still…still…” Aeron scrubbed a hand over his closely shaved scalp. He was supposed to be with the others, searching for Kane, but had remained behind for some reason no one would tell her.

Viola hadn’t been here long, but she’d memorized the warriors’ names, faces, demons and abilities. Scarlet was the keeper of Nightmares and by entering the dream world, she could search for a specific person’s mental doorway. A closed doorway meant they were asleep. An open doorway meant they were dreaming. No doorway at all meant they were dead. But Maddox and Ashlyn were bonded, one destined to die when the other died, so no one had to wonder about her. The babies, however… Don’t go there.Scarlet could also murder people while they dreamed, killing them in real life. Perhaps Galen would take his last breath tonight. Then again, perhaps not. If Scarlet could enter his dreams, she would have done so already, but Viola guessed that something blocked her.

I could take him.

Enough of that,she thought with a scowl. Once she hopped on the train to self-love, there was no turning back.

She concentrated. The warriors. Yes. They didn’t trust her, and she was a little surprised they hadn’t turned on her, blaming her for this catastrophe. She was the stranger, after all, and the kidnapping had happened soon after her arrival. But then Olivia, the angel who’d made them relax about her presence the first time around, had said Viola wasn’t responsible in any way, and they’d all believed her without question.

Besides Olivia, Scarlet, Anya, the still-pacing Haidee and Danika, who had her arm around a girl named Gilly, there were two Harpies, half-sisters Gwen and Kaia. Gwen belonged to Sabin, and Kaia to Strider. The pair had their heads together as they whispered. Galen was Gwen’s father, and, if Viola’s superior hearing was on target—and it always was—Gwen planned to hunt him down herself, crack open his ribs and rip out his black, rotted heart. Just her little way of making up for the lenience she’d once shown him.

“That Torin guy didn’t get any recordings of Galen?” Viola asked, recalling his wall of computers and monitors.

No one looked her way or paid her any attention.

Her demon scraped sharp, pointed horns against the inside of her temples, and she bit back a moan. Ignoring her was the fastest way to gain Narci’s attention. And when Narci’s attention was locked…oh, stars above. Trouble followed. Always. Viola didn’t want her other half intruding on this heartbreaking event, determined to make everything about her.

“No, there are no recordings,” a soft, gentle voice said from beside her.

With a gasp, she spun. She hadn’t heard anyone approach, but now a tall, slender female with long, blond hair was at her side. The girl looked fragile…haunted. Pain consumed those dark eyes. More pain than any one person should ever have to bear. She watched Maddox, a tear streaking down her pale cheek.

Viola thought she’d interacted with everyone in the house, but this girl was new. She had a blanket draped around her, the material clutched tight to her chest, her knuckles without a shred of color. “Did you talk to him? To Torin?”

The girl’s chin was trembling too violently for her to speak; she shook her head.

“Then how do you know about the recordings? Better question—who are you?”

More tears tumbled. They had to burn, because whatever path they traveled, they left red welts behind. “I’m…I’m Legion.” Such a soft, soft whisper.

Legion. Ah, yes. Once a demon who had made a deal with the devil. The devil that granted her a human body. A deal she’d lost, forcing her to return to hell, where she was tortured in the vilest of ways, raped, abused, passed around and tortured some more.

Viola looked at the girl. Really looked at her, the way only she could. Past skin, past bone, and into soul. Legion was dying. Actually, some part of her was already dead. Her will to live had been obliterated. She was a brittle leaf hanging on by the thinnest thread, the next cold wind all that was needed to pull her loose and finally send her tumbling away.

By nature of her birth, Viola could be that wind. All she need do was reach out, curl her fingers around Legion’s wrist and draw her close. Not usually so simple, and not usually so easy; but then, willingness made all the difference. A deep breath in, and there would be nothing remaining of Legion’s soul. She would cease to exist on every level.

Perhaps Viola had stared a bit too long or a bit too intently because Legion began to quake, shifting from one foot to the other, and then, when that wasn’t enough, inching away.

“I won’t hurt you,” Viola said.

Legion stopped as if she’d shouted. Poor, broken girl. A china doll already shattered. She drew the blanket closer, trying to fold herself within and hide.

“Lucien.” Anya’s relief was palpable, filling the room after the keeper of Death appeared.

Viola turned, watching as the minor goddess threw herself in her man’s arms. He hugged her with unyielding strength, their love a tangible thing. Once again Viola’s chest ached. She wanted that. Wanted that so badly she would kill to have it. But, of course, she could never have that. She was destined to love herself, and only herself.

Everyone else in the room quieted, waiting to hear what the warrior had to say, so tense their bodies were ready to snap. The scarred warrior looked them over, opened his mouth, closed it.

“Just say it,” Maddox commanded. He’d worked his way to his feet, was checking the clip on one of his guns. “Tell me what you learned.”

Lips compressed, Lucien gave the room another sweep. This time he stopped on Legion, who had bravely eked her way back to Viola’s side. “Legion, sweetheart,” he said, his tone so gentle he could have been talking to a child locked in a closet, afraid a monster waited under her bed, “go on up to your room. This isn’t for you. All right? Okay?”

After everyone turned to face her, and she had wilted under the attention, she spun and ran away. Several agonizing heartbeats passed before Maddox broke.

“Tell me. Now.”

Lucien drew Anya deeper into his body. “Galen didn’t try to hide. He knew I would follow his trail, and so he waited for me to catch up. Ashlyn wasn’t with him,” he added as Maddox opened his mouth to say something. “He said I would no longer be able to follow him, that I’d found him only because he’d let me get that far. And he was right. Afterward, I tried. I failed. I’m sorry.”

“Tell me!” Maddox had stashed his gun and now clutched two blades. One of them he held by its body rather than by its hilt, and his palm had already sliced open. He didn’t seem to notice as blood dripped, dripped. “Finish it.”

A stiff nod. Lucien looked as if the words were being jerked out of him, and the jerking hurt. “He said she’s safe, for now, and that he’ll send you a video of her to prove it. He said…he said…if we want her back alive, we’ll trade Legion for her.”

Viola wasn’t sure anyone else heard the gasp and frantic footfalls beyond that shattered wall, but she did. And she knew. Legion hadn’t gone up to her room. She’d hung back and listened. Now, though, she was at last running for her chamber, no doubt seeking sanctuary between its walls.

The warriors argued, words shooting between them with rapid-fire precision.

“Where does he want to meet? When?” Maddox.

“Rome. The Temple of the Unspoken Ones. Tomorrow. Midnight.” Lucien.

“Take me there. Now.” Maddox.

“Be sensible about this.” Strider. “Those bastards are hard-core, and if they’re on his side—”

“I don’t care! Get that through your heads. I don’t care about anything but my woman and my children. And you willtake me there, and I willhunt him down, and when I find him I willkill him. Do you hear me? Take me to that island. You have five seconds to flash me or I’m catching the red-eye, and there’s no one in this world or the other that can help the mortals who get in my way.”

Deciding not to wait for Lucien’s reply, Viola snuck out of the room. No one noticed, and that once again pricked at Narci.