The Darkest Secret. Gena Showalter

he’d longed to touch. She was here.

      How was she here?

      He lifted his hand to smooth the pale hair plastered on her cheeks, and his muscle went death match on his bone, both aching in protest. Damn. What the hell was wrong with him?

      As carefully as he was able, he moved his arm closer to his face, every inch an unsteady milestone, but not stopping until he had a clear look. Seeing the ruined flesh, the knotted muscle, he wanted to curse.

      He’d been chained, maybe tortured. By Hunters?

      Had they tortured the girl, and his friends had rescued her, too?

      As rage sparked inside him at the thought of her mistreatment, his gaze returned to her. She hadn’t moved, was still sleeping so peacefully. Dark circles marred the delicate tissue under her eyes. There were a few smudges of dirt lining her cheeks and a bruise on the underside of her jaw. Signs of wear and tear, but not torture. The rage muted to a low simmer.

      She’s fine. And you’ll defend her. Or rather, he would defend her until she healed and he had to send her on her way. He wasn’t safe to be around anymore. Not for long.

      For now, though, she’s yours.

      Suddenly she jolted upright, her gaze swinging left and right. “Who said that?” Without waiting for a reply, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She raced to the window.

      What was she doing? Haidee, he mentally tsked, you shouldn’t be running around like that. You need time to mend.

      As if she’d heard the thought, she spun around and faced him. Eyes of the sweetest pearl-gray widened as they studied him from top to bottom. “Oh, baby. You’re getting better. Thank God!”

      Baby. She’d called him baby. The first endearment ever to be directed at him, and his ears soaked it up like nectar from the heavens.

      “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m so sorry.” She tripped back to his side. “We have to get out of here. Can you walk?”

      I don’t think so. Both of his femurs were cracked, if not broken entirely. He recognized the heavy ache underneath the muscle. Besides that, he was home. He didn’t want to leave.

      “Okay, okay. We’ll think of another way, then.” Even as she spoke, she scanned the room a second time. “I thought I’d have to fight them from the bed, but they must not have come back.” She offered him a fleeting smile. Fleeting, but like a ray of sunshine all the same. “Their mistake.”

      He blinked. That was the second time she’d—correctly—responded to something he hadn’t spoken aloud. You … hear me?

      “Yes. I know, I know. It’s weird.” That gaze never stopped scanning. For weapons? An escape route? “I was surprised, too. I don’t know how it’s happening, but I’m grateful. If I hadn’t heard you from next door, I would have left without you.”

      No one had ever heard him like that. No one. He’d always been the one to know what others were thinking, and he found he was … uncomfortable with this new development.

      How was she doing it? Could she hear everything? All the secrets floating through his head? Could she even hear his whimpering demon? What about the others, the new ones who liked to scream? Or could she only hear what he projected at her?

      “Can you still not speak?” she asked gently.

      Test time. He allowed the answer to form in his mind, but he kept a firm mental hold on it.

      “Can you?” she insisted. She reached out and traced a fingertip along the seam of his lips, careful, so careful not to hurt him. The you’ve-just-reached-the-freezer-section coolness of her skin delighted him.

      She hadn’t heard, he realized, even as he shivered at her silken touch. Such a surreal moment. She acted as if she knew him … liked him. Baby, he thought, dazed all over again.

      No. I still can’t talk. He pushed the words at her, watching for the minutest reaction.

      An angry sigh escaped her, and the corner of her lip curled in disgust. “Those bastards. Did they do something to your voice box? “

      Bastards? No. She’d heard that time. Which meant there were limits. Thank the gods. No one, especially such an innocent human, should have to listen to the evil inside his head. No one, especially such a fragile female, could survive its gloom. Even now, Amun wasn’t sure he could.

      “Do you remember what happened?” she asked. “How you got here?”

      He shook his head, slow, measured, trying not to open up any more wounds. Problem was, he was utterly covered in abrasions. The smallest action tugged too-tight skin and split scabs.

      “Okay, then.” Her next sigh was sorrowful. Her hand remained on him, as if she couldn’t bear to sever contact. “I’ll tell you what I know.”

      He nodded to encourage her, winced.

      “Be still, baby,” she said, all concerned mother hen and determined commando. “Just listen, okay, and try not to panic.” She drew in a deep breath, then slowly released it. “The Lords of the Underworld have us. We’re in a structure on top of a hill. Their fortress in Buda, maybe? I didn’t see any landmarks to verify my suspicions. Though why they’d risk bringing us here, I don’t know. Last I heard, this was where they were keeping two of the artifacts. You think they’d want us as far away from those as possible.”

      The artifacts. There were four, and each was needed to locate, and thereby destroy, Pandora’s box, saving him and his friends from certain death. Besides decapitation and other violent demises, that box was the only thing that could separate man from demon, wiping man from existence and unleashing the then-crazed demons on an unsuspecting world. This woman knew two of the artifacts were here—the All-Seeing Eye and the Cage of

      Compulsion—yet she expected the Lords to be upset that Amun, a Lord himself, was near them.

      She didn’t know he was a Lord, he realized. She thought he was a … Hunter?

      Like … her? All that disgust, all that anger directed at the Lords … the notion seemed likely. But, if she knew him, why didn’t she know who—what—he was? And if she was a Hunter, why would his friends have placed her inside his room?

      His gaze skidded to the hole in the wall. Maybe his friends didn’t know she was here. But.

      She thought she knew him, and he definitely recognized her. At least somewhat. He knew her name. Haidee. Could picture her face softened by sleep, so lovely. He knew they’d met somewhere, interacted in some way, but not where or when.

      For once, his demon wasn’t spewing out answers.

      This was so damn confusing, and his weakened condition wasn’t helping. Maybe she had tricked him into thinking they’d met, so he’d be more inclined to help her. But again, how? Why? The artifacts? Would anyone except a Hunter be after them?

      His stomach twisted into little knots. There was only one way to find out the truth about this beautiful woman whose presence alone both muddled and cleared his brain. That way was dangerous, the possible consequences severe.

      He didn’t want to go that route, but he didn’t feel he had any other choice. Normally he could read the thoughts of those around him; so far, he’d heard none of hers, despite the fact that she could hear his. Therefore, he needed to deepen the connection between them, push past any mental shields she might possess and peek into her mind, glimpse her memories.

      Amun would be careful. He wouldn’t let his demon wipe her brain clean—the biggest complication of all. Secrets liked to play, to steal memories and leave the victims with nothing but static. Amun would pull away the moment the fiend tried to do so. Unless she proved to be a Hunter, of course; then all bets were off.

      Gritting his teeth against the pain he knew he’d feel, Amun