Lords of the Underworld Bundle (15 page)

A moment later, she realized she was reaching out.

“No touching.” He jumped onto the step behind him, widening the distance between them. All hint of softness left him. “Not yet.”

Her arms fell to her sides as disappointment crashed through her.
No answers, no touching,
she silently mocked, fighting off the decadent rush of pleasure that came with finally being close to the man who'd consumed her thoughts all night. His warmth, the silence…a combination lethal to her common sense.

One stroke, that's all she'd needed—all she'd wanted, surely—but he was determined to deny her. “What about breathing?” she asked dryly. “Can I do that?”

His lips twitched, smoothing the edges of his fierceness. “If you do it quietly.”

Her eyelids narrowed to tiny slits. “Well, aren't you a sweetie. Thanks a lot.”

That twitch became a full-fledged smile, the blinding force of it knocking the air from her lungs. He was beautiful. Absolutely mesmerizing. Ashlyn found herself caught in his snare yet again—how did he do that to her?—and again reached up without thought. Craving that spark of contact, yes, yes. Needing…needing…

He gave a sharp shake of his head, humor suddenly gone. She stilled, annoyed with him, herself.

“There is something I need to do before the touching can commence,” he said, the words so husky and low she felt them as deeply as a caress.

“What is it?” she asked, biting her bottom lip as violet began to reclaim his eyes, trickling from his pupils to overshadow the black. Amazing.

“Doesn't matter.” Frowning, he reached out as if he meant to stroke her cheek. He caught himself and dropped his arm to his side, a mirror of her own actions a few moments before. “What does matter is that
you
never answered
me.
Were you in that cell all night?”

His heady, masculine scent wafted to her nose, summoning her closer. She tried to resist, truly she did, but found herself leaning toward him despite his warning. “Yes.”

Again, fury darkened his face. “Were you fed?”

“No.”

“Given blankets?”

“No.” Why did he care?

“Did anyone hurt you?”

“No.”

“Did anyone…touch you?” A muscle ticked in his jaw, once, twice.

Her face scrunched in confusion. “Yes. Of course.”

“Who?” he demanded. His face began that freaky change, gnarled skeleton flashing and churning under his skin as if he wore a see-through mask. Even his eyes changed again. Black covered violet, then red covered black, glowing ominously.

Another of those hard lumps formed in her throat and she struggled to catch her breath. Not even in the forest, not even while chained to a bed, a sword slicing through his organs, had he exuded such ferocity.

Why are you still standing here? Run!

His expression twisted, as though he knew what she planned to do. “Don't,” he said, confirming her fear. “You will only incite me further. This will pass in a moment. Now tell me who touched you.”

“All of them,” she forced out, remaining in place. “I think. But they had to,” she hurried to assure him. She couldn't believe she was defending his murderers, but it seemed the fastest way to calm him down. “It was the only way to get me inside the cell.”

He relaxed, but only slightly. The skeletal image receded and the red glow faded from his eyes. “They didn't touch you sexually?”

She shook her head, relaxing a bit herself. He'd been angry with the men, then, not with her for resisting.

“I will allow them to live. Barely.” Forgetting his own rule, he cupped his palms over her temples and forced her attention on his face.

She experienced those electric tingles again as his warm breath fanned her nose. He was so big he dwarfed her, his shoulders so wide they engulfed her.

“Ashlyn,” he said gently.

The swift change in him, from beast to concerned gentleman, was dizzying.

“I didn't want to discuss this yet, but I find I must hear your response now.” Heavy pause as he stared at her. “I killed those four men last night. The ones following you.”

“Following me?” Had someone from the Institute seen her and come after her? Had they—the rest of his words finally registered. She gasped as a high-voltage shock-wave slid down her spine. “You
killed
them?”

“Yes.”

“What did they look like?” she choked out. If Dr. McIntosh had been slain because of her…She pressed her lips together to cut off a pained moan.

Maddox described the men—tall, strong warriors—and she slowly relaxed. Most of the employees she'd met at the Institute were older, like McIntosh. Many were pale, with thinning hair and glasses, eyes weakened from constantly staring at computer screens. Relief speared her, which in turn made her feel guilty. People had died last night. It shouldn't matter whether she knew them or not.

“Why would you do something like that?”

“They were armed and eager for battle. I had a choice—kill them or let them kill me.”

He said it without a single hint of remorse, as though it were a simple point of fact. What a bloody, violent place this fortress had turned out to be. Maddox, too. Her savior spoke like a veteran soldier…or a cold and callous killer like his roommates. He didn't, and wouldn't, hesitate to slay.

So why did she still want his arms around her?

Whatever emotion Maddox saw on her face seemed to answer his unspoken question. His brow puckered and his mouth thinned. In displeasure? But why? Before she could study him further, he turned away and climbed two more steps, saying, “Forget I mentioned it.”

“Wait.” She leapt forward, winced at the renewed pain in her ankle and grabbed hold of his bicep. A puny move, really, but he stopped.

He stiffened, then slowly turned his head and growled down at her fingers.

She jerked away from him. Not because of his reaction but because she'd felt more of those strange tingles. She'd have liked to believe it was static cling. Something, anything, besides more of that oh, so wrong desire.

“Sorry,” she muttered.
No touching,
she reminded herself. It was better for both of them that way. She couldn't seem to control her body's reaction when they were close. Actual, prolonged contact might reduce her to a drooling puddle. “Maddox?”

In profile his expression appeared blank, completely devoid of emotion. “Yes?”

“Don't be mad, but it
is
technically later so I'm going to bring us back to Topic One. What are you?” Before he could jump back into motion as if she hadn't spoken, she added, “I answered your questions. Please answer mine.”

He didn't. But he did face her again.

Nervous, she ran her tongue over her lips. His gaze followed the movement and his nostrils flared. She didn't mean to, but she started babbling. “Look, there are all kinds of unusual creatures in the world. No one knows that better than me. Did I mention I know firsthand that demons exist? I just want to know what I'm dealing with here.”
Shut up. Stop talking.

If only he would respond. She'd never had to fill a silence before. Never thought silence could be uncomfortable.

He eased down a step, the action measured and precise as it closed the small distance between them; she eased down a step in response, widening it again.

“No more questions. I want you bathed, fed and resting within the hour. You're covered in dirt, wavering on your feet because of hunger and there are dark circles under your eyes. Afterward, we can…talk.”

Again that hesitation. It disconcerted her, and she gulped. “If I asked you to take me back to the city, what would you say?”

“Unequivocally no.”

I thought so.
Her shoulders slumped. No matter how much she might want this man—or maybe
because
of how much she wanted this man—she had to start acting like a rational human being and escape.

What if she was next in line for a stabbing?
She
wouldn't rise from the dead, that much Ashlyn knew.

Yesterday she would've sold her soul to come here.
Who are you kidding? You did sell your soul.
She might not have learned to control the voices unless Maddox was with her, but she simply couldn't stay. There were too many uncertainties and too much violence.

But to escape, she'd have to endure the mountain, the cold, the fog and the voices.
You can do it. You
have
to do it.

Maddox arched a brow. “Do I need to lock you up again, Ashlyn?” he asked, as if reading her thoughts.

The threat scared and infuriated her, but she shook her head. No reason to upset him and risk getting herself killed or thrown back in that icy, damp prison, freedom unattainable. Outside of it, at least, she stood a chance. Small though it was.

Silence isn't as sweet as you hoped, is it?

“Do you want to leave because there is someone you need to speak with?” he asked. He failed to disguise his growing anger with that polite inquiry—she saw the flickers of it just beneath the surface of his skin. “Is someone anxious to know where you are?”

“My boss,” she said honestly. Maybe, if she found a phone, she could call him. He could then call the police—no. She nixed that thought immediately, reminding herself they might be entranced by the “angels.”

But if she could call McIntosh, the Institute could devise a way to rescue her. She could return to her old life and pretend the last two days had never happened—even though the thought of abandoning Maddox created an inexplicable ache in her chest.
Stupid girl!

“Who exactly is your boss?”

As if she would tell him and put an innocent man in danger. Instead, she gathered her courage and said, “Let me go, Maddox. Please.”

Another pause, heavier than before. He stepped closer, placing them nose to nose as he had in the forest. His eyes were bright violet now. “Last night I told you to return to the city. You refused. You even followed me. You cried out for me. Remember?”

The reminder stung. “A moment of insanity,” she whispered, looking down at her hands. Her fingers were intertwined, the knuckles white.

“Well, that moment of insanity sealed your fate, woman. You're staying here.”

 

M
ADDOX ESCORTED THE
reluctant Ashlyn to his bedroom. He'd already cleaned the floor and thrown out the soiled mattress, replacing it with a new one from the array in the room next door. In anticipation of her seduction, he'd prepared a bath for her, made up a platter of meats and cheeses, opened a bottle of wine and turned down the clean, sun-kissed sheets.

He'd never put so much effort into a coupling, had only heard Paris talk about how quickly women melted when men pampered them like this.

Maddox hadn't realized Ashlyn would spend the entire night in a cell or that she would
need
all of this care thanks to his friends. His fingers curled into a tight fist.

Her comfort doesn't matter.
He wasn't sure who the thought came from—the demon or himself. He only knew it was a lie.

“Bathe, change and eat,” he forced himself to say. “No one will bother you.” He paused. “Is there anything else you might require?”

She walked around him in a wide half circle, turning to face him almost immediately, as if she didn't trust him at her back. “Freedom would be nice.”

“Besides that.”

Her gaze scanned the room. He didn't like how pale she was, how wobbly and withdrawn. She had not been so drained last night, even in the bitter chill of the forest. “What about wiping out my memory of the past few days?”

“Besides that,” he repeated darkly, not liking that she wanted to forget him.

She sighed. “No. There's nothing, then.”

He knew he should leave, give her a chance to relax and follow his commands, but he found himself reluctant to do so. He leaned against the side of the door. She remained in the center of the room, arms crossed over her middle, stretching the pink jacket she wore over her breasts. His mouth watered.

“Have you done this to many women?” she asked in a conversational tone.

His eyes snapped up and locked with hers, his body tightening. “Done what?” Entranced them? Seduced them? His throat was suddenly blocked by a hard mass.

Now she snorted. “Locked them away. What else?”

The mass quickly dissolved. “You are the first,” he replied, doing his best to hide his disappointment.

“And what do you have planned for me, special girl that I am?”