The Darkest Pleasure. Gena Showalter

he could flash there in an instant.

      “I will not give up,” Lucien said. “That should please you. I would not give up were the situation reversed and it was your life I fought for.”

      Scowling, Reyes propelled back into motion. He shouldered Lucien aside and shoved open his bedroom door. Inside, he marched straight to his favorite cache of weapons.

      “The others feel as I do and are angry about your refusal to speak of Aeron. I have asked them for a few days to talk some sense into you. After that…”

      After that they would be at his throat constantly. To them, he was choosing Danika over Aeron, and a warrior did not choose a woman over another warrior. Ever. Reyes did not point out that Maddox had chosen Ashlyn and Lucien had chosen Anya. He did not point out—again—that Aeron preferred death over the creature he’d become and would not be happy about returning to the fortress. It would do no good. Worse, part of him felt as Lucien did.

      Reyes lifted his Sig Sauer, checked the twenty-round, chrome-plated magazine. Full. Checked the chamber. One already loaded. Good.

      “Going to find her, guns blazing?”

      “If necessary.” Reyes pocketed three other rubber-floored magazines and a box of .45s. There were daggers already strapped to his ankles and throwing stars attached to his belt.

      “You don’t know where to go.”

      “That won’t stop me. I will find her.”

      Lucien sighed, loud and long. “I can flash you to her. You can be with her, saving her, in seconds.”

      Saving her. An admission of the danger she was in or a trick? He anchored the gun at his back and flattened his palms on the velvet-lined table, head bowed. For a long while he remained silent, weighing his options. Waste time searching for Danika or free Aeron, who could already taste her blood in his mouth?

      Neither appealed to him.

      Reyes sighed, the sound an echo of Lucien’s. His king-size bed lay sprawled at his left side, spacious and rumpled. He’d imagined Danika there every night since meeting her, blond hair tumbling, naked body glistening with desire. Nipples pearled, desperate for his tongue. Legs spread, core wet.

      Sometimes, though, the fantasy was replaced by his greatest fear, an image of blood and death. Danika’s throat cut, her naked body painted crimson…motionless. The likelihood of that fear coming true would increase upon Aeron’s release. You knew you could not hold him prisoner forever. Release him, save her and then protect her.

      Protecting her would mean keeping her with him rather than walking away from her as planned. That would increase her contact with the death-hungry Aeron, but it would also increase her contact with Reyes. Dangerous though it was, the thought was as sultry and heady as a lover’s caress might be—if Reyes had been able to find pleasure in softness.

      To have Danika here…to hold her… Her angel face flashed through his mind. Wide green eyes that had looked at him with a range of emotions: fear, hope, hate—and desire? Small, pert nose. Lush pink lips that cursed him to everlasting hell while silently promising the sweetest rapture. Delicate body deliciously curved and ripe for a man’s touch.

      He closed his eyes, his nostrils suddenly filled with her scent. Stormy nights and innocence, sugar sweetness edged with something a little dark…perilous. His brow furrowed. Dark? Perilous? She had been neither of those things before.

      “Give me your hand,” Lucien said, suddenly in front of him, warm breath beating over Reyes’s cheeks.

      Reyes blinked in surprise as he faced his friend. He trusted this man, respected him, yet he had disappointed him over and over in the past few days. Though he didn’t know what Lucien planned, he offered his hand without reservation.

      Without dragging his swirling eyes from Reyes’s gaze, Lucien wrapped his fingers around Reyes’s.

      At the moment of contact, a lightning spear slammed through his entire body. Every muscle he possessed clenched and unclenched as though hooked to a generator, volts of pure, electrical power pumping through his bloodstream. Heat slithered around him, a python holding on to a meal, tightening more and more until he could no longer breathe. Felt so good, the pain. He squeezed his lids shut, savoring. His demon purred.

      His mind blackened for several heartbeats, a dark shroud covering every corner. Then pinpricks of light formed, growing… growing… An image winked into place, not yet cohesive. Just an outline. And then, suddenly, he could see Danika lying on a bed just as he’d imagined all these weeks. Except she wasn’t a fair goddess spread and waiting for his pleasure. She was shackled to the bed, her once-pale hair cut and dyed.

      She was trembling. Tear streaks had dried on her cheeks, and she’d nibbled on her lower lip so forcefully that tiny droplets of blood had beaded. In that moment, rage was like another demon inside him. Danika was a woman meant for pleasure and light, not darkness and fear.

      “She does not look well.” Lucien released him and stepped away, taking the vision with him. “The longer she is with them, the more harm they can do to her. I followed the dead Hunter’s body to a funeral home, stayed there in spirit form and watched as Hunters came to visit. They unknowingly led me straight to Danika. They know she killed their friend. Apparently they’ve had her since the night of the stabbing. They have her chained to a bed and have kept her asleep. She is unable to fight them like that, is helpless, vulnerable, a—”

      “Yes!” Reyes’s arm fell to his side. He was panting. “Yes,” he repeated. He didn’t have to think about what to do any longer. “Give me Danika and I will give you Aeron.” Perhaps this was the answer to his torment. Save Danika, protect her and help restore Aeron to his former self, reminding the warrior of what he had once been. Though how he would accomplish the latter, he still didn’t know. “But I will have your word that when he is brought here, he will be given the solitude he craves.”

      “You have it.” Lucien nodded, grim. “Know that I do this partly because Anya thinks Danika can lead us to one of the artifacts. And doubt me not. When the girl is here, I will use her to find it.”

      “And doubt me not. I am not myself when I am with her and do not know how I will react if you willingly place her in harm’s way.” Already he felt feral with the thought. “Take me to her.”

      “First tell me you understand that we might save her now, only to lose her later. I will not have you blame me if—”

      “She will not die.” He wouldn’t let her. “No more talking. Take me to her.”

      I FOUGHT FOR MY LIFE only to lose it like this? Danika laughed bitterly. She’d only just woken up, wasn’t sure how much time had passed or what had been done to her. The thought made her gag.

      After the…the…attack—oh, God, don’t think about it— she had raced to her shabby apartment to gather her things. Mistake. She should have left the gun and clothing behind, but without the day’s pay she’d known replacing them would have been too expensive. And since she hadn’t yet mastered the ability to steal without getting caught, she’d felt she had no other recourse.

      A group of strange men had been waiting for her, standing in the shadows next to the fire escape as though they’d known what route she most often took. As if they’d been watching her for days and knew her habits.

      She could have fought one or two. Even three. But there had been six of them, all bearing the same figure-eight tattoo on their wrists as the man she’d—she’d—she couldn’t even think the word now. They’d possessed the same tattoo as the man who’d died in that dirty alley. They’d overpowered her, knocked her out.

       Never helpless again, huh?

      When she’d first opened her eyes a little bit ago, her hope that the men were cops and she might make bail was completely dashed. Cops did not chain women to strange beds. Who were these men? What did they want with her?