The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(29)

He pushed the weapon deeper, his gaze never leaving Aeron's. Fire sizzled and crackled between them. "Do not talk about her like that."

"I'll talk however I please."

He scowled. I like this man. I admire him. He's killed for me, and I for him. Yet he knew, deep down, that if Ashlyn were mentioned in such a derogatory manner again, he would snap. The speaker didn't matter. Nothing mattered except her. He hated that fact. He didn't understand it, but was helpless against it.

"For whatever reason," Lucien said, "the girl is a trigger. Tell him you won't talk about her again, Aeron."

"Why should I?" was the grumbled reply. "Last time I checked, I had a right to voice my opinions."

Deep breath in, deep breath out. That didn't help. Maddox could feel himself gearing for another attack. Damn it! I have to get myself under control. This was utterly ridiculous and wholly embarrassing. He'd never had less influence over his own actions.

"Aeron, you have to be tired of cleaning blood off the floors," Lucien said. "Think how much there will be if Hunters are even now trying to invade our home and we do not stop them from getting inside. Tell him."

Aeron hesitated only a moment before removing the knife from Maddox's neck. "Fine," he spat. "No talk of the girl. Happy now?"

Yes. Maddox relaxed instantly and eased to his feet. He even held out his empty hand to help Aeron stand, but Aeron brushed him aside and stood on his own. Paris had once called Maddox "The Mood Swing"; he had been joking at the time, but Maddox was starting to believe the truth of his words.

"I'm not going to say it, but you know what I'm thinking, right?" Aeron asked dryly.

Yes. He knew. He was as bad as Paris - if not worse.

"Children," Lucien muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Mommy," Aeron replied, but there was no heat in his tone.

Maddox closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating, trying to make himself believe. Ashlyn is just a woman. She means nothing but temporary satisfaction. The shadows and pain he'd glimpsed in her eyes meant nothing. They would not soften him, much less bewitch him. Not anymore. He had to start thinking of her as he did the others.

Any more of this absurd fighting, and he would have to dig his dignity out of the garbage.

Hell, maybe the gods had finally decided to chastise him and had sent Ashlyn to drive him crazy, to cause him pain and suffering. To punish him. Maybe he was no longer to yearn for eternal death at night. Maybe he was to yearn for eternal death all day long.

"Good?" Lucien asked.

Not even close. He might be calm now, but he was worse off than ever. Still, he nodded and stalked down the hallway without another word, up the stairs and into his wing of the fortress. Better to get this over with.

When Lucien and Aeron once again flanked him, Aeron said, "My blade."

"It's nice," he replied, purposely misunderstanding. He did not return it.

Aeron snorted. "I didn't realize you were hard up for a weapon."

"If you want to keep yours, take better care."

"The same could be said of your head."

Maddox offered no response. The closer he came to his bedroom, the more he could smell Ashlyn's honey scent. A scent that was all her own. Not from soap or perfume, but from her. His body hardened painfully, his cock filling with heat and need. He'd been waiting for a sip of that honey forever, it seemed. She's just like other women, remember? Nothing special, he reminded himself.

He flicked a glance at his companions. They appeared oblivious to the sweet fragrance in the air. Good. He wanted Ashlyn, all of her, to himself. Nothing special, damn you.

When they reached the threshold, each of them paused. Aeron tensed and readied his remaining blade. A hard mask covered his face, as if he were preparing himself to do whatever was necessary. Lucien, too, produced a weapon - a .45, cocked and ready.

"Look before you attack," Maddox said through clenched teeth.

They nodded, neither sparing him a glance.

"On three. One." His ears twitched as he listened. No sound emerged from inside. Not the splash of bathwater or the gentle rattle of dishes on the tray. Had Ashlyn really escaped? If she had...

"Two." His stomach knotted in anger and fear, and the scabs there burned. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife. He might just leave the fortress, might search the ends of the earth for her.

Nothing special indeed.

"Three." He twisted the lock and pushed open the door. Hinges creaked. All three men stormed inside, silent, prepared for anything. Maddox scanned the room, taking in every detail. Floors - no footprints. Window - still closed. Platter of food - untouched. Some of his clothes had been tossed out of the closet and were now strewn around the floor.

Where was she?

Aeron and Lucien fanned out as he inched along the closet wall, alert, watchful. He jumped into the small space, blade raised. Found nothing.

The covers shifted on the bed and a soft, breathy moan drifted through the air.

"Weapons down," Maddox commanded in a fierce whisper, blood sizzling from the sound of that feminine sigh.

Several seconds ticked by before either man obeyed. Only then did Maddox approach the bed, slowly... sweating... For some reason, he was trembling like a fragile human. He suspected the image he was about to see would undo him.