The Darkest Kiss. Gena Showalter

bloody from battle, angry and ready for more, turned her on. Her knees did that stupid weakening thing. You hate weakness. But damn, it felt good. Would he always have this effect on her?

      Silly girl.

      When the wind hit him, she knew he experienced a moment of miserable suspension, where blood and oxygen froze inside him. “Anya,” he growled.

      “Nice to see you again, Flowers.” She didn’t waste another moment. Using all of her strength, she shoved him into the water.

      He could have grabbed hold of her to stop his fall, but he didn’t. He allowed himself to tumble backward, rather than risk taking her with him. How…sweet. Bastard! He had no right to be sweet now.

      He gasped when he hit, the sound a blend of rage, shock and icy torment. A few droplets splashed onto her thigh, and she gasped at the cold.

      “Anya!” he shouted when he sputtered to the surface.

      “No need to thank me for the bath. I mean, the least I could do after bloodying your chest was to help you clean up the mess. See ya!”

      “Don’t leave,” he rushed out. “Please.”

      Unable to help herself, she paused. “Why not?”

      Rather than flash to the boulder, he treaded water and glared up at her. “You do not want to anger me.” A cloud moved and thicker golden beams poured from the silky, inky sky, straight onto him.

      “Or what? You’ll turn into a hulking green beast? Hate to disappoint you, Flowers, but that kind of revs my engine. Have fun defrosting.” Laughing, she gave him a finger wave and flashed to her favorite private beach in Hawaii.

      Warmth and sunlight instantly enveloped her, melting the sheen of ice that had glazed her skin. Usually when she came here, she stripped and lounged on the sand, soaking in the tranquility. Sometimes she barricaded herself inside the house a quarter mile up, surrounded by towering palms, where she vegged out and watched movies.

      This time, she stayed on the beach and kept her clothes on, dropped her lollipop and withdrew two more daggers from her boots. She held them at her sides and waited.

      A scowling, shivering Lucien entered her line of vision a moment later. His lips were tinted blue and thinned in displeasure. His hair was frosted around his head, his skin glistening with crystallized moisture.

      “Thank you. For the beach,” he said through chattering teeth.

      “How the hell are you following me?” she demanded, raising her chin and returning his murderous glare with one of her own.

      Finally, for whatever reason, he deigned to answer. “You leave traces of energy everywhere you go. I simply follow them. Had you not revealed yourself inside the club, I never would have been able to lock on you.”

      Great. Now she’d never be able to lose him. Stupid urges, prompting her to dance with him. She should’ve stayed in the shadows. I must be more like my mother than I realized. “I won’t make this easy for you,” she told him.

      He lost some of his anger, his lips twitching into the semblance of a smile. “I suspected as much.”

      How dare he show an irresistible sense of humor now, softening his face and adding all kinds of sexy. Where had this amusement been yesterday or the day before?

      “I told you once but I will tell you again,” he said. “I do not want to hurt you.”

      “Oh, well.” She shook her head, pale hair dancing over her shoulders. “That makes this okay, then. Go ahead and kill me.” Sarcasm dripped from each word.

      “Anya.”

      “Hush it. I’ve been nothing but nice to you, helped you and your friends, and this is how you thank me?”

      A muscle ticked under his eye. Had she, perhaps, hit a nerve?

      “I would change the circumstances if I could. I would—”

      “You have a choice. You can walk away.”

      “I can’t.”

      “Whatever, Flowers. Let’s just get this over with,’ kay. All this talking is giving me a headache.”

      His brows arched into his forehead. “You are going to let me take your soul, then?”

      “Hell, no. I thought I made it clear I’m going to fight you to the death. Yours, in case you need more clarification. Here and now. I’ve killed an immortal before. Doing it again should be no hardship.”

      “Yes, Reyes mentioned Aias.” Lucien made no move in her direction. “Why did you slay him?”

      She lifted one of her shoulders in a casual shrug. Inside, though, she was anything but serene. The memory of her clash with Aias was not a pretty one. What could have been, what could have happened, still sometimes haunted her. “He wanted to fuck me, and I didn’t want him to. He decided to go ahead and do it, anyway, so I decided he’d look good with a hole in his chest.”

      Lucien popped his jaw. “I hope you inflicted pain.”

      Her eyes widened. Okay, back up. An immortal—a former Captain of the Guard at that—was glad she’d killed an elite warrior? First time that had happened. The knowledge twisted through her, profoundly affecting everything it touched. Finally someone, and a virtual stranger at that, was taking her side.

      “No worries there,” she managed to work past the sudden lump in her throat.

      Lucien’s hands curled into fists. Why? Didn’t matter, she supposed. She was just proud of herself for noticing because it meant she wasn’t staring into those otherworldly eyes like a lovesick puppy.

      “It doesn’t have to be this way,” he said, his tone stiff, flat.

      “You said that already. But news flash—yes, it does. I’m not going to bend over and take it just because new gods are running the show and they don’t like how I do business. I’m not going to bend over and take it because the big cheese is greedy and wants to steal from me.”

      Lucien’s gaze sharpened. “What does he hope to steal?”

      Her lips pursed. Damn her runaway tongue. Of course Lucien had latched on to that last bit of her speech. “Don’t listen to me. I spout all kinds of nonsense when I’m scared. Remember when I told you I liked to lie?”

      “You are not scared of me or anything, I would bet, and I doubt you were lying this time.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. “So you did not spurn Cronus or cheat on him?”

      “Does that matter?” She twirled the end of a lock of hair, making sure the point of her dagger glistened in the sun. “Does it make a difference in what you’re planning to do to me?”

      “No.”

      “Then I see no reason to answer.” If he wouldn’t give an inch, neither would she.

      He raked a hand down his face, looking utterly exhausted all of a sudden. “I can give you a day, perhaps, to say goodbye to your loved ones.”

      “Oh, that’s so sweet,” she said drily. Her sarcasm didn’t last long, though. Her short list of loved ones played through her mind, sparking a pang inside her chest. Her mother. Her father. William, her only friend. If Lucien managed to defeat her, they would most likely never know what had happened to her. They might look for her, worry. “Do you extend the same courtesy to all your victims?” Do not think like that. You aren’t and won’t be a victim.

      Again, “No.”

      “So I’m just a lucky girl?”

      His lush lips once more thinned in displeasure. No matter how scarred his cheeks were, nothing could detract from the beauty of those lips. Maybe because she knew how soft they actually were. Maybe because they’d branded her all the way to her soul and she’d