The Darkest Kiss. Gena Showalter

with the only thing that could truly hold him: unbreakable links forged by the gods. So yes, Aeron would eventually escape.

      Lucien was tempted to reveal his presence and talk to Danika, but didn’t. She had no good memories of him and would not be willing to help in his search for Anya. He worried two fingers over his jaw. Whatever the goddess of Anarchy’s purpose, she had clearly taken an interest in all things Underworld.

      He was more baffled than ever.

      There were no answers here, only more questions, so he didn’t waste another minute. He followed Anya’s lighted trail, which was now a bright red—anger was taking root again—and found himself flashing to—A convenience store. He believed that was what mortals called the small shop.

      His eyebrows furrowed together. He was no longer in Budapest, he knew, for sunlight glowed brightly through the store’s windows. A multitude of people milled about, paying for fuel and buying snacks.

      Unseen, Lucien ventured outside. A horde of yellow cars sped along a nearby street, and mortals rushed along the crowded sidewalks. He found a shadowed alley and materialized without anyone the wiser. Curiosity propelling him, he strode back into the store. A bell tinkled.

      A woman gasped when she saw him, then looked away as quickly as possible. A child pointed at him and was reprimanded by his mother. Everyone backed away from him, inching as far from him as they could without seeming blatantly rude. There was a line leading to the cash register, which he bypassed without apology.

      No one protested.

      The cashier was a teenager, a boy who looked a lot like Gideon. Blue hair, piercings, tattoos. However, he lacked Gideon’s savage intensity as he smacked his gum and shuffled the money in his drawer. A quick glance at the tag on the boy’s shirt provided his name.

      “Dennis, did you notice a pale-haired female in a short black skirt—”

      “And ice-blue barely-there top? Hell, yeah, I noticed,” Dennis finished for him as he closed the register. Lucien recognized the accent. Hewas in the States. The boy’s gaze lifted, and he stilled. Gulped. “Uh, yeah.” His voice shook. “I did. May I ask why?”

      Three emotions skidded through Lucien, none of them welcome: jealousy that another man had enjoyed the sight of Anya, eagerness that he was closer to finding her and dread that he was closer to finding her. “Did she speak to anyone?”

      The boy took a step backward and shook his head. “No.”

      “Did she buy anything?”

      There was a heavy pause, as if he was afraid his answer would send Lucien into a rage. “Kind of.”

      Kind of? When Dennis failed to elaborate, Lucien gritted his teeth and said, “What did she kind of buy?”

      “Wh-why do you want to know? I mean, are you a cop or something? An ex-husband?”

      Lucien pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Calm, stay calm. He fixed his eyes on the paling human, capturing Dennis’s gaze and refusing to release it. The scent of roses began to drift from him, thickening the air.

      Dennis gulped again, but his eyes began to glaze over.

      “I asked you a question,” Lucien said softly, “and now you will answer. What did the woman buy?”

      “Three strawberry-and-cream lollipops,” was the trancelike reply. “But she didn’t buy them. She just grabbed them and walked off. I didn’t try to stop her or anything, I swear.”

      “Show me the lollipops.”

      With people moaning and muttering in protest at the delay—until Lucien glared at them and they quickly hushed—Dennis left the register and led him to the candy aisle. He pointed to a half-empty box of lollipops.

      Lucien pocketed two, not allowing himself to smell them as he so badly wanted, and withdrew several bills. Wrong currency, but giving the boy something was better than nothing. “How much do I owe you?”

      “They’re on me.” Dennis held up his hands in a pretend show of friendship.

      He wanted to force the boy to take the money, but did not want to cause even more of a scene. In the end, he stuffed the bills back inside his pocket. “Return to your register,” he said, then pivoted to slowly survey the rest of the store. On the spiritual plane, there were millions upon millions of colors. Sorting through them proved tedious, but no one dared bother him and he was finally able to locate Anya’s unique essence.

      His blood heated.

      Everything about her, even the minute mist she left behind, called to him, drew him. And, if he wasn’t careful, would ensnare him. She was just so…captivating. A beautiful enigma.

      Lucien left the store and returned to the abandoned alleyway, where he once again dematerialized into the spirit realm. He flashed to Anya’s next location—

      And found her in a park. Finally.

      Looking at her, the sharp ache returned to his chest and he suddenly had trouble drawing in a breath. Right now, she appeared serene, not at all like the temptress in the club. She sat on a swing, sunlight bathing her in a golden halo. Back and forth she rocked.

      She seemed to be lost in thought, her temple resting against the chain that anchored the swing to the rail. That silky, silvery hair cascaded down her arms, wisping across her pixie face every few seconds as the wind rolled.

      He was struck by a nearly inexorable urge to fold her in his arms and simply hold her.

      Had a woman ever looked so vulnerable? Had a woman ever looked so alone? She licked one of the lollipops she’d stolen, the pink tip of her tongue flicking out, circling the rosy candy. His cock jumped in response. No. None of that. But the command failed to lessen his desire.

      However long it takes, whatever you have to do, you will bring her to me, Cronus had said. Or all those you love will suffer.

      Lucien felt a spark of anger leap through himself, but he quickly tamped it down. No anger. He was Death. Right now he had no other purpose. Emotion would only hinder him; he knew that well.

      However longs it takes. Cronus’s voice once again echoed in his mind.

      For a moment, only a moment, Lucien entertained the possibility of taking forever. An eternity. You know what happens when you hesitate. The one destined to die suffers a far worse fate than originally intended. Do it! Or your friends, too, will suffer a far worse fate.

      Determined, Lucien materialized and stepped forward. Gravel crunched under his boots, and Anya’s head snapped up. Instantly their gazes locked. Her crystalline eyes widened, filling with such intense heat and longing they singed him.

      Her mouth fell open in shock as she popped to her feet. “Lucien.”

      The sweetness of her voice blended with the strawberries-and-cream scent she emitted. As his body tensed erotically, his resolve weakened. Again. Stay strong, damn you.

      Not realizing the danger she was in, she remained in place, still peering over at him through the thick shield of her lashes. “How did you find me?”

      “You are not the only being capable of tracking an immortal,” he replied, giving her only half of the answer.

      Her gaze traced over him, so hot he thought she might be mentally stripping away his clothing. Women simply did not look at him like that. Not anymore. And that this one did… He was having more and more trouble controlling his reactions. His cock grew harder with every second that passed.

      “So you’ve come to finish what we started, have you, Flowers?” She sounded eager.

      “That is not why I’ve come.” He spoke the words precisely. There is no other way. You must do this deed.

      Her lush red lips edged into a frown. “Then why—”