The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(34)

"I don't even know what to say." Aeron.

"I do. Fuck." Paris.

Maddox's head fell back and he stared up at the ceiling. I thought I was goading the Greeks, he wanted to shout. They would have done nothing. They would have continued to ignore him.

"Do you think Ashlyn is a punishment from the Titans, as well?" Lucien asked.

His jaw clenched. "Yes." Of course she was a punishment. He'd thought so earlier - the timing of her arrival, the way she'd haunted his mind and fanned his desires - but he'd assumed the Greeks had been responsible. "The Titans must have led the Hunters straight to us, knowing they would use Ashlyn and how she would affect me."

"You did not curse the gods until after Aeron was summoned. What's more, you hadn't yet cursed them when Ashlyn first appeared on my cameras," Torin pointed out. "They could not have known what we would later do and say."

"Couldn't they? Perhaps they didn't send her, but they must be using her somehow." Nothing else explained the intensity of his feelings for her. "I'll take care of her," he added darkly, but every muscle in his body stiffened, begging him to snatch the words back. He didn't. "I'll take care of all of them."

Paris leveled him with a frown. "How?"

Grim, he said, "I'll kill them." He'd done worse. Why not add this to the list? Because I am not a beast. If he did it, he would be Violence. He would be no better than the spirit inside him, reduced to only one reason for existence: causing pain.

Yet he'd brought this plague upon their house; he needed to fix it. Could he destroy Ashlyn, though? He found he didn't want to know the answer.

"You can't kill the four inside Lucien's room," Aeron said, just as grim. "The Titans commanded me to do it. Who knows how they'll react if their orders are not followed exactly."

"I can hear you, you sick bastards," a female voice cried from behind the door. "You kill us, and I swear to God I'll kill every one of you."

There was another temporary halt to movement and speech.

Reyes's lips curled in a wry grin. "An impossible feat, but I would almost like to see her try."

Feminine fists beat against the frame. "Let us go! Let us go, do you hear me?"

"We hear you, woman," Reyes said. "I'm sure the dead hear you, as well."

That Reyes, the most serious of the bunch, had cracked a joke was disturbing. Only when circumstances were dire did he resort to humor.

This was a nightmare. After centuries of rigid routine, Maddox suddenly had a woman to interrogate, then destroy before she could be further used against him. He had a friend to save from an unthinkable command. And he had gods to appease. Gods he wasn't even sure how to approach.

These Titans were unknown entities. If he asked for mercy and they ordered him to do something vile - something he refused to do - the situation would most assuredly become worse than it was now.

"Why don't I touch them?" Torin suggested, turning back to the group. His eyes were as bright and green as the girl's inside the room. While hers had been filled with anger, his were filled with despair. "If they die of disease, no one will have to worry about his conscience." Except Torin.

"No," Aeron said at the same moment Paris shouted, "Hell, no."

"No disease," Lucien agreed. "Once it starts, it's impossible to control."

"We'll keep the bodies contained," Torin said, his determination clear.

Lucien let out another sigh. "That won't work, and you know it. Disease always spreads."

"Disease!" the girl cried. "You're going to infect us with a disease? Is that why you brought us here? You disgusting, loathsome, rotten pieces of - "

"Hush," another female voice commanded. "Don't incite them, Dani."

"But, Grandma, they - "

Their voices trailed off. The girl was probably being dragged away from the door. Maddox liked her courage. It reminded him of Ashlyn, how she had stood up to him in the cell and demanded he lift his shirt. She had wanted to run - the desire had shone brightly in her eyes - but she hadn't. Just the memory caused his blood to heat and his body to harden. She had even stroked his wound, sparking something to life inside him. Something he hadn't understood.

Tenderness, perhaps?

He shook his head in denial. He would fight that emotion until his last breath - which should take place in about thirteen hours, he thought wryly. He did not, would not, have tenderness for Bait, or a divine punishment, or whatever she was.

Proof - next time he saw her he would take her hard and fast, pounding...pounding... She would moan and scream his name. Her thighs would tighten around his waist and - No, no. Of its own accord, the image realigned in his head, shifting to please Violence.

She would be on her stomach, braced on her hands and knees. That lovely hair would cascade down her elegant back and he would grab hold of it, tugging. Her neck would arch; her lips would part on a gasp of pleasure-pain. In and out he would pound, her sheath hot and wet. Tight. Yes, she would be tighter than a fist. His testicles would slap at her legs.

When I finally have Ashlyn in my bed, I'm going to be gentle. Remember?

That thought was ignored. She would beg for more, and he would give it to her. He would -