The Darkest Surrender

CHAPTER SIX

HOW THE HOLY HELL HAD this happened?

Strider paced the length of the dingy motel room, the ice in his veins making his movements sluggish. His boots hammered into the shaggy brown carpet, creating a well-worn path.

Kaia was perched on top of the TV, watching him, her expression concerned. Her long, smooth legs were crossed at the ankles and swinging, banging into the screen every other second. A little faster, and she would have matched the thump, thump beat of his heart.

Sabin and Gwen sat at the edge of one of the double beds, and Bianka and Lysander sat at the edge of the other. Taliyah had taken off with a pretty black girl, and neither had said a word about where they were going or how long they’d be gone.

“The Unspoken Ones claimed to have the Paring Rod,” he croaked. Someone had to get the conversation/raging argument started.

“Clearly, they lied.” Sabin propped his elbows on his knees, head falling into his upraised hands.

Yeah. Clearly. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “This is bad. Really bad.”

He should have known, should have suspected at the very least. Instead, a few weeks ago Strider had visited their temple. He hadn’t minded giving the monstrous beings the Cloak because he’d thought they had another artifact already. Why not one more? He’d thought they would guard both relics until he could return and bargain, buying both.

He’d thought wrong.

What a cluster! If the Unspoken Ones had possessed the Rod, they wouldn’t have given it to Juliette. Not without payment, and that payment would not have come in the form of cash or jewels. They wanted only Cronus’s head.

Since the god king still lived, no exchange had been made. Which meant the Unspoken Ones were completely untrustworthy, and there was no telling what they would do with the Cloak if Strider failed to deliver that head.

Win, Defeat growled. No question, just a flat-out acceptance for the challenge presented.

There would be no squabbling on his part. Even though they now had two open objectives. The Cloak, and Kaia. I know. I will.

First, he had to steal the Paring Rod. Sabin hadn’t lied. If it ended up in the wrong hands—and by “wrong,” he meant any hands but his own—Pandora’s box could be found, and he and his friends destroyed. Their demons would be ripped from their bodies and sucked back inside.

Great in theory, but man and beast were connected in a hard-core, can’t-live-without-you kind of way. Apart, the men would instantly kick the bucket and the demons would go bat-shit crazy.

Urgency rushed through him. Strider stopped in the center of the room and faced Kaia. “We have to steal it.”

Her mouth fell open, red and lush and oh-so-tempting. “Uh, what now?”

“Forget the games and help me steal the Rod.” He gritted his teeth like a good little soldier and added, “Please.” Sometimes a guy needed a wingman, and now was one of those times. He had no idea how Harpy minds worked or where that Juliette person was likely to hide her treasure.

Kaia was his inside source. His only way in.

Her pupils dilated—with anger. Great. Exactly what he didn’t need. The little lady in a temper, unafraid to use it. Then she ran her tongue over her teeth, and a bolt of lust shot straight through him, melting the ice and leaving a smoldering inferno behind, making him long to stoke that temper higher.

At a time like this? Really?

No time is the wrong time, his libido piped up. She might attack, but at least her hands will be all over you.

He could have kicked his own horny ass.

“Not just no, but hell, no,” she said, chin lifted stubbornly.

Dread replaced his urgency. He knew that look. He’d seen it before, directed at the roomful of Harpies. Their gazes had flayed her alive, for some reason, but she hadn’t backed down.

“And you aren’t stealing it, either,” she added.

As if. “Are you trying to punish me, Red?” He’d made the fatal mistake of being honest with her, of telling her he was here to help her but not to romance her. He’d known better, too. Never show a woman your cards. “Because if that’s the case—”

“Oh, my gods. Are you that egotistical?” Those silver-gold eyes sharpened like daggers, cutting him up inside. He didn’t like her angry (for the most part), and he didn’t like her hurt. Just then, she appeared to be both. “Not every thing is about you, Strider.”

“I know that. Believe me, I ego check all the time. So tell me, what’s the problem? I seem to recall a certain redheaded Harpy once saying she’d do anything, as long as it was immoral and the price was right. So do it. Name your price, and do it.”

“There is no price,” she snapped. “Not for this.”

“Are you afraid?” A low blow, yeah, but he was desperate.

She hopped off the TV, teeth bared and sharpening into something far more dangerous than one of those daggers, black bleeding into her eyes and overshadowing all hint of color.

“You’re gonna get it now,” Bianka sang, and Lysander pressed his hand over her mouth, preventing her from saying anything else.

“Idiot,” Sabin muttered. “I’m not even gonna assist you. You deserve what’s about to happen.”

“I’m afraid of nothing.” Two voices layered Kaia’s words, and both were raspy, menacing…slashing. In and out she breathed, each inhalation labored, each exhalation ragged. “You’re very lucky my Harpy is adamantly opposed to harming you, or you’d be in pieces right now. And if you try to steal the Rod on your own, after I told you not to, I will challenge you to contests you cannot possibly hope to win. Forever.”

He wanted to shake her. Wanted to kiss her—but only to shut her the hell up, of course. Damn it, she skirted the edge of challenge even then. Defeat prowled from one side of his skull to the other, practically foaming at the mouth for a go at her. Only fear of losing kept the demon from accepting.

You’re the one who demanded we come here. You’re the one who decided to take down anyone who attacked her. Yeah, Strider had been leaning in that direction himself. Yeah, he kinda wanted to gut and decapitate her opposition before they could strike a single blow against her. However, he understood his own motives—attraction, and an overdeveloped sense of possession. Defeat’s motives? Not so much. Why are you doing this?

Win, was all the beast said. As always.

“Got it?” Kaia demanded when he offered no response.

Disappointment rocked him. She was trying to punish him, and he’d kind of expected better of her. They might snipe and snap at each other, they might be hopelessly fascinated by each other, but they were also friends. Or so he’d thought. Friends helped friends.

Case in point: he was in Wisconsin when he should have been in any of a thousand other places.

He spun around and glared at Bianka. He didn’t mind thieving on his own. Usually. However, Harpies were a different breed of animal than anyone or thing he’d dealt with before. They could move faster than the eye could track. They could rip through a man’s trachea with only their teeth. Hell, they could rip through an entire army in seconds.

There was no line they wouldn’t cross, no deed too vile. If he went for the Rod and they caught him, they would kill him. But without the Rod, he was dead, anyway. So, no contest. He was going for it.

“What about you?” he threw at Bianka.

“Tone, warrior,” Lysander said, his voice so mild Strider almost couldn’t detect the power behind it. Almost.

That’s not a challenge, he told his demon, refusing to repeat himself to Kaia’s twin. Thankfully—or not—Defeat was still too focused on Kaia, the Cloak and the Rod. If Strider failed to obtain the latter two, and soon, he would lose the battle. He would hurt. Yet he couldn’t leave Kaia without hurting, either.

Bianka shoved Lysander’s hand away from her mouth. “Sorry, big boy, but I can’t help you.”

“Why?”

She shrugged, all innocence. “If you want me to list reasons, I’ll list reasons. I can’t guarantee they’ll be truthful, though.”

He faced Gwen. “And you?”

“S-sorry?” she said, sounding confused. She glanced at Kaia, who shook her head. He knew because he was watching her reflection in the picture over the nightstand between the beds. “I can’t,” she finished more firmly.

Okay, something was going on here. Kaia wasn’t afraid. No matter what he’d said, he knew that. Girl was too brave for her own good. She’d stood in a roomful of Harpies, and even though they’d regarded her as if she were a slab of ribs and they were dedicated vegetarians, she’d kept her head high, daring them to try and take a bite.

The only time he’d ever seen her lose her cool, trembling with an emotion he hadn’t been able to name, was when she’d looked at her mother. Her very hot, clearly murderous mother, who might have spoken inside his head. He still wasn’t sure.

As the freakishly young-looking, dead-eyed brunette had perused his body, judging him, taking his measure, he’d heard a cold, emotionless and yet very feminine voice whisper, Kaia will die before the final game begins.

Like hell. Nothing else had been said, and no one else had heard the threat. And shit, maybe he had an overactive imagination. Either way, he didn’t care. He was here, he’d do what he’d promised, but damn it, Kaia was going to bend a little in this matter.

“Get lost,” he told the couples on the beds.

Knowing Strider as well as he did, Sabin gathered Gwen without protest and hustled her out the door. Their knowing gazes locked until the last possible moment. They’d move mountains to obtain that Rod, with or without the approval of the Skyhawks. First, though, they’d do what they could to obtain answers. Even if that meant splitting up and being without backup.

Thanks to a soft, “I’ll be fine,” from Kaia, Bianka and Lysander followed close on Sabin’s heels, shutting the door behind them with a soft click. The angel didn’t know him, or what he was capable of, but must have recognized the danger he posed.

“Why?” he demanded, swinging around.

Kaia didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “They’ll say I had no confidence in my abilities. They’ll call me a coward.”

“So?” She was willing to risk his life for her ego? “A little ridicule never killed anyone.”

She flicked the long length of that curling red hair over one shoulder, the picture of feminine pique. At least the black had faded from her eyes, a sign her Harpy was under control. “Lookit, you’re here, and much as I hate to admit this, you’ll find out anyway, so I might as well tell you.”

A heavy pause. “Go on.”

She gulped. “A long time ago, during the Harpy Games, I tried to steal…something from another…clan.”

Oh, really? “Why the hesitation?”

“Anyway,” she continued, ignoring him, her cheeks flushing prettily. “My actions resulted in a massacre. Half the Harpy population was wiped out, and I have never been forgiven.”

He knew what that meant. They had ostracized her. And if anyone understood the sting of rejection, it was Strider.

When the gods had chosen Pandora to guard dim-Ouniak, the box containing the evil spirits that managed to escape the depths of hell, he had allowed pride to rule him. How dare they pick her, a female, when he had never lost a battle? Anyone Zeus had wanted eliminated, Strider had eliminated.

He’d wanted to prove himself worthy, which was why he’d helped steal and open that box. Of course, he’d had every intention of recapturing the demons after they’d caused a little havoc. He would have been all “See what I can do? See what your precious Pandora can’t?” But the box disappeared, and the havoc had been far more than a little. He’d never encountered its like, before or since.

Not even when Defeat was first shoved into his body and the urge to hurt, maim and destroy consumed him. Yet that hadn’t been enough of a punishment for the Greeks. They’d kicked him out of the only home he’d ever known and never acknowledged him again.

So, rejection, unforgivingness, yeah, he knew them intimately. But he couldn’t let anything, even Kaia’s potential downfall, stop him from obtaining that Rod. Too much was at stake.

“If I take something else…they’ll kill me, Strider. After they ensure I feel every bit of pain they have felt.”

She believed what she said. The truth glistened in her eyes as surely as a sheen of tears. “I’ll protect you.”

“Don’t make me state the obvious about what you can and can’t do,” she said with a bitter laugh. “I could run, sure, but what kind of life is that? And what if they go after my sisters when they’re unable to find and punish me?”

Good point, and one he couldn’t—wouldn’t—shake her from. He tried another route. “No one has to know you took it. We’ll get in and get out, no problem.”

Sad, she shook her head. “Wouldn’t matter if I left evidence behind or not. If the Rod goes missing, they’ll blame me no matter what.”

“So?” he said again. He had to harden his heart.

“You know nothing about Harpy justice, Strider. There is no trial. There is no innocent until proven guilty. If I’m suspected, I will be hunted, I will be tortured and as I said, I will be killed.”

“I’ll protect you,” he repeated, and that was the truth.

She arched an auburn brow. “You’re going to make me state the obvious, but okay. You can’t.”

That isn’t a challenge. “I can.”

“You’ll protect me from an army of Harpies who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt everyone you love to get to me? An army of Harpies who would help the Hunters if it meant punishing me?”

Shit. “What do you propose I do then, huh?” He stalked to her, gripped her upper arms—she felt so fragile, so vulnerable—finally shaking her as he’d wanted to do for so long. Every movement wafted her scent to his nose, cinnamon and sugar, a feast for his senses. His mouth watered, his blood heated. “What? Tell me.”

Her heartbroken expression never wavered. “What you originally came here to do. Act as my consort. I will fight, and I will win the Rod. Honorably.”

“I thought you didn’t do honorably.”

She peered up at him through narrowing eyes, indignation at last replacing sorrow. When her lashes fused together, he was strangely glad to see the silver swirling underneath, no hint of gold. “In this and only this, I do. Too much is at stake,” she added, mirroring his thoughts. “Not just for me, but for my sisters.”

Win.

The Rod? Dude, I’m working on it. A little space would be nice.

Win!

I know, damn you! “What if I… Shit.” He released Kaia to scrub a hand down his face. As many battles as he’d fought during his long life, he could sniff out a dead end before he turned the corner and spied the brick wall. They were at an impasse, and he knew it. She wouldn’t budge—unless he changed the stakes.

“Do this for me, and I’ll sleep with you. Okay?”

For a moment, she gave no reaction. Then a squawk parted her lips and she batted him away from her. And by “batted” he meant that she used so much force, he actually spun around, unable to stop himself.

“How magnanimous of you.” An instant later, she was in front of him again. She shoved him, hard, and he stumbled backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. “To offer up your body when you so clearly have no desire for me. To lower your standards and whore yourself. To use me, no matter how badly I’ll suffer in the end.”

Her words were like arrows, direct hits, and he cringed, but he offered no reply. Not yet. As he collapsed and bounced on the mattress, he focused on his demon. This isn’t a challenge to dominate her sexually, you get me?

Win!

Strider pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He thought the demon was still focused on the Rod, but he couldn’t be sure. So, when Kaia jumped on top of him, straddling his waist, he twisted, tossing her down and pinning her with his weight. And gods, that felt good. She fit him perfectly, her breasts soft against his chest, the apex of her thighs offering an exquisite cradle to the thickness of his shaft.

The scent of cinnamon continued to waft from her, enveloping him, hazing his thoughts. Heat, so much heat, pulsed from her soft, luscious skin, branding him.

WIN.

Bastard. “This is life and death, Kaia.”

She was panting as she tangled her hands in his hair, nails biting into his scalp. “For me, too.”

“Would you do it for…Paris?” he asked, hating himself.

“No.”

No hesitation from her, and that eased the tightness in his chest. A tightness he hadn’t even been aware of until just that moment. “Kaia.”

“Strider.”

“I—I never said I didn’t desire you.” He wasn’t sure what he’d meant to say, he only knew that wasn’t it, that the words had slipped out without his consent. “I do. How could I not?”

She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Are you saying you agree to be my consort?”

“No.” He wouldn’t lie about that. Not to her. And not because she’d rip him to pieces when she discovered the truth. “I can’t give you forever.”

The nibbling increased in intensity, leaving a bead of blood in the center of her mouth. “Because we’re not a good match?”

Of course she would remember every insult he’d ever thrown at her. “Yes.”

“Then what can you give me?”

“Here. Now.” Something his body craved more with every second that passed.

“In exchange for my aid in the theft of the Paring Rod.” A statement, not a question.

“Yes.” Maybe even without it. So badly he wanted to arch into her, rub against her, stoke her passions until she begged him to finish her off.

She ran the pink tip of her tongue over her teeth. Teeth sharpening into a mouthful of daggers, but gods, that tongue was pretty. “You’ll have to convince me,” she said huskily, even as she drew his head down…down…until his lips hovered just above hers. “Give me a taste of what you’re offering.”

WIN, WIN, WIN.

A challenge. Intentional or not. And this time, he had no trouble interpreting what his demon expected, needed. Strider had to kiss her, and he had to convince her, or he would hurt.

He waited for fury to fill him, but as he stared down at her, breathing her in, all he wanted to do was give her that taste.

He removed her nails from his scalp and flattened her hands over her head, forcing her back to bow, her body to slide against his. Her nipples were hard, just waiting for his mouth.

“Don’t say another goddamn word,” he commanded, and then he finally, finally went in for the kill.