The Darkest Seduction

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

THE LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD were here, on the island in Rome, and nearing the Temple of the Unspoken Ones at that very moment.

They would have a plan of attack, Galen thought. The most likely: all but one warrior would surround him, staying hidden in the shadows, and that one would approach him to speak to him. Unless, of course, they all thought to hide, shooting him full of arrows and bullets now and asking their questions later.

Wouldn’t matter either way. The warriors must know they were walking into a trap. That Galen would not have set the meeting here if he could not use the Unspoken Ones to his benefit.

Once the Lords reached the threshold of the temple, the Unspoken Ones would have them, would whisk them here into their inner sanctum, as one, right in front of Galen, and lock them in place with invisible bindings, allowing him to do his thing.

However, Galen didn’t want to go that route. It was too time-consuming, with too much risk. Not to his life, but to theirs. If he killed one of the Lords, none would ever complete the trade he’d demanded. All he wanted right now was Legion.

His hands fisted. If the warriors had failed to bring her, he would honor his word for once in his life. As he had told Lucien, he would take another loved one from the Lords, and another and another—until they broke down. He would not kill, but he would harm.

Every day Galen’s need for Legion worsened. Hope had built up dreams of having her, of punishing her, of taming her…of owning her. Jealousy had tossed fuel on an already smoldering fire of resentment as he wondered where she was and what she was doing.

A rustle behind him had him tensing.

He whipped around. Standing between fat white pillars were all five of the Unspoken Ones. The furred one with a headful of hissing snakes in place of hair. The scarred one, with more muscles than three roided-up boxers fused together. The female, with the face of an ugly bird and horns lining the length of her spine. Lastly, the tallest two—one with shadows seeping from his skullet, and the other with blades that dripped poison spiking from the crown of his head.

Each creature was bound by chains they couldn’t break. And yet, the tenuous bonds mattered only as long as Cronus lived. The moment he kicked it, these beings would be loosed upon an unsuspecting world. No one, not even Galen, would be able to stop the destruction they would undoubtedly mete out.

On an altar in front of them lay Ashlyn, pale and panting, sweating, like a virginal sacrifice of old. Only this virgin was heavily pregnant and about to give birth. The fright he’d given her had caused her to go into labor.

Oddly enough, Galen didn’t like that she was in pain. She wasn’t a bad sort, and hurting the fairer sex had never been a particular favorite of his. He’d do it, had done it—he’d do anything—but he never enjoyed it.

“Cut the babes from her belly,” the horned, beaked she-devil commanded him. “I would have them for my own.”

Babes? As in more than one?

“They must die,” the scarred male snapped.

“No. We will use them as barter,” one of the mountains of muscle said.

Ashlyn moaned in pain, in supplication, her glassy gaze pleading as she looked to Galen. “Please. Don’t do this.”

Begging the enemy. To do so, she must love those babies with her whole heart, even though she had yet to meet them. He thought he understood that. Nearly twenty-nine years ago, he’d inadvertently fathered a daughter; he had not learned of her existence until she was fully grown. Knowing she was of his blood had been all that was needed for him to…not love her, he didn’t think he’d ever experienced that emotion, but to feel a sort of kinship with her despite the fact that she was as different from him as he was from the Lords.

His Gwendolyn. A Harpy. A female he could not bring himself to hurt. A female who would cut him down without a moment’s hesitation. He liked that about her, felt pride in her ruthlessness.

Galen had done terrible things throughout his life. Betrayed his friends, killed for power, razed cities, purposely addicted his own people to drugs so that they would need him, follow him. He had destroyed their families when they dared to disobey him—or even so much as thought to betray him. He’d slept with females he shouldn’t have, in ways he shouldn’t have.

There was no line he hadn’t crossed. No line he wouldn’t cross. He had done all of that—and would do a thousand times worse—yet he had never cared about the consequences. Still didn’t. Unlike the warriors he’d been created with, he hadn’t come with a sense of honor, a bond of brotherhood or a need to help anyone but himself.

Baden, the first to be created, had gotten most of the goodness and the rest a mere trickle. Galen, the very last to be created, had gotten what remained—nothing but the cold and the dark.

Perhaps that was why he had gone after Baden first.

None of the Lords knew he had spoken with Baden before he’d sent his Bait to lure the man to his death. A private meeting Baden himself had arranged. None of them knew Galen had vowed to leave the immortal army alone, to stop the war, if Baden sacrificed himself.

Possessed by the demon of Distrust, Baden had not believed Galen’s vow, but he’d made the bargain anyway, just in case. Galen knew it was because he’d blamed his demon for his instinct to mistrust, and hoped for the best—because of Galen’s demon.

The Bait—Haidee, one of the keepers of Hate—had gone to the warrior, unaware that her victim knew where she would lead him. Baden had not wanted his friends to know he willingly rushed to his grave. He had not wanted them to witness the event, either, but of course they had followed him. There had been no stopping the war after that, even if Galen had wanted to. Which, of course, he hadn’t.

“Gaaaaaleeeen.” A low, pained moan echoed as Ashlyn writhed atop the stone. Her face was red, swelling, her breaths coming in shorter puffs.

“Don’t look to me for aid, female.” The next half hour was mission critical, and he could not allow her to distract him. “I told your man what he must do to save you.”

“Please. Pleeeease.”

A pang in his chest. If he told her the only way to ensure he would give the babies to their father was for her to crawl to him, she would find the strength to do so. She’d even kiss and lick his boots. She would do anything and everything he asked, no matter how vile.

Oh, yes, she loved her children. They were flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood, and they would love her in return.

Nothing and no one had ever belonged to him and only him—except Legion. Not that she would do anything necessary to save him, nor would he do anything necessary to save her. But. Yeah, there was always a but with him. He had been her first lover—and he wanted to be her last.

He wasn’t sure what had happened to her during her forced stay in hell. Didn’t know what she had welcomed, and what she hadn’t. But she would no longer be his alone, that much he knew. Something else to punish her—to punish all of them—for.

“The babes,” the female Unspoken said again. Was that…yearning he detected in her voice? Did she actually crave a chance at motherhood? “Give. Me.”

The males turned on her, scowling, tossing obscenities, arguing over what should be done versus foolish desires. Whatever happened to the mother, Galen decided in that moment, he would not allow the Unspoken Ones to have or hurt those children.

Finally, a decent act on his part. One of goodness, without guile or selfishness. Never let it be said he was all bad all the time.

“G-Galen. I am h-here, as requested.”

Every muscle in his body went taut, his blood instantly firing, blistering through him. A hallucination? He sniffed, taking in the earth, a hint of hellfire and the subtlest trace of sea salt. No hallucination.

Legion was here.

The wealth and variance of emotion he felt nearly overwhelmed him as he spun to search her out. And there she was, a few feet away. She stood at the edge of the temple grounds, trees stretched out behind her. She was lovely, though not exactly as he remembered. Tall, buxom, with a fall of pale hair and eyes of the smoothest brown. Her lips were chapped, as if she’d been chewing them, and she’d lost so much weight her T-shirt and sweatpants bagged on her.

The Lords hadn’t taken proper care of her. For that, they would suffer more than he’d originally planned. She was to be punished, yes, but by his hand and only his hand. Anger became the front-runner inside him.

“Are you armed?” he asked, not expecting the truth.

“I—” Her hand fluttered to her throat, and her gaze skittered past him, widened. “Ashlyn.” She raced forward, only to jolt backward when he stepped in her path, her desperation to avoid him palpable.

“You will stay where you are.”

“L-let her g-go.” The stutter told him more than her words. She was afraid of him. “You said y-you would.”

“Legion, gooooo!” Ashlyn screamed, speaking through a contraction. “Tell Maddox—”

“Silence!” Galen snarled. He would accept no interference in this matter.

Legion grabbed her stomach, her skin taking on a greenish tint. Her chin trembled.

This fear of hers scraped at his nerves. Before, she had been brave and full of the fire she had been raised in.

“The warriors are almost upon us,” one of the Unspoken said. “We will whisk them here the very moment we can. Now, give the females into our care, so that you may fight without distraction.”

That had been their plan, and one he’d pretended to agree with. Then and now, the thought of allowing anyone to touch his woman grated. And when he noticed Legion’s reaction to the idea—a cold wash of horror in eyes glassy with unshed tears—he was decided.

“Back away,” he told her. “Stand in the rubble at the edge of the trees. And if you so much as think about flashing away or running, I’ll hurt the human.”

The tears finally fell, but she did as commanded. He hated the increased distance between them, and blamed the Unspoken Ones.

“What are you doing?” one growled.

“Give them to us,” another shrieked.

They had only one weakness that he knew of. They could not take what they wanted; it had to be given to them. Usually they used trickery to ascertain free will, as they had done to obtain the Cloak of Invisibility from Strider. When trickery failed, they resorted to scaring their victims into submission.

They would learn. Galen feared nothing.

“Don’t move from that spot, no matter what happens,” he told Legion, peering at her until she nodded to acknowledge she had heard him.

Then she gulped, raised her chin. “But only if…only if you give Ashlyn and the babies back to Maddox. Alive.”

Of course, the Unspoken Ones reacted first.

“No!”

“Never!”

“She will leave you the moment you comply!”

“Do not be a fool!”

Legion glanced behind him. The greenish tint returned to her skin, and damn if she didn’t look ready to scream.

“Eyes on me,” he snapped, and she immediately submitted. Such lovely eyes. Rich and dark and boundless, even with their cascade of tears. “Do not look away from me.”

A tremor in response.

He backed up until he stood beside Ashlyn, then twisted and bent, sliding his arms underneath her, picking her up. She was heavy, her muscles knotted from strain. Legion maintained the connection between them.

The Unspoken Ones demanded to know what he thought he was doing. He ignored them, carrying the girl to Legion’s side.

“We gave you the Cloak, Hope. You owe us the females.”

Had they meant to keep the humans as their due, then? He laughed with just a bit of humor. Probably. Something he would have done, as well, so he couldn’t really blame them.

Wait. Yes, he decided. He could.

“Should you betray us now, we will hunt you. We will destroy you in the old way.” The female let loose a cackling laugh. “Do you have any idea of the awfulness that entails?”

He ignored her, saying to Legion, “Vow to me here and now that you will not try to escape me, that you will go with me willingly and do everything I tell you, when I tell you to do it. A blood vow.” One she would not be able to break, even if she wanted to.

For immortals, keeping blood vows became a compulsion.

Another tremor shook her. Those liquid eyes with their spiky lashes roved over him, causing his cock to fill and harden. He would have her. Tonight. “I w-will, but only if you vow to give Ashlyn and the babies back to Maddox, without hurting her. Or them. Today. And without fighting the Lords.”

The girl had learned to bargain, to cover all the bases. A complication, but not anything that would stand in his way.

Galen placed the still panting, pregnant female on the ground as gently as he was able. She was in too much pain to notice or speak. As he straightened, he removed one of his daggers.

Legion shrank away.

That fear would have to be dealt with. He wanted his firecracker back. The one who had seduced him at the bar, screwed him in the bathroom. Bitten and poisoned him before he could finish.

Speaking of, she owed him an orgasm. And so many weeks had passed, she now owed him more than one. Interest was a bitch. But first, ensuring her cooperation. “In exchange for what I have asked you to promise, I vow to you here and now, this day, that I will give the female Ashlyn and her offspring back to her male Maddox, and I will hurt none of them. I will fight not with his friends, but give her and the babes over, unharmed by my hand or any other, and go on my way.” He pressed the tip of the blade into his palm and cut so deeply he hit bone.

Blood welled. He smeared crimson on both sides of the blade, making sure to saturate the tip. Then he offered the weapon to Legion, hilt first. Part of him expected her to take it and slash at him, but no. She knew she was beaten, merely watched him, undecided about her next move. Cooperation was her only option. Unlike Lucien, she did not have the power to flash others alongside her, so she couldn’t spirit Ashlyn to safety.

“Hurry.” Any moment now, the Lords would arrive and it would be too late to walk away with what he wanted. He couldn’t fight the Lords and watch Legion. And he couldn’t run with her, avoiding battle, because she could flash away from him any time she wished. He needed her vow. “Before I change my mind.” As if he would ever change his mind.

With a trembling hand, she accepted the blade. Nervously she licked her lips.

He waited, on edge.

Finally, he heard the words he craved. “In exchange for what you have already promised, I vow to you here and now, this day, to willingly accompany you to wherever you wish.” Those glitter-ripe tears continued to rain down her cheeks. “I will do w-whatever you ask. And stay as l-long as you demand my presence.”

She pressed the blade’s tip into her palm and cut. Not as deeply as he had, but enough to ensure a successful exchange. Her blood welled, mingling with the droplets he’d left behind. He liked that, liked knowing some part of him was now inside her.

He reached out, clasped her hand against his, her wound against his. At the moment of contact, he felt a pop inside him, a tear on his soul, and though he’d never done anything like this before, he knew the vow had just made a place for itself inside him. Judging by her grimace, hers had just done the same.

At last, she belonged to him.

Legion flinched.

Had he said the words aloud? Or perhaps she, too, had snapped back to reality as the Unspoken Ones hissed and cursed and threatened behind him. Galen cupped her cheek with his uninjured hand, his thumb caressing the rise of satin-covered bone. She trembled, but didn’t pull away.

He rattled off the coordinates to his home. “Leave now, make no other stops, talk to no one, and I will give the girl and her babies to her man as promised.” And the Unspoken Ones could not stop her as they could the Lords. Well, all the Lords save the ever-annoying Lucien. “Hurry, I am almost too late.”

She gulped, jerked from his clasp. He mourned the loss. Wanted to roar as she vanished before his eyes. She goes to your home. You will be with her again.

He had only to take care of two tasks. Ashlyn, and the Unspoken. They could lure anyone, him included, with their gazes, cast illusions and hypnotize. And they liked to do so; they also liked to play with their prey. Something they didn’t need a willing spirit to do.

He knew, because he’d fed them some of his own men. The ones he’d disliked, the ones who hurt the innocent. Ironic, yes, considering all the things he himself had done, but also another of his very good deeds. He did them upon occasion, if for no other reason than to amuse himself.

Soon the Lords would be too close for him to divert. As promised, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, fight them, but the Unspoken Ones could. If he allowed that to happen, the Unspoken would forgive him for his unwillingness to share the females. Except, Ashlyn could be hurt during the battle, which meant Galen could not allow it. Soooo, he couldn’t take care of the Lords or the Unspoken this day. Both would have to be dealt with later.

Keeping his gaze trained on the ground, he approached the pillars. Heard chains rattle. Stealthily he dug the Cloak from his back pocket and unfolded the material. The creatures tracked him, even as they hissed at him; he felt the heat of their gazes.

Acting quickly, he flared his wings and the Cloak at the same time. His feet lifted off the ground, and he spun…spun…letting invisibility overtake him as the razor-sharp edges of his wings sliced into the Unspoken closest to him while the Cloak extended like a tentacle and wrapped around the neck of the farthest, crushing his windpipe.

The first lost his insides, and hunched over with a howl of pain. The second couldn’t breathe and collapsed, unconscious.

Galen was on the next two a split second later, a tsunami of movement, twisting, diving, cutting and doing a little more of that crushing. They couldn’t see him, couldn’t fight him, and oh, he had fun.

Less than a minute after his initial attack, all five were on the ground. The Cloak sagged in Galen’s grip as he planted his feet on the ground, his body coming back into view.

“Shouldn’t have taught me how to use the Cloak properly,” he tsked.

He bent down and scooped Ashlyn into his arms. Sweat soaked her, her cheeks were puffed from the strain, and she clutched her stomach as she wheezed. Without the Cloak, he couldn’t flash her, and with it, her man would not sense her. That left Galen with only one option. He stalked away from the temple without any explanation. Tree branches reached out, slapping at him. Twigs snapped under his boots.

“You. Will. Die,” he heard one of the injured choke.

“That is our vow to you,” another panted.

“Your screams will echo into eternity.”

Ignoring them, again, he picked up his pace. After this, they might opt to aid the Lords. No matter, though. They were stuck here, so what could they really do to him, even with immortal help?

“Cry out for your man, Ashlyn.”

That fall of honey hair remained plastered to her scalp as she shook her head wildly. A moment passed. She cringed and covered her ears with her hands, an action he understood. Wherever she stood, she could hear every conversation that had taken place there.

Using the arm wrapped under her shoulders, he angled his wrist to tug one of her hands away. “You heard my vow to Legion. I cannot hurt you or your man today. Call for him. Bring him to you.”

Perhaps she meant to deny him a second time, but she opened her mouth and a scream of pain was unleashed. Birds flew from the tops of trees. Insects ceased midsong. Animals of the four-legged variety raced for cover.

He could have set her down and left her there, but he didn’t. Whatever the Lords had planned to do to him, they changed their minds when they heard that scream and came running. He heard the thunder of their footsteps and ground to a halt, waiting. A few seconds later, they ruptured the thick green foliage, becoming a half circle of menace around him.

They were closer than I realized, he thought. Interesting. They might have won this round, after all.

Maddox cared not for his own safety. “Give her to me.” He sprinted the rest of the distance, and with a tenderness belying his savage expression, he took his woman into his arms. “Oh, my love. I am so sorry. So sorry.”

Another pang ripped through Galen’s chest.

She moaned. “Hurts.”

“I know, darling, I know. Lucien,” the warrior growled as his narrowed gaze landed on Galen. “Flash her out of here. Now. She’s in labor.”

“Maddox,” she panted. “Don’t want…to leave…you.”

“Shh, love. Shh. We’ll get you help. Let Lucien take you. Then he’ll come back for me. He can’t take the two of us at once, but I’ll only be moments behind you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“If something happens and I can’t get back to you—” Lucien began.

“What?” Ashlyn screeched. “Why wouldn’t you be able to get back?”

Maddox gave the scarred warrior a hard look.

“Remember what Danika said to us.” Lucien gently took the still protesting Ashlyn from Maddox’s arms. “We won’t be at the fortress.”

Maddox maintained contact for as long as possible. When the keeper of Death and the pregnant female disappeared, he straightened to his full height and once again met Galen’s stare.

Galen wasn’t sure why he stayed, even then. Each warrior had weapons, and all of those weapons were trained on him. Guns, blades, a crossbow. His own daughter, Gwen, was the holder of the bow, an arrow notched and at the ready.

Ah, now he knew why he’d stayed. Deep down he’d known she would come, and he’d wanted her to see what he’d done. See one of his rare good deeds. And maybe…maybe even decide to like him.

“Why did you give her back?” Maddox demanded. Despite the fact that his woman had been returned healthy and whole, he reeked of rage.

“Why else? I now have what I wanted from you.”

The warrior’s brows lowered, surprise a slash of crimson in his eyes. “You have Legion?”

So. They hadn’t brought her. She had come to him on her own. Another interesting tidbit—and enough to ripen every thread of possessiveness inside him. “She is mine, yes.”

“How?”

He grinned slowly with glee. “How do you think?”

A flash of bone and scales under Maddox’s face, his demon rising to the surface. “There’s something you should know about Legion.”

“And that is?” He knew what would happen next, knew exactly what the warriors planned to do. Knew it would hurt like a son of a bitch. He could have covered himself with the Cloak, could have flashed away. Instead, he stood there, his grin widening.

“You’re not going back to her.” Maddox raised a Glock, as Galen had known he would, and fired, nailing Galen in the chest.

On the heels of the bullet, blades sliced into his stomach, an arrow right into his heart. He met his daughter’s gaze as he fell to his knees, reached back and at last grabbed the Cloak. “Now we’re even,” he told her, voice faint as he shielded himself from view.