The Darkest Secret

One of them, she’d said. As he’d suspected, she hefted several shards, tested their weight, turned them in the light. With a nod, she sheathed several in her pockets.

Haidee.

She jolted as if startled. “I’m sorry. Yes?” Who … am I?

“You don’t know your name, either?” A frown darkened her expression. “Your name is Micah. We’ve been dating for about seven months.”

Micah, like the tattoo on her arm. Micah, her “baby.” That’s who she thought he was? And I’m a Hunter?

“Yes.”

Like you?

“Yes.” So easily admitted, without a care. Unless she was a grade A actress capable of fooling a demon, she truly believed what she said, that he was Micah, a Hunter.

Knots formed in Amun’s stomach, then sharpened into daggers, cutting at him. So there it was. Proof, by her own admission, that she was his enemy. He needed to kill her before she discovered the truth about him. Before she thought to fight him, to hurt him when he couldn’t really defend himself.

And as she’d just locked them inside this room, effectively trapping herself in his presence, all he had to do was summon her over, wrap his hands around her pretty neck, choke as he’d already wanted, and twist. He might be weak, the action might pain him, but he wouldn’t back down. He couldn’t.

Haidee, he projected to her, the word a croak, even in his mind.

“Yes?”

Don’t do it, part of him cried. She was sweet and lovely and utterly luscious.

Secrets might even have whimpered, eager to return to her mind and play rather than destroy.

The other part of Amun recalled her past deeds, her current motto. “Die if you must, but take as many Lords as you can with you.” The moment she realized he wasn’t this Micah—Amun’s hands fisted, how he despised the bastard … for no other reason than he was a Hunter—she would attack. There would be no stopping her if he failed to act. And fast.

Determined, he lifted his chin. Come here.

CHAPTER FIVE

PANTING FROM EXERTION, those drugs still playing havoc with her body, Haidee strode to the bed. She placed a sharp glass shard on the nightstand, within Micah’s reach, then stuffed one under his pillow. Never hurt to have two weapons at your disposal, rather than one.

Then she searched the nightstand, surprised she hadn’t thought to do so before. She found all kinds of goodies inside. Toothpaste, a toothbrush, mouthwash, antibiotic ointment, bandages and wet wipes. None of which made sense. Or had the Lords wished to torment Micah with what he couldn’t have or use?

Well, she would show them! She made use of the wash and wet wipes and helped Micah do the same, cleaning them from top to bottom, even intimately, which left her blushing—hello, big boy—then applied the ointment to his wrists as gently as she was able.

He watched her, silent, his dark eyes intent but unreadable. She hated that he didn’t remember her or their relationship. Not that there was a lot to remember, but months ago they’d reached an understanding. They’d get to know each other before they had sex, but they’d get to know each other without discussing their pasts; they’d also vowed that no matter what, they wouldn’t see other people.

Why had he agreed to that? she wondered now. At the time, she’d thought he respected her, hoped to ease her skittish nature. But had she not had those visions, she wouldn’t have agreed to such an arrangement. Because with the restrictions laid bare like that, she realized they hadn’t had a relationship. They’d had a tolerance.

That would change, she vowed. He’d come after her, fought to get to her and endured horrendous torture on her behalf. He deserved everything she had to give. So, she would give.

When she finished, she put everything back inside the drawer. “Now. The shards will cut your hand if you use them,” she said, easing beside him, “and with as much blood as you’ve already lost.” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t want to remind him of his frailty. He was a warrior to his soul and might think to prove his strength if she pressed too forcefully. “What I’m saying is, only use them if absolutely necessary. Okay?”

He might be healing physically, and at an astonishing rate she couldn’t explain, but her worry for him hadn’t faded. He’d been savaged and mind-fucked in the most terrible way. He would be a different man now. Was already showing signs of change.

He’d always been an intense man, and that intensity had deepened and darkened over the past few months, frightening everyone around him. Moods had blackened around him before he’d ever spoken a word. Even hers. Now, he was just as intense, but the darkness had faded. He actually lightened her mood.

Before, the thought of sleeping with him had disturbed her. She’d felt as if she would be cheating herself of … something. The sizzle, she supposed.

And maybe if she’d felt that sizzle she would have felt comfortable discussing her past with him. She’d never told him that she’d lived before, that she’d died before. She’d never told him what happened to her after she died. That she’d lived far longer than her seemingly twenty-odd years. That she’d had hundreds of lives but couldn’t recall any detail that didn’t involve blood, pain and death. That she’d tattooed herself so that she would have some link to the good things that had happened to her.

To her knowledge, she’d never told anyone.

One, she didn’t trust people. Ever. Not even Micah, not fully. Two, when your business involved killing anyone with a supernatural ability—because that ability could mean possible demon contamination—you didn’t admit to having a supernatural ability of your own. And three, the less people knew about her, the easier it was to return from the dead as someone else.

Yet, she thought she might like confessing all her secrets to this man. Even though he was more distant than ever—such clipped responses to her every word. Even though he was harder than she’d ever seen him—he’d endured so much, yet he barely seemed to notice his pain. They were connected in a way they’d never been before, and he’d been so gentle with her. More than that, she felt safe with him. And desired.

Yes, he’d desired her before. But that desire had been tempered with a bit of hesitation. Now, nothing would stop this man from getting what he wanted. If she rebuffed him, she thought he might help her see the silliness of that. In a good way, of course. His protective instincts were too honed for anything else. Look how tenderly he had caressed her cheeks.

And there were physical differences, too, she realized. His lips seemed fuller, but of course, that could be from the swelling. His lashes were definitely longer, his eyes now so black you couldn’t distinguish pupil from iris. His shoulders were wider, the ropes of muscle in his stomach more numerous.

She knew the Lords had branded him with their butterfly, but what if they’d done more than that? What if they’d somehow possessed him with a demon and that’s why he carried the mark? The moisture in her mouth dried as she recognized the possibility for what it was: likely.

Galen, leader of the Hunters, had found a way to pair a human with a demon. Maybe the Lords had, too.

Haidee.

She blinked as that husky voice penetrated her thoughts, then forced her suspicions to the back of her mind. Scaring a man in this condition wouldn’t be wise. Or maybe he already knew, but didn’t know how to tell her. Did he fear she would turn away from him if she learned of his possession?

Haidee, he repeated.

“Sorry. My mind wandered. Twice.” She slid closer to him, not stopping until her hip met his.

He grimaced as he pulled himself into a sitting position. This close, she could feel the heat of his skin. So much heat she’d never encountered its like. Another difference. He’d never been this warm before. Otherwise, she would have finally given in and slept with him, even without the sizzle; she wouldn’t have been able to help herself. Nothing was more delicious than the sweet burn of him.

Haidee, he snapped again.

Again she blinked into focus. She had to stop traveling these unwanted mental paths. “Sorry. What do you need, baby?”

To touch you. He managed to raise his hands on his own this time and cup her temples.

More of his heat enveloped her, his skin like a live wire against hers. She shivered and leaned into his grip, practically purring. Surprise flashed through his eyes—eyes now flickering with sparks of red. Oh, yes, she thought, hopes plummeting completely. He had been possessed. He knew. And he hadn’t expected her to desire him.

Poor darling. As if she would ever betray him. He couldn’t help what had happened, and she wouldn’t reject him for it. Besides, her war with the Lords had never been about their demons, but about their actions.

Micah hadn’t infected her. He hadn’t killed her family.

Blood, a river between her mother and her father. Both helpless … dead.

She shook off the memory before it could tug her into a pit of despair.

“If they did something to you, something … evil, I’ll help you through it,” she told him gently, flattening her hands over his. Touching him was definitely a need. “I won’t turn you in to Galen or Stefano. I won’t betray you. No matter what. And if you start to … do things, bad things—” like lashing out, killing indiscriminately “—well, I’ll take care of you myself.” Mercifully. And only after she’d done everything in her power to purge him of the demon.

She’d loathe herself, would probably replay the act again and again with every new lifetime she experienced, but she would do whatever was necessary to save innocent families from the blood-fate hers had received. Even destroy herself and the only source of her happiness.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?” she asked gently.

Again surprise flashed in his eyes, adding tiny pinpricks of amber light to the dark irises. Thankfully, the red was gone. Something evil. Like.?

Another shiver danced through her. She was coming to love the times his voice drifted through her mind, as warm as his body. “A … demon possession.”

He tensed. Tell me everything. How you got here. What your purpose is.

At least he hadn’t flung her away for guessing the truth. Nor did he seem afraid of her. Good. “Okay.” She lowered his hands to her lap, clutching them tightly. He didn’t protest. “The demon of Defeat, the one hosted by the Lord named Strider—I don’t know if you remember him from the pictures we’ve seen?” Micah merely blinked at her.

She continued. “He was in Rome. He had the Cloak of Invisibility. We spotted him, chased him. He managed to capture me.” Bitterness seeped into her tone. She’d been such an easy mark. “I think he meant to kill me, but for whatever reason, changed his mind. A few times, I even caught him looking at me like … you know, like he wanted me, but that can’t be right. He detests me. Anyway, he brought me here. Put me in the room next door to you. I heard you calling and basically clawed my way through the wall to reach you.”

He offered no reply, but his expression was tense.

How long had he been here? she wondered as guilt torched her insides. She should have fought Strider harder. Should have escaped and found Micah before he’d been beaten. He suffered now because of her.

She’d never be able to make it up to him, but God, did she want to try. “Micah?” Gaze never leaving his beautiful, savaged face, she scooted even closer to him. She placed their twined hands on his waist as she leaned in … closer still … and softly, gently, pressed their lips together. “I’m so sorry you’re here. I’m so sorry for everything that was done to you.”

At first, he gave no reaction. Not to her words and not to her kiss. He still didn’t reply. Didn’t flinch from pain or encourage her to deepen the contact, either. Then he stiffened, his fingers squeezing at hers. Then he inhaled deeply, as if he couldn’t get enough of her scent. Then he canted his head and opened his mouth. Not just welcoming her, but encouraging her.

Moaning, she slipped her tongue past his lips, past his teeth, and jerked at the sudden bolt of arousal that speared her. His taste was minty from the wash, but spiced with a dark drug, luring, tempting … demanding a response. A response she couldn’t deny. Her breath grew shallow, her nipples pearled and every cell in her body smoldered with the sweetest kind of fire. More, she thought.

His tongue met hers, rolled and coiled, danced and sparred, the heat spreading, intensifying. And then he was moaning, pressing more fully, thrusting his tongue as if their mouths were having sex.

She’d kissed him a few times before and had been disappointed in each of the experiences. This time, there was no disappointment. There was shattering excitement, sultry danger and heady bliss. Her fingers moved of their own accord, up, up, tangling in his hair. Soft, silky hair, the strands baby fine.

More, he said this time, the single word a growl inside her head.

“Oh, yes.” More. She never wanted this to end. She had a mind filled with bad memories, yet as she swallowed his exotic flavor, she was swept away by him, the past forgotten, the present a thrill and the future something to anticipate. So good. “I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t let me hurt you.”

Stopping’s the only thing that will hurt me. The kiss must have caused an adrenaline reaction in him, something, because the next thing she knew, he had enough strength to heft her up, forcing her to straddle his lap.

His erection pressed against her needy core, hard and thick, and she gasped. Good? No longer an adequate word. The earth freaking moved. Unable to help herself, she rubbed against him, arching forward and back. Each time she hit him, each time they connected, she released a groan of need. Nerve endings did the sizzling thing, pleasure rushing through her in heated waves.

More.

“Please.” Her voice was little more than a needy whimper.

One of his hands dove past the waist of her pants and cupped her ass. Skin-to-skin, a white-hot brand of possession. His other hand rode up her spine and latched onto the back of her neck. In the next instant, he spun her, basically tossing her on top of the mattress and looming over her, his weight smashing into her.

The kiss never even paused. Over and over his tongue worked hers, feeding her the ecstasy she needed but also making her ache. Didn’t help when his hips began a slow grind against her clitoris, that hand on her ass forcing her to rise up and meet him, to slide up and down his shaft. The friction burned, burned so damned sweetly. She’d never experienced anything like this.

We shouldn’t be doing this.

For her, it was too late to care about their surroundings, the danger. “I need you.”

Yes.

She would have laughed at how easily he’d been convinced to continue, but at the moment she cared about only one thing. Climax. Her nails scoured his back, probably drawing blood. She tried to temper her reaction, to calm before she erupted, went wild and injured him further, but couldn’t. The ache … was consuming her, driving her, fogging her brain.

“I need …” Haidee wound her legs around his waist and locked her ankles. He palmed her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers. Even through her shirt and bra, she could feel the heat of him. The fiery brand. “I need …”

Me. You need me.

AMUN WAS LOST.

He’d placed his hands around Haidee’s neck ready to snap the bone in two. She’d looked over at him with those eyes of pearl-gray, lashes long and sweeping, lips soft and pouty, pink locks of hair falling over her forehead. She’d talked of saving him … then a dark emotion had claimed her expression. One he hadn’t been able to read, but one he’d hated.

She had leaned into him, somehow innocent in a way he’d never been, apologized to him as if his pain were somehow her fault, and he’d forgotten his body’s wounds. His forgotten everything. He’d been helpless to do anything but accept her lips against his. Then he’d breathed her in and accepting hadn’t been an option, either. He’d needed to possess her. Own her. Taking everything. Giving everything.

He hadn’t understood the desires, still didn’t understand them, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The moment their tongues intertwined, his body had become a storm, and this woman had become his only anchor.

Now, all the demons inside him—so many voices, so many thoughts and urges—lurched frantically, unable to remain at the back of his mind. They did not like her, had tried to hide from her, but now they were desperate to stay away from her. He sensed their agitation, their fear, but they were being pulled toward her unbidden, as he had been. They resisted.

He hadn’t resisted. He’d simply given in.

Now he struggled to tether the demons, to keep them in place as Haidee writhed in his arms, the decadent chill of her skin teasing his palms. Soon he had trouble even remembering to do that. She was undiluted pleasure in his arms. A demon in her own right, consuming him, driving him.

Just then, he realized he didn’t care that she was a Hunter. Didn’t care that she meant to harm his friends. That she had harmed his best friend. This was … necessary. She tasted like the Water of Life found only in the heavens. Pure, fresh, crisp. And when she bit at his lips, no longer concerned with being gentle with him, too passion-crazed to care, like him, his thoughts derailed, realigning to his first goal: possessing her. Totally, completely.

He pried his fingers from her ass and slid his hand to the front of her. Panties. Cotton. Damp. Nice.

Mine, he thought next and still didn’t care about the consequences. He would care later. Tomorrow, maybe. Here, now, she was his. Desperate to feel her most feminine core, he shoved those panties aside. More than damp. Slick, ready. Gods, the way she wanted him.

A groan rose from low in his throat and rumbled out. He stiffened for a moment, fearing what might follow even so slight a sound, but his mouth remained focused on Haidee and her thrusting tongue, no words forming.

Relaxing, he tunneled through her folds, found her clitoris and pressed with the heel of his hand. She cried out, hips shooting off the bed, nails scoring his back.

This is good. You like this. They should have been questions; they emerged as statements of fact.

“Yes, please. More.”

Hearing her beg was a climax all its own. What do you want? What do you need? What else did she like?

“You. Just you.” Her eyes were closed, her tongue swiping at her lips to find his taste. Oh, yes. She was as lost as he was.

Has it ever been this way before? Between us? The moment he asked, he stiffened. He didn’t want to know.

He didn’t—

“God, no. We were terrible before.”

He fed her another kiss to show his approval, and that surprised him. Amun wasn’t like Strider, possessive to the extreme. He’d never minded sharing anything. Had never gone caveman on a woman before. Had never claimed one as his very own. Actually, he hadn’t had a lover in hundreds of years. To always know what they were thinking, what they truly thought of him, truly wanted from him … It had gotten old fast. So he’d concentrated on the war with the Hunters and what he was good at: killing. But Haidee …

He wanted to be her best. Her only. Didn’t want her thinking the old “Micah” was better. Didn’t want her thinking about any man but Amun.

“You are … this is … amazing.”

Gonna make you so happy you said that.

Amun worked his way down her throat, nipping, licking, sucking. Until he reached her nipple. Tenderness was abandoned. He bit through the fabric of her shirt, tugging the little bud into the fiery heat of his mouth, even as he shoved a finger deep, deep into her sex.

Another cry left her, renting the air. Every muscle in his body clenched, savoring the sensation. Holy hell, but she clasped him tight. Seed leaked from the slit in his cock; he was hungry for her, for this, for more, so hungry. He added a second finger, moving in and out, in and out. She writhed, she begged some more.

The demons grunted hysterically as they gripped the tether he’d created, trying desperately to stay inside him as she pulled at his hair—as though she was pulling on them again. And yet, agitated as they were, they still could not overtake his mind.

Haidee’s head thrashed left and right. “So close … just a little more … and I’ll … I have to … I need … Please!”

He couldn’t let the beasts near her. Not that they wanted near her; they were still fighting. He should stop this, stop the madness, but he had to taste her. He needed to taste her. Life wouldn’t be worth living if he didn’t.

She was panting, little beads of ice crystallizing over her skin as he worked his way down. An oddity he barely registered. Sweating ice? Her T-shirt was rucked up to the middle of her bra—cotton, white, pretty—the flat plane of her stomach and the dip of her navel revealed. Gorgeous. Had a woman ever been so gorgeous?

As he ripped the crotch of her panties, paving the way for his mouth, he licked into her navel. Her belly quivered. Her knees pressed into his sides, squeezing. Had he been human, she would have cracked bone.

He kissed his way to her zipper. Barrier. He couldn’t allow a barrier. Another rip, and the pants were gaping open just like the panties. Then he was peering down at her, at a tiny triangle of pale curls, the rest of her pink and glistening. His. Ready.

Liiick. Holy hell, he thought again. Nothing had ever tasted this good.

Another cry left her, this one hoarse and broken. She released him to reach behind her and grip the headboard, her back bowing. Surprisingly the demons calmed, but only slightly, the pull on them somewhat eased, allowing them to go back into hiding.

The door handle rattled.

Amun was dimly aware of the possible intrusion but unconcerned. Liiick. Heaven and hell wrapped in temptation, leading him straight to his downfall. Addicting him. Consuming him. Owning him.

The door handle rattled again.

This time, there was a flicker of rational thought in his head. Someone meant to enter his bedroom. Friend? Foe? Didn’t matter. He had to wait to finish tasting her.

The intruder would pay for that. Painfully.

Haidee must have sensed his growing disquiet, because she opened her eyes and said, “What are you—” Her mouth floundered open and closed as she gasped in horror. “Your eyes. They’re completely red. Glowing.”

What she didn’t say: demon. She’d known he was possessed, no matter what she thought his name was, and had claimed she would shield him from Hunters. But this must be her first true confirmation.

There was no time to placate her. Someone comes. He swiped the glass shard from the nightstand and whipped around. Haidee jolted upright, the spike of glass under the pillow already palmed. She tried to right her ruined clothing as another rattle sounded.

An instant later, the person on the other side decided to take things to the next level. Wood split from the hinges as the door was savagely kicked, the vanity in front of it skidding to the middle of the room.

A scowling Strider strode inside, knives in both hands. All the demons inside of Amun danced into a sudden frenzy, Haidee forgotten, rushing back to the surface. Torment … punish … pain … blood … suffering … must have. Needed.

Something else struck him. Something that had nothing to do with the demons, but everything to do with a long-buried instinct. Safeguard. He would safeguard the girl. Her taste was still in his mouth, and he needed more. Still had to have more. If she were hurt, he couldn’t have more.