The Darkest Pleasure. Gena Showalter

only then, when you have answers, should you feed her.” Arm outstretched to claim one of the squares, Sabin moved forward.

      Reyes latched on to his friend’s wrist and squeezed. “Make your own or lose the hand. And she is not in league with the Hunters.”

      Sabin arched a sandy brow, the picture of pique. “How do you know?”

      He didn’t have an answer, but he would not allow anyone to hurt her in any way. “Just stay away from her,” he said, “and leave the food alone.”

      “Since when are you so giving?” Gideon asked at his other side, swiping a sandwich before Reyes could do anything about it.

      “Giving” equaled “stingy” in Gideon’s messed-up world.

      “Back off,” Reyes growled.

      Both warriors chuckled.

      “Yeah. Whatever,” Sabin said, and grabbed a sandwich with his free arm.

      Reyes ground his teeth together. I will not pull a weapon on my friends. I will not pull a fucking weapon on my friends.

      “Oh, goodie! Food.” Anya skipped into the room, Ashlyn at her side, their arms linked. “I thought I smelled the sweet scent of culinary genius.”

      Red spotted Reyes’s vision as he gathered the plate and the glass before the women could confiscate a single crumb or drop. “Danika’s,” he said tightly.

      “But I really like turkey.” Anya pouted up at him. She was tall for a woman, but even in four-inch heels she only reached Reyes’s chin. “Besides, when I slap a sandwich together, it never tastes as good as when you do it. There’s something so delicious about food prepared by a man.”

      “Not my problem.” He tried to step around her, but she leapt in front of him, hands fisted on her hips. He sighed, knowing she would trip him if he attempted to pass her. “Lucien will cook something for you.”

      Another pouting frown. “He’s out collecting souls.”

      “Paris, then.”

      “He’s doing some chick in town, the nympho.”

      “Starve,” Reyes told her unsympathetically.

      “I’ll make us something,” Ashlyn offered, rubbing her slightly swollen belly. She was pregnant, just beginning to show. “While I do, I want to hear all about Danika.”

      Reyes wasn’t sure how he felt about the coming birth. Would the baby be a demon? A human? He couldn’t decide which would be worse. Constant inner torment or mortality? “She’s well. Nothing more to say.”

      “Make me something, too,” Sabin told Ashlyn. “I’m ninety-seven percent famished. That sandwich I stole only helped a little.”

      “I’m totally full,” Gideon said, which meant he was on the verge of starvation. He wiped his hands to dislodge any remaining crumbs.

      “Shame on you boys for making a pregnant woman do all the work,” Anya scolded.

      “Hey!” Sabin wagged a finger at the gorgeous goddess. “You’re letting a pregnant woman make your sandwich. How is that any different?”

      “Pregnant or not, I’ll let her make me one, too.”

      At the sound of that scratchy voice, everyone stilled. Turned. A collective gasp rang out. Then a collective, “Torin!”

      Grinning, Ashlyn stepped toward the now-healed warrior, arms opening to hug him. Anya latched on to her shoulder and jerked her back.

      “He’s Disease, sweetness,” the goddess said. “You can’t touch him without getting sick, remember?”

      “Oh, yeah.” Ashlyn smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re better.”

      Torin smiled in return, though his expression was tinted with sadness and yearning. “Me, too.”

      He looked just as Reyes remembered—before the man’s neck had been cut from end to end by Hunters, that is. White hair, black brows and bright green eyes. Beautifully masculine and utterly eerie. He wore black gloves that stretched from fingertips to armpits, for he could not touch another living being skin to skin without infecting it with disease. Not even an immortal. The warriors would not become ill themselves if they touched him, but they would spread the disease to humans.

      “How are you feeling?” Reyes asked him.

      “Better.” That green gaze lowered to the plate Reyes held. “Hungry.”

      “Back off,” Reyes said. “I’m glad you’re better, but not enough to share.”

      Torin’s grin lost its edge of sadness. “You almost make me wish I were still bed-bound. You’d have to bring me food with a smile. Oh, guess what?” he said, pivoting toward Anya. “Your friend is climbing the hill. He keeps shouting that he wants to put you over his knee and spank you, so I decided not to kill him as Lucien instructed. Guy has a blade strapped to his left thigh, but that’s the only weapon I detected. He should reach the door any—”

      Knock. Knock.

      Grinning, Anya clapped her hands. “William’s here!”

      “What is he doing here?” Reyes asked. “Lucien told him never to return or he’d kill him, and you hate him.”

      “Hate him? I adore him! Even made sure he’d come back by holding his favorite book hostage. And FYI, Lucien was only teasing about killing him. They’re BFF’s now, I swear.” She bounded off, clapping happily.

      “William!” the group in the kitchen heard a moment later.

      “Where’s my book, woman?”

      “Where’s my hug, you big teddy bear?”

      “Is this the same William who drove Lucien crazy while Anya was recovering from the loss of her key?” Ashlyn asked, just as Maddox strode up behind her and enfolded her in his arms. “And what book?”

      “The very same,” Maddox said, nuzzling her cheek. “The book, I don’t know. This William did not strike me as the intellectual type. What’s a BFF?”

      “A best friend forever.”

      Maddox frowned. “I did not get the impression the two were best friends forever or even temporarily. Someone should lock the man up until Lucien returns.”

      Ashlyn melted into her man. “Anya seems to like him. I say we leave him alone. The more, the merrier, right?”

      Reyes rolled his eyes. Every day in the fortress was a party now, it seemed.

      While Ashlyn and the men engaged in a heated discussion about who would cook what, as well as what they should do about the mysterious William, Reyes finally made his escape, careful to hold the plate straight and the glass of juice steady as he stalked from the kitchen.

      I hate you, Danika had said.

      I know, he’d told her, and he’d meant it. He’d once held her and her loved ones prisoner. He’d helped bring her to the Hunters’ attention. She had every reason to despise him. But now, he wanted to give her something good. Something she could smile about in the years to come. Even if it was only a simple meal.

      Up the stairs he climbed, and still, he did not spill a drop. Most likely, she was still sleeping. He hated the thought of waking her, but knew it was for the best. The paleness of her skin and the shadows under her eyes concerned him. She needed sustenance.

      While she’s here, I’ll see to her every need. She’ll want for nothing.

      He sailed into the bedroom, but stopped abruptly when he reached the edge of the bed. His mouth dried and the haze of red returned to coat his vision. The black sheets were rumpled. Empty.

      Danika was gone.