The Darkest Lie

Angrily, she hooked the necklace around her neck and he wanted to shout with relief. There. Done, it was done. She was protected from prying eyes, and he hadn’t had to force the issue. The night suddenly seemed brighter.

“You look stupid wearing yours, by the way. In fact, you look like a girl.”

Or not. The words confirmed his earlier fears, but deep down he knew that she was merely lashing out, again, because she didn’t understand him. How like her.

You know her so well, do you? He didn’t have an answer for himself, either.

“So where are we going?” she grumbled.

Yet another shrug. He honestly didn’t know. He had three and a half days—no, nights—left to woo and win her. To learn about her and his past. So, someplace romantic would be best. But where?

Clearly, he didn’t know her, because he had no idea what she would find romantic. A secluded cabin? A fancy hotel? He sighed. “Don’t tell me about someplace you’ve always wanted to go but haven’t—”

“Oh, you want to talk now?” she said, cutting him off. “I don’t think so.” Eyes narrowed, she turned on the radio and cranked up the music, a hard, pounding rock, before settling back in her seat and facing the window.

Message received. He could suck it. And not the good way.

Chapter Five

HOURS PASSED in silence. Well, not silence. The radio continued to blast Scarlet’s favorite heart-pounding rock. Gods, she missed her iPod. With the buds in her ears, she could have closed her eyes and pretended she was at home. Not that she had a permanent home, but anyplace was better than such close quarters with the man she’d both loved and hated for centuries. A man she still craved with such intense longing she couldn’t deny it anymore.

Almost didn’t want to deny it. But she would. No way would she give him another chance to shatter her so completely. To pleasure her and forget her.

Shamefully, she had almost caved, though.

He’d given her a gift. The most beautiful butterfly necklace she’d ever seen, and one that matched his own. When she’d first reached into his pocket, she’d been disappointed that he hadn’t really wanted her to fist his cock. Then she’d seen the necklace, and well, she’d wanted to leap into his lap and kiss every inch of his beautiful face. She’d wanted to lick each of his piercings and thrust her tongue against his. Wanted to feel his arms wrap around her and hold her tight. As if she meant something to him again. Wanted to hear him gasp his version of her name.

But he’d seemed almost…uncomfortable about the whole thing. Guilty, even. Why? Only reason she could think of was that he hadn’t wanted her to read too much into the gesture. Hadn’t wanted her to leap into his lap and kiss every inch of his beautiful face.

That seemed likely. Especially since the bastard hadn’t tried to turn down the music and talk to her again. Maybe he was even relieved that she’d closed their channels of communication. Which was dumb. He’d sprung her from prison to talk to her, hadn’t he? He should try harder. Not that she’d cooperate. The moment she did, he’d try to take her back to the dungeon and she’d have to ditch him as planned.

Actually, she’d do that tomorrow. His friends would probably be pissed that he’d lost her, but that wasn’t her problem. He’d also have to make it back to a city littered with Hunters without her aid, but again, that wasn’t her problem.

She had enough problems to deal with.

One of which was fast approaching.

Gideon was still driving when the sun began to rise. She stiffened in her seat, dreading what came next but helpless to stop it. First, lethargy beat through her, draining her strength, making her limbs feel heavy and her head loll. Then her eyelids closed of their own accord, her lashes seemingly glued together. Then darkness wove through her mind, an incessant spiderweb—spiders, Gideon hated spiders, funny that she thought of them now—followed quickly by dissonant screams that overshadowed all else.

Her demon took over from there.

Laughing gleefully, Nightmares propelled her into a dark, misty realm where human and inhuman minds were like doorways. When a door was open, that meant the person was asleep and the demon could enter at will. Location didn’t matter. Distance didn’t matter. Time zone didn’t matter. Adults, children, male, female, that didn’t matter, either. Nothing mattered to the demon but feeding on terror.

With only a glance, she and the demon would know who each doorway belonged to, what kind of person they were and what they feared most. Like with Gideon and his silly fear of spiders, she thought, smiling again. He was a big, bad warrior who had killed thousands of people without a jump in his heart rate. But he almost peed his pants when an insect scampered toward him.

She supposed she couldn’t blame him. She hated the creepy little bugs. They’d constantly invaded her cell in Tartarus, crawling from every shadow and wall crack. And every time she’d awoken from her impenetrable sleep, she would find herself covered with bite marks.

Not to mention the bruises her cellmates had left behind. Until she’d started invading their dreams.

Whatever she’d done to them in this dark realm, real life had parroted, and they’d awoken in puddles of their own blood, often missing limbs. Some had never awakened at all.

Who do we want? the demon asked her. The most frequently asked question between them.

Over the years, they’d learned to work together. They even liked each other, relied on each other. At times, the demon had been her only friend.

“A Hunter would be nice,” she replied. Maybe they could scare the guy to death. That always put Nightmares in a stellar mood. Besides, she owed the Hunters. Not because she cared that they wanted to hurt Gideon, but because they’d ruined a perfectly good meal for her.

This will be fun. More gleeful laughter as the demon whisked them forward, the doorways blurring at her side.

When they stopped, they stood in front of an open doorway that was far larger than any she’d seen before. Moans of pleasure echoed from inside, a decadent mix of male and female. There was a slap of flesh against flesh. Murmurs of “more” and “please.”

An erotic dream, then.

“Who is this?”

Galen. Leader of Hunters. Keeper of Hope.

Galen. She scowled. The warrior had led his army against the Lords because they were demon-possessed, and yet Galen himself carried a demon. The contradiction was baffling, but it didn’t surprise her.

Galen had always struck her as more snake than man. A few times, he’d helped Gideon bring a prisoner into Tartarus, and he’d been all smiles while Gideon faced him, but the moment Gideon had turned away, Galen’s glower had bored into his back.

When Gideon had told her that he’d found a way to curry the gods’ favor thanks to his pal Galen, and that for his reward, he would request her freedom, she had begged him not to do it, whatever he planned. Of course, he hadn’t listened. He’d been too assured, too hopeful, of his success.

She’d wanted to “thank” Galen for his part in Gideon’s failure for a long, long time, but hadn’t allowed herself to do so. That would have helped Gideon, and she hadn’t wanted to do that, either.

Now, however, with that necklace burning against her chest, she no longer minded the prospect quite so much.

Ready?

Slowly she grinned. “Let’s do this.”

They stepped through the entrance, a phantom unseen by the dreamer, and suddenly Scarlet was viewing the evidence of what she’d heard. Galen was tall and muscled, with blond hair and blue eyes. Eyes that were peering down at a beautiful, pale-haired female. A female he had anchored against a bathroom sink, his majestic white wings outstretched, enclosing her in a feathered haven.

The woman’s shirt was pushed to her chin, bearing her large—really large—breasts. He feasted on them eagerly. Her pants were around her ankles as Galen pounded inside her, hips shifting to produce maximum pleasure.

His pants were merely opened at the waist, so Scarlet saw very little of him. Too bad. She could have taunted Gideon with the size of his enemy’s cock and the hardness of his ass.

So many fears, Nightmares said with awe.

“Tell me.” She spoke aloud, knowing dream Galen couldn’t hear her unless she wanted him to.

Being alone. Being defeated. Helpless. Ineffective. Overlooked. Forgotten. Dead.

Weird. He carried the demon of Hope. Shouldn’t he be more optimistic? No matter. Scarlet walked through the dream bathroom, Galen as oblivious to her presence as he was to her voice, and allowed Nightmares to repaint the scene.

“Make him sorry he was ever created.”

My pleasure.