The Darkest Craving

Would she smell the stale cigarettes and old perfume he hadn’t been able to wash from his skin? Would she demand he leave her alone?

Probably.

Would he obey?

No.

I’m disgusting. Cruel. A user and a whore.

I didn’t used to be this way, he wanted to shout.

What was the Fae’s name? The fact that he didn’t know was starting to irritate him. He would call her … Kewpie? No. Those big, gorgeous eyes fit, but nothing else. Tinker Bell, then. Yeah. Tinker Bell worked. She was such a delicate little thing, with her pointy ears and sharp little chin, and she flittered from here to there, always out of reach.

According to Torin’s surveillance, she was staying in a cabin in these woods. About an hour ago, Kane had found the cabin but not the girl. However, he had discovered fresh tracks. Human. Female. Size six feet. She couldn’t have much of a head start on him, and she couldn’t be moving very fast. As deep as her prints were, she was carrying a heavy load. Plus, night had fallen.

The half-moon lacked its usual glow, allowing an almost suffocating darkness to reign. The air was cold, the breeze wafting from the snow-capped mountains and chasing away any hint of warmth. Trees knifed toward the blackened sky.

“What’s got your panties in such a twist?” William asked from behind him. “It’s not my fault the pleasure train failed to work for you. You must not have done it right.”

Kane ignored him.

“What’s so important about this girl, anyway? I mean, really.”

Again silence.

“Does she have a magic pu—”

Kane spun around and punched him in the jaw. “Enough!” Fury bubbled in his blood, molten, acidic—poisonous. “Don’t go there. Don’t ever go there. Not with her.”

William rubbed the wound. “So why are we hunting her?” he asked as if Kane hadn’t just resorted to violence.

Could nothing shut the warrior up? Kane jolted back into motion. “She says I owe her.” And it was true … if not the full truth.

“And you always pay your debts? What kind of craziness is that?”

“Some people would say it’s honorable.” Maybe the only honor Kane had left.

“Some people are stupid.”

“And there’s the number-one reason I’ll never do anything for you.”

“Because you’re stupid like everyone else? That’s being a little harsh on yourself, don’t you think? I mean, sure, if you ever entertained a bright idea I’d have to say it was beginners’ luck, but you have your moments.”

I can act like I’m a calm, rational being. Kane stalked past a wall of green and entered a clearing. He stopped and breathed deeply. The air was clean here. Pure and untouched. Also kind of annoying. He wanted to catch a hint of rosemary, mint and maybe even smoke, indicating Tinker Bell was still here and warming herself in front of a fire.

He could swoop in and grab her. She would probably fight him, but he wasn’t worried. She lacked skill. And strength. Was probably fatigued. But she’s got heart, he thought, a now familiar ache lancing through his chest.

“Well?” William prompted.

“We set up camp.” Not because they’d been on the move since leaving the club and needed to rest—though they had and they did—but because he could tell they were being followed and he didn’t want to lead his shadow to Tinker Bell.

He doubted the Hunters were after him. Apparently, during Kane’s forced stay in hell, a battle had been waged in the skies, Hunters against Lords, Titans against Sent Ones.

The Lords and Sent Ones had won, utterly destroying the Hunters and severely weakening the Titans.

Kane gathered stones, twigs and dried leaves to build a fire. He cared little about warmth. He wanted the one following him to see the smoke and assume he was relaxed, unprepared. Was the culprit immortal? If so, what race? And why was he after Kane?

Doesn’t matter. He withdrew a dagger and sharpened it against one of the stones he’d set aside. His reflection caught on the silver metal, and firelight illuminated the image. The red in his eyes had intensified.

Disaster had grown stronger, Kane far weaker. Disgusted, he set the weapon away.

“You know we’ve got a female Phoenix on our tail, right?” William asked.

A Phoenix? He’d never messed with the fire-happy race. “I do. Of course I do.” Now. “How did you know?”

“I can smell her. How else?”

“Right.”

“The plan?”

“To wait.”

“And slaughter her on our own turf,” William said with a nod, black hair shagging around his supermodel face—or whatever he insisted on calling that ugly mug. “I like it. Simple, yet elegant.” He eased onto the only rock in front of the fire he hadn’t helped build, and dug through his backpack. He withdrew a pistachio nutrition bar he’d stolen from Kane, tore off the wrapper—and ate every bite, never offering Kane a taste.

Typical.

“That was good. You should have brought one.” William brushed his hands together. He wore a T-shirt that read I’m a Jenius, and that pretty much encapsulated the male’s entire personality. Silly, unconcerned, irreverent. Misleading.

Kane dug through his own pack. He withdrew three daggers, two Sigs and the parts to his long-range rifle. What could a female Phoenix want with him? He knew the race lived for the enslavement of others. He knew they were nearing extinction, many having met their final end. Like cats with nine lives. He knew they were bloodthirsty and war-hungry … but they usually only picked battles they could win.

So confident. Disaster chuckled with evil glee. So wrong.

Kane ignored him. He’d tried engaging the fiend, snapping retorts, issuing threats, but look where that had gotten him. Now, he wasn’t going to waste his time or energy. And why should he? This was a full-on case of dead demon talking.

Suddenly sparks flew from the fire, shooting out white-hot streams in every direction. Grass sizzled, and black smoke billowed. Heat licked over Kane’s pants, blistering his calves.

William scrambled around, patting out the flames. “You’re a menace. You know that, right? Everywhere we go, something terrible happens.”

“I know.” And the worst was yet to come. “To your knowledge, have the Moirai ever had a wrong prediction?”

“Oh, yes,” William said. “Definitely.”

Hope bloomed. “When?” He fit the rifle’s barrel on top of the frame, and the scope on top of that. He inserted the screws and gently tightened. “How?”

“When—too many times to count. How—free will. Our choices dictate our future, nothing else.”

Intelligent words from a Jenius. Go figure. “They think I’m destined to marry the keeper of Irresponsibility.”