The Darkest Secret

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

WHAT THE HELL HAD HE done to her?

Amun was in a panic. Physically, he had never felt better; he was clearheaded, sated, both energized and relaxed. Cold, yes. He was far colder than he’d ever been. Rather than destroy him, as the cold had done to the congo, he was strengthened. And yet, his woman now suffered unbearably. Her beautiful skin was flushed a bright red, but not from pleasure. She was racked with pain, her body curled into itself, her fingers actually gnarling as she screamed, over and over again.

He’d promised to help her, but he didn’t know how, had no medicine, could only ask for—the backpack, he thought suddenly. Some of his panic eased as his gaze landed on the angel’s gift. Of course. So simple. Please be simple. The backpack had given him back his hands. Now it would give Haidee back her life.

Amun grabbed the pack, his grip so tight he feared he would rip the material. Give me something to help her, something to save her. Though urgency bombarded him, he waited one second, two.

Trembling now, he reached inside and found—nothing. Help me help her, he demanded. Again, nothing appeared inside. Cursing, Amun upended and shook the material, but still he found nothing. The bag remained empty.

That didn’t mean…couldn’t mean… No. No! He refused to believe Haidee was beyond saving. She would survive this, whatever “this” was. She had to; he needed her. Had never needed a person more.

He didn’t care that she would be reanimated if she…if she…he couldn’t even think the word. She hated when that happened, hated the pain that followed. Hated her loss of memories.

She would survive, he thought again. She was the missing piece of his soul, a necessary part of his soul. How he’d ever lived without her, he didn’t know. But he did know that he loved her. Loved her strength, her courage, her wit and the tender way she cared for him, so at odds with the sexy, tough-girl look of her. He loved the way she gave herself to him, her body his to do with as he pleased, inhibitions vanquished.

He had only to kiss her, and she became a live wire in his arms. No other woman had ever responded to him like that. She truly reveled in his touch and wasn’t ashamed to beg for more. She made him forget they were on a mission, made him forget that anyone or thing existed beyond the two of them.

And she had chosen him. She’d known the consequences of cutting ties with the Hunters, of becoming Amun’s woman—he’d made sure of it—but she had chosen to be with him anyway.

He wasn’t giving her up. Once, he’d thought he could. Once, he’d thought their time together would end the moment they left this realm. Wrong. He was keeping her. Now, always. Just as he’d told her.

Hot, she whimpered. Hot. Tears trickled from her closed eyelids, catching in her lashes before running down her cheeks.

She was talking inside his mind. He’d thought he’d heard her earlier, had convinced himself he was mistaken, but now there was no denying the truth. The connection was complete. The barrier that had kept her out of his head, whatever it was, had clearly been shattered. Probably because he had utterly lowered his guard the moment he’d penetrated her.

He had been defenseless against her, vulnerable, and hadn’t cared. He had welcomed her, every part of her, inside and out. He had craved an unbreakable connection, no matter the consequences, wanting no secrets between them. The good, the bad, he’d wanted to share all of it. With her and no other. Just as she had said. All, everything.

He had to save her.

Amun eased beside her and gently, so gently, lifted her in his arms. He sat with his back propped against a rocky wall and settled her on his lap. At first, she struggled against his hold, every motion probably torturing her. Then the new coolness of his skin seeped past the new burn of hers. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, moaned and cuddled against him.

So evil, she whimpered.

He traced his fingertips over her brow, trying to ease the fever there. What’s evil, sweetheart? The demons.

Demons? Amun stilled, not even daring to breathe. He’d felt her tugging on them, felt them resisting her, but his pleasure, the cold, he’d lost track of everything else. They’re…inside you?

Yes. Another whimper.

Mine?

I think so.

How could that be? He closed his eyes, searched his mind—and found no evidence of the vile essence that had nearly destroyed him before Haidee had entered his life. There were no disgusting urges waiting to pounce, no creatures writhing deep in his cognizance, no painful memories desperate to spring to the surface.

He should have been happy, but he was infuriated. With himself. He would rather deal with the evil himself than subject Haidee to a single moment of this. Damn it. He had to help her. Another thought struck him, and he flinched.

If Secrets had left him, too, Amun would die. For the moment Secrets had possessed him, they’d become two halves of a whole. One could not survive without the other. Not really.

Secrets, he found himself rushing out.

His voice must have nudged the creature. Secrets sighed with relief. Relief and joy. Once again, it was just the two of them. And though Haidee’s chill—Amun’s chill now—cloaked them, there was no more fear. They’d faced the storm and survived. Hell, they’d thrived.

How had Haidee taken the other demons but not Secrets?

He didn’t know, but he could find out. And perhaps, in doing so, he could save her. Determination replaced every other emotion inside him. You’re going to find the answer, all the answers, and you’re going to help her.

Information was the demon’s crack. Eagerly Secrets forced his way into Haidee’s mind. Actually, “forced” was too strong a word. The demon glided on in, as if the welcome mat had been placed at the front door, the windows left open. Even more astonishing, there were no barriers. The floodgate had opened. Whatever the demon wanted to glean, he gleaned.

Amun swam through the churning, never-ending sea of memories, searching for what he needed and discarding what he didn’t. He discarded most, in fact, but at long last, his efforts were rewarded. The story of Haidee’s life unfolded as if he were turning pages in a book.

After the Lords of the Underworld were kicked out of the heavens and tossed to earth, Themis, the Greek goddess of Justice, decided to balance the scales. The world had been given demons, and so, to her, the world required demon executioners. Executioners she could control, as the angels—demon-slayers in their own right—refused to do her bidding. Unable to simply create beings from air as Zeus, the god king, Themis was forced to find another way.

When she heard the prayers of Haidee’s parents, the answer came to her. The couple was childless, barren and desperate, and in their desperation, they agreed to the bargain Themis proposed. The goddess would bless the mother’s womb, and that womb would bear fruit. The couple would raise that child for ten years, and at the end of that tenth year, they would give her to the person of Themis’s choosing, so that she might be trained. They weren’t to worry, though, for the goddess would bless them with other children. Children they would be allowed to keep.

All was set.

The parents tried to distance themselves from their little girl and save their love for their other children. But one smile from the sweet little angel, and they fell. Unlike other babies, she was not fussy or contrary or even temperamental. She watched the world around her, thoughtful, always thoughtful.

As her tenth birthday approached, they realized they would rather die than lose her.

Themis, being Themis, granted their request. The couple had prevented a demon executioner from learning how to fulfill her purpose, and so they would die at the hand of a demon. Justice would once again be served.

And so the goddess commanded the keeper of Hate to slaughter the entire family, Haidee included, for she would start again, find someone new, someone she would raise from birth herself.

Hate was more than happy to comply.

After murdering Haidee’s parents and little sister, the demon-possessed immortal turned his sights on the god-touched child. But as he peered into her eyes, he remembered how Themis had once planned to use her and realized she might be able to save him. For if she could destroy the demon inside him, he would finally be free.

So Hate grabbed Haidee, intending to hide her until he figured out how exactly her ability worked. Only the moment he touched her, a strange cold infused him, tearing at his insides. He reacted instinctively, stabbing and releasing her, then running from her, the pain too much to bear.

As the days passed, he realized she had ripped a small piece of his demon from him—like a human losing a limb. And as time passed and he came to discover what happened to keepers who were severed from their demons… Well, instead of yearning to break ties with the creature, he wanted to reclaim that missing part of it. But each time he found Haidee, she died before he could touch her, as if Themis had forever cursed him to fail in his quest because he had failed to destroy the girl as promised.

Secrets marveled at the deluge of information, a child at Christmas.

And still so many questions remained… How had Haidee taken a piece of the demon High Lord? How had Hate’s host not died? How had Haidee never known Hate was inside her? How had she not known what the demon was thinking, feeling or wanting? Amun always knew. So did his friends. How had she not known Hate was the cause of her reanimation and memory loss? Or was Themis the one responsible?

How had the demon stayed with her even after she died, when Baden’s demon had been freed after his death? When Aeron’s had been freed after his death?

More answers flowed… That small piece of Hate had hidden inside her, strong enough to influence but too weak to do anything more. That’s why she hadn’t known the being was there or what he felt. His wants and needs had simply seemed like her own.

And Hate had not brought her back to life all those times; Themis had. Inadvertently. Since Haidee had sprung from a womb blessed by the goddess, she’d never been fully human. So, like the souls who reanimated in hell, she never really died. Only difference was, her corporal form could walk the earth, as well as hell.

So much information…too much…not enough.

As she’d done for Hate, Haidee had taken the demon minions from Amun. Not just pieces, though, but every part of them. Secrets, a High Lord, was stronger, however, tethered to Amun by godly bonds, while the others hadn’t been.

Still, she could have taken Secrets, but she hadn’t. She’d been careful, even though she hadn’t realized what was happening to her or to Amun.

Were the new demons forever a part of her now?

No. No! He couldn’t allow that. He knew how evil those beings were, how disgusting their thoughts, and he would not leave Haidee to suffer like that. But what could he do? He waited for Secrets to tell him, but this time, no response was forthcoming. The demon was still lost inside those memories.

Haidee was curled in the fetal position, whimpering, her tears burning his chest as they streaked down his skin. He reasoned out the rest on his own. She’d been a little girl when Hate first attacked her, and she’d probably clung to the dark piece of the demon she’d drawn inside her, needing the emotion to survive the terrible deaths she’d witnessed her parents and sister suffering.

Hate was as much a part of her as Secrets was to him, but these other demons were new and hadn’t had time to bond with her yet. He hoped. They wouldn’t want to bond with her, either, and would fight the connection. After all, Themis had ensured Haidee was a demon executioner. That meant Haidee had the power to defeat the darkness inside her, even if she didn’t realize it, and the bastards had to sense that.

No wonder they’d been so afraid of her, of her pull and her cold.

Guilt filled Amun, surpassing every other emotion because, with this new knowledge, he realized he alone was responsible for her current torment. She had saved him, and he had harmed her.

Haidee, sweetheart, he said, squeezing her tight. I need you to listen to me.

Hurt, she moaned. I hurt so bad.

I know, darling, but fight past the pain and listen to me. Can you do that?

A pause, another whimper. Then a hesitant, yes. Yes. Amun, you’re reading my mind. How are you reading my mind?

I think I instinctively built a mental wall to block you out when those demons were inside me. The moment you took them, that wall fell. Now I need you to fight the demons, sweetheart. Push them out of your body. Out of your skin.

How? Every time I mentally approach them, they dart away.

Corner them.

I can’t!

You can. And you will. Do it. Now. He put enough steel in his voice to anger her. Do it, or I’ll hand you over to Strider. You think you’re suffering now, well, wait until he gets you. He will torture the living hell out of you, and I’ll cheer him on. Then I’ll make love to another woman in front of you.

Every muscle in her slight, trembling body stiffened. B-bastard.

I know. Get well, and you can punish me.

T-trying. Her body uncurled, stretching taut as a bow. They’re still darting…like little flies…no, close, I’m close…they can’t go anywhere else…there they are…

Her back arched as an agonized groan ripped past her lips.

Haidee? Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.

Pushing, I’m pushing them. They’re screaming, want out. Out, out, out.

That’s the way, sweetheart. You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you. Keep pushing them. He flattened his palms, his cold, cold palms, on her and stroked. He stroked her everywhere, every inch of her body, willing the cold out of him and back into her. Push them out, and then cut any tether that binds them to you. Understand?

Slowly her skin began to darken. Not tanning, not becoming a lovely gold, but becoming a dark, sickly gray. She was doing it. She was expunging them. He could feel the malevolence pulsing off her.

Relief only increased his urgency. His hands moved faster, trying to touch every inch of her at once. That’s the way.

The ice. Yes, the ice. Need it. Need it. Need— She screamed. Screamed until her voice broke, until his eardrums nearly burst just to escape the noise. Darkness was now pouring off her, drifting into the air like dust motes before darting out of the cave entirely.

Her nails raked at him, drawing blood. She thrashed, she fought, but he never released her from his hold. Finally, thank the gods, finally, she sagged against him, silent, not even trembling, as if every bit of strength had been sapped from her and she could barely even manage to breathe.

Amun never stopped cooing at her. He whispered everything he’d learned about her past, knowing she would want every detail. He promised he would never allow anyone—not gods, demons or humans—to hurt her. Finally, she rallied.

I suspected you were part goddess, you know, he said.

A small, sad smile. I almost can’t take this in. Chosen and betrayed by Justice. Targeted by Hate. Part Hate myself. I mean, I’m a demon and I’ve fought demons all my life. Lives. It’s ironic and weird and…and…I hate it. Hate. A bitter laugh. Makes sense now.

No one can blame you for what happened.

I can. I do.

You shouldn’t.

I want to deny it all, so damn badly, but I can’t.

You are a wonderful person, and what we’ve learned today doesn’t change that.

I— Whatever argument she meant to give, she changed her mind. Thank you, Amun. For everything you did, everything you said. For liking me despite this.

Liking? He more than liked her, but she’d endured enough revelations for the moment. Sleep now, sweetheart.

Yes.

The gray cast eventually faded from her flesh, returning her skin to that lovely golden shimmer. The fever even cooled. He, too, sagged, his relief so great he practically choked on it.

Hours passed while she dozed, her body trying to fortify itself. Though he was exhausted, he never allowed himself to drift. He remained awake, alert, keeping guard. And as always, just being near Haidee aroused him. More so now, considering how close he’d come to losing her.

She was naked, he was naked, and her soft scent was imprinted in his sinuses. Her breasts were pressed into his chest. Breasts he’d held, suckled. Her legs were twined with his. Legs he’d spread, caressed. Soon he was sweating, the chill inside him gone as if it had never been. He needed to reaffirm that his woman lived, that their bond hadn’t been shattered.

She’s too weak. She needs a little recovery time. More than that, making love had almost killed her. He would not risk her again. Ever. He would be with her, safeguard her, pamper her, but never again would they be together in a sexual way.

“I’m not too weak,” she murmured sleepily, the coolness of her breath tickling his chest. “I’ll never be too weak for that.”

He inhaled sharply. In that moment, he knew. He knew she was going to be all right. His arms tightened around her, squeezing so tightly he feared he would crack one of her ribs. But he couldn’t temper his reaction, couldn’t dilute his need to hold her and never let go.

“Make love to me,” she said. She raised her chin and looked up at him, though she never lifted her cheek from his chest. “Remind me that I’m alive.”

No, sweetheart. No. We’re just going to hold each other.

“But why?” Was she…pouting?

His cock twitched in response. What if there are other demons hiding inside me? Or what if you draw Secrets out this time? Secrets is a High Lord, and the demons you took from me were merely minions. High Lords make minions look like infant children in need of a bottle.

“But there were hundreds of those minions.”

Thousands of minions could not compare with one High Lord.

She sighed. “That’s probably true.”

Is that piece of Hate still inside you? he asked. Or did you expunge it, too?

“It’s still with me. I can feel the emotion, weaker than before, but there.”

Good.

“Good?”

I don’t want to risk losing you. I’ll die if I’m separated from Secrets, and I fear the same will happen to you if you’re separated from Hate. Even so small a piece.

“Oh…yeah,” she said, disappointed. “I forgot about that.”

His heart stuttered to a stop. Does it bother you that I will always be a demon?

“Not at all.” She slid one of her hands to his neck and pressed a fingertip against his pulse, jump-starting his heart into action again. “I accept you for who and what you are.”

He hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed to hear those words until she’d said them. As I accept you.

She placed a soft kiss on his sternum. “I’m still in shock. But God, this explains so much, you know? Why I have so much trouble loving, why people tend to dislike me when they first meet me. Why moods are sometimes blackened in my presence.”

I’m sorry. Sorry that happened to you.

“I should be sorry, too. I want to be—well, more than I am—but it brought me to you, so…”

He kissed her temple in thanks. I wonder how you drew that piece of Hate inside you without killing the host. I wonder how you took Hate, but not Secrets.

“From what you told me, the host of Hate wanted me to free him. Until the pain started. Then he changed his mind. You didn’t want me to take Secrets. Maybe that has something to do with it.”

Maybe.

“Or maybe I wanted to hurt him, but didn’t want to hurt you.”

That makes more sense. But either way, I never want you to go through a purging again.

Frowning, she sat up, turned, and straddled his waist. “So you plan to deny us both for the rest of our lives?”

Yes. Even though the word passed from his mind to hers, his tone still managed to drip with all kinds of irritation. He wanted her, damn it, and resisting her was nearly impossible. Practically riding him as she was, her breasts uptilted, her nipples hard, she wasn’t making it easy on him. She was making it hard. Very, very hard.

One of her brows arched, and a calculating gleam entered her eyes. She flattened her palms on his pectorals and leaned forward, as if she meant to push off him and stand. “I can’t believe you’re making me resort to rape, Amun.”

Haidee—

In the next instant, she raised her hips and impaled herself on his erection. She was already wet, and took him easily. His lips parted on a silent moan of bliss.

Her head fell back, and her nails dug deep. “A girl will do what a girl has to do to prove to her man that the only way to hurt her is to deny her. But then, I guess I’m not a girl. I’m borderline demon, so you should have expected this kind of behavior.”

You shouldn’t have—you need to—oh, gods… Unable to stop himself, Amun arched his back and surged the rest of the way inside her, hitting her deep, so deep. A hoarse cry left him this time, echoing around him, and in the back of his mind he expected words to start falling from his lips. They didn’t. So he forced himself to return to that motionless state, panting, afraid and hopeful.

As her knees squeezed his sides, her stomach quivered from the pleasure of having him inside her. She’d never looked lovelier, he thought. Never looked more pagan, more…his.

Haidee, he gasped into her mind. I shouldn’t have thrust the rest of the way. You have to…move…off me…on me…you just have to move, damn it.

She didn’t. She remained still, watching him.

His fingers banded around her waist, holding tight. She was so wet, so wonderfully cool inside, and she was killing him with every second that passed, refusing to move off him—or on him.

Finally he sagged against the ground. He didn’t have the strength to push her away. And he damn sure didn’t have the courage to urge her on. He wouldn’t hurt her. He wouldn’t risk her.

Haidee, he said, trying again.

“Just hold on, baby,” she whispered huskily. “This little lady is gonna do all the work.”