The Darkest Passion

“My name isn’t dude, asshole.”



Nice of him to ignore everything else Strider had said. “Well, I thought it was better than calling you Holes.”



“Go to hell.”



“Been there, done that.”



The kid ran his tongue over his teeth. “Fine. You want to know the name of the man who will one day destroy you? It’s Dominic. My name is Dominic.”



“Actually, I don’t recall asking what your name is. I don’t really care,” Strider said, and it was true. “Now that I’ve saved your sorry ass, you can deliver a message for me. Tell Galen we know about the girl. The demon-possessed girl, if you need more clarification.”



Already pale, Dominic became chalk-white. “I don’t know…what you’re talking…about.” Blood loss had him gasping.



Yeah. Right.



Multiple shadows suddenly fell over the prone human, and Strider glanced up. Most of the others had closed in and were surrounding them. Not a single one complained about his disobedience. Compassion clouded their features the same way it must have clouded his.



He returned his attention to the boy. “And do yourself a favor,” he said, finishing the patch job. “When you get back to wherever your hidey-hole is, take a good long look at your leader. I know those wings of his make it seem like he’s the angel he claims to be. But guess what? He’s just like us—demon-possessed. Only his demon happens to be Hope. Why do you think you feel so optimistic about the future every time you’re in his presence? Why do you think you experience crushing disappointment every time you leave him? That’s what he does, you know? The source of his strength. Building people up and tearing them down.”



“No. No…wrong…” Dominic’s eyelids drifted closed. This time, they didn’t open. There were lines of strain and pain branching from his eyes and mouth now, and hollows were already forming in his cheeks. He needed a transfusion, but with no medical supplies here, such a thing was impossible.



“Text Lucien and tell him to try flashing here again, wherever here is.” Strider’s hand clenched. He didn’t want this jerk to die. Not after all his hard work.



There was a shuffle of clothing as Gwen did as he’d asked. A few seconds later, she said, “Yes! He made it. He’s at the temple and is going to follow our spiritual threads to reach us.”



Lucien had been all over the world and could flash anywhere he desired. But he didn’t know offhand exactly where someone he was tracking went. He had to follow the trails of energy they left behind in the spiritual plane.



Strider cupped the human’s jaw and shook. “Open your eyes, Dominic.”



A moment passed. Nothing. He shook again. Dominic moaned.



“Open. Your. Eyes.” He made sure to inject enough fury and menace into his tone to wake even the dead. Dominic had threatened to rise from the grave. No time like the present to prove he meant it.



The kid’s eyelids finally cracked open. “What d’you want?” was the groggy reply. His breathing was more labored, coming in short bursts.



“Soon as he gets here, one of our men will be taking you to a hospital. You’re going to live. And you’re going to deliver that message I gave you. Oh, yeah. You want to know the name of the guy who just saved you? It’s Strider. I’d also consider it a personal favor if you let Galen know I’m coming for him.” And like Galen, Strider wouldn’t show any mercy. Galen had made a mistake pairing Distrust with one of his soldiers, because now, Strider could kill Galen. And he could bind Hope with someone of his choosing.



Defeat laughed with glee. Game on.



Yes, Strider thought grimly. Game on.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN



AERON SOARED THROUGH THE AIR, Olivia clutched in his arms. She had her own arms splayed, the wind whipping her hair in every direction. Every few seconds, she would sigh breathily and he would imagine her smiling. She had to miss flying.



“Having fun?” he couldn’t help but ask.She didn’t reply.



She’d been silent since leaving Gilly’s apartment. Clearly, she was irritated with him. He’d left her needy, after all, taking her to the edge of pleasure and then stopping before she could fall. But then, he was a fool. Why else would he have promised to show her the harsh realities of his life? Sooner rather than later? Something he couldn’t do if he pleasured her every time she smiled at him. And sweetly begged him. And touched him.



Damned fool.



Her anger upset him, he would be lying if he said otherwise, but encouraging it was best. For both of them. When she surrendered, Legion would be able to return. Lysander would ensure Aeron and Legion were pardoned—or try to. Aeron hadn’t missed the implication. Still. It would have been nice to have Olivia… No. No. Nothing else mattered. Not Olivia, and not building some kind of life with her.



The thought alone was paradoxical. If she stayed, he would have no life. Only a handful of days.



Suddenly he could hear… His brow furrowed in confusion…. Was Wrath…whimpering? He listened more intently. Dear gods, the demon was. Because they couldn’t have Olivia?



They were both fools, then.



When they reached the fortress, he landed on the front steps and set her on her feet, the main door looming just ahead. No way he’d fly her through his bedroom again. Obviously, he couldn’t have a bed and Olivia in the same vicinity without losing all common sense.



“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her into the foyer. Once again, she was wearing her long white robe. A robe that bagged on her, hiding all those sinful curves. He’d flown to the fortress and retrieved the garment before flying back to her and bringing her here. A round trip that had been necessary for his own survival.



The woman was danger incarnate. When she’d stepped from that shower, damp and naked and clearly eager for him, he’d nearly died of pleasure, right then, right there. And the only thing he would have been sorry about had he died was that he wouldn’t be able to see her like that again.



Her breasts were small but firm and her nipples that luscious plum. Her skin was like a fluffy cloud mixed with cream and sprinkled with ambrosia. And all that chocolate hair curling to her waist…better for me to fist it, he thought.



Which he’d almost done, but somehow hadn’t. She’d moaned and writhed and begged him for more. Hell, Wrath had moaned and writhed and begged him for more. And he’d come so close to giving in to both of them. But then Olivia had gentled her kiss and he’d been disappointed and angry, and that volatile combination had thankfully snapped him into focus.



Yet, it shouldn’t have been disappointment or anger that he’d felt. He should have been overjoyed, but he’d found himself wondering if her desire for him had waned. If she wanted someone else instead. Someone like Paris or William, both of whom she’d mentioned while showering, hands caressing her own body, lingering. With the thought, he’d once again yearned to have her completely out of control, because of him, sinking those nails into his back, scraping those teeth along his neck.



What was wrong with him?



“Did you hear that?” Olivia asked, tugging him from his dark and sensual musings. She slid her hand from his—Mine, Wrath growled, no longer crying but once again claiming—and stopped.



He’d told himself he’d protest these declarations from now on, but he couldn’t force himself to do so. Fool. “Hear what?” He, too, stopped and listened. Aside from his demon’s continued brooding, only silence greeted him. Frowning, Aeron faced her. As always when he looked at her, his heart rate quickened. “I hear nothing.”



“But the voice…” She spun in a circle, gaze roving the foyer. “It’s telling me to cup your balls with one hand and fist your cock with the other.”



Was it possible she heard his demon and— Wait. What? “A voice is telling you to molest me?” Not Wrath, then. The demon had mentioned nothing that specific. Unfortunately.



“Yes.”



“Is this an attempt to seduce me?” Tricky, delicious female, who wore scanty clothes, asked him naughty questions and emerged from the bathroom stark naked. “Is this supposed to—”



“No! I don’t like this!” she interrupted. “I’m hearing the words, thinking them, but they don’t belong to me. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but I don’t know how else to describe it.”



Behind him, footsteps resounded. He turned. Torin was halfway down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Today he wore a black turtleneck, black gloves and pants that dragged the ground so that even if he sat down and his socks fell below his ankles, not an inch of his skin would show.



“Delicious,” Aeron heard Olivia murmur. “I could eat you up.”



“You have to stop saying things like that, Olivia.” Aeron flicked her a glance—only to still, grind his teeth and curse under his breath. She wasn’t peering at him as he’d expected; she was peering at Torin as if he was a piece of meat and she was starving.



Mine, Wrath warned.



Aeron popped his jaw in sudden irritation—with Torin. It wasn’t that he cared who Olivia desired. It was just that she’d given up immortality for him, wanted him to provide her fun, wanted to welcome him inside her body; she shouldn’t be so fickle.



“Uh, excuse me?” A confused Torin stopped at the bottom of the staircase.



Aeron studied his friend, trying to see him as Olivia must. Beyond that startling contrast of white hair and black eyebrows, that smooth, naturally tanned—and uninked—skin, and okay, okay, maybe those piercing green eyes, he wasn’t that attractive. What’s more, he was an inch shorter than Aeron and not as bulky.



“Ignore me,” Olivia beseeched, horror drifting from her. “Please. I don’t know what’s come over me.”



Torin, it seemed, was trying not to smile. “Glad you’re not scared of me anymore.”



Aeron wished he could say the same. “Let’s get the meeting started.” Surely that snapping, snarling tone wasn’t his.