The Darkest Kiss

CHAPTER NINETEEN

THE PARTS OF LUCIEN'S SKIN not charred were tinted blue or painted red. And though he'd been burned like the marshmallow in the middle of a s'more, he was shivering from cold.

Concerned, Anya commanded a fire to start in the hearth. Instantly the flames leapt over the logs, crackling. Waves of heat wafted through the spacious room, yet Lucien's shivering only seemed to increase. Don't panic. Stay calm.

She'd never felt so helpless. Not in prison, and not with a determined Aias on top of her.

She quickly stripped, removed her spiked boots and climbed onto Lucien's battered body, running her hands over him to heat him. When she encountered the bullet wound, her throat constricted. She'd known it was there, had simply hoped it would have healed by now. Because of Cronus and her, it hadn't.

After hopping up, grabbing her shirt and ripping it in two, she climbed back onto the bed and bound Lucien's side. "Come on, Flowers. Warm up for me."

He didn't respond.

He was a block of blackened ice. Just being near him, her nipples hardened like rocks and goose bumps broke out over her skin. And for once those weren't symptoms of arousal. She pulled the covers around them to hold the heat captive, then spent the next hour simply talking to him in an effort to distract and soothe them both.

"You need to get well. Life would be totally boring without you. And baby, bad things happen when I get bored. Did I ever tell you about the time I dressed up like a teenager and attended high school for a few months? I'd been bored out of my mind for decades and when the idea hit me, I just decided to go for it. Food fights, catfights, turning on the sprinkler system at prom."

She paused, hoping for a response. Nothing.

"I wasn't naughty all the time, though," she continued. "You would have been proud. This dumb jock got a cute little nerd who worshipped the ground he walked on pregnant, then called her a slut, a whore, a skank—you know, all the names promiscuous men like to call women. Anyway, I'd once vowed never to put a curse upon another person. They suck, as you and I both know. But I cursed him with a raging hard-on, I just couldn't help myself. Nothing he did made it go away."

Lucien's body finally began to relax, his shivering easing, and he uttered a…chuckle?

Taking heart, she rushed on. "Once I attended a masked ball and dressed as the devil. Doesn't sound like a big deal, but the year was eighteen-nineteen and I created quite a stir, let me tell you. When I asked Baron something-or-other to sell me his soul, he tried to stab me with a butter knife."

Lucien moaned. "Anya."

Oh, thank gods. "It's going to be okay, baby. I'm here, I'm here." She kissed his clammy temple.

His eyelids cracked open. "Anya?"

"Right here, love." She kissed his jaw, continuing to run her hands over him. Now, however, her sole purpose was not to warm him. She needed to awaken his desire because she needed his cooperation for what she was about to do.

"Where are we?" He gazed around the room, his eyes glassy.

She didn't want him thinking. Not about their surroundings, not about what had happened in the cave and not about the future. He was too honorable and if lucid enough he might push her away. He would rather she keep her freedom than bind herself to him, even though it might give him the strength he needed.

"I love you," she whispered straight into his ear, her warm breath caressing. "I love you so much. And that I almost lost you…I can't bear it."

"Gods, Anya. I never thought to hear you say those words." His arms enfolded her in a hug, pulling her as close as he could get her. When her head rubbed against his decimated skin, he hissed.

"I'm sorry." She eased to the side. "So sorry."

"Say it again."

She knew what he wanted. "I love you, Lucien, and I want to be with you. In every way imaginable." She rose on her elbow and stared down at him. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Weak though he still was, his shaft swelled against her thigh, long and thick and proud. He understood. "Anya…"

She meshed their lips together, not giving him time to protest. Her tongue stroked his, soaking in his masculinity. "Mmm," she moaned. She encircled his cock with strong fingers, stroking that too.

He groaned.

"Hurt?"

"Feels so good." He gripped her ass and pulled her on top of him again, some of her energy already seeping into him. The heady scent of roses enveloped the room. Then, suddenly, he stopped. His fingers became vises on her hips. "No, Anya. We can't do this."

"We can. We will." She strummed her fingers over the head of his penis, and he jolted at the sensation. "One way or another, I'm going to have you inside of me. Tonight."

Teeth bared, he arched into her touch. "Can't. Wrong for you."

"I'll decide what's right and wrong for me." She bit his earlobe and tugged. "Don't make me beg for you. Don't make me beg to feel you sliding inside of me, deep and hard and hot. Please don't—"

"Anya!" he roared. His hand tangled in her hair, and he jerked her down for another scorching kiss. "Don't beg. Don't stop."

Their tongues battled, their teeth scraped together, and she rubbed herself against him, for the first time in her life completely unconcerned by the thought of being penetrated. She wanted it. Desperately.

Need pounded through her. Need for this man and no other. It was a dark hunger inside her, carnal and savage, almost chaotic, definitely delicious. "I want to be with you forever."

"Yes, yes. Yes!" In between words, he nipped fiercely at her lips. "We won't go all the way."

He tried to sit up, but she pushed him down. "Yes, we are going all the way. Now let me do all the work, lover. You just concentrate on regaining your strength."

His eyes blazed up at her. "All I can think about is you. I need your nipple in my mouth."

"And so you shall have it." She rose up and offered him what he wanted. He sucked on it, flicking his hot tongue over the turgid tip. She felt the draw of his suction between her legs, felt moisture pool there like liquid fire.

"Let me taste you." His fingers glided between her legs, and she quivered. "Right here."

Clitoris throbbing for more attention, she climbed the rest of the way up and straddled his head. His tongue licked her, and she arched into his face. Every nerve ending in her body rejoiced. Every drop of blood in her veins sang.

"Lean forward, sweetheart. I want to finger you, too, but I won't. I—"

"You will."

He paused, squeezed her tightly. "Tell me again that you're sure. There's no going back after this."

"I'm sure," she said as she obeyed his command, wanting what he wanted. Her ass was lifted, her elbows braced on the headboard, and Lucien sank a finger all the way inside her. She didn't feel the curse kick in at all, but she nearly came. She did cry out. Having a man be part of her, even in such a small way, while having his mouth suck at her, was the most erotic sensation she'd ever encountered.

"Oh, gods."

"Like?"

"Love."

"More?"

"Oh, please."

Another finger joined the first, stretching her. His tongue never stopped working her clit. The decadence. The magnificence. Her hips were writhing of their own accord. She couldn't have stopped them upon threat of death. He'd pleasured her before, but this, oh, this…

"Lucien, Lucien," she chanted. Her head fell back, hair tickling her back. "Love you. So much."

"Can you take me? All of me?"

"Yes. Please." She gasped in bliss. Lightning shivers danced through her.

"I have to be inside you." His voice was rough, scratchy. "To the hilt." He pulled from her and tugged her down.

She mourned the loss of his naughty fingers until the tip of his erection found the opening of her sheath. He gripped her, holding her steady. She stared down at him, her hair a pale curtain around them.

"You are mine," he said, peering up at her, gazes locking together. He caressed her cheek.

"Always."

"I love you."

"I love you so much." He looked so beautiful to her. Still cut and bruised from battle, still a little weak but fueled by desire. For her.

"Sure you want this?"

"More than anything." And she did. She belonged to this man, now and forever.

"Mine," he said again, and surged all the way inside her.

A white light erupted between them, powerful, nearly blinding in its intensity. Anya cried out as her curse was unleashed, a sound that blended with Lucien's roar. She felt as if part of her soul had been ripped from deep inside and replaced with…a part of Lucien's?

Yes, yes. Lucien. Dark, savage. Wonderful, amazing. Purring inside her mind. There was a sharp ache between her legs, too, gone as quickly as it arrived, and then he was buried deep, so deep, and she was riding him. Slowly at first, savoring every new sensation. Then faster…faster…

"Good?" he managed to croak.

"Don't stop. Don't stop!"

"Never."

She twined their hands and pinned them over his head, leaning down and taking his breath, making him more a part of her. Making him every part of her. Sex was so much more than she'd ever imagined—and gods, had she imagined—because it was with Lucien.

I'm glad I waited. So glad.

Giving herself to him was not a curse, it was a blessing.

"Worth the wait," she told him, then delved her tongue into his mouth.

Their tongues battled in sync with their lower bodies. Pumping, pounding, sliding. The pleasure was building inside her, intense and combustible. He was so big, so thick and hard. So hers.

Almost there. So good, so good. The piece of heaven on earth she'd always craved. Filled completely, no longer empty. Part of something far greater than herself as he rocked inside her. "Lucien," she screamed, suddenly climaxing.

Everything inside her shattered, the most intense orgasm of her life ripping through her. She shuddered, her muscles clenching deliciously and locking down on his cock.

And as her inner walls milked him, he came, spurting inside her hotly. "Anya," he roared. "My Anya." He raised his hips, slamming as high and deep as he could possibly go.

Another climax immediately caught fire and raged through her, making her mindless for seconds, an eternity, drenching her in satisfaction, triumph and joy. Lucien was hers, truly hers, and she was his.

They were bonded, and she was glad.

As her spasms faded, she collapsed on top of him, a single thought registering in her mind: his skin was no longer black and blue, but tan and healthy.

She was grinning as she fell asleep.

LUCIEN DOZED ON AND OFF for several hours, a sleeping, sated Anya never far from his side, even when Death called him into the spirit realm. Lucien took Anya with him, cuddled in his arms. She hadn't awakened, though she'd managed to remain on her feet with him as her anchor. He thought perhaps she was truly relaxed for the first time in thousands of years, no longer worried about being attacked, captured or raped, and was finally catching up on her sleep.

Right now they were back in bed and one of his hands cupped her breast, the other draped over her stomach. For the first time in his life, he was utterly content, at peace. He wanted to stay here forever. Hold her forever. To protect her, however, he could do neither.

He planned to contact the other warriors, tell them about Anya and instruct them to care for her if he failed to find the Cage of Compulsion in time. How he hated the word. Failed. It meant Cronus still had power over him. Meant he would die. Something he was prepared and willing to do, though he did not want Anya grieving eternally for him.

"We have to go back to the mountain," he said, the words echoing through the room.

Lucien's chest constricted as Anya moaned and her eyelids slowly opened. "Not yet," she grumbled, her voice sleep-rich and sexy.

"We must. No telling what William is doing up there. You have his book. He might be looking for a way to hurt you."

Rumpled and groggy, she inched up, silky hair tumbling down her bare shoulders. Gods, he loved her. For her sake, he should have pushed her away. He should not have penetrated that tight, hot sheath. But he could not make himself regret it. She'd given herself to him freely, completely.

"You're right, no telling what he's doing." Anya stretched like a contented cat. Buried under the thick covers as they were, their skin was slicked with sweat and she slid against him. "How do you feel?" she asked huskily.

"Better. The bullet popped out and the hole closed." He caressed her cheek. "Thank you for the gifts of your love and your body."

"Oh, anytime."

"Are you sorry?" What if she had bound herself to his demon, as well? Gods. The thought horrified him.

"Hell, no!" She rolled onto her stomach, folded her arms and rested her cheek on her wrist. She peered over at him, more love than he'd ever seen in the blue depths of her eyes. "I'm, like, crazy-happy. That was absolutely, utterly, unbelievably, I'm-king-of-the-world amazing. But I know what you're thinking, and you can stop. Your demon can't get enough of me, and I have a thing for bad boys. Sure we don't have time for one more round? We could have a three-way. You, me and the demon."

What had he ever done to deserve her? "I am sure."

Pouting, she lumbered out of bed to dress. "Well, for future reference we need to get it on at least twice a day."

"No. That, I will not agree to. We must get it on four times a day."

That earned a soft chuckle from her.

Enchanted, he sat up. "Have you ever seen the Cage of Compulsion?"

As she tugged on her pants—surely it was a crime to cover such beautiful legs—she said, "No, but if I'm remembering my history lessons correctly, Cronus had Hephaistos the blacksmith make it for him because he had heard rumors of a coming insurrection and hoped to force battle plans and truths out of the beings he placed inside."

Lucien frowned as he considered her words. "Such an item hardly seems likely to aid a search for Pandora's box."

"Well, whoever is locked inside it is compelled to obey the command of its owner. I can only assume we're supposed to trap someone inside it and command them to tell us something. Maybe Hydra herself."

He pondered that for a moment, his frown deepening. "If you were locked inside and the owner commanded you to kill yourself…"

"First of all, no one can lock me inside of anything because of my…" She paled, guilt filling her eyes.

He didn't want her feeling guilty about keeping the key. "Anya."

"Yes," she added with much less enthusiasm. "Without the key, yes, I would be forced to kill myself, unable to stop the action."

His hands fisted on the covers. He didn't like the sound of this cage. He liked the idea of Cronus regaining possession of it even less. What else could he use to bargain for Anya's life, though?

Anya smiled at him, a little sad, as if she sensed his turmoil. Yes, she could, he realized a moment later, because he could suddenly feel her inner fear that he was not as healthy-looking as he'd appeared last night.

The bonding must allow them to sense each other's emotions. He even thought, if he tried, he would be able to read her mind.

"Up and at 'em, sexy," she said with false cheer, just before flashing away.

He tensed. "Anya?" Where had she gone? And why had she gone? "Anya!"

Just as he was gearing up to track her down, she reappeared. She was holding a bundle of clothing, which she threw at him. "I know where William keeps his weapons. Want a few?"

Lucien relaxed and nodded.

She blinked at him in surprise. "Really? We'll be stealing."

The corners of his mouth edged into a smile. "I have found that I do not mind that so much."

"Right on, Flowers!" She gave him another grin, all hint of sadness gone, and he once more felt as though he'd conquered the world. "I must say, your miseducation is coming along nicely."

"That's because my tutor is a strong and courageous woman and I will do anything to please her." He quickly dressed and stood next to her, hating even the smallest distance. "She is everything to me, and her happiness is my happiness."

Expression suddenly serious, Anya rose on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Don't worry, lover. Everything really will be okay."

Such assurance frightened him, because he knew it meant she was planning something. Something guaranteed to save him. Something foolish and reckless, like giving up the All-Key. She would weaken, like him. She would lose her powers, becoming vulnerable, trapped. He almost allowed himself to try to sweep into her mind, divine her thoughts, but stopped. She had willingly bound herself to him, and he would not betray her for it. Would not try to control her as the curse had intended.

"Anya," he said, grabbing hold of her shoulders and shaking. "You promised me you would never—"

"Let's go get those weapons," she interjected with another of those too-bright smiles. She disappeared a moment later, leaving him with nothing but air.