The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(49)

With one minute to spare, she unlocked the door and called for Maddox. Her voice was weak, but he threw open the wood as if she'd shouted. His expression was tense. She closed her eyes against the intensifying dizziness.

"You pushed yourself too far." He tsked. Once again he scooped her up. He carried her to the bed and laid her on the softness of the mattress before easing down beside her.

She peeked at him through her lashes. More than treating her with care, Maddox was the first man ever to lie on a bed with her. The first man to desire her, really.

She'd tried to date upon occasion, but the voices had bombarded her every damn time. To quiet them, she'd attempted the deep breathing and meditation she'd learned. The men had always assumed she was ignoring them, hyperventilating or having a panic attack and had wanted nothing more to do with her.

Once, she'd even gone on a date with a colleague from the Institute, thinking he would at least understand her, if not sympathize. The next day, she'd heard his whispered conversation with another coworker. Freak, he'd called her. Couldn't spread her legs with a crowbar.

After that, she'd given up dating altogether.

"Feel better?" Maddox asked. He drew her into the curve of his body, exactly where she wanted to be.

That delicious heat enveloped her and she uttered a contented sigh. She'd searched her entire life, but it had taken a possessed immortal to show her this slice of silent, lust-filled heaven on earth.

"Better?" he repeated.

"Much." She yawned. Warm, safe and clean, pain almost completely gone, she felt exhaustion settle over her, beckoning her to sleep. Her eyelids fluttered closed. She forced them open. She wasn't ready to end this reprieve with Maddox.

"We have much more to discuss," he said.

He sounded far away, and she struggled to pull herself out of the drugging lassitude weaving though her from head to toe. "I know."

If he replied, she didn't hear. She was sinking deeper and deeper. Gently, he kissed her cheek. His lips were firm but soft, and fire burned between them on contact. Open your eyes, Darrow. Maybe he'll kiss you on the mouth. She tried, really she did. But though the mind was willing, the body was weak.

"We will talk later," Maddox said softly. "Sleep now."

"You'll stay?" How can I need him like this? I haven't even known him a full day.

"Yes. Now, sleep for me."

Helpless to do otherwise, she obeyed.

"I saw them," Aeron told the others grimly. "Maddox didn't kill them all, and Paris and Reyes must have missed them when they went scouting. There are more Hunters, and they're gathered in the city even now. I think I heard one of them say the word tonight, but I was too high in the air to be sure."

For the second time in two days, Aeron was sitting on the couch in the entertainment room, warriors surrounding him. He rarely came here, preferring instead to seek his own entertainment outside. From the outskirts of the city and the safety of the shadows, he'd secretly watch the mortals interact and wonder why they weren't more concerned about their weaknesses.

Now, he couldn't seem to get away from this chamber.

Paris had returned and was watching another movie. Reyes was pounding away at the punching bag, Torin was leaning against the corner at the far end of the room and Lucien was shooting pool, having barricaded his bedroom door with timber and nails to liberate himself from guard duty. Only Maddox was absent, but Aeron was glad for that.

The man was too unpredictable today, not to mention too wrapped up in his human. Aeron snorted. Not him. Never him. While he liked to study that foolish species, he had never joined them. Even the pretty blonde had not tempted him. Humans were too weak, and his demon constantly urged him to destroy them in ways that mirrored their own sins.

A rapist would lose his cock. A wife-beater would lose his hands. More and more, Aeron liked what he did, liked meting out his own form of vengeance. Which was why he was so close to the edge.

The girl, though...

When they had returned from the city, he had deposited her in Lucien's bedroom, her curves imprinted in his mind but his body completely unaffected. She did nothing for him. None of those puny humans did. They were too easily broken, too easily scared. Too easily taken from those who loved them. But he still did not want to hurt her.

"How do you know they are Hunters?" Lucien asked him. His features were strained, his wall of calm showing signs of crumbling as he nailed the eight ball into the corner pocket.

"They had guns and knives strapped to their bodies, and I saw the mark of infinity on one of their wrists." Branding themselves was foolish, if you asked him. Like putting a neon sign around their necks that read Shoot here.

"How many?"

"Six."

"Well, this sucks." Paris dropped his head in his hands. He wore a pair of unfastened jeans and nothing else. Aeron had spotted him in the city, pounding into a woman in a shadowy corner of a building, and had told him to finish quickly and hurry home. Promiscuity must have taken the request to heart. "Where there's six, there's six more and where there's six more and so on and so on."

"Damned Hunters," Reyes snarled, hitting the bag with more force.

Pain was in a dark mood. Darker than usual, Aeron qualified. "I do not wish to pack up and leave this time. This is our home. We have done nothing wrong." Yet. "If they've come to fight, I say we fight them."