The Darkest Kiss

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"NICE HICKEY," WILLIAM SAID at breakfast the next morning when he spied Anya's neck.

I do not blush, I do not blush. And yet, her cheeks heated. Damn Lucien and his wondrous mouth. And speaking of Lucien's wondrous mouth, he'd used it to pry information about the All-Key out of her this morning.

She knew he was looking for a way to take it from her without destroying either of them so he could get the god king off her back. He'd begun sucking on her nipples right after he'd questioned her and she hadn't wanted him to stop. She'd ended up telling him the key was bonded to her, body and soul, as much a part of her as his demon was a part of him. That's why the giver weakened; they were giving away a part of themselves. She had seen disappointment light Lucien's eyes and it had stirred something tender inside her. He of all people would understand the danger of losing a vital part of yourself.

She sighed. Right now, she, Lucien and William were sitting at a small round table; eggs, bacon and pancakes were spread over its surface. The air was syrupy-sweet and salty crisp, the food itself perfectly prepared.

After dressing in a decadent white cashmere body suit, she'd flashed to her favorite diner in Atlanta, ordered the feast and flashed back. And yes, she'd pretended to cook it herself. Warriors that they were, the men had yet to praise her efforts, which was completely unacceptable. They thought she'd slaved over every dish and yet they hadn't even said thank-you. Bastards.

She sat between them. Lucien kept a stern eye on William, growling whenever the sexpot reached in her direction. His possessiveness was just too cute. No wonder she had spent the entire night in his arms, unable to force herself to leave him. He made her feel desired. Well, that, and also safe. She'd never spent an entire night with a man before and hadn't known there'd be an endearing—and addicting—sense of security on top of the intense physical pleasure.

"I have told you to keep your hands—" Lucien's words trailed off, and she felt his body go rigid.

Anya turned to him. Both of his eyes had gone blue. She grabbed on to his arm. Time for the two of them to collect souls, it seemed.

"I must go," he said.

"You're taking me. Remember?"

He shook his head. "You will stay here."

"Don't make me go invisible on you and follow without permission."

"Like before." A resigned statement. "I have not been able to figure out how you did that."

She shrugged. "I'm Anarchy, remember? I don't obey the laws of nature—or anything else."

"What are you guys talking about?" William asked.

She ignored him. One, because she knew William would hate it and quite possibly throw an amusing fit, and two, because she knew Lucien would disappear the moment she turned her attention from him. "Leave me behind, and I'll sit in Willie's lap the entire time you're gone."

William grinned, curiosity forgotten. "Leave her behind, my man. I'll take extra special care of her."

Lucien bared his teeth in a fierce scowl, but he twined his fingers with Anya's. "Fine. Let's go."

He dematerialized, taking Anya with him. They entered the spirit world, everything becoming a collage of bright colors and lights. Lucien floated quickly to a badly burned, still-smoking shop in…Shanghai, she realized, glancing at the surrounding buildings of red and white, with pointed tops and sloped roofs. She could almost smell the foods being sold at the street market.

There were several bodies lying on a charred floor. Never loosening his hold on her, Lucien went to the first, the closest, and dipped his hand into the man's chest. A gasping spirit emerged, flailing against Death's hold.

The three of them were poised at the gates of hell in the next instant. The heat nearly melted the skin from her bones. She shuddered. The shouts, the tormented cries. Was this where she would go if Cronus had his way and she died? Just the thought of it sickened her.

"He purposely set the fire," Lucien said through clenched teeth.

This isn't about you right now. This is about Lucien. She released his hand and moved behind him, winding her arms around his waist and offering comfort, reminding him that he wasn't alone. His muscles were tense, but slowly they relaxed.

Two large boulders drew apart, opening a wide chasm. Multiple pairs of scaly arms reached up, and Lucien tossed the flailing spirit at them. Evil laughter erupted, followed closely by beleaguered screams.

Many times during any given day, Lucien witnessed this terrible scene. Anya kissed his ear, drawing his attention from the flames. "Lots of people die. Every minute. Every hour. Why don't you have to escort all of them?"

"Some remain to wander Earth, some are reborn and get the chance to start anew. Some, I think, are escorted by angels."

Ah. She should have known. She'd run into a few angels herself over the years. Beautiful creatures, if a bit haughty. "The souls escorted by you are the luckiest. Ready for the others?"

Lucien nodded, and he appeared less strained.

The other two humans must have been good little boys because they got to go to heaven. As always, the pearly gates made Anya gape. They sparkled with jewels and mesmerized with their hum of power. Beyond them, a cherubic choir rejoiced, their voices soothing, somehow delighting each of the senses. Wow.

I want to come here if ever I die.

When have you ever been good?

I'm good. Sometimes.

"Thank you, Anya. For coming with me. For comforting me."

"My pleasure." She and Lucien popped back into William's kitchen. The sexpot was still sitting at the table, but Anya's gaze snagged on her lover. Lucien was watching her, heat in his eyes. Heat and awe and appreciation.

"And where did you guys go?" William asked.

"Nowhere." She concentrated on William, Lucien's stare making her squirm in her seat. "So where are your women this morning?"

"Sleeping. Vamps need their beauty rest."

Lucien's eyes widened. He must not have encountered one before.

"Vamps as in vampires or vamps as in conquests?" She looked William up and down, but he wasn't marked. Granted, his legs were covered by black silk pants. "I'm guessing conquests. You don't look like you've been nibbled on—at least, not by anyone with fangs."

"Oh, I've been bitten, just not anywhere you can see. Unlike you," he added with a smiling glance at her neck.

Lucien had been in the process of drinking his juice, which he promptly choked on. Grinning, Anya pounded on his back. "I think you shocked him."

"Not possible," William said, studying Lucien. "We could hear the two of you going at it like rabbits. Stunned the hell out of me, but I have to say, making this little minor goddess beg for it was a nice touch."

"Thank you," Lucien said when his coughs subsided. But there was warning in his tone.

"I'm not minor, you dirty man-whore!"

Winking, William propped his elbows on the tabletop. "So what's going on? You know I love for you to visit, Anya, but why are you here and why are you being chased by the demon of Death?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but Lucien placed a restraining hand on her arm. When she glanced at him, he shook his head.

"I'm not going to tell any secrets, Flowers."

"Oh, secrets. Tell." William clapped.

She wanted to, she wouldn't deny that. She never kept anyone's secret. Where was the fun in that? Still, she remained quiet. For Lucien, anything. By this point, she wasn't surprised that even her naughty side wanted to impress him.

"We simply need to borrow some items from you," Lucien said.

"Like?"

"Actually," Anya said, "we'd like you to be our tour guide through the Arctic circle."

"Anya," Lucien warned.

"Well, I would. He lives so close he spends a lot of time there. He knows the lay of the land. And that's not really giving away our secret, now is it?"

"Why do you want to enter the Arctic?" William shuddered. "It's colder than a witch's—unmentionables. And I should know!"

"I'm on vacation and feel like touring a few glaciers," she replied flippantly.

"You hate ice. You spend most of your time in Hawaii."

"We'll be fine without a guide," Lucien interjected. "Clothing, blankets and snowshoes should do."

"I'm not taking you into the Arctic," William said with a shake of his head. "I just got back from a trip there and I need some serious R and R."

Lucien shrugged as if he didn't care one way or the other. "Then we are agreed. Anya and I will go alone."

"The hell we will." Anya slapped her hand against the tabletop, rattling the dishes. "Willie will guide us wherever we want to go and he'll do it with a smile on his face. It will save time and he'll be a good soldier to have with us if a fight breaks out with you-know-who. Hydra," she added dramatically.

"You want to fight Hydra?" William paled. "I'm not going near that bitch. I lost sight of her a few years ago and that's the way I prefer it."

"Never thought I'd meet a woman you wouldn't screw." Anya forked a square of pancake. She lifted it to her mouth, saying, "For that matter, I never though you'd meet a woman you wouldn't screw. And speaking of that, where exactly did you come across Hydra? And how'd you escape alive?"

"I saw her twice, both times in a different location out there in the ice. And I escaped alive only because she couldn't bear to mar my gorgeous mug, but it was a close call," William muttered.

"This is good," Lucien said with a nod of his head.

She knew he was referring to the Hydra sightings, though he probably wished William hadn't been quite so successful in escaping, and couldn't contain her own excitement. But she wasn't done with the questions, either. "Why do you go out there, anyway?" she asked. "You've never said."

"It's close enough to my home that immortals try to hide there for a sneak attack. At first I wasn't sure if they'd come for Hydra or me—we both have our share of enemies—and after a while I just stopped caring. Anyone sneaks out there, I go after them."

"Who are your enemies?" Anya wondered aloud.

"I, uh, have a little problem with desiring mated ladies," William said, "and their spouses would like nothing more than my demise."

"You will stay away from Anya," Lucien growled.

What a sweet, sweet man, she thought, grinning and patting his hand. Lucien reached under the table and gripped her knee in an iron-hold, a command for her to hush. She didn't. "Last time I'll ask you nicely to take us," she told William.

Rolling his eyes, he pushed his empty plate away, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He'd braided the hunks of hair at his temples. Now they were hooked behind his ears, colorful beads clicking together every time he moved. "Sorry, but my answer is no."

"Well, then." Anya, too, leaned back in her chair. She'd always admired this room. Vaulted ceilings, a granite island counter, modern appliances, baskets of fruit hanging from wall hooks. Would William destroy it in a fit of rage when she finished with him? "Maybe now's a good time to tell you that I have your book."

William froze, the patent stillness of a predator coming over him. "You don't. You can't. I saw it this morning before I came down to eat." There was violence in his gaze.

Lucien picked her up and placed her in his lap. She snuggled her head into the crook of his neck. Protection wasn't something she needed, but she appreciated the gesture. "Think again," she said.

"Anya," William snapped. "You don't have it. I have it. I saw it this morning."

"Watch your tone," Lucien snapped back.

"You saw a fake," she explained.

"You're lying." The warrior leaned toward her, pupils swallowing his irises.

Immediately Lucien was on his feet, shoving her behind him. Be still my little heart.

"I told you to watch your tone."

William thrust from the table, his chair skidding backward and slamming into the island. Smack. "If it's gone…" On a cloud of red fury, he stalked from the kitchen.

"Damn. He actually walked away without destroying the room. Come on. We don't want to miss this." Anya twined her fingers with Lucien's, gasping at the electric jolt she felt on contact.

Now she knew what those naughty fingers could do to her…

Trembling, she pulled him along after William, following the same path the warrior had taken. The hallway was well-lit with flickering gold bulbs. Wisps of colorful lace covered the lamps, which splattered rainbow hues throughout. The vampiresses' doing? Trying to domesticate the warrior?

There were no pictures or weapons on the walls as there usually were. She'd bet, oh, ten million American dollars on William having removed them last night after sating his vampires. He was well acquainted with Anya's penchant for theft—but too late to save his precious book. Silly man had had one of his witches cast a spell over the book's locked case a long time ago. A spell she had broken with her key.

"What is this book you mentioned?" Lucien asked, keeping pace at her side. "And did you really steal it?"

"A book of ancient prophecies decreed by the gods. And yes. I took it. William should have been a smart boy and studied it a few times over the centuries, but nooo, he was afraid he'd do more harm to his fate than good." She rounded a corner. Stairs loomed ahead. Damn, but this place was huge. She wasn't used to walking it; usually she just flashed.

"See, one of the prophecies is about William. Written around the time he went to prison, if memory serves. Something about a woman. Of course, there's always a woman. Anyway, his prophecy is encrypted, like a riddle, and somewhere in the book is the key to decoding it and saving himself."

"Anya! How could you fucking dare?" William shouted. His angry bellow echoed off the walls.

"I guess he found the fake."

"Will he try to hurt you?"

She grinned. "Not while I have his precious." She said the last in an evil demon voice.

Lucien just shook his head.

They turned another corner and were suddenly in the study. William was holding the fake she'd had made. First time she'd visited him here, she'd tried to pick a fight with him, had needed to fight. One of her mortal companions had died and her need for disorder had been high. William had been too sated to oblige her, falsely claiming he was more a lover than a fighter. He'd offered to sex her, though. She'd spent some time tossing and shattering glass instead.

Then she'd spotted the book in its tantalizing case. Blood-red rubies were embedded on its cover and spine. They'd called to her, a siren's song. Knowing what the book meant to him had made the stealing of it all the sweeter, she was ashamed to admit. She didn't suppose it would console him to know, though, that she was now a wee bit ashamed.

"The cover appears to be the same, but the pages are blank," he growled.

She splayed her arms wide. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself."

"Someone should have put you down a long time ago."

"Like that would have done any good," she muttered.

"Why do I like you? Why do I always allow you back? You and your fucking All-Key are a menace. Give me back the book, Anya!"

"How does everyone know about this key, yet I had never heard of it?" Lucien complained, tossing up his hands.

"Why don't you just take the key from her?" William suggested to Lucien with an evil grin.

"Shut up, Willie!" She stomped her foot and pushed a hand through her hair. "He already knows."

"Everything?"

"Yes." Well, kind of.

William grinned. "Liar. So, Lucy," he said, tossing the empty book to the ground and slapping his hands together.

"Did you know that if she gives you the key, she'll be giving you her memories? You'll know everything about her. Her every sin, every crime, every man she's ever touched. Even better, you'll know where she is every second of every day. She'll never be able to hide from you."

Lucien flicked her a guarded glance. "True?"

Reluctantly she nodded. "All part of the All-Key's charm."

"Who gave you this key?" Lucien asked her. "Why would anyone place such a burden on you?"

William took it upon himself to answer for her. "Her daddy dearest gave it to her when the gods finally decided on her punishment for murdering the captain of their guard. She was to be made an immortal sex slave. Fitting, don't you think? Tartarus knew of her curse, however, and knew what that would do to her. So he stepped in to play savior for once in his negligent life.

"Why do you think the immortal prison eventually fell? How do you think the Titans eventually escaped? Without the key he'd housed inside himself, both Tartarus the man and Tartarus the prison were weakened. Eventually, both crumbled altogether."

True, all true. When she'd accepted the key inside herself, she'd been given some of her father's memories and had found herself attuned to his whereabouts. Even now, she had only to think of him and she knew where he was.

That's how she'd known Cronus had imprisoned him.

She'd gone back to Olympus, a place she'd sworn never to visit again. Out of guilt, yes, for all her father had given up for her. Out of love, too, because through his memories, she'd learned that Tartarus hadn't known about her existence until Themis uncovered the truth. After that, he'd wanted to be a part of her life but hadn't known how to go about it without further devastating the wife he'd betrayed or humiliating the lover who was already suffering for the night of foolishness they'd shared.

When Aias attacked her, Tartarus had wanted to cut out his own heart for not being there. And when she'd been in prison, he'd viewed himself as her protector, giving her extra blankets, food—until her sentence came in, and he'd had to choose between her life and his own.

Pushing the memories to the back of her mind, she focused on Lucien. His expression was still blank, unreadable in a way she despised. What thoughts were tumbling through his mind?

William clapped his hands again, as if satisfied with a job well done. "You want a guide? You've got a guide. Afterward, I get my book."

She nodded, not proud of herself as she should have been.

"Then come on, you two. Let's get packed up. I'm eager to get started so we can get this over with." William strode from the room, whistling under his breath.

A deceptive calmness, Anya knew. Nerves on edge, she gave Lucien's shoulder a little punch. "Anything you want to say to me?"

A gleam of hopelessness appeared in his mismatched eyes. "No matter how long or hard I research, I will not find a way to take the key from you without harming you, will I?"

She gulped. "No."

"And if Cronus does gain possession of it, you will never be able to hide from him."

"Right," she said, looking at her feet. Damn it, she had to stop that! She peered up at Lucien through the thick shield of her lashes. Uncertainty swam through her as she closed the distance between them. "Does this change things between us? Make you want to give up on us?"

The hands that had delivered her such pleasure last night locked on her jaw and angled her head up. "Understand. I am here. I am yours. I'm not giving up."

Oh, this man…Their lips gently met, soft, so soft, a mere brush, but she wasn't content with that. She might never be content with anything less than, well, everything this warrior had to offer.

"Harder," she commanded.

Tongues thrust together, twining, rolling, as they drank each other in. He now knew beyond any doubt that he could not use the key to bargain with Cronus, but he still wanted her. He could not break her curse, but he still wanted her. She was overjoyed and relieved, and fell a little deeper under his spell. He's mine.

If another woman ever—ever!—thought to take him from her, Anya knew herself well enough to know she would kill the bitch. Coldheartedly. Painfully. She couldn't imagine her life without him now. Didn't think she'd even really lived until the moment she'd first seen him. Yes, he's mine. Her hand tangled in his silky hair and she rocked against his erection. Mine.

Even as the thought formed, a booming laugh rang out.

Everything inside Anya suddenly lurched. Her nervous system kicked into high gear, her heart pounding erratically. Sweat beaded on her palms. She didn't rip herself away from Lucien, but she did end the kiss and stare up at him, wide-eyed. No. Not now.

He'd stiffened. His eyes were narrowed, she saw, with glints of the rage she'd encountered only that once in Greece. She'd never seen anyone so fierce. He looked as if he could happily kill everyone around him. Except her. His arms were still gentle around her waist.

"Cronus," he said tightly. No body, just that awful voice.

Mouth dry, she nodded. "What do you want, oh, Great One?"

The god laughed again. "Right now I will settle for letting you know that I've discovered the best way to bring you to heel, Anarchy."

A tremor worked through Lucien's body. "My king, she is—"

"Silence, Death. Once again you have failed to do your job, and I am done waiting. Slay her. Here, this instant."

Lucien's gaze fell back to Anya. His muscles were like stone. Heat stopped radiating from him, ice-cold determination taking its place.

She didn't want to die, but she didn't want Lucien to be punished on her account, either. If she'd just stayed away from him, none of this would have happened. Yeah, none of it. Not the kissing, the touching, the…loving?

No, she couldn't love him. Love would destroy her, caging her as surely as if she were in prison again. Just give Cronus the key.

I can't. She would lose everything. Her independence, her powers, her memories. She might even forget her own curse, sleep with someone and inadvertently bind herself to that man for eternity. Gods, what was she going to do?

"I cannot hurt her," Lucien said with a proud tilt of his chin. His voice, however, was tortured.

"I thought not. It is hard for me to believe the Greeks once relied upon you for protection." Tense pause. "Hear me. You shall weaken with every day that passes in which I do not have that key."

"What?" Anya gasped out.

"At first, I thought the warrior's love for his friends would spur him to act. Now I know. All along, it was you, Anya, who needed prompting."

Anya floundered for the proper response, horror raining through her. "Cronus—"

"I've seen the way you are with him. He isn't just a toy to you as you pretended, but someone who matters. And now you will have to choose what matters most—him or the key." Cronus laughed, as if victory were already in his grasp. "Can you hear the clock ticking? I can."

And then there was only silence.

Cronus had gone, she knew that, for the slight hum of power that always accompanied his visits had faded. Her breathing became choppy, and she was barely able to draw enough air into her lungs. Lose Lucien? No!

"Do not say a word," Lucien growled. He refused to look at her. "Finding those artifacts is more important than ever. They are a source of his power and we can use them. We will gather supplies as planned and head out."

"But—"

He stalked away, leaving her alone in the study.

Oh, gods. What the hell was she going to do?