The Darkest Lie

“Scar,” he began, as close to her name as his demon would apparently let him get, a hint of anger in the undertone. And oh, was his expression stony. He hated this. But whatever he meant to say was cut off as Scarlet pressed a finger against his lips, a silent command for no talkie-talkie. The enemy would hear.

A moment passed. The stiffness never left him, but Gideon nodded. He was graciously bowing out of the fight and letting her handle things. His surrender was completely unexpected. Why hadn’t he jumped to his feet and foolishly demanded to help her?

Ponder it later. Frowning, she turned to face the intruders. There were four of them, all male, and all holding weapons.

Only four? They must think themselves stronger than they actually were. Or consider her and Gideon weaker than they really were. Or perhaps this was just the beginning. Most likely others were posted throughout the hotel, watching, waiting for the right time to strike.

As the men entered the bedroom, they encountered the darkness and the screams and stumbled to a halt, trying to orient themselves and figure out what was going on. But it was too late for that. Nightmares wove around them, a swirling, dark dancer, as graceful as he was lethal, holding them in place, even floating to their ears and whispering their deepest fears.

Pain.

Blood.

Death.

Soon they were clutching their heads, moaning, images of the Lords of the Underworld strapping them down, torturing them as the Hunters had often tortured others, becoming all that they could see.

One of Nightmares’s talents was sensing hidden fears and exploiting them. That’s how they’d known about Gideon’s fear of spiders. Only problem was, they had no way of knowing what had caused those fears. And she was beyond curious about Gideon. He hadn’t seemed to care about the bug while with her in Tartarus. He’d even flicked the creatures off her when they’d invaded her cell.

“Make it stop, please make it stop,” someone pleaded.

“Enough!” someone else shouted.

No. Not nearly enough. Cold, uncaring. That’s how she had to be. And really, she enjoyed this as much as her demon did. Enjoyed hurting those who thrived on suffering. For too long, she’d been a victim herself. But no longer. Never again.

Smiling, she strolled toward the men, fork still in hand. She reached the nearest, his terrified moans like candy to her ears, and brushed his hair from his face. The soothing touch startled him, yet he leaned into it, as if seeking comfort anywhere he could find it. As if he assumed she was a friend.

Without any more warning, she jammed the fork into his jugular. He screamed, but that scream blended with all the others floating from her. A chilling but welcome music. Warm blood spurted from him, coating her hand as he collapsed. She eased to the next man, gifted him with that same gentle touch, the calm before the storm, then stabbed him, as well.

More blood sprayed, a river of the deepest scarlet, the very essence of her name.

She finished off the other two just as quickly and efficiently. Just as ruthlessly. Perhaps she should have played with them a bit. Oh, well. Next time.

Once the moans and movement ceased, she closed her eyes and tugged the shadows and screams back inside her. There they whirled like a tornado until she blocked them from her awareness, something she’d learned to do over the years. Otherwise, she would have tumbled into insanity a long time ago.

Perhaps it was a blessing that she and Gideon would never be intimate again, she thought then. When she lost control of her body’s sensations, she lost her hold on her demon, allowing the beast to have free rein even though she was awake. What she’d done to those boys—Hunters?—would be done automatically to her lovers. Not the cutting, but the absolute dissolution of light, the cries of the damned ringing in their ears.

For a man, it was hard to stay, well, hard during something like that. Watching fear and disgust contort Gideon’s features while his cock was buried deep inside her might just end her. Her pride, surely. Her will to live, maybe. Already, she existed on only an instinctual level. Breathe, eat, kill. That was it.

Mind on the task at hand. Gideon was sitting exactly as she’d left him. Only, his expression was blank, a guarded mask as his gaze raked her, taking in the blood coating her hands. He traced his tongue over his teeth before looking at the men.

“Harmed?” he asked, still without any hint of emotion.

“Dead,” she replied. “You’re welcome.” Would a thank-you have been too much to ask? She’d saved him from suffering a single injury. Well, besides the ones she’d given him.

Blue eyes snapped back up, pinning her in place. “Yeah, I was talking about them. Not you.”

Oh. He wanted to know about her? Shocker. No softening. “I’m fine. Not a scratch on me. But we should probably go.” Our separate ways, she silently added, ignoring the pang in her chest. “I’m sure more Hunters are on their way.”

He offered no reply.

Do it. Leave, she commanded herself. She didn’t. She remained in place like the idiot she was. Closure must not have been achieved yet. Not really.

What would it take?

“Are you just going to sit there?” she threw at him.

He stood, but still he didn’t sheath his weapons. “You and utensils make a bad team.”

Another pang speared her chest. “No more compliments, or I’ll give you another firsthand demonstration.” Just to taunt him, she held up the dripping fork and waved it through the air.

“Yes, please. Another demonstration would be nice.” He bypassed her, unafraid, and crouched in front of her victims. With quick proficiency, he searched their bodies, even under their clothing. “All of them are marked.”

Her arm fell heavily to her side. Hunters tattooed themselves with the symbol of infinity, their way of proclaiming they wanted a forever without evil. That these boys didn’t bear the mark…Huh. “Maybe they’re just recruits. When they entered, one of them said something about being let in. Maybe he meant being let in to the Hunters Are Assholes club.”

Gideon nodded as he stood, a lock of cobalt falling over his brow. “That makes no sense.”

“Because I’m smarter than you are.” She fought the urge to smooth the hair into place. Still no closure, but she forced herself to say, “I guess we’re done here, then.” For real, this time.

“Sure.” He closed what little distance there was between them, putting them nose-to-nose, his heat enveloping her, his musky cologne fuzzing her senses. “Don’t listen carefully. I’m upset you’re okay.” His lashes fell, oh, so slowly, before stopping, lingering, and she knew he was peering at her lips.

Thinking of kissing her?

She gulped. No. No, no, no. “Gideon.”

“Keep talking.” Slowly, still oh, so slowly, he leaned toward her, as if he did intend to kiss her.

No. No, no…yes. Yes, yes, yes. Every muscle in her body tensed, waiting, ready. The blood inside her veins sizzled and snapped. Would he taste the same? Feel the same? She had to know. Then she could leave him. Then she would have closure and wouldn’t ever have to look back and wonder.

But just before their lips touched, his fingers circled her wrist with a soft clink. No, not his fingers. Too stiff, too heavy and too cold. Frowning, she glanced down and saw that he’d handcuffed them together. Understanding dawned.

That…bastard…

A red haze shuttered over her vision. Not dots, but a full-on cloud. Tricked. The bastard had tricked her. Had never meant to kiss her. Had used her obvious desire for him against her.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.” That was all the warning she gave him. She jabbed the fork into his chest and rather than twist, she slammed her palm into the handle, pushing it deeper. This time, he couldn’t contain his grimace. “And I hope you know this will seem like child’s play when I’m done with you.”

“As long as we’re apart,” he gritted out, “I’m happy.”

As long as…as long as…He needed to be together to be happy? Though part of her suddenly wanted to grin sheepishly, perhaps bat her lashes, she scowled up at him. Stupid softening heart. He’d just betrayed her, and she almost melted when he tossed a few flattering words at her. Flattering words that meant nothing, because he still only wanted answers.

“Tell me. Does this make you happy?” She kneed him in the balls.

He hunched over, gasping, but amid those gasps, she managed to make out a single word: “Yes.”

Good. “So where are you taking me?”

“Heaven.” Another gritted admission.