Lords of the Underworld Bundle (30 page)

Sabin sighed. “If all goes well, we might get the answers we've been waiting for and finally, once and for all, be able to destroy Pandora's box.”
Before the Hunters find it and suck our demons back inside, killing us.
“Now let's move out.”

D
AMN, DAMN, DAMN
.

Time had gotten away from him. Maddox had become completely absorbed as he'd placed traps along the hill: pits to fall into, trip wires, nets. Should have done it long before today, but they hadn't wanted to hurt any of the deliverymen bearing supplies or the women who came looking for Paris.

Every time Maddox had thought he was done, Lucien had given him another task.

Now it was eleven-thirty, and there was no time to see Ashlyn. No time to kiss or hold her.
If
he decided to see her again, he thought darkly. After his outburst today, he'd be a fool to ever approach such an innocent again. Still, he wanted to be near her. Craved it. Surely there was a way. So far, he'd kept himself under control around her.

But what happened when she pushed him past the edge of reason? When, not if. What would he do when the spirit erupted, as it inevitably would?

“May the gods smile on us this night,” Lucien muttered.

Maddox, Reyes and Lucien raced through the intricate hallways of the fortress toward Maddox's bedroom. Always better to chain him early. Less chance for destruction that way. His stomach already ached.

Reyes had already grabbed the sword—the very one Maddox had used to slay Pandora all those years ago. It hung at the warrior's side, glinting in the moonlight that seeped through the windows, taunting Maddox even now.

He passed Lucien's bedroom and brushed his fingertips over the door. Ashlyn was inside. What was she doing? Was she thinking of him?

They rounded a corner, closer…closer…
I'm not ready,
the spirit whined. A first, since the bloodlust always sated it. Maddox wasn't ready to die, either. Not this time.

Footsteps echoed, an ominous war beat.

He passed the last window in the hallway, the largest. It looked over the hill, down onto the snowcapped trees. What he would have given to run through those trees, to feel the snow drift over his skin. What he would have given to take Ashlyn out there, right now, and make love to her on the cold, hard ground, where she'd be bathed in moonlight like a wood nymph. No violence. Just passion.

“Perhaps we can convince these Titans to release you from this curse,” Lucien said, dragging him from his musings.

For the first time in hundreds of years, he felt a stirring of hope. Maybe, despite everything, the Titans
would
release him if he asked. They had once craved peace and harmony for the world. Surely they—
You know better.
Look at what they were making Aeron do.

Maddox's hope fell away from him in little pieces, like leaves from a winter tree. Already the Titans had proven themselves crueler than the Greeks had ever been. “I do not think I want to risk it.”

“Maybe there is an alternative to the gods,” Reyes said.

If so, they would have found it by now, but he didn't say that aloud. A few seconds later, the trio entered his bedroom, shoving the thick wooden door out of the way. Dread heated Maddox's blood as he climbed onto the bed. He lay down. The fresh cotton sheets were cold, scentless, and bore no trace of Ashlyn. Still, he had the memory.

Last time he'd lain here, he'd held her in his arms, comforted her. Breathed her in. Contemplated making love to her. Savored her taste in his mouth.

His dread increased as Reyes chained his wrists and Lucien his ankles. “When this is over,” he said, “check on Ashlyn. If she is well, leave her in the room with the other women. If not, lock her in another room and I will care for her in the morning. But no more dungeons. No more cruelty. Feed her, but do not give her wine. Understand?”

The two men shared another of those tense looks they'd exchanged earlier and stepped away from the bed, out of spitting range.

“Reyes,” Maddox said, a warning. “Lucien,” he added, a curse. “What's going on?”

“About the woman,” Lucien began, refusing to face him. There was a poisoned pause.

“I'm trying to remain calm,” he said, even as a black haze shuttered over his vision. “Tell me you have not done anything to her.”

“We haven't.”

He released a breath, his eyesight returning to normal.

“We haven't done anything to her,” Lucien continued, “but we're going to.”

The promise hit Maddox's ears then registered in his mind a moment later. He bucked against the chains. “Let me loose. Now!”

“She's Bait, Maddox,” Reyes said quietly.

“No. She isn't.” Feeling panicked, as if he were stuck in a nightmare he couldn't awaken from, he told them of her ability and his suspicion that she'd been followed unknowingly. “She's cursed, like we are. Cursed to hear ancient conversations.”

Lucien shook his head. “You're too enthralled with her to admit the truth. That she may have a strange ability only solidifies my belief that she is Bait, exactly like the voice you heard in your head today. How better to learn about us? How better to discover the best way to defeat us?”

Maddox strained his neck forward, nearly ripping the tendons. “Hurt her, and I will kill you. That is not a threat, it's a vow. I'll spend the rest of my days seeing to your torture and ultimate death.”

Reyes tangled a hand in his hair and the inky locks stood up in spikes. “You're not thinking clearly now, but someday you will thank us for this. We're taking her into the city. We're using her to draw out the Hunters. That is the piece of the plan we didn't tell you.”

Bastards. Betrayers. He'd never suspected his friends, the very warriors who shared in his misery, would be capable of this. “Why are you telling me now? Why are you doing this?”

Reyes looked away from him, but didn't answer. “We'll do our best to bring her back in the same condition she leaves in.”

Once again Maddox jerked on the thick chains, using all of his might. He didn't shatter the impossibly strong links—the gods themselves had made these chains—but he did bend the metal headboard. Rage exploded through him, so fervent and sinister he couldn't see, couldn't breathe. Had to get to Ashlyn. Had to protect her. She was innocent, fragile, would never survive if a fight broke out.

And if the enemy captured her…

He bucked and roared and bucked some more. “Ashlyn!” he screamed. “Ashlyn!”

“I don't understand how he can be this fierce over one woman,” he faintly heard Lucien say.

“Such devotion is dangerous,” Reyes replied.

He blocked the sound of their chatter. “Ashlyn!” If she heard him, she could run to him, unlock him, and he could protect her. He could—no. She was trapped inside Lucien's room, and he had put her there. He had made sure she couldn't escape. And even if she did make it here, would the two men he'd once considered friends attack her?

He pressed his lips together and bit down on his tongue. For hours—minutes? seconds?—he fought silently but failed to free himself. Lucien and Reyes watched without a word, never relenting. He cursed them with his eyes, promising retribution.

Help Ashlyn hide,
he prayed.
Let her remain hidden until I come for her.

A sharp pain stabbed his side.

Midnight had finally arrived.

He groaned. The spirit churned inside of him, a poisoned hailstorm, a bundle of lightning, a tempest of destruction. Man and demon melded with a common goal. Surviving this, so that they could defend their woman.

But Reyes rose over him, sword in hand. His face was devoid of emotion. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

When the blade cut into Maddox's stomach, slicing through skin, organ, bone, he couldn't hold back his screams any longer.

 

T
HE DOOR TO THE BEDROOM
creaked open slowly, and all but Ashlyn and Danika shrank as far away as possible. They grabbed each other's hands. All evening, Ashlyn had been seething with the need to confront Maddox. Danika had wanted to confront Reyes. Instead they had ended up sharing their life stories.

Rather than freaking Danika out, Ashlyn's past seemed to ease the girl's suspicions. In turn, Ashlyn had been outraged at Danika's kidnapping. How strange to think that in this place of death and fear, Ashlyn had found not only her first would-be lover but also her first real friend.

An angel stepped inside the room.

Silver hair produced a halo around his head; his green eyes sparkled like emeralds. A demon should not be so beautiful. But he was covered in black, as Ashlyn would have expected, with a black shirt, black pants and black gloves. Worse, he held a gun in one of his outstretched hands.

She'd seen him before, in Maddox's room. Last night—was it only last night?—when Maddox had been stabbed. This man hadn't participated, but he had watched. And he hadn't tried to help.

“Ashlyn,” he said, eyes searching for her.

Fear tightened her throat. He knew her name? Why hadn't Maddox come? Had he washed his hands of her already? Did he now want her dead?

Trying not to whimper, she pushed Danika behind her. “I'm here,” she managed to squeeze out. Part of her expected to be shot that very second.

She wasn't.

The man remained in place, though his gaze moved across the room, past the bed and dresser until it collided with hers. “Come with me.”

She felt rooted to the floor, frozen. “Why?”

He cast a harried glance over his shoulder. “I'll explain on the way. Now hurry. If they see you, I won't be able to save you.”

Danika was suddenly in front of her, a bundle of fury. “She's not going with you. None of us are, no matter how many guns you point at us. You and your buddies can go fuck yourselves.”

“Maybe later,” he replied dryly, keeping his sights on Ashlyn. “Please. We don't have much time. Do you want to see Maddox again or not?”

Maddox. Just hearing his name caused her heart rate to spike.
I must be the stupidest girl in the world.
She gave Danika a hug and whispered, “I'll be okay.” She hoped.

“But—”

“Trust me.” She pulled from the girl's hold and trudged forward. The white-haired angel backed away from her as if she were a stick of dynamite.

“No one else move,” he said, practically cartwheeling in his haste to keep distance between them. “I'll shoot first and ask questions later.” Still watching her, he stopped in the hall.

When Ashlyn stood in front of him, he added, “Don't touch me. Bad things happen when people touch me. Don't even get close enough to fall into me if you trip.” His tone was deadly serious, his eyes now flat.

“Okay,” she said, confused. Still, she tucked her hands behind her back, just in case she forgot, and waited for him to lead the way.

He moved a wide circle around her, keeping the gun trained straight ahead, and shut and locked the door. Ashlyn didn't try to rush him. Fear once again held her bolted in place.

“What bad things?” she couldn't help but ask when he turned back to her.

He leapt into motion, throwing over his shoulder, “Disease. Agony. Death.” He sheathed the gun at his waist. “My skin cannot touch another living thing without causing a plague.”

Dear Lord. Whether it was true or not, the idea alone was enough to keep her away from him. She suspected he spoke true, however. Each time she'd seen him, he'd done his best to remain out of the way, removed from everyone around him. Not the actions of an evil man, but a man who cared more about others than he did himself. Her heart softened toward him.
Stupid idiot.

“What's your name?”

“Torin,” he said, seeming surprised that she cared.

“You don't plan to kill me, do you, Torin?”

He snorted. “Hardly. If I did, Maddox would cut out my heart and fry it for breakfast.”

“Okay, that was a little more information than I needed,” she said, yet she couldn't help but experience a silly, schoolgirl rush of happiness. Did Maddox care about her, then? Even a little? If so, where was he? Why hadn't
he
come for her?

Torin led her through the hallways, quiet, even his footfalls muffled. A few times he stopped and listened, then motioned for her to hide in the shadows. “Keep it down,” he told her when she opened her mouth to ask a question.

“Anytime you're ready to talk,
I'm
ready to hear about what's going on,” she whispered.

He ignored her. “We're almost there.”

“Where?” The more she walked, the more she thought she heard…what
was
that?

A second later, she knew.

Her stomach cramped, the noise becoming all too clear. Screaming. Agonized, pain-filled screaming. She'd heard that torturous suffering only once before and it had been once too often.