The Darkest Kiss (Lords of the Underworld #2)(32)

"I'm sick of coming back empty-handed," the other - the tallest and most muscled - added just as reasonably, kicking the older man in the stomach.

There was a hmph. The younger man yelled, "Stop. Just stop. He doesn't know anything else!"

"He does. He has to. Tell us or die. Those are your only options right now."

The kicker stepped forward, leaned down toward the prisoners' faces. "You pick death, and it's not going to be quick and gentle, you get me? You'll die, piece by piece."

"Just leave my father alone." The younger man had thrown his arms around the older one, shielding him with his own body. "I swear to you, we've told you everything we know. Just let us go. Please."

"You haven't. You're protecting those demons, might even be working with them."

As if she'd been waiting for Lucien's arrival, Anya appeared beside the biggest Hunter and simply slit his throat before he knew she was there. His body sagged to the ground, and she flicked Lucien a look-what-I-did grin.

She'd just killed a man, violently, without hesitation, and was covered in blood. Seeing her grin about what she'd done shook Lucien's world on its axis. She was a lush and beautiful angel; she was also a killer. Like him.

Though he was intoxicated by the sight of her still, wanted to bask in her, Lucien still managed to toss two daggers at the second Hunter. One embedded in the man's throat, the other in his thigh. Both were kill spots, and rather than choose, he'd decided two were better than one. Just in case. He didn't like how close Anya was to the action, immortal or not. She could be hurt, and the thought of one of these Hunters touching her sparked a deep rage inside him.

"Behind you!" Anya suddenly shouted.

He turned, but not in time. A Hunter had hidden in the shadows and now silently launched himself at Lucien. They clashed together and tumbled to the ground, a blade inching its way toward Lucien's throat. The man didn't seem worried about killing Lucien and unleashing his demon on the world. Looked like he'd snapped, death his only concern.

"Demon spawn!" his opponent spat. "I've been waiting for this day."

Lucien flashed, causing the Hunter to smash into the ground. Bleeding, he reappeared behind the man, reached down and snapped his neck. At the same time, Anya appeared beside him and stabbed the Hunter in the chest.

Panting, Lucien straightened and asked, "Where are the others?"

"I killed two already, and I haven't seen the rest." She wiped her bloody hands on her gown, the crimson stains stark against the virgin white.

Again, the sight was somehow more erotic than having her splayed out on his bed. A delicate-looking beauty, lethal and courageous. A warrior princess. She seemed impressed by him, as well, her gaze sliding over him with lusty heat.

"Good aim," she told him.

Turning away before she saw the evidence of his arousal, he scanned their surroundings. The Hunters had chosen their hideaway wisely and fortified it well. There were multiple rooms and hallways, the muddy walls supported with timbers. There was a table in back, piled high with cans of food and twigs for fire.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Anya bend down in front of the prisoners, who were cowering on the floor, probably afraid the avenging angel would hurt them, too. "Don't worry," she said soothingly. "I'm all about bad guy destruction. You have nothing to fear from me. We're going to get you out of here."

Such gentleness. Even Lucien was charmed.

From down one of the hallways, he heard a grunt, a thump, followed by a piercing bellow of pain. A split second later, the other hallway erupted with human screams - screams that were quickly cut off. Lucien jumped in front of Anya, prepared to battle if anyone emerged.

Then Paris stalked from one of the rooms, face cut and bruised, and Lucien relaxed. "My two are dead," the warrior said proudly, if a bit weakly.

Amun strode from the other side, blood splattered on his cheeks. He didn't speak - he never spoke - but he did nod. His targets were defeated, as well.

Strider and Gideon were behind him and both were grinning. "I nailed three," Strider said, and Lucien noticed he was limping. "Took a blade to the thigh, but victory is ours."

"I failed," Gideon said arrogantly.

"Guess the caves are interconnected," Paris said. Lines of strain now bracketed his too-perfect face. The fight must have drained the last of his strength. Usually he'd had one or two women by this time of day - needed one or two women to sate his demon - but Promiscuity hadn't bedded a woman since the plane ride yesterday.

Anya stepped from the prisoners to Lucien's side, drawing every eye to her. All three men sucked in a - reverent? aroused? surprised? - breath.

"Why the hell is she here?" Strider demanded. "And why would a minor goddess fight Hun - "

"Hey! I'm not minor!" Anya said with a stomp of her foot.

Lucien wasn't given a chance to reply. Death tugged at him insistently, almost painfully, its need to collect the souls stronger than usual. Death was also whining inside his head, conflicted, because it wanted to remain next to pretty Anya almost as much as it needed to act.

What power did she wield over the being? How did she wield it?

"I'll return," he said. He allowed himself to be pulled completely from the physical world and into the spiritual. He could have left his body behind, but didn't want the warriors to have to worry about guarding it. His friends, and even Anya, faded from his line of vision.