The Darkest Whisper

CHAPTER 13

Sabin carried Gwen to the large bed in his room and snuggled her against him. Neither of them said a word as they watched the night sky give way to dawn through the room’s only window. They lay there, naked, intertwined, each stiff and strained and lost in their own thoughts.

“What happened to sleeping on the floor?” Gwen finally asked him, breaking the silence.

“I never actually fell asleep. Technically I didn’t break my word.”

“True.”

After that, silence enveloped them again. But again, neither slumbered.

He’d expected her to drift easily; there were bruises under her eyes, more prominent than ever, and he’d seen her yawn earlier. But once again, she surprised him. She pretended to sink into oblivion once or twice, but she never actually fell.

He knew why he couldn’t relax: his demon was crazed inside his mind, more desperate than ever to reach her, to hurt her. To make her question everything that had happened between them. Just as it had done to all the others before her. Women who had either left him or killed themselves.

I should leave before something like that happens. The moment he thought it, denial roared through him, sharp and cutting, as if it had teeth, and all the reasons he should stay popped into his head. One, Paris could come looking for him and stumble upon her, then seduce her. Promiscuity just couldn’t help himself. Two, a Hunter could escape from the dungeon, grab her and bolt. Three, she could begin to regret what they’d done in the shower and bolt on her own.

All excellent reasons. But they weren’t the reason he ended up settling more deeply into the feathered mattress. Gwen felt too soft and warm against him, smelled too delicious, like lemons, his favorite, and kept uttering wanton little sighs he yearned to swallow.

Already he wanted her again. Wanted all of her this time. Wanted to sink in and out of her, pounding softly, then hard and harsh, a never-ending rhythm that would bind them together. No woman had ever aroused him so thoroughly, tasted so sublime, fit his body so perfectly. And none had ever clutched him with such abandon, bit him, drawn blood and had him panting for more.

Even though he hadn’t sealed the deal, they’d both found release. He’d suspected once would never be enough, and he’d been right.

Hearing her cries in his ears had been sweeter than pumping inside another woman. And that skin…it was like a drug for the eyes. One glance, and you had to have another, and another. Looking away was painful, the desire to look again a constant urge.

She probably hates you now, probably wants nothing to do with you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she thought about her human boyfriend while you kissed her and that’s why she was so passionate. Didn’t she tell you he was in her thoughts? Clearly the human is everything she wants for her life. You are not.

Sabin’s arm tightened around Gwen, squeezing, and she expelled a pained puff of air. Instantly he forced his grip to loosen, and placed a block on his mind to silence his demon. There’d been no thoughts of the ex-boyfriend, emphasis on ex; he was sure of it, and neither Doubt nor Gwen’s own earlier words would convince him otherwise. It had been Sabin’s name Gwen had called. Doubt was surly, that was all, and lashing out at him, desperate for a target. At least, like him, Gwen could distinguish the demon from her own insecurities.

“Can we stop pretending to relax like happy lovers now?” Gwen asked suddenly, once again cutting through the quiet.

He sighed, dislodging several strands of her hair and causing them to dance over his chest, tickling the skin. If only they were happy lovers. No demon, no Harpy, no war, just two people enjoying their time together.

Sabin blinked, the thought completely foreign to him. Never, in all his thousands of years, had he wished to be anything other than what he was. An immortal warrior. Powerful, extraordinary, eternal. Yes, he’d made a mistake, helping the other Lords steal and open Pandora’s box. And yes, he’d been kicked from the heavens and suffered constantly because of the demon inside him. But it was a suffering he accepted and deserved. A suffering he willingly endured because it made him stronger than he’d ever been while serving Zeus. So why wish otherwise now?

“Yes, we can stop pretending. We can even talk. And by talk, of course I mean I’ll ask the questions and you’ll answer them. Let’s begin now, shall we? You never sleep. Why?”

“Bossy baggage,” she muttered. “For your information, I don’t need to sleep.” In a fluid move she must have been waiting hours to perform, she rolled to her back so that only their shoulders touched. He’d noticed that usually she wanted all the contact she could get. What had changed?

Didn’t matter, he supposed. After Darla, he’d promised himself he’d always keep his distance from the females he found himself attracted to. For eleven years, he had. Now Gwen was helping him with that. There was a definite spark of irritation in his chest at the thought that she had been the one to get them back on track.

“You refused to eat though you were hungry. You refused to shower though you were dirty. Not for one moment do I believe your body—” your luscious body “—needs no rest.”

Is he saying that because you resemble the walking dead? Because you appear tired, worn out, haggard?

Sabin heard the degrading thought leave him and drift to Gwen, unable to stop it.

A moment later, she stiffened. “Your demon is a bastard.”

“Yes.” And you had better shut up, you rotten piece of shit. You’ve already been warned. Remember the box?

There was a heavy pause, then an aggravated growl of acceptance.

“Well?” she gasped out. “Do I?”

Resemble the walking dead? Hardly. “You are the loveliest woman I’ve ever beheld.” Truth. And it didn’t even bother him that he sounded like Lucien when the warrior spouted pretty nonsense to Anya. Nonsense Sabin had always rolled his eyes at.

“I don’t believe you.” Gwen shifted to her side, peering over at him and tucking her hand under her cheek. “You have to say I’m pretty.”

“Yeah, because I’m a gentleman,” he said dryly. He, too, shifted to his side so that he could meet her gaze. Those exotic curls framed her face and delicate shoulders, her dazzling skin catching the red hue and making her look deliciously flushed. “You think it can be said that I’m always polite, never want to hurt anyone’s feelings and spout sweet lies because I like the people around me to be docile? Oh, and if I do accidentally insult someone, because I’d never do it on purpose, I absolutely refuse to take what I want from them by force?”

Lush lips twitched into a half smile—lips he’d kissed, sucked and nibbled—and her eyes swirled hypnotically. Eyes he’d nearly drowned in. Seeing that smile Sabin experienced an instant, unwanted hard-on, immensely grateful for the sheet that covered his lower half. And he was supposed to be the dangerous one in this relationship, he mused darkly.

Not a relationship, self-preservation piped up. He wouldn’t let it be anything more than a business transaction. He would convince her to fight for him, protect her from his friends while she did so, and when the war was at last over he would stop thinking about her, stop lusting for her.

“Maybe you don’t care about other people’s feelings, but you do want my help. You’re trying to butter me up like toast.”

“You’ll agree to fight the Hunters whether I butter you up or not,” he said, striving for a confident tone. It was a confidence he didn’t feel, but had to believe in. He could accept no less. “Need I remind you that you’ve already promised to help?”

Tired of lying dormant, Doubt pounced. She nearly faints at the sight of blood. Help you fight? I think not!

“You will,” he reiterated for the demon, for himself.

“I don’t mind helping you with the clerical aspects of your campaign. Like researching on the Internet and filing paperwork. If you keep records of your, uh, kills, I could be in charge of that. I could even research those artifacts you’re looking for. That’s what I did before I was abducted. I worked in an office, taking notes, fact-checking, that sort of thing. And I was damn good at it.”

Never had he heard more pride in someone’s tone. But was she proud of her work or her ability to fit into the normal world?

“And you liked this work?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“You weren’t bored?” The real question was, how had her Harpy handled the monotony? Sabin considered Gwen’s dark side very much like his own, a driving force, a curse, a sickness, but a part of her that craved excitement and danger. A part of her that grew twitchy if ignored for too long.

“Well, maybe a little,” she admitted, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

He almost laughed. He’d place money on the fact that she’d been bored out of her freaking mind. “I’ll pay you for your aid,” he said, recalling Anya’s words about the Harpies’ need to steal or earn their food. He wanted her in the field, fighting, but wouldn’t mind using her for research, as well. At least at first. “Name what you want and it’s yours.”

Several minutes passed in silence before she said, “I’m drawing a blank. I’ll have to think about it.”

“There’s nothing you want?”

“No.”

Knowing how badly he craved victory, she could have asked him for anything, the moon and the stars even. Yet she couldn’t think of a single thing. Odd. Most people would toss out an astronomical sum and bargain from there. He wondered what sort of thing was prized among her people. Money? Jewels? “What do your sisters do for a living?”

Her lips pressed together in a thin line.

What was this? She didn’t want to tell him or she didn’t like what they did? “Hookers?” he guessed, not just to get a rise out of her but also to test how far he could push her before the Harpy began demanding his head on a platter.

She gasped, slapped him, then jerked her hand back quickly, as if she couldn’t believe she’d done such a thing. Afraid he’d retaliate for such a puny action? Silly girl.

“You deserved to be hit, so I won’t apologize. They aren’t hookers.”

“Killers?”

No gasp. No slap. A simple narrowing of her eyes, lashes fusing together. Bingo.

“They’re mercenaries.” Not a question. What amazing luck.

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. “They are.”

Sabin wanted to laugh. If one Harpy could destroy an entire army, what could four do? He could pay for their services. He had the money, no matter their price.

“I see the wheels turning in your head.” Her free hand drummed the pillow cushioning her own head. “But you should know that they love me and won’t take a job if I ask them to turn it down.”

Now his eyes narrowed, probing. She wore an innocent expression, if edged with tendrils of anger. “Is that a threat, darling?”

“Take it however you wish. I don’t want them fighting those despicable Hunters for any reason.”

“Why? Like you said, they’re despicable. Evil. They would have found a way to drug you into a stupor, rape you and steal your baby if I hadn’t saved you. You should be begging your sisters to fight them.”

“You’ve already tortured them for what they did to me and the others.” The words rasped from her.

“And that’s enough for you? When someone hurts me, I want to be the one to hurt them back. I want to make sure it’s done right. Didn’t you feel some satisfaction when you tore the throat out of—”

“Yes, okay. Yes. But allowing someone else to do it has to be enough. Otherwise I’ll spend my life hunting them, killing them, never really living.” Her nostrils were flared, her chest heaving. With every inhalation, the sheet slipped and revealed the top of a pink nipple. He had to force himself to look away before he ended their conversation.

Was she saying his life was empty? Well, it wasn’t. It was full, damn it. “Better to live a life of hunting and killing than to bury yourself in fear.”

She raised her palm as if she meant to strike him once more. She was shaking, the muted anger she’d radiated before now a red-hot fury. He’d finally pushed her hard enough. The Harpy was there, in her eyes.

“Do it,” he told her. It would be good for her. Show her that she could lash out and he wouldn’t break. He hoped.

Slowly her hand lowered; the shaking ceased. With a deep breath, her eyes returned to normal. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Like me to be like you? Well, it’s not going to happen. No one would survive if it did. No one. Not even my sisters.”

He caught the hidden meaning and arched a brow. “Fought them and hurt them, have you?”

A reluctant nod. “I was just a child and they were merely playing with me, taunting me as sisters do. I erupted and tore them up pretty badly.”

“I thought you said they were stronger than you.”

“They are. They can control who they kill, even while fully Harpy. That is true strength.”

He thought about it a moment, tangling a hand back and forth through his hair. “I bet I could take your Harpy. I mean, like your sisters, I’m immortal and heal quickly.” Yeah, he remembered what she’d done to the Hunter and yeah, he remembered how swiftly she’d moved. But why had he counted himself out before, even for a moment? He had brute force, thousands of years of experience and a determination matched by few. As long as she didn’t take his head, he’d recover.

“You’re an idiot.” She must not have realized what she’d said until a few seconds later because she froze as the words echoed off the walls.

“Nothing you say will provoke me enough to hurt you,” he told her, torn between tenderness and exasperation.

Gradually she relaxed, but the tension between them remained.

“Do you regret what happened in the shower?” he asked, in part to turn the conversation in another direction and in part, well, because his curiosity demanded to be assuaged. She’d just made it very clear that she didn’t like what he was or what he did.

“Yes,” she replied, cheeks heating.

No hesitation from her, and that seriously irritated him. “Why? You liked every moment of it.”

Hadn’t she?

His hands curled into fists, the bones suddenly brittle. That damn Doubt. But he feared that for once the insecurity was his own, not the demon spreading its poison.

Her gaze skittered away from him. “It was okay, I guess.”

He popped his jaw. It was okay. She guessed. She fucking guessed. By gods, he’d give her another demonstration. He’d kiss her, every inch of her this time, just the way he wanted. He’d dance his tongue between her legs, bite her, finger her, make her beg for his cock and then, only then, would he give it to her. He’d flip her to her stomach, grip her hips and—

Make love to her if he continued down this path. Mistake, mistake, mistake. Worth it, though, he thought next. There’d be no stopping him, and she’d love every minute of it. He’d pump inside her, spill his seed, deep and hot, and—

Again hear her tell you it was okay. She guessed. Doubt laughed, and in that moment the demon actually respected her.

“It was more than okay, but we’ll table that discussion until later.” Sabin hopped from the bed, unabashed as the sheet fell away, leaving him bared to her gaze. Suddenly shy, she slapped a hand over her eyes. But if he wasn’t mistaken, she was peeking through her fingers. He could feel the heat of those eyes, the smoldering desire.

He stalked to the closet. After weaponing up as was his custom—if fifteen blades strapped to his ankles, wrists, waist and back was being too careful, then give him the Too Careful award—he tugged on a pair of jeans and an I’ll See You in the Afterlife T-shirt.

He grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a plain white tee and tossed them at Gwen. “Get up, get dressed.”

“Why?” She sat up, hair tumbling around her, and gathered the clothing.

“You’re going to call your sisters.” Time to get that little chore over with. “Anya told me a bit about your culture, and if you’re afraid they’ll try and harm you for allowing yourself to be captured, don’t be. I won’t let them.” He didn’t give her time to respond. “When you’re done with the call, we’re going downstairs to eat. And you will eat, Gwen. That’s an order.” There’d be none of that only eating what she stole nonsense. He might have considered leaving things lying around so she’d feel like she’d stolen them, but he wasn’t in the mood to placate her now.

“After that,” he continued, “I need to call all the men together for a meeting, tell them what I’ve learned about the Hunters. You’ll sit in on that, too. Because you’re part of this now.”

Her chin rose stubbornly. “I’m not one of your men to order around.”

“If you were one of my men, I’d be ashamed of my thoughts right now.” His gaze lowered, lingering on her breasts, her stomach…between her legs. He spun on his heel before he could do what he really wanted and stalk to her, cover her and penetrate her. “Now hurry up.”

There was a long pause, then a swoosh of material, a bounce of the bed, a sigh. “Okay. I’m ready.” She sounded resigned.

Once more Sabin faced her—and stopped breathing. Just like before, the clothing bagged on her. Now that she was clean, however, the white cotton caused her skin to gleam like a pearl. His mouth watered for a taste; a single lick would suffice. Would have to suffice, he thought, entranced, already walking to her, reaching out.

What the hell are you doing? Snap out of it, asshole! He stopped abruptly, teeth grinding. It took a moment for him to gather his wits and recall what he’d wanted her to do. When he did, he crossed the room to his dresser and swiped up his cell. There was a missed call and a text message. He scrolled the menu. The call had come from Kane. The text…Kane, as well. The warrior was spending the day in town but said to call if he was needed and he would rush home. It was a miracle that Kane had been able to use his phone twice in a row without frying it to hell.

After Sabin cleared the screen, he threw the phone at Gwen. She missed.

“Start dialing,” he told her.

GWEN LIFTED THE PHONE with a trembling hand, tears burning her eyes. The entire year of her imprisonment, she’d wanted to do this, had needed to hear her sisters’ voices. But she was still ashamed about what had happened to her and still didn’t want them to know.

“It’s morning here, so it’s nighttime in Alaska,” she said. “Perhaps I should wait.”

Sabin showed no mercy. “Dial.”

“But—”

“I don’t understand your reluctance. You love them. You want them here, even made it a condition of your staying with me.”

“I know.” She traced her finger over the glowing numbers on the little black device. Her guilt was returning. Guilt for making her beloved sisters wait for news of her—or, if they didn’t know she’d been taken, simple contact from her.

“Will they blame you for what happened? Want to punish you? I told you I wouldn’t let them.”

“No.” Maybe. What she did know was that they’d demand Sabin allow them to join his war, just as he wanted. They’d want Hunter ass on a platter, served raw and fresh. But if they were injured because of Gwen…she’d hate herself forever and still another eternity.

“Call,” Sabin said.

Get over yourself, she thought. With a sigh, she dialed Bianka’s number. Of the three, Bianka was the most kindhearted. And by kindhearted, Gwen meant that Bianka would toss a glass of water at the person she’d just lit on fire.

Three rings later, her sister answered. “I have no idea who is calling me from this number but you had better haul ass or—”

“Hey, Bianka.” Her stomach clenched painfully, the voice so hauntingly familiar and so well loved the tears that had been burning her eyes finally spilled over, rushing down her cheeks. “It’s me.”

There was a pause, an inhalation of breath. “Gwennie? Gwennie, is that you?”

She swiped at her cheeks with the back of her wrist, very aware of Sabin’s hot gaze on her, practically eating her up. What was he thinking? Warrior that he was, her show of weakness—more weakness, that is—probably disgusted him. And that was a good thing. Really. They’d kissed and touched in the shower and she’d been ready to go further, take more, take all, give all, despite the kind of man he was and the things he’d said to her, the things he would ultimately do to her.

“Hey, you still there? Gwennie? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Yep, it’s me. The one and only,” she finally replied.

“My gods, girl. Do you know how long it’s been?”

Twelve months, eight days, seventeen minutes and thirty-nine seconds. “I have an inkling. So how are you?”

“Better, now that I’ve heard from you, but pissed as hell. You are gonna pay big-time when Taliyah finds you. A while back we called your phone, you know, to say hi and threaten to bitch slap you if you didn’t come home. No answer. So we called Tyson. He said you had moved out and he didn’t know how to reach you. We searched and searched, all over the damn world, but no luck. Finally we paid Tyson a personal visit and he told us you’d been taken against your will.”

“Did you torture him?” She wasn’t mad at him, didn’t want him hurt. He’d merely been protecting himself, something she understood.

“Well…maybe a little. Not our fault, though. He wasted precious time.”

She moaned; then she pictured Bianka, black hair twisted around her head, amber eyes glowing, red lips lifted in a wicked smile, and she couldn’t help but grin. “He’s alive, though. Yes?”

“Please, girl. As if we’d lower ourselves to kill that puny little shit. I never knew what you saw in him.”

“Good. He didn’t know where I was. Not really.”

“Who took you, anyway? What’d you do to them to punish them, huh, huh? They are dead, right? Tell me they’re dead, baby girl.”

“I’ll, uh, get to that.” Truth. “Some other time.” Again, truth. “Listen,” she added before Bianka could probe too deeply, “I’m currently in Budapest, but I want to see you guys. I miss you.” There at the end, her voice cracked.

“Then come home.” Bianka had never pleaded for anything—that Gwen knew of—but she sounded ready to beg just then. “We want you home. Not knowing where you were nearly destroyed us. Mom moved out months ago ’cause we wouldn’t stop pestering her about you, so you don’t have to worry about the cold-shoulder treatment.”

That she’d kept them waiting longer than necessary…guilt rose again, hotter than before, and Gwen tumbled straight into a shame spiral. I did this. I did this to my strong, proud sister. “I don’t care about Mom.” And she didn’t. Not really. They’d never been close. “But you’re going to have to come to me. I’m with the, uh, Lords of the Underworld, and they’d like to meet you. You know, they’re the guys that are—”

“Demon-possessed?” Bianka whooped with excitement, then grew suddenly somber. “What are you doing with them? Are they the ones who took you?” There was murder in her tone.

“No. No. They’re the good guys.”

“Good guys?” She laughed. “Well, whatever they are, they aren’t your usual bag o’ fun. Unless your personality has undergone a huge overhaul this past year and a half?”

Not really. “Just…will you come?”

No hesitation. “We’re on our way, baby girl.”