The Darkest Pleasure (14 page)

The Hunters had vowed to help her find her family, protect
them. But they were mortals, humans like herself. They hated Reyes and the other Lords, wanted vengeance against them and would do anything for victory. Even mow her down if she got in their way, she suspected.

They had asked for her help, for her to enter this fortress and collect information. So far, she had not lived up to her vow to help them. There hadn’t been time, and she hadn’t had the inclination. Reyes had distracted her.

Now he was asking her to switch sides completely and trust the enemy.

“Do you agree?” he demanded.

“I agree,” she said, but she wasn’t sure she spoke truthfully. She had a phone briefing scheduled with Stefano tonight, and she would do whatever was necessary, use
anyone,
to find her family. To keep them safe, she would have every single one of Reyes’s friends killed if necessary.

And ruin Ashlyn’s life. Anya’s, too.
Her stomach churned with sickness. God, the equation worsened with every hour that passed.

She’d already proven she couldn’t destroy Reyes.

And that was okay. He wouldn’t hurt her family. Or would he? If she conspired against his friends, he could very easily morph from sweet protector to murderous demon. Which meant he would have to die, as well.

Damn it!

“You will not betray us, even if your loved ones are gone?” he pressed her.

Were her intentions flashing all over her face? She closed her eyes. “I agree, okay?” she said again, and this time the words were choked. The coming days might prove to be the worst of her life, dashing her hopes, ruining her family…and devastating this man she both wanted and feared.

Reyes nodded soberly. “Then let’s do this.”

“H
AVEN’T WE DONE THIS BEFORE
?”

“Didn’t work out last time,” Reyes said. He was standing inside the cell as he had yesterday, but Aeron noted his old friend remained a safe distance away. “I thought we’d try again.”

“No. I think you’ve returned for more.” Aeron stared at Reyes, who looked every bit the warrior primed for battle. When didn’t he, though? “I think you liked my hands on you.”

A muscle ticked below each of Reyes’s dark eyes.

“A few years ago I asked if I could whip you, beat you.
Something.
I would have stabbed you, even. I didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to hurt you any more than you wanted to kill Maddox each night, but I knew you needed the pain so I was willing. I loved you enough.”

“And I loved you enough to say no. Remember that?”

Aeron ignored the question, because he
did
remember. Thinking of it could deflate him. He petted Legion’s bald head when the creature settled on his lap, saying, “I’m still willing to help you. If you want to hurt, give me your woman.” He laughed, even as fury clouded his friend’s face. “One slice, that’s all it will take. She’ll fall, and your heart will literally break. Pain for eternity will be yours. My gift to you. You can thank me later.”

The tip of Reyes’s tongue slid over his teeth. A show of aggression. Well, a
need
for aggression. Yet Reyes remained in place. Unlike Aeron and Maddox, he rarely erupted. He was a
man who waited, then struck when his enemy least expected it. “You’ve changed. Once you were desperate to let her go. What happened?”

“I simply realized I cannot win against the bloodlust. I’ve given myself to it, and I’ve never been happier,” he said.

“Liar. You hate what you are. I know you do.” Reyes sighed when Aeron didn’t respond. “Tell me where her family is. Please.”

Aeron turned his wrist, his hand never leaving Legion as he rattled the chains that bound him. “Free me.”

Reyes’s expression was tortured, but not in the usual way. He appeared torn apart by pain—pain for once he did not like. “You know I can’t let you go.”

“I know you
won’t.
”

Bleak, Reyes nodded. “You’re right. I won’t.”

“Then you have your answer. You won’t, I won’t.”

Legion slithered around him, and two small hands were soon whispering over Aeron’s back. They were scaled yet smooth. Worshipping. Massaging his muscles to loosen them. When he gained the desired results, the creature eased to a stand. His chest pressed against Aeron’s shoulders, and he peeked over at Reyes. His lips smacked hungrily.

“Not yet,” Aeron told him. He didn’t understand why the little demon liked him and not the others, but he accepted it as fact. He didn’t understand why the demon had followed him here, but he was glad. For some reason, he needed the creature. Legion calmed him as no one else had been able, quieting Wrath, muting the bloodlust, keeping him aware. Except when Lucien and Reyes had come to take him away from the cave. Then, Aeron had gone crazy.

He’d been so close to escape. Legion had been eating through flesh, about to eat through bone, when the fiend had sensed the warriors’ impending arrival and disappeared. Only to reappear here later when all had settled.

“Do you know where the women are?” Reyes asked, probably unaware Legion was picturing him splayed on a silver platter, knife and fork optional. “Tell me that, at least.”

Oh, Aeron knew where the women were. He knew every damned second of every damned day. The knowledge taunted him constantly, laughing at his helplessness, driving him to madness. When the women were dead, the laughter would stop. The madness would fade, and Aeron would stop craving the destruction of everyone he encountered.

“Tell me,” Reyes repeated.

“Yes,” he finally admitted aloud, knowing the boast would hit its target and slice deep. “I know where they are.”
What have you become?
He knew he should feel guilty, but couldn’t summon the energy. Locked deep in the earth, his emotions had seemed to wither away, leaving only hate. A need to cause death.

Reyes’s nostrils flared and his eyes blazed with obsidian fire. Yes, contact.

“Can I sssuck hisss blood?” Legion asked, claws sinking into Aeron’s shoulders. “Pleassse. Pretty pleassse.”

“No,” Aeron told him. He owed Reyes a quick death—too much would the warrior enjoy a long and torturous demise. Teeth shredding his veins, blood pouring from him would be pleasurable. And Reyes did not deserve pleasure. After all, Reyes was keeping the girl from him. Such a crime deserved a harsh punishment.

Crime? That is not a crime, that is a mercy. This is not you. Fight this.

His eyes narrowed. There was nothing to fight. He had been given a task, and he would fulfill it.

“What about girl?” Legion asked. “Can I drain girl?”

A low growl rang from Reyes.

“No,” Aeron said. “She is mine.”

Now Reyes stalked forward, silver blade glinting in his
hand. “She is
mine.
” He realized what he was doing in the middle of the cell and stopped, remaining just out of range.

Too bad. “I know she’s nearby,” Aeron said silkily. “Her scent is strong, stirring me to battle even now.”

Reyes stepped backward, guarding the only exit. Guarding
her.
Aeron closed his eyes, her screams of death suddenly ringing in his ears.
Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me,
she would say.

He frowned as realization settled in his mind. Those screams weren’t hers. They were real, a memory, and they belonged to another. Every single cry was a heady caress that pleasured his decimated senses. Clearly, whoever he’d hurt—killed?—he’d enjoyed cutting down.

The scent of blood filled his nose, sweet and sultry, a warm night after a bitterly cold day, gentle moonlight after too much time roasting in the harsh sun. He felt transported, as if he were standing over her body again, jeering at her weakness.

This isn’t you. You hate this, hate what you are, what you’ve become.

Once—an eternity ago?—he’d watched mortals, fascinated by the contrasts between their lives and his own. He often wished for death, yet he would most likely exist forever. They died a little more every day, yet they embraced vitality as he never had. They were weak; he was strong. Yet they were not afraid to laugh and love.

Love
—as if they didn’t realize that everything could be taken away in a heartbeat of time.

Why? he’d always wondered. He had long craved an answer, though none had ever come. And here he was, enjoying the recollection of torturing one mortal and plotting the upcoming death of another.

Even Wrath found the concept confusing and wrong.

Aeron hadn’t forgotten that he and his demon had fought these dark urges to slaughter. At first. But the gods had won,
and they’d eventually succumbed. Death now flowed through his veins, thicker than blood, and had become—with an irony not lost on Aeron—his only reason for living.

“Would you like it if I begged?” Reyes asked him tightly.

Would he? Aeron smiled, feeling the first true spark of amusement he’d known in weeks. He thought perhaps he would. Proud, headstrong Reyes bowed to no one. To have him do so here and now would surely be empowering.

“I would, I would,” Legion clapped, the sound booming in Aeron’s ear.

Reyes didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees. “Please.” The word was nothing more than a rumble. “Tell me where they are.”

As Legion cackled, Aeron lost his smile, realizing then it was not empowering to have his friend on his knees but shaming. “You love her?”

“No.” Violent shake of his head. “I cannot.”

Liar! He must. Why else would he debase himself this way, something he’d never done for another? Not even for a Lord.

Aeron and Reyes had been there the day their friend Baden was decapitated by Hunters. They’d watched in horror as the warrior was attacked from behind, stabbed repeatedly, throat slit. They’d run toward him, screaming, enraged, desperate, battle-hungry. But they had not begged the Hunters to stop. They had not begged for Baden’s life. They had simply attacked.

Would pleading have saved the keeper of Distrust?

Probably not, he thought, but why hadn’t they tried? They had loved Baden like a brother and his death had destroyed the small pieces of humanity they’d managed to save from their demons.

“What are you thinking about?” Reyes asked, still on his knees.

“The worst night of my life,” he admitted.

“The opening of the box, then.”

“No. Baden.” Guilt had been branded inside him that terrible
night. Guilt that he’d failed to protect a friend. Guilt that he had punished only a few of the men responsible before walking away from the Hunter-Lord war, hoping to find a sliver of peace in an eternity of chaos and death when he did not deserve it.

I’ve never loved anyone enough to fight, to war, or to beg.

“He was a good friend,” Reyes said. “He would have hated to see us like this.”

“He would have looked at us with disappointment in those yellow eyes of his. We would have ignored him because he’d want us to kiss and make up, and then he would have stabbed us to get our attention.”

“Being ignored wasn’t something he could tolerate.”

“No.”

They peered at each other in silence. Reyes didn’t move, but remained on his knees. He would stay there until Aeron told him what he wanted to know, of that Aeron was now sure.

But if he told Reyes where the women were, and Reyes managed to hide them from him, Aeron would always be this way. He would never return to normal, would never again know anything except bloodlust.

“Please.” Another rumble.

Legion slithered over his shoulder and down his chest like a snake, then propped his chin on Aeron’s upraised knee. “Thisss not much fun. Why can’t we play? Why can’t we drink?”

“Soon,” Aeron said. Then, to Reyes, he said, “Tell the girl to step up to the bars.”

At last Reyes popped to his feet. He shook his head, dark hair swinging, panic flaring over his features. “No. She—”

“Is here. I’m here.”

At the sound of that determined, feminine voice, Aeron angled his head. Reyes jumped in front of her, remaining in the cell while she stayed out of it, but blocking his view nonetheless. Aeron scowled. “Move. I will not hurt her.”
Not right now.

The warrior seemed to debate with himself for a long while,
rooted in place. Finally he stepped stiffly to the side, allowing Aeron a peek at the girl. She stood at the bars as ordered, clutching them, knuckles white.

Wrath exploded into a frenzy of activity, pacing the prison of Aeron’s mind, drooling with anticipation.
Act.

“No,” he replied through gritted teeth.

Act! She is here, she is ours.

“No!”

Legion petted his temples, and the screaming faded to a mere whisper.

“Excuse me?” Danika said, looking from him to the little demon.

Reyes stepped in front of her again, body tense, waiting.

Delicate fingers settled over Reyes’s shoulder and gently pushed him aside. The warrior could have resisted, could have held his ground this time—and his taut features proclaimed that he wanted to—but he didn’t. He inched to the side.

Once again, Aeron was staring at Danika. She was small, only reaching Reyes’s shoulder. Light hair framed her face and her green eyes sparkled like emeralds. Her nose was uptilted like a queen’s, as if she waited for her servants to grant her every desire. She was slender, a little too slender, with a face as dainty as an angel’s wing—but her expression was not soft. Harsh determination radiated from her.

“You still want to kill me,” he said.

“Yes.” Her lips were red and swollen. Obviously, she’d been kissed, and very recently, too.

Aeron’s gaze settled on Reyes’s mouth. It, too, was well used. He would not have pegged the human as Pain’s type. He would not have pegged Pain as
her
type, either. But he
had
sensed the tension between them the first time she’d come to the fortress. A tension that was stronger now, more intense. Reyes had even called the woman his.

They were enemies, yet they’d become lovers. How sweet,
he mentally sneered. And yet, beneath the sneer, he could feel a tendril of…wistfulness?

Legion licked Aeron’s cheek and then his tiny body was slithering around his neck, then down, where he perched his elbows on Aeron’s knees. A favorite position of his, apparently. That forked tongue flicked out at Danika, a rattle sounding. “You familiar. Want to play?”

She blinked, shook her head as if dislodging a puzzling thought. “You saw me yesterday. And no.”

“Oh.” The little fiend’s disappointment was palpable. He flattened against Aeron’s chest, his green scales fading slightly.

“You hurt Legion,” Aeron growled, oddly offended by the fact. With the knowledge of the demon’s unhappiness, Aeron’s bloodlust threatened to explode, his tenuous control slipping. “Which means this conversation is done. Leave.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Danika rushed out, offering an apologetic glance to Legion. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Really. It was…a game. Yes, a game.”

“Love gamesss.” Relaxing, color returning, the creature added, “Ssseen you before yesterday.”

Aeron, too, relaxed.

Danika shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken.”

“You fly in flamesss. Watch minionsss torture dead.”

The girl blinked as she had before, a mixture of horror and astonishment in her eyes. “I do, but only in my dreams. How do you know? Have you seen my paintings? Wait, that’s not possible.”

“Don’t answer,” Aeron told Legion, an idea hitting him. He could use the information as a bargaining tool. And in the process, he could, perhaps, decipher the puzzle the girl had just presented.

Flames. Minions. Had to be hell, Legion’s home and the only place the creature could have seen her. Aeron wasn’t sure if the girl had somehow entered hell or if Legion was playing another of his games. But for the first time since the Titans had taken
over the heavens and ordered Aeron to kill Danika and her family, the terrible command began to make sense. If the girl
could
travel to the dark underworld, could she also access the world of the gods? Could she watch them? Maybe even divine their secrets?