Inside his head, Defeat laughed, almost giddy, loving that the woman had been intimidated.
“Capturing you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” he said. “Not a challenge at all. You’re not much of a warrior, are you? Which makes me wonder why the men keep you around. Because they like to pass you around? Because you managed to kill a Lord, something none of your kind has been able to do again?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe I let you capture me. Maybe I’m still Bait, and now that we’re together, I’ll lead you into slaughter. But let the men use me? No. I’m with one, and he will punish you for this. You have my word.”
“The word of a Hunter? Sorry, but that means nothing to me.”
“If you think I’ll beg you to let me go, you think wrong. If you think I’ll cower at your feet, you think wrong. I will prevail.”
“You can try,” he said, parroting her earlier words to him.
Her teeth flashed in a scowl. “I’ll do more than that. I’ll give my man your head as a birthday present.”
Most would have been crying by now. She was brave, as she’d claimed, he would give her that. “Clearly you don’t know me well enough. To think you’ll be alive for your lover’s next birthday…well, you are a Hunter. I shouldn’t have expected you to be intelligent.”
Tendrils of mist drifted from her nostrils. At first, he thought he was mistaken. But no. That really was mist, crystallizing in front of her face. “Oh, I know you,” she said. “You’re Strider, keeper of Defeat. I’ve seen your picture, heard tales of your exploits. You burned cities to the ground, tormented innocents then destroyed their families.”
The reminder caused a muscle to tick below his eye. “That was a long time ago.”
She wasn’t done. “You thrive on challenge. You can’t lose without pain. Well, guess what? I don’t think you can keep me in this room without having to tie me. I don’t think you’re strong enough.”
What. A. Bitch. She wanted to challenge him, did she? She’d soon learn the error of her ways. He stood, stalked to the bed and withdrew a knife. Surprisingly, she didn’t flinch as he lowered it toward her. She looked…eager. Ready to die.
What an odd reaction.
With quick precision, he cut each of the ties. Immediately she tried to bolt toward the door, but he caught her by the waist and flung her back onto the bed.
As she gasped, he jumped on top of her, weight smashing her down. She struggled, oh, did she struggle, teeth snapping at him, hands pounding at him, knees whipping a direct pathway to his shaft. Fuck!
He held on through the pain and dizziness and nausea and soon she tired, panting, sweating, more of that mist wafting from her.
That chilly mist smelled of…ambrosia, thick, flowery. Addicting.
“You really should think before you speak. You haven’t been fed or watered.” Like the animal she was. “You’re too weak to take me.”
When she stilled completely, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. He locked her legs down with his own, and his middle fell more deeply into hers, her body offering him a cradle.
She was soft, chilled, almost like champagne on ice. And the scent of that ambrosia… He felt his cock thickening, elongating, and growled, suddenly pissed off beyond measure. “See? Easy,” he told her.
She looked at him through the thick shield of her lashes, those gray eyes steady, emotionless. “Round one is yours. That hardly matters.”
“Says the loser.”
His demon purred with joy. That joy sparked pleasure, and that pleasure washed through him. Ah. That was why he was aroused, he realized; it had nothing to do with the woman. Thank the gods. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he lusted for a godsdamn Hunter.
“What now?” she asked in that calm, dead voice.
“Now,” he replied. “We send a piece of you to your boyfriend, then send the rest of you to my friends.”
BY THE TIME they reached Lucifer’s palace, Amun was useless and he feared he’d weakened his companions. There’d been other battles with demons, yet Aeron and William had had to fight on their own while protecting him. Now they were bloody and bruised and forced to drag him along.
His friends would’ve been better off leaving him behind.The new voice in his head…gods, it was worse than any other he’d ever welcomed. So many urges…kill, maim, destroy. Reminded him of his first years with Secrets. So many dark deeds done…so many memories infused with his own.
One of these new memories filled his mind even then. Three human souls were bared and chained before him, each trembling, crying, begging for mercy. He didn’t have mercy, however. He was too eager for this. His claws sharpened to deadly points and he slowly raked each tip over the two males, sinking deep, cutting skin and hitting bone, letting the female see what would soon be done to her, increasing her fear. Both men screamed, for his claws were tipped with acid.
That acid burned through the human souls, rotting everything it touched.
Soon their skin turned to char, and that char spread. That’s when he flipped them over, one at a time, that sweet scent of rot in his nose, and raped them. Their screaming increased, their thrashing increased, and he laughed. Laughed with true glee. Fun, this was always so much fun.
The woman watched every thrust, helpless, afraid, knowing she was next.
Soon, he promised her. Finally, he emptied into the second male and turned to the female, already hard again. He was always hard. Always ready. The more unwilling the victim, the better.
She tried to crawl away from him, but the chain around her neck stopped her. He laughed. Can’t run from me, little maggot.
No, Amun screamed in his mind. That’s not me. That’s not me!
He leaned over and vomited, entire body spasming as bile blistered a path through his throat.
Strong hands patted his back, offering comfort. “That’s it. Let it out,” Aeron said.
Once he’d voided his stomach completely, he straightened. Or tried to. His knees finally gave out and not even his friends could hold him up. He was too heavy. A dead weight, boneless.
They managed to drag him to a gnarled tree and prop him against the jagged trunk. Trees in hell, he thought dazedly. Go figure.
“What can I do?” Aeron asked, crouching in front of him.
Nothing. Groaning, Amun forced his eyelids to remain open. The new voice continued to scream, to make itself known, and the pain in his head increased. But he’d rather feel that pain than see those terrible images.
He scanned his surroundings, searching for a distraction. The forest was composed of ash and withered foliage. There was no green, no colorful flowers. Only an endless sea of black. Souls had been tormented here.
He had tormented souls here.
Oh, gods.
“Take a moment to rebuild your strength,” William said, motioning to the looming hill where Lucifer’s palace rested. “We’re almost there.”
Amun followed the direction of his friend’s gaze. Black brick rose from that monochrome sea, two crumbling towers connected in the center to form a giant skull. There was a staircase enclosed by pikes—pikes that held severed human heads—leading to the yawning mouth of that skull, where sharp, yellow teeth hung like a chandelier. He would never make it.
Just leave me here, he tried to sign.
He didn’t think he’d succeeded, but William understood him nonetheless. “You have to go with us. If it becomes necessary, and I pray that it won’t, only you can discover where Lucifer has hidden the girl.”
And how much worse would Lucifer’s memories be than this demon’s? How much more could Amun take?
“You’ve been here before,” Aeron said to the warrior. “Anya said Lucifer is even afraid of you. Why is that?”
“Anya misspoke.” William had once again carefully blanked his mind, preventing Amun from reading the truth.
“I don’t think so. Knowledge is power, and we need all the power we can get. Look at us.” Aeron waved a hand down his bleeding body.
He was at the razor-edge of his patience, ready to erupt at the slightest offense.
“The reason doesn’t matter,” William snapped. He, too, was gearing for a battle. “He’ll fight me, just the same as he’ll fight you.”
Arguing wasn’t helping their cause. Amun held out a shaky hand to be helped up. His knees nearly collapsed again, but two strong arms banded around him, his anchors in the storm.
Once more, the three of them trudged forward. By the time they reached the top of the hill, they were panting, cursing. There were no demon guards posted at the entrance to the staircase, but then, Lucifer didn’t want to keep them out. The prince of darkness was inside, and he was waiting.
Up the stairs they climbed, dust pluming at their feet. The door was open. After only the briefest of pauses, they stepped into a wide foyer, where piles of bones rested in each corner. The floor was stained red with blood and sticky with things he didn’t want to contemplate.
Amun pulled from his friends’ clasps, determined to stand on his own. He wouldn’t hinder them any more than he already had. He was a warrior, damn it. He could do this.
“Be ready,” Aeron whispered, blades already in hand.
“Been ready,” William replied, gripping his own blades more tightly.
They’d already run out of bullets and had had to dispose of their guns.
Together, they stalked forward, straight ahead, Amun continually tripping over his own feet. But he did walk, and at the moment, that was all that mattered. Finally they reached a room, scalding orange-gold flames licking each of the walls and fanning heat in every direction.
His demon sighed. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, uttered the word home. Sickness reclaimed his stomach. Not home, he thought. Never home.
Focus. There, in the center of the room, was a dais built from brimstone and atop that brimstone was a throne of twisted, jagged metal and horns.
The prince of darkness reclined in it, calm, unfazed by his expected visitors.
