The Darkest Craving

A question totally off topic, but okay, she could roll. Since the Fae were not a well-liked race, the men best known for their lack of honor in battle, as well as their insatiable need to sleep with anything that moved, and the women known for backstabbing and scandal—and okay, fine, their ability to sew a killer wardrobe—the knowledge might spur him into action.

“I’m half human, half Fae. See?” She pulled back the sides of her hair, drawing his attention to her ears and the points at the end.

His gaze locked on those points and narrowed. “Fae are descendants of Titans. Titans are children of fallen angels and humans. They are the current rulers of the lowest level of the skies.” He shot out each fact as if it were a bullet.

Can’t roll my eyes at a star.“Thank you for the history lesson.”

He frowned. “That makes you...”

Evil in his eyes? An enemy?

He shook his head, refusing to finish the thought. Then, his nose wrinkled, as if he’d just smelled something...not unpleasant, but not welcome, either. He inhaled sharply, and his frown deepened. “You look nothing like the girl who rescued me... girlswho rescued me...no, just one,” he said with another shake of his head, as if he were trying to make sense of things that had happened. “Her face and hair kept changing, and I recall each countenance, yet what I see now I didn’t see then. But your scent...”

Was the same, yes. “I possessed the ability to switch my appearance.”

One of his brows arched. “Possessed. Past tense.”

Even in his compromised state, he’d caught her meaning. “Correct. I no longer have the ability.” The strength—and capabilities—she borrowed from others could remain with her for as little time as an hour to as long as a few weeks. She had no control over the time frame. What she’d taken from the Phoenix had faded yesterday.

“You’re lying. No one has an ability one day, but not the next.”

“I never lie—except for the few times I do, in fact, lie, but it’s never intentional, and I’m totally telling the truth right now.” She raised her right hand. “Promise.”

He pursed his lips. “How long have I been here?”

“Seven days.”

“Seven days,” he gasped out.

“Yes. We spent most of our time playing incompetent doctor and ungrateful patient.”

A dark scowl contorted his features, and oh, it was a scary thing to behold. The books hadn’t done him justice. “Seven days,” he repeated.

“I didn’t miscount, I assure you. I’ve been crossing off the seconds in the calendar in my heart.”

He gave her the stink eye. “You have a smart mouth, don’t you?”

She brightened. “You think so? Really?” It was the first compliment she’d received from someone other than herself since her mother had died, and she would cherish it. “Thank you. Would you say my mouth is extremely intelligent or just slightly above average?”

His jaw fell, as if he meant to reply, but no sound emerged from him. His eyelids were closing...opening...closing again, and his big body was swaying from side to side. He was about to go down, and if he hit the floor, she would never be able to lift him onto the bed.

Josephina surged forward, reaching for him with gloved hands. Though he teetered backward, he slapped her arms away, wanting no contact between them. Smart man. (As smart as he thought she was?) Down he fell, slamming into the carpet with a loud thud.

As she scrambled to her feet to rush to his side—and do what, she didn’t know—the motel door burst open, shards of wood raining in every direction. A tall, thickly muscled warrior with dark hair stood in the center of the gaping hole, his features bathed in shadows. Menace lanced from him. Maybe because he gripped two daggers—and they were already stained with blood.

Another warrior moved in behind him, this one blond, with... oh, someone save me. Guts hung from his hair.

Her father’s men had found her.

CHAPTER TWO

KANE BATTLED A tide of pain, humiliation and failure. He’d been created fully formed, a warrior to the depths of his core. Throughout the centuries, he had fought in countless wars. He had slain enemy after enemy, and had walked away with many a blood-drenched injury—but he’d walked with a smile. He’d fought, and he’d won, and others had suffered for coming after him. And yet, here he was, on the floor of a dirty motel, too weak to move, at the mercy of a beautiful, fragile female who’d seen him at his worst: chained, violated and carved open after yet another round of torture.

He wanted those images cut from her mind, even if he had to reach inside and remove them with a blade.

Then, he would cut them out of his own. The Hunters, blaming him for every disaster they’d ever faced. Their bomb. A trip into hell. A horde of demon minions attacking, killing the Hunters and secreting Kane away. Day after day of torment.

Shackles. The drip, drip of blood. Satisfied grins, bloodstained teeth. Hands, everywhere. Mouths, seeking. Tongues, licking.

A soundtrack played quietly in the background. Moans of pain—his. Moans of pleasure—none his own. The slap of flesh against flesh. The scrape of nails, digging deep. A bark of laughter.

Terrible scents filled his nose. Sulfur. Arousal. Dirt. Old copper. Sweat. The pungent sting of fear.

One brutal emotion after another bombarded him. Disgust, rage, feelings of utter violation. Sorrow, humiliation, sadness. Helplessness. Panic. More disgust.

He moaned, a tragic sound. Desperate to avoid a breakdown, he erected a brick wall around his screaming mind, blocking the worst of the emotions. Can’t deal right now. Just...can’t.He was free at least. He couldn’t forget that. Rescue had come.

No, not a rescue. Not at first. Warriors had stolen him from the minions, only to tie him down for their own special brand of torture.

Then, the girl had arrived, demanding he help her with the vilest of tasks.

“What have you done to him?” a male voice roared. “Why were there Fae soldiers ready to sneak into this room?”

“Wait. You’re not with the Fae?” she demanded.

“Who are you, female?”

Kane recognized the speaker. Sabin, his leader, and the keeper of the demon of Doubt. Sabin was a male who wouldn’t hesitate to snap a woman’s neck if he thought that woman had hurt one of his soldiers.

“Me?” the girl said. “I’m no one, and I’ve done nothing. Really.”

“Lies will only make it worse for you.”

Another speaker Kane recognized. Strider, the keeper of the demon of Defeat. Like Sabin, Strider wouldn’t hesitate to harm a woman in defense of a friend.

Kane should have been comforted by their appearance. They were brothers of his heart, the family he needed, and they would protect him, whisk him to safety, and do everything within their power to ensure he healed. But he was scabbed, bruised and emotionally naked, and they were now witnesses to his shame, too.

“Oh, sweet heat. Why didn’t you step into the light sooner? I know who you are,” the girl gasped out. “You’re...you’re... you.”

“Yes, and I’m also your doom,” Sabin snapped.

The warrior assumed the black-haired girl was responsible for Kane’s condition. A mistake. He tried to sit up, but the muscles in his stomach were useless, not yet completely woven back together.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” said the girl, “but that’s got to be the lamest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and Kane here has said some doozies. You’re a magnificent warrior known throughout all the lands for your strength and cu

More than once, the silly things that had come out of that candy-apple mouth had made him want to smile, despite the pain relentlessly battering him. Now was one of those times. He didn’t understand it.