The Darkest Kiss (Lords of the Underworld #2)(44)

Teeth grinding, she stopped abruptly, feet planting into the ground. Bastard. He had no idea about the former, and like she really needed the reminder about the latter. Like he'd had to point that out again. "I'm getting a little tired of your insults, Flowers. I've helped you today. I helped you last week. I helped you a month ago."

He sighed with regret. "You are right. I'm sorry. That was uncalled for, and I will not say such a thing again."

"Yes, well." She hadn't expected him to apologize, and that he'd done so threw her off her A game. "What are you - " Her words were cut off as he sliced his left wrist, then his right. Shocked, Anya rushed to him. "You're insane, Lucien. Absolutely insane." He wasn't going to die, she knew that. Still!

"We shall see." The wounds were large and gaping.

Her wrists throbbed in sympathy. She'd once stabbed him, sure, but right now, this moment, she couldn't bear to see him hurt. She grabbed his arm and tugged one of his wrists to her, hoping to stanch the crimson flow with her costume. Some of his blood dripped on her, then the ground.

The moment it touched the sand, Lucien bellowed a roar and dropped to his knees. Her concern doubled. "Lucien. What's wrong?" He was immortal and couldn't be killed by normal means, but that didn't stop her from worrying. He could have been cursed. He could have -

He roared again and clutched his stomach.

"Lucien. Tell me what the hell is wrong!"

His eyelids were squeezed shut; panting, he slowly opened them. Both of his irises were suddenly blue. Otherworldly, crystalline, churning like a storm. He stood to shaky legs and pulled from her grip as if in a trance, walking forward, toward the temple's only remaining wall.

"I can see it," he said.

Relief nearly felled her. He was having a vision. In the old days, when a sacrifice pleased the gods or even the temple itself, a reward was given. Anya thought perhaps the temple was pleased to be used again. "What do you see?" She had to force her arms to remain at her sides, so badly did she want to hold him.

"I might have found something," he called, ignoring her.

All four of the warriors ran to him, swooping around columns like avenging angels. They spotted her and gaped. Her French maid costume was naughty and for Lucien's eyes only. Still, she didn't flash away to change. She didn't want to miss a moment of this.

The men didn't speak to her, though Paris did lick his lips in anticipation, as if she were a feast that had been prepared just for him. She rolled her eyes. Would have flipped him off, but thought he might try to take her up on the "offer."

"Why are you bleeding?" Strider demanded, withdrawing a dagger. A feral scowl was directed at Anya. "And what the hell is she wearing?"

She flipped him off without any hesitation.

"The woman is not to be handled in any way," Lucien said flatly, still focused on the wall. "She is mine."

Mine, he'd said. Smiling, she gave each Lord a taunting pinkie wave. "You hear that? I'm his, so you can all suck dirt."

Lucien muttered, "And you had better keep your hands to yourself, Anya, or you will lose them."

"Please. Like your buddies could best me," she replied, unsure whether he heard or not. He gave no reaction.

As the Lords gathered around Lucien, she muscled right into their circle. And yeah, she pilfered a few daggers along the way. Gods, that felt good. She hadn't done enough of this lately, too consumed with Lucien. Stealing always soothed her riotous emotions, slowing her heartbeat and easing the seemingly constant ache in her stomach. The guys didn't realize what she'd done or they would have attacked her, she was sure. As it was, they let her through without comment.

What had Lucien found? What was he seeing?

Lucien splayed his arms, pushing everyone behind him and gazing at the wall once more.

"Lucien?" Strider said, clearly confused. Anya studied him out of the corner of her eye. He had blue eyes and blond hair, was tall and muscled, tanned. His features were roughly hewn, and he had a wicked sense of humor, which she normally preferred.

Why hadn't she been attracted to him?

"What do you see?" Paris asked. Eagerness and excitement hummed through the group.

"Waiting is fun," Gideon said, glaring.

"Do you recall what the two mortal researchers told us about Zeus and the artifacts?" Lucien asked.

A murmur of yeses arose.

"They were mostly correct. I'm looking at a mural that seems to be alive. The images are shifting, revealing detail after detail. After Zeus imprisoned the Titans, he commanded Hydra to hide and guard their treasured artifacts. Hydra split herself into four fearsome beings which scattered, each beast guarding one relic."

"Oh, man," Anya said. "If Hydra's the guard, you boys are in trouble. She's a whack job, for sure. Two heads on one snakelike body - make that eight heads on four bodies, if Lucien's vision is accurate - and all those heads suffer from constant PMS."

"Each serpent was to hide for eternity, never revealing her location again, even to the gods," Lucien continued.

Strider grunted. "How does this help us, then?"

Amateurs. "Do you see any symbols?" Anya prompted Lucien.

Pause. Frown. "Yes."

"Well, what are they? Zeus might not have wanted the other gods to know their location, but he would have made damn sure he could at least be pointed in the right direction if he so desired. In his glory days, when he stole whatever he wanted from whichever god he happened to want it from - it's the one thing I ever admired about him - he would hide them until the heat died down by using vision-symbols as treasure maps. He spelled them to change if the item was somehow moved."