The Darkest Kiss

CHAPTER EIGHT

AS HE SHOPPED FOR PROVISIONS he would need for his upcoming trip—intermittently collecting eighteen souls and escorting them to their final resting place—Lucien did not feel Anya's burning gaze on him. Nor did he smell her enticing strawberry scent.

Where was she? What was she doing?

Who was she doing it with?

His hands balled, knuckles throbbing, the joints so stiff they felt brittle.

He missed her more than ever. He had gotten used to her presence; nothing felt right when she was gone. Besides, he worried about her. Had Cronus tired of Lucien's halfhearted attempts to slay her and taken it upon himself to destroy Anya?

Now his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. She is fine. Cronus had been unable to kill her, which was why he'd given the task to Lucien. Anya was safe from the god king.

But time is ticking…

Lucien expected the bastard to arrive at any moment and punish him for his failure. Punishment was beginning to matter less and less, however.

He wanted to spend more time with her, and he was about to get his wish. Too bad they weren't heading for Hawaii. But Lucien had known Anya would follow him wherever he chose, so he'd picked the Arctic, the one place he'd thought—hoped—would cool his desire.

Because more than missing her, he desired her. Badly.

He was becoming obsessed with her. Lately all he could think about was stripping her. Licking between her legs, pleasuring her in every way imaginable and even some that weren't. Watching her face while she climaxed. Fisting her hair while she sucked his cock. Lately? Ha!

Even now, he trembled. Trembled like a damned mortal.

His long-neglected body practically sobbed for Anya each time she approached him. Forcing himself to walk away grew more and more difficult. And forcing himself to discourage her advances was even more so.

Stop thinking, finish shopping, he commanded himself as he stalked down the city's paved streets. He'd flashed from the island to Athens, and sunlight shone brightly. Last time he'd been here, all those centuries ago, dead bodies had littered the street and blood had flowed like crimson rivers.

He pushed the image to the back of his mind. The air was crisp and salty. He needed to enjoy this mild weather while he could. All too soon he'd feel the icy blast of the Arctic. With Anya.

Damn this! What would it take to exorcise her from his head completely?

Determined, Lucien made a mental checklist of everything he needed. A coat. Boots. Thermals. Thick socks. And gloves. He would have flashed to Buda and collected everything there, but the items he owned were meant for manageable winters. The Arctic was another story. He'd have to endure freezing winds and snow as far as the eye could see. Perhaps luck would be on his side and he would find Hydra quickly. He placed a call to Maddox and had him ask Torin to search any possible sightings.

What was Anya doing?

He didn't even try to stop the thoughts this time. Obviously, fighting did no good. Anya. In the Arctic. Alone with him. Perhaps finding Hydra quickly would not be such a wonderful thing.

Last time he and Anya had been together in the cold, she'd pushed him into the icy water. The memory shouldn't have made him smile, but it did. Anya, standing on that glacier, waiting for him, then shoving him with all of her strength, had been a beautiful if macabre sight. Even his testicles had frozen.

She had laughed, a tinkling sound of genuine amusement. Heady and seductive. He wanted to hear it again.

Gods, he admired her courage and her tenacity. Anyone else would have cowered at having Death hunt them.

Where was she? he wondered again. Had she finally tired of him?

As he passed a corner shop, he slammed his fists into the wall. Stone abraded skin. Whether Anya was tired of him or not, he would soon have her to himself, away from the other warriors. Hopefully he would learn more from her. Hopefully he would prevent her from learning more from him.

Hopefully he would better do his duty.

His clipped steps slowed, and he forced himself to take in the sights. Emerald trees framed most of the buildings, stretching overhead and casting shadows. There were no cars on the streets—those were prohibited—so people had to walk to their destinations.

Merchants were out in force, selling everything from fruit and vegetables to flimsy scarves to doorknobs. None of which would keep him warm in the Arctic.

"You'll never find what you need here," Anya said, suddenly keeping pace beside him.

His blood instantly heated as he glanced around, making sure no one had witnessed her sudden appearance. The only people staring at her were men, and he didn't know if they were shocked or simply captivated.

She was lovelier than ever.

Her pale hair was knotted at the base of her neck in an intricate braid and a pink ribbon circled over her ears. She wore a fur-trimmed coat and knee-high boots with a matching trim of fur.

"Where have you been?" he asked, the question harsher than he'd meant it to be. Finally she was with him, and that should have been all that mattered. She's where she belongs, his mind added, and he frowned. When she's by my side, I can keep her out of trouble. Nothing more.

"Oh," she said, waving a hand through the air. "Here and there."

Had she been with another man? His jaw clenched. Best not to allow his mind to travel that route, so he changed the subject. "Why are you dressed like that?" He wore a black linen T-shirt and slacks, and he was sweating.

"'Cause we're going to Switzerland, silly, and it's cold there. You, my friend, are way underdressed."

"Anya, I—"

"There's only one hour's time difference," she said, cutting him off, "so this is the perfect time to go shopping in Zürich."

He sighed. "Why must we go to Zürich to shop?" We. Damn the thought! He needed to think of them separately. Never as a pair. Too dangerous.

"Because it's snowy and I look good in white. Race you there!"

She disappeared, leaving a trace of her strawberry scent. Bereft without her, Lucien scanned the crowd a second time. Several people had noticed her disappearance, he knew for a fact, because several jaws were dropped.

The citizens of Budapest knew he and the others were different, if not to what extent, and for the most part left them alone. Protected them, even. Perhaps because the warriors poured so much money into the community. Perhaps because the people were afraid of what would happen if they didn't.

Still. Since leaving ancient Greece and the destruction he'd caused, he had been very careful not to let mortals see his abilities. He did not want rumors of his presence circling. He did not want the human media chasing him and the others, and he certainly did not want more Hunters after him.

But despite all this, he did not try to explain what had happened to Anya. He, too, simply disappeared. Hopefully the witnesses would assume they'd imagined the entire episode. There was a compulsion inside him to be with Anya. He couldn't wait a second more. His heart had not slowed down since her arrival.

He felt more on edge with her than with anyone else in the world. He lost his legendary calm—not that he had erupted in her presence, thank the gods—and he had no business strengthening any ties between them when he had been ordered to kill her. And yet, he could not seem to help himself.

Her lighted trail did indeed lead to Zürich. He had been here a time or two collecting souls, but had never been able to linger or explore. The same was true with every country he had ever visited. Collect, escort to heaven or hell, and return home in time for midnight—and Maddox's curse—to arrive. That had been the way of his life for centuries. In the month since the curse had been broken, the warriors had been too busy researching Pandora's box for Lucien to do any traveling on his own. Not that he'd wanted to at that point. Hunters were in need of destruction, his friends in need of peace.

He only prayed he was not compelled to take another soul this day. He wanted this time with Anya, uninterrupted and unspoiled.

Fool. This could be a trap. She could mean to hurt you.

He found her standing on a polished wooden deck, sunlight streaming around her. Cold air swirled between them. Behind her was a breathtaking view of snowcapped mountains.

She was facing him, tendrils of hair wisping over her face as she splayed her arms wide. "What do you think?"

"Exquisite." And she was.

A gradual, almost tentative, definitely vulnerable smile lifted the corners of her lush lips. She stared at him and said, "I think so, too."

Did she mean him? Rather than entice or soothe or excite him as her words were probably supposed to do, they angered him. He wanted her more than he wanted to take his next breath, and she played his affections like a violin. His entire body tensed.

Here we go again, he thought. Letting her pull your emotional strings. Letting her affect you. "Let's get this over with," he said tightly.

Slowly she lost her smile. "Over with? You are such a mood ruiner. Well, I'm not going to let you spoil this for me. Have you eaten lunch?"

"No."

"Food first, then. Shopping later."

"Anya, I think—"

She strolled past him as if he wasn't speaking and sauntered through an opened archway that led into a spacious apartment—why not a mansion?—of vivid colors and luxuriant sensuality. Not knowing what else to do, he followed her.

"This is yours, I presume," he said. "I expected something bigger."

"I keep a home everywhere and this is all the space I need. More…intimate this way." In the center of the living room, there was a low wooden table piled high with food, and she eased onto one of the violet pillows in front of it. "I haven't been to this one in a while because of you-know-who."

"Cronus?"

She nodded and began heaping two plates high with—he sniffed, realizing it was chicken pot pie, freshly baked bread and steaming vegetables. Not the extravagant meal he would have expected a goddess to prefer.

"Sit," she said, not looking up at him. She spooned a bite into her mouth, eyes closing in absolute delight.

He did as commanded, chest aching at the domesticity of the scene and the raw enjoyment she took from such a simple action. He had never had a wife, never been with a single woman for more than a few months—the length of time he'd had with Mariah before she died—so had never experienced anything remotely domestic. Unless you counted Paris's feeble attempts at cooking, which Lucien most definitely did not.

Mariah. Dead. Thinking of her just then did not bring the usual surge of resentment, guilt and anger. Was he finally, at long last, healing? With every day that passed, he thought of her less and less. Which was as sad as it was freeing.

Death had not cared about her, even though Mariah had been Lucien's everything.

Would Death mourn the loss of Anya?

He suspected so. Even now, the demon was purring.

"You never told me the real reason Cronus wants you dead," he said.

Anya sipped a glass of dark, rich wine, peering at him over the rim. "Not true. I told you I have something he wants."

"Your body?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

"According to you, I give that to everyone." There was a trace of bitterness in her tone. "Are you going to eat or just watch me?"

Stomach suddenly grumbling, he bit into the pie. Succulent, perfectly prepared. "Did you make this?" He could not picture her slaving in a kitchen.

"Gods, no. I stole it."

The disgust on her pixie face was comical, and he found himself grinning. "Stole?"

"Yes." She stared at his lips, her blue eyes heating. "I like it when you smile."

He swallowed. "Cronus," he prompted, trying to halt whatever thoughts were rolling inside her head. "Why doesn't he seek you out and kill you himself? You are out in the open now. I'm sure he has been able to lock in your location."

"He's an inter-heavenly man of mystery. No one knows why he does the things he does."

"And you have no guess?"

"Well," she shrugged, "he's an idiot. There, that's my guess."

Lucien tensed, waiting for lightning to strike and thunder to boom. Several minutes ticked by before he was able to relax. "This something he wants. Tell me what it is. Please. And for gods' sake, Anya, give me a straight answer for once." If he knew, he could steal it from her, give it to Cronus and end this nightmare.

"For once?" She shook her fork at him. "I give you straight answers all the time."

"Again, then," he said on a sigh.

She stared at him for a long while, not speaking, not moving. Finally she said, "You want the truth, I'll tell you. But the information will cost you. We'll trade. A question for a question."

"Done. What do you have that Cronus wants?"

"I have a…a…damn it, Lucien. I have a key, okay. Happy now?"

"Yes. There. We have both answered one question."

"We both have no—Damn you! I did ask a question, didn't I? Happy now? Score one for you."

"You have a key," Lucien prompted. "A key to what?"

"That, I won't tell you." She popped another bite of chicken into her mouth, chewed, swallowed.

"What does it open?"

"I'm done answering your questions," she said flatly. "You don't play fair."

He didn't berate her sense of fairness, but continued the game. "Why don't you give it to him?"

"Because it's mine," she snapped. She dropped her fork, and it clanged against her plate. "Now hush it before I flash you to an alligator pit. You're ruining the meal I spent hours preparing."

"You just told me you didn't cook it."

"I lied."

"A key will matter little when you are dead," he pointed out, unwilling to close the topic. Too much was at stake.

"Fuck you, Death."

She only called him Death when she was mad, he realized. Otherwise, it was sweetcakes, baby doll and Flowers. And lover, his mind piped in. He preferred those. Except for Flowers, the names made him feel like a man. Not an immortal, not a cursed warrior. Not ugly. And not someone who would ultimately destroy her.

He frowned. "I can't believe you are willing to die for a mere key."

"It's not like any other key, and you don't have to kill me."

"I must."

"Whatever." She drained the rest of her wine. "I answered a few more of your questions, now answer a few for me."

"Very well." He speared a crisp green bean. "What would you like to know?"

She propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her upraised palms. "Have you ever disobeyed a command from the gods?"

"No. But then, I was not ordered to do anything until the Titans won the heavens. The Greeks left us alone after bestowing Maddox's death-curse."

"Have you tried to disobey the Titans, at least?"

"Again, no. Not personally. But Aeron refused to kill those four women, and you have seen the results. Bloodlust has consumed him. He wants to kill everyone now. Even his friends. Maybe even himself. We had to lock him away, taking even more freedom than he lost when all of us were cursed with our demons. It's something we vowed never to do to each other."

"I understand," she said, suddenly seeming lost in thought. "Losing your freedom is a punishment worse than death."

"Yes." Lucien studied her, amazed by what he saw. He'd never seen this playful woman quite so serious. She must be recalling the time she'd spent locked away, perhaps tortured. His hands tightened into fists. "How long were you imprisoned?"

She shrugged. "Seemed like forever and I believe ancient scrolls say a hundred years, but it was more like two."

Clearly she meant to sound cavalier. She failed. "What did you do while locked away?"

"Think, pace, hurt. Talk to the man in the cell beside mine. He was a little cocky, but that was better than silence." She sighed. "Have you ever fought the demon of Death?"

His brow furrowed in confusion. Better confusion that fury at what she had suffered. "What do you mean? Fought it physically?"

"No. I know it can't leave your body unless you die or it's sucked out. I know it's trapped inside you and the two of you are one. But have you ever resisted its desire to take a soul?"

His entire body tensed. This was not a matter he usually discussed. Anya had revealed a part of her secret, however. He could do no less. "Yes."

"And?" Her focus intensified, her eyes like a laser beam on him. "What happened?"

None of the warriors knew he had once been in love; none knew he had watched his lover slowly wither away, her body rotting. "If I do not escort a soul, its physical body suffers untold agony. More than any person should ever have to suffer. More than Fate intended."

"Hit a nerve, did I? There's a muscle ticking under your eye." Rather than press him for more information, she ate the rest of the meal in silence.

As he watched her, the dark memories her questions had brought to the surface receded, replaced by desire. Take her. The words whispered across his mind. Maybe because every movement she made was more sensual than the last. Make love to her.

No. You are not a monster. Not anymore, at least. He could spend time with her, but nothing more.

When she finished eating, she stood. "Want to make out a little or just jump straight into the shopping?"

She had not removed the beige coat and looked toasty warm. More than that, she looked strippable. He wanted to be the one to warm her. "Shopping," he forced himself to say. But he did not stand.

She shrugged as if his answer hadn't mattered to her, and that irritated him. The irritation angered him. And the anger annoyed him. He should feel nothing.

"You can leave your weapons here," she said with a teasing grin. "Hunters never come up this way. Neutral territory and all."

"I do not remove my weapons. Ever."

Her gaze traveled the long length of him in a heated caress. "Not even to shower?"

His cock stirred as he imagined her in the shower with him, water raining over her naked body. "Not even."

"Why, Lucy. That's totally barbaric." She bit her lower lip and sauntered around the table, bending down to whisper in his ear, "But it's something I'd like to witness firsthand."

A fallen lock of her hair brushed his cheek, and he found his eyes closing in ecstasy. His blood suddenly caught fire, nearly raging out of control in seconds. Rather than kiss her as he so desperately wanted—stupid, dangerous…wonderful—he somehow found the will to rise and move away from her.

"You really know how to drag a party down."

"Anya."

"No. Not a word. Let's get out of here," she said, voice cracking slightly.

He was ashamed to realize his legs were shaking. He was so hard his cock actually hurt. One stroke, and he would come.

Anya didn't look back as she strolled to the front door. Opened it, left the apartment, expecting him to follow. He took a moment to breathe in and out, letting the cold air soothe him.

Every muscle in his body was clamped down, eager and needy for her. Only her. Even the demon seemed to ache for her, no longer purring but roaring hungrily.

Think of the artifacts, the box. Think of Hunters. Think of holding Anya's dead body in your arms.

That sobered him.

An angry whisper suddenly drifted past him. "I'm waiting, Death."

Cronus.

Lucien's blood chilled completely. Finally the god king had returned. Why here? Why now? Because your reprieve is over. The king had not materialized. What was he doing?

"You have failed me, Death. Over and over again, you have failed me."

"I am sorry."

"Liar!"

The boom of the word nearly burst his eardrums.

"You will not suffer for it," the god added quietly, "but your friends will. I'll start with Paris, sending him to a place where no women reside. I will prevent him from leaving and I will laugh as he weakens. I will laugh when he is forced to turn to other men for strength. And when I'm through with him, I'll look to Reyes."

Fight him, as Anya does. "You would kill them, then? Set their demons free to roam the earth in a crazed frenzy? No mortal will bow before you once the demons are through wreaking their havoc."

"Zeus might not have been able to protect the people from your demons, but I can. Do you wish to hear what I'll do to Reyes?"

Fight! "You would prevent him from hurting himself, I'm sure. Perhaps flood him with pleasure he is no longer equipped to handle."

"Do you dare mock me?"

"No. Nor do I wish to do that with which you have charged me."

"I am aware of that, Death. I am also tired of waiting. Which of us do you think will emerge the victor and receive what he desires?"

"What if—" Lucien pressed his lips together. Should he do this? Yes, he decided a moment later. He should. There was no other way. "Anya has something you crave. What if I procure it for you?"

For several seconds, there was only crackling tension.

Then, more calmly, Cronus said, "I will allow you to try. If you fail in this, you will bring me her body. If you fail in that, I will not be so lenient. I will do everything I claimed and more. And I'll make you watch while I do it. Now go!"

A great gust of wind shoved Lucien forward. Cutting off a growl, he righted himself and followed the path Anya had taken. He found her in the lobby of the building, alive and well, though Cronus was nearby. He had to get that key from her. Right now, it was the only way he knew to save her. If he failed…

His stomach twisted into a painful knot. He would not fail.

He allowed his gaze to scan the building. There was a huge fireplace with a crackling blaze in the corner. Beside it, a desk was manned by two males staring at Anya in open approval. Lucien scowled. Unaware of the mortals, or perhaps uncaring, she tapped her foot impatiently and studied her bright pink nails.

They'd been red yesterday. Hadn't they? Perhaps they'd been blue. She changed them every day, nearly as often as she changed moods.

Lucien hissed at the men as he strode past them, unable to hold the noise back. He was too raw to care about consequences. Too raw to care that being possessive of a woman like Anya would bring nothing but heartache.

She's not yours, and she can never be yours. Even if nothing else mattered, stealing her precious key would ensure that.

He didn't speak as he passed her, but she kicked into motion beside him. He could feel her body heat and smell her strawberry scent—his two favorite things, he realized. His world would not be the same without them.

"What do you want to buy first?" she asked him, unaware of his thoughts and turmoil.

Lucien opened his mouth to ask about the key, but the words refused to form. Earlier, she had ended their conversation the moment it had been mentioned. He would have to soften her first, he supposed, and earn a bit of her trust.

"A coat would be nice," he said. Though sunlight poured from the sky, chill wind beat against him.

"Then a coat you shall have. I know the perfect place." She twined their fingers together and tugged him to the left.

Instinct demanded he pull away. He didn't. Instead he tightened his grip, wishing he could hold on to her and never let go. She gasped, threw a sweet smile over her shoulder. Death rubbed against the corridors of his mind, reaching for her, wanting to touch her, too.

She ushered him down an ice-covered road. Cars meandered by and people strolled along the snowy sidewalks, in and out of the cobbled shops. All around were those majestic mountains. The gods really had outdone themselves with this spectacular scenery.

This could have been heaven.

"In here." Anya tugged him into a shop named Machen Teegeback.

"Warm Muffins?" he translated, having mastered many languages over the years. "We just ate. And I thought we were shopping for a coat."

She chuckled. "This isn't a bakery, lover. It's an outlet." Inside were coats, gloves, hats and all the things he would need to stay warm. "Now, don't you worry. Anya will dress you just right."

With another delighted chuckle, she trekked through the store, throwing different colored coats at him. "This one will match your eyes. Well, one of them anyway." Pause. "This one will look great against your skin." Pause. "Mmm, this one has easy access to my new favorite place through the pockets." Pause. "Oh, score! Look at this." She held up the masculine version of the coat she wore before tossing it at him. "We'll be twinkies while we're climbing glaciers."

Unless he found that key, she would not be traveling with him. Selfishly, he was disappointed at the thought. "I only need one coat. Which do you—"

With a furtive glance at the cashier, she stuffed a pair of large wool gloves inside her jacket.

He frowned, certain he was mistaken about what had just happened. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Stealing." There was such relish in her tone, it was like a sexual high.

A shiver trekked the length of his spine. "You were not teasing about the food, then. Are you short of funds?"

"Hardly. I'm loaded." She anchored her hands on her hips and pouted up at him. "Don't tell me the big bad demon is upset. 'Cause you shouldn't be. I'll pay them back another day, Sally Sunshine. Maybe."

"Return the gloves, Anya." Is this the way to soften her? His jaw clenched. No, it wasn't, but he refused to back down.

"No."

"Very well. I will pay for them." Lucien dropped the coats Anya had thrown at him, gently clasped her arm with one hand and pinched the gloves with the other. His palm brushed the side of her breast. Gulping, burning up, he gathered one of every item he needed, strode to the register, and paid with the bills Paris had given him earlier.

As they walked to the door, Anya fumed at his side. "I have to do it, okay?"

Her intensity surprised him. "Why?"

"You have your compulsions and I have mine. I can either burn the place down or take a measly pair of gloves."

Understanding dawned. She had her own demon to fight, a dark nature she wished to control. He knew how hard such a thing could be. "I am sorry I took them away from you."

A pause. A sniffed, "No problem."

Carrying their purchases, he exited the building and stood at the curb, waiting for her to join him. Cold air slapped at him, but he didn't pull the coat from its sack. His skin was still on fire from having Anya next to him.

He wanted her next to him again, and it had nothing to do with getting his hands on that key. A minute passed, and she did not exit. What was she doing? He turned and walked forward with every intention of reentering the shop.

The door flew open, however, and Anya emerged. Her lips curled in a smug grin. His skin heated another degree.

"I might have to dig through the ice as I search for this artifact. I need the proper tools," he said. "Where can I acquire them?"

"Ugh. Digging will not be fun."

"Fun is not the purpose of the trip."

"Killjoy." She reached into her jacket and withdrew a pair of black gloves. Using her teeth, she ripped off the tags. Then, staring him in the eye, she tugged the leather over her hands.

"You stole them?"

"That's what I like about you, sweetcakes. You're an observant kind of guy."

Lucien shook his head, his lips twitching. He marched forward, forcing her to follow or be left behind. "Tell me why you must steal to prevent yourself from burning a building. You hinted, I deduced, but I would like to hear firsthand."

She kept pace beside him. "Remember those wars Reyes mentioned that night at the club? Well, guess what? I did start them. When I first walked among mortals, I was insane with my need for disorder and my every movement seemed to spur them into fury. With each other, not me. Worse, I couldn't look at a torch without knocking it over. Sometimes I didn't even realize I'd done it until the flames were dancing at my feet and people were screaming. And those screams, oh, gods, those screams." She sighed dreamily. "They were so delicious to my ears. Like auditory ice cream. More and more, I wanted to hear them. Needed to hear them."

"Anarchy means to be without law. Perhaps, deep down, those screams represented the chaos your nature demands."

"Yes," she said, eyes widening.

"The demon inside me is Death. For the longest time, it craved the absence of life, no matter what I had to do to accommodate that desire."

"You really do understand." She shook her head, her expression a little shocked. A strand of hair fell, and she hooked it behind her ear. "One day I caught myself reaching out, about to cut a chandelier from a ceiling just to hear the glass shatter and the people shriek, when a woman walked by. She was wearing a ring and the diamond winked in the light, brighter than any chandelier. Gods, I wanted that diamond. I followed her and stole it. The moment I slipped it on my finger, this grinding need inside me just…quieted somehow. I've been stealing ever since."

He was silent a moment. "You may steal from me anytime." Sadly, he feared it was he who would soon be stealing from her. More than ever, he did not want to take her life. Like him, she could have become a living nightmare but she strove to be more. Better.

She tossed him a grin. "Thank you."

His chest started aching. The key. Ask about the key. "Have you spent much time in the Arctic?" he found himself asking instead.

"A little. Oh, this is going to be fun! Well, aside from the digging part." She clapped excitedly. "Just the two of us, snuggled up to keep warm, no worries about Hunters. I doubt any human could survive the cold for long. Now, come on. I don't want to walk anymore. It's a waste of time." In the next instant, she disappeared.

He followed with no hesitation—

Arriving in Greece. The island, his rented home. He dropped his bags, not sensing or seeing any of the other warriors. They were probably still gathering supplies.

Anya plopped on the cream-colored leather couch as if she hadn't a care. With a blissful sigh, she removed her stolen gloves, followed by her boots, revealing pretty white leggings. She tossed both aside. Next she removed her coat—revealing a white lace bra.

His eyes nearly popped out of his head. "That is what you have been wearing all day?"

She grinned wickedly. "Yes. Do you like?"

His cock swelled to life. Again. This time thicker, fuller. Harder, hotter. She was sexier now than when she'd worn the maid's uniform—and she'd nearly felled him then. Thank the gods he hadn't known what little she'd worn underneath. He might have killed everyone who looked at her, and then attacked her there in the snow.

He couldn't tear his gaze away from her. Her stomach was flat and the color of cream, her navel a sensual feast to his eyes. Her breasts were full and ripe, the pink nipples hazily visible and oh so hard. The leggings conformed to her body like a second skin.

"Well? Do you like?" she repeated, stretching out. Her feet were bare, the pretty nails glittering in the light. "You could have seen this and more earlier, but you were too busy being stubborn. Don't be stubborn this time."

"You are beautiful, Anya."

"Come over here and kiss me, then," she beseeched huskily.

"I can't," he croaked out.

"Why not?" She ran a fingertip down her stomach, around her navel. "It's not like I'm asking you to screw me. Just kiss and touch me a little. And FYI, you should know this is the last time I'm going to offer myself to you. Your continued rejection is screwing with my confidence."

A roar sounded in his head. Not touch her? Not kiss her? "Why not more than kissing and touching?"

"Because." She crossed her arms over her middle, smashing her breasts together.

Holy gods. "Answer me."

"Why should I? You rarely answer me." Again she ran a fingertip down the planes of her stomach.

His gaze followed the action. He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. She would give herself to other men, but not him. The realization sunk in, and he ground his teeth together. Him, she would only allow to kiss her. He wasn't good enough for anything else.

He wanted to hate her for that, but he'd done this to himself. He'd purposefully carved himself so that women would not want him. And though she obviously found him lacking, he still sought to save her life. "We need to discuss something, Anya."

"What? The best way to move your tongue?"

"The key. Give me the key Cronus wants, and I'll do anything you want, kiss you however you want me to."

Color leached from her cheeks. "Hell, no. I don't want you that badly."

He'd known that, but hearing her say it cut deeply. "Giving up the key will save your life."

"Without the key, my life isn't worth living. Now, I don't want to talk about it anymore. I want to talk about us."

"There can be no us until you give me that key."

"The key is mine," she shouted, "and I will never give it up. Do you understand? Never! I would rather die."

"You will die if you don't. You are forcing my hand, Anya."

"What, you plan to steal it?"

He didn't answer.

"You'll regret it if you try."

Still no response.

"Forget the key! We were having fun and could be having more fun right now."

"Cronus came to me, threatened those I love. I am out of time, Anya. I am to bring him the key or you. I would rather bring the key."

The pulse in her neck fluttered riotously. "When did he come to you?"

"Before we went shopping," he admitted.

"That's why you went so easily. You thought to sweeten me up so I'd just hand the key over." She laughed bitterly. "Or maybe you thought I'd slip and tell you where it is and you'd steal it. So much for your lofty principles."

"Which is it to be? You or the key?"

"Me." She raised her chin. "I told you. I will not part with the key."

"Anya," he said, hating himself. Hating Cronus. Hating even the woman he was trying to save. She made him feel. Now, more than ever, emotions were his enemy. "This is your last warning."

"Lucien, I can't give it up." Tears filled her eyes. "I can't."

Those tears…"Why?"

"I just can't. I won't."

Then there was nothing more for him to say. Do it. End it. It is time. "Here is your warning. I will make this quick. Kill you first. Take your soul after." He flashed to her, was straddling her hips in the next instant, his daggers withdrawn and cradled in his hands, raised, ready to strike.

Those teary eyes went wide with shock.

"I am sorry," he said, and struck.