The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(38)

Several minutes ticked by in silence. She began squirming, as if preparing for another round with the bowl. He had made her ill; he owed her anything she desired. He opened his mouth and let the tale of his life spill from him. "Here is a story for you. I am immortal, and I've walked the earth since the beginning of time, it seems."

As he spoke, he felt her muscles loosen their vise-grip on her bones. "Immortal," she echoed as if tasting the word. "Knew you were more than human."

"I was never a human. I was created a warrior, meant to guard the king of gods. For many years, I served him well, helping to keep him in power, protecting him even from his own family. But he did not think me strong enough to guard his most precious possession, a box formed from the bones of the dead goddess of oppression. No, he commanded a woman to do it. She was known as the greatest female warrior, true, but my pride was stung." Thankfully, Ashlyn remained relaxed. "Thinking to prove a mistake had been made, I helped release the demons inside upon the world. And in punishment, I was bonded to one." He wound his arm around her waist and gently rubbed her stomach, hoping the action would soothe her.

She expelled a slight breath. Of relief? He hoped. "Demon. I suspected."

Yes, she had. He still didn't understand why she admitted it so readily.

"But you're good. Sometimes," she added. "That's why your face changes?"

"Yes." She thought him good?

Filled with pleasure, he continued his story. "I knew the moment I had been breached, for there was a shock inside me, as if parts of me were dying, making room for something else, something stronger than myself." It had been the first time he had ever understood the concept of death - and little had he known just how intimately he would soon come to understand it.

Another delicate sigh escaped her. If she actually understood what he was saying now, he couldn't tell. At least she wasn't crying, wasn't writhing in pain.

"For a while, I lost touch with my own will and the demon had total control of me, forcing me to do - " All manner of evils, he mentally finished, visions of blood and death, smoke and ash and utter desolation filling his mind. He could barely tolerate the knowledge himself and would not taint Ashlyn with it.

To the very second, he recalled how the spirit's hold on him loosened, like a dream-haze clearing, the black smoke in his mind wafting away in a sweetly scented morning breeze, leaving behind only its hated memory.

The demon had compelled him to kill Pandora, the guardian it hated above all else. Bloodlust at last appeased, it had receded to the back of Maddox's mind, leaving Maddox to deal with the damage.

"Gods, to go back," he said on a sigh. "To walk away from that box."

"Box," Ashlyn said, startling him. "Demons... I've heard something about that." She opened her mouth to say more, then jerked. Crying out, she reached blindly for the bowl.

Maddox moved faster than he ever had before, leaping from the bed and swiping the bowl in seconds. The moment he held it out, she leaned over and retched. He cocooned her against his stomach through the worst of it, cooing to her like he'd never done to another. Giving comfort was new to him, and he prayed he did it correctly. He'd never even comforted his friends. They were all as private about their torment as he was.

When Ashlyn finished, he settled her back on the mattress and once more cleaned her face. Then he turned his gaze to the ceiling. "I am sorry for the way I spoke of you," he whispered to the heavens. "But please do not harm her for my sins."

Peering back down at her, he felt as if an eternity had passed since he'd first met her, as if he'd known her forever and she had always been a part of his life. A life that would collapse into nothingness if she were taken from him. How was that possible? Only an hour before, he had convinced himself that he might be able to slay her. Now...

"Let her live," he found himself adding, "and I'll do anything you want."

Anything? a quiet voice asked, relish in the undertones. Not the voice of Violence, he realized, or any voice he had heard before.

Maddox blinked, stilled. A moment passed before his shock settled into mere confusion. "Who's there?"

Startled by his outburst, Ashlyn dragged her red-rimmed eyes to him. "I am," she croaked.

"Pay no attention to me, beauty. Sleep," he said softly.

Who do you think I am, warrior? Can you not guess who has the power to speak to you thus?

Another shocked moment passed before the answer took root. Could it be? A...Titan? He had sent pleas to the Greeks for years, and never had he been addressed within seconds. He'd never been addressed at all. And hadn't the Titans called Aeron to the heavens like this, with only a voice?

Hope - and dread - unfurled inside him. If these Titans were benevolent, if they would help, Maddox thought perhaps he would do anything. If they were malicious, however, and made things worse... His hands clenched.

They'd ordered Aeron to kill four innocent women; they could not be good. Damn this! How should he now interact with this being? Humbly? Or would that be seen as weakness?

Anything? the voice insisted. There was a disembodied laugh. Think carefully before you answer, and know that your woman could very well die.

Maddox glanced at Ashlyn's trembling body, her pain-contorted features, and remembered the way she'd been. The way she'd looked at him with ecstasy and asked him to savor the silence with her. The way she'd stood in front of him and thanked him for food. The way she'd leapt to guard him from his own friends.