The Darkest Secret (15 page)

I'm not a monster, Haidee.
Yet.

“I know,” she said weakly. “Otherwise, I wouldn't be here.”

She, apparently, suffered from the same toxic mix.

That did not bode well for their mission.

“B
EFORE WE GET STARTED,
let's see what we've got to work with,” Haidee told Amun after she disinfected her mouth. Twice. She ducked her head as she walked away from him so that she wouldn't have to see his expression.

He'd had his hands on her the entire time. Did he regret it? She'd vomited in front of him. Did he find that amusing? She had responded to him, goose bumps breaking out over her skin. Did he feel smug?

He offered no reply, and she experienced a wave of hurt. A wave she ignored because it was stupid. He wasn't her boyfriend, wasn't a tame pet dog, and was merely using her, the enemy, to stay calm.

Still. Would a “that's smart” or “are you okay?” have been amiss? After all, she had agreed to venture into hell with him. Was actively trying to reach the fiery pit
for
him.

And because of that, she was alone with him, she thought, suddenly dazed by the way things had worked out. She was completely, utterly alone with the demon-possessed immortal who set her body on fire. The demon-possessed immortal who would probably try to kill her after they found a way to free him from the evil that plagued him. The demon-possessed immortal she should despise,
did
despise, but couldn't convince herself to hurt, even in the smallest way.

The demon-possessed immortal she still craved.

Frowning, she crouched in front of the backpack the
angel had given them. Her hand shook with the force of her nervousness as she unzipped and parted the folds. What she saw, or rather, what she didn't see, had her sputtering.

“It's empty!”

Pounding footsteps resounded, then Amun was crouched beside her, grabbing the pack and searching inside. She heard his growl whisper through her mind, low and rumbling.

He scrubbed a hand down his face, the rough action leaving his forehead red and scraped.
The angel wanted us to fail, then. He…lied. I can't believe he lied.

“Well,” she replied, chin lifting, jutting stubbornly. “We won't fail.” They'd survived too much already.

No. We won't.

Their gazes locked together in a suspended moment of agreement and awareness. At least, she thought awareness was the other surprise battering between them. It was for her. She saw the strength in every line and curve of his face, the determination glittering in his eyes, the need parting those soft lips. Only he never reached out, never touched her. In the shower, he'd promised her he wouldn't, and he was obviously—tragically—a man of his word.

Silent now, Amun pushed to his feet and turned away from her, shattering the tranquility of the moment.

Haidee straightened, and her trembling increased. He'd known who she was before their shower, yet still he'd treated her with care. He'd held her, caressed her, he'd even gotten hard simply being near her. He'd peered at her lips with utter longing, as if he couldn't exist another moment without lapping at her tongue.

What had changed since then?

The fact that she'd mentioned breaking up with Micah? Well, a man who truly desired her would have been overjoyed by her suggestion. Yet Amun had stomped away from her and hadn't lowered his guard since.

Men! She would never understand them.

Come,
he said, starting forward without looking back.
I want to leave this area. We've been here too long for my peace of mind.

They were in hell, or near enough. She doubted she'd know peace ever again.

“I'm right behind you.” As she followed him through the yawning opening of the cavern, she anchored the backpack's straps on her shoulders. No reason to toss it, and a thousand reasons to keep it. They could store rocks inside, even bones, and use each as weapons. If they lucked out and found berries or nuts, they could store the food for later. Still. That damn angel! He must be a demon in disguise, tricking them the way he had. And if she ever encountered the bastard again, she would probably knife him.

In fact, for what seemed an eternity, she distracted herself by considering all the ways she would torture him. A knee to the groin, an elbow to the cheek. A hard kick to the skull. When that began to bore her, she switched her mental target to Amun. But soon that, too, lost appeal as she and Amun trekked through the underground tunnel, the scenery unchanging. Only the growing soreness in her muscles and the constant ache in her booted feet indicated the passage of time. The leather of those boots was well-worn but not fitted to her arches, and blisters quickly formed on her tendons.

She endured without complaint for a little while longer, but really, she hated the suffocating silence between them, every second laced with tension. If they were going to work together, which they needed to do if they hoped to succeed in freeing Amun, she had to break through whatever was angering him.

So she asked the first question that popped into her head. “Do you have a girlfriend?” The moment the words
were spoken, fury raced through her. The thought of this man belonging to someone else…kissing someone else…his intense arousal focused on someone else…

No,
he said, and she relaxed.

Haidee nearly reached out and petted him as a reward. She kept her arms at her sides, though, as they rounded a narrow corner, the walls thinning yet again, practically scraping at her. He might rebuke her, and she'd rather endure the silence than that.

Did you ever kiss Strider?
The question lashed from him, surprising her, and if his tone had been tangible, she suspected she would have been cut to the bone.
Or…do more?

“No! Never.” She might have abandoned her vengeance quest with Amun, but the same courtesy did not extend to his friends. Them, she still wanted to kill. Amun, she just wanted to kiss again. Soon. Maybe. Definitely. Except—

Damn it! She'd left the toothbrush and toothpaste back in the cave. Next time she and Amun did a little hooking up, she wanted to taste—argh. If he had his way, they were never going to hook up again. She glared at his back, considered raking him with her nails. To him, she wasn't worth the risk. Any risk.

Part of her admired that. His friends were important to him. Momentary pleasure was not.

Some of the tension left him. Was that what had been bothering him? she wondered. The thought of her with Strider? She stopped glaring at his back, and again considered petting him. If he didn't like the idea of her lip-locking his friend, she had to mean a little something to him. Right?

The other part of her
really
admired
that
. He could overlook his (justified) prejudice in favor of desire for her and only her.

All right, then,
he said, pacified.

“So what gave you that stupid idea that I'd made out with the keeper of Defeat?” She'd meant to ask gently and certainly hadn't meant to use the word
stupid,
but then she'd remembered Amun's snotty attitude the past few hours and her irritation had taken over, speaking for her.

You spent some time with him. Alone. You were desperate to be free of him.

Irritation morphed into anger. “I'm a lot of things, Amun, but I would never use my body to get what I wanted. Even freedom.”

There was a beat more of silence, then,
You did with Baden.

Oh. Yeah. He was right, and there was nothing she could say to defend herself.

Back then, she'd been so filled with hate and fury that she would have done anything,
anything
, to destroy one of the Lords. And she had. She had stripped in front of Baden, as if she'd wanted to bed him in thanks for his escort home. And as he'd looked her over, distracted, she had signaled for the waiting Hunters.

“I learn from my mistakes,” she said softly. Helping to kill the warrior hadn't been the mistake, but she did regret the way she'd gone about it. She'd lied to Strider about feeling nothing. She even regretted the pain her actions had caused the man in front of her, which was one of the reasons she had willingly placed herself in danger.

A confusing realization. That meant she more than wanted him; that meant she cared for him. Why did she care for him? She didn't know him, not really. She was attracted to him, yes. She'd already admitted that, over and over again. She was somehow linked to him, yes. She couldn't stop thinking about his mouth on hers, then between her legs, yes, that too. Oops. That was part of her attraction to him. Anyway. None of that required caring.
Yet she had done everything in her power to stay with him. Be with him. Spend time with him. Aid him.

She sighed.

What?

He hadn't turned around to ask, and her gaze ate up the strong expanse of his back. Without her emotions in the way, she was able to truly
see
him. Such dark skin, so many layers of muscle. He had no scars now, and his only tattoo was the butterfly. Which she couldn't see at the moment; it must have returned to his leg. She marveled at the thought of a living tattoo, slipping and sliding from one corner of his body to the other, then shook her head and told herself to concentrate.

He was talking to her now. She didn't want to lose this opportunity.

“I dreamed about you before I met you,” she confessed. “But I didn't know who—” or what, she mentally added “—you were. That's why I began dating Micah. I thought…”

Amun's shoulder blades pressed together in a jerky motion as he straightened.
You thought
he
was
me?

“Yes. And before you start insulting my intelligence, remember that you guys look a lot alike.”

So how do you now know you dreamed of me rather than him?

Because of the way Amun made her feel. Connected, aware. Alive. Burning from the inside out when she'd only ever known cold. To confess the truth was to make herself vulnerable—more than she already was. To confess was to give him power over her—more than he already had.

“I just do,” was all she said. “If I hadn't calmed you, would you have killed me when you found out who I was?” She tried to maintain an impassive tone, but the tremble in the words gave her away.

There was a terrible pause that crystallized the oxygen in her lungs. Then,
Yes
.

At least he was honest, but wow, that hurt.
You would have killed him if you hadn't dreamed of him,
she reminded herself. True. That failed to ease her hurt, though. He'd kissed her, damn it. Intimately. A little loyalty would have been nice.

Illogical.

Distracted as she was, she tripped over a stone and stumbled forward. She had to anchor her hands on Amun's waist to steady herself. Instant, amazing heat. As always. He didn't pause, but he did stiffen.

Stay alert, Haidee.
He spat her name like it was a curse.

Maybe it was. “I'm trying.
Amun.
We've been walking for a long time and don't seem to be getting anywhere. I'm tired, hungry, and oh, yeah, I'm also saving your ass. Propping me up when I fall
without complaining
is the least you can do to repay me.” Even as she scolded him, she vowed to do a better job. She straightened, severing contact—mourning the loss, again as always—and studied her newest surroundings.

They had maneuvered into a type of hallway, the blood-splattered walls tall but not broad. The floor tilted, sending them deeper underground with every step. Dust layered the warm air, and in the distance she thought she heard a steady
drip, drip.

You're right,
he said.
I'm…sorry.

The apology was gritted, like the words tasted foul. Didn't matter. She'd take it. Anything was better than nothing. Just ask her stomach.

“Do you know where you're going?” she asked, her voice echoing around them.

No.
A clipped tone, and, if she wasn't mistaken, a roundabout command for silence. Then he surprised her
by adding,
All I know is that hell is down, so that's the direction we're heading.

A chimp could have told her that, but she kept her mouth closed as they stepped through another opening. Another cavern. The walls stretched, allowing easier, freer motions. Finally, they were getting somewhere. And shockingly, there was thick, dewy foliage sprouting from the rocks. Nice, she thought, until something hissed at her. She yelped, twisting to discover the source.

A pair of narrowed red eyes glowed from the round head of a snake, forked tongue dancing over sharp, dripping fangs. She opened her mouth to scream, but a tide of dizziness slammed through her and only a moan escaped.

Somehow she remained on her feet. “N-nice snakey snake,” she whispered, palms rising to proclaim her innocence.

The creature launched at her neck.
Not
nice. Her reflexes were too slow to save her.

Amun's thick, corded arm whipped out, fingers wrapping just below that open, waiting mouth, wrist twisting, snapping head from scaled body. When he opened his fist, the reptile floated lifelessly to the ground.

“Th-thank you,” she rasped. The dizziness hadn't left her, and now her heart felt distorted in her chest, a smashed organ hammering against her spine rather than her ribs.

Welcome. Now
I've
saved
your
ass
. His gaze never shifted to her, nor did he massage her neck in comfort, as she suddenly craved.

“We're not even close to even, big boy.”

I didn't say we were. Let's keep moving. I don't like this area.

They started forward again, and this time, Haidee kept one hand wrapped around the waist of his pants, afraid to let go. He didn't chastise her, and she was grateful. She hated snakes. Hated, hated,
hated
. Maybe because a
Hydrophis Belcheri had killed her once, its poison spurting acid straight into her veins, making her writhe and beg for mercy she had never found. Not even in death.