The Darkest Kiss (Lords of the Underworld #2)(90)

"Not a damn thing."

The voices were getting closer. Louder. The darkness was giving way to light as the mud thinned. His grip tightened on the daggers.

"Damn it!" someone cried. "What if this Hydra is only a myth? What if the stupid relic doesn't exist? What if there's nothing out here and we came all the way to this godforsaken place for no reason?"

"Don't talk like that."

William stopped at a corner and held up his hand. Anya stopped, too, and Lucien nearly skated into her, his boots slipping on the ice and his coordination off. She reached back and quietly slapped her hands over his hips, blades pressing into him without cutting, keeping him upright and in place.

His cheeks heated with more embarrassment. And, not surprisingly, arousal. Whenever she touched him, wherever they were, whatever danger was near, he felt those electric tingles. He felt warm. He felt alive.

"The Cage of Compulsion is here," yet another voice said. "It has to be."

The Cage of Compulsion. The words echoed in his mind, followed quickly by another: enslave. At the ruins, the human mythologist had told him of a cage that could enslave whoever was imprisoned inside it.

Anya flicked him an excited glance over her shoulder. We're close! she mouthed.

He nodded and looked to William, who was scowling.

"If the mythologists can be believed, we can't get to the box without all four artifacts," one of the Hunters said. "That means we don't leave the circle until we have that damn cage."

William held up one finger.

Lucien wasn't sure if that meant "hold" or "attack on three." He'd only ever fought alongside his fellow warriors, and they'd been together so long they usually sensed each other's intentions.

When the immortal raised a second finger, Lucien had his answer. Apparently William did not like when humans invaded his "territory." Lucien drew in a deep breath, barely managing to refrain from jerking Anya behind him. She would resent him if he held her back. More than that, she could defend herself against, well, anyone. She'd proven that many times over.

The soldier in him - hell, the demon in him - recognized her skill, both reveling proudly. The lover in him could not help but continue to fear.

Three.

William lurched forward, blades raised. Anya was right behind him. Lucien's knees almost gave out as he surged after her. She could take care of herself, yes, but he was still her man and would do what he could.

A deafening roar resounded from William, and the Hunters jumped to their feet. In the center, ice cracked. There was a shout, a scream of terror and outrage at being discovered. Eight humans altogether, Lucien counted as they rushed forward.

William quickly stabbed three, one after the other, the action fluid, a lethal dance, his blades slicing forward, back and to the side with grace. Anya dispatched two, flashing to one, slicing his throat, then flashing to another before the human ever realized what was happening.

A bullet whizzed past Lucien's shoulder, close enough to graze his skin. Space was limited, and Lucien blocked the only exit. As two ran to him, gasping "Demon" and clearly intending to plow him down and escape, he spun and stabbed, spun and stabbed. Both Hunters collapsed to the ground, red pooling around them.

Someone managed to squeeze off another shot, and this one did more than graze. This one lodged in his stomach. Despite the pain, he didn't fall. He stood his ground. For Anya.

A fire blazed in the room's center, crackling and emitting delicious heat. One of the Hunters grabbed a scorching log and swung it at her. She jumped out of the way, but not before a flame sizzled over her coat, burning fabric and probably blistering her delicate skin.

She cried out in fury.

A red haze fell over Lucien, one word filling his mind: Kill. He lurched forward, no longer feeling the pain in his stomach. Kill. Kill! He had the man's neck in his hands in the next instant, not caring that the human was slapping him or that the flames were licking his clothing, his flesh.

He twisted with all of his might.

Bones snapped, and the man stilled. The crackling stick fell from the Hunter's suddenly limp hand, though the fire still licked at Lucien. He wanted to kill the man all over again. He even dropped the body and stabbed his dagger into the man's heart, again and again.

"Mine," he snarled. "Do not touch what is mine."

More. Kill more. He turned to the Hunters left standing - only to see that there were no Hunters left standing. They were dead, all of them. Lucien was panting as his sights slid to William, who was covered in blood and bending over one of the bodies, searching it. Kill, kill, kill.

"Lucien, you're on fire!"

Anya's voice penetrated his mind, shattering the death-craze, and he settled. She was all right. Unharmed. Alive. He drew in a calming breath as soft hands settled over his shoulders, patting him down. "I'm here, baby. I'm here."

His knees buckled, weakness suddenly slamming into him again. He hit the ground and cold seeped into him.

"You're going to be okay, lover," she continued to coo. "You're going to be okay. Say it. Tell me you're going to be okay."

"Okay." He felt the burn all the way inside him. He'd felt this way before, when he'd torched himself out of grief for Mariah. He had cried then; he smiled now. Anya was with him. Black winked in and out of his vision, the red haze completely gone.