The Darkest Pleasure. Gena Showalter

that girl more than he desired a hammer to the skull. For Pain, that was saying something.

      “Well?” Lucien prompted.

      “You’re right,” Reyes said through tight lips. Why not admit it? he suddenly thought. His emotions were in turmoil and remaining quiet had only roused them further. More than that, his friends could not hate him any more than he hated himself. “I went after Aeron.”

      The admission hung in the air, as heavy as shackles, and he paused.

      “You found him.”

      “I found him.” Reyes squared his shoulders. “I also… destroyed him.”

      Rocks crumbled under Lucien’s boots as he stalked forward. “You killed him?”

      “Worse.” Still, Reyes did not turn. He peered down longingly at the still-waiting ground. “I buried him.”

      The pounding of footsteps ceased abruptly. “You buried him but did not kill him?” Confusion drifted from Lucien’s voice. “I do not understand.”

      “He was about to kill Danika. I could see the torment in his eyes and knew he did not want to do it. I cut him down to slow him and he thanked me, Lucien. Thanked me. He begged me to stop him permanently. He begged me to take his head. But I couldn’t do it. I raised my sword, but I just couldn’t do it. So I had Kane collect Maddox’s chains and bring them to me. Since Maddox no longer needs them, I used them to lock Aeron underground.”

      Reyes had once been forced to shackle Maddox to a bed every night, cursed to stab his friend in the stomach six hated times, knowing the warrior would awaken in the morning and Reyes would have to kill him all over again. Some friend I am.

      After hundreds of years, Maddox had come to accept the curse. Restraining him, however, had been a necessity. As the keeper of Violence, Maddox tended to attack without warning. Even his friends. And as strong as the warrior was, he would have rent man-made metal in seconds. So they’d commandeered links forged by the gods, links no one, not even an immortal, could open without the proper key.

      Like Maddox, Aeron had been—was—helpless against them. In the beginning, Reyes had resisted using them on his friend, not wanting to take even more of the warrior’s freedom. Sadly, as with Maddox, employing them had become a necessity.

      “Where is Aeron, Reyes?” Underneath the question was a command laced with the authority of a man used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted. A man who ensured there were severe consequences for any type of delay.

      Reyes wasn’t frightened. He simply hated to disappoint this warrior he loved like a brother. “That, I will not tell you. Aeron doesn’t wish to be freed.” And even if he did, I do not think I would free him.

      There lay the crux of Reyes’s guilt.

      Another pause slithered between them, this one strained and expectant. “I can find him on my own. You know I can.”

      “You have already tried and failed or you would not be here.” Reyes knew that Lucien could flash into the spirit world and follow a person’s unique psychic trail. Sometimes, though, the trail faded or became tainted.

      Reyes suspected Aeron’s was tainted, as the warrior was not the man he used to be.

      “You’re right. His trail ends in New York,” Lucien admitted darkly. “I could continue my search, but that would take time. And time is something none of us can spare right now. Already two weeks have passed.”

      How well Reyes knew that, for he’d felt every day of those weeks like a noose tightening around his neck, one worry stacking upon another. Hunters, their greatest enemy, were even now searching for Pandora’s box, hoping to use it to suck the demons out of each and every warrior, destroying man and locking away beast.

      If the warriors wished to survive, they had to find the box first.

      Chaotic as life now was, Reyes was not ready to end his permanently.

      “Tell me where he is,” Lucien said, “and I’ll bring him to the fortress. I’ll bolt him inside the dungeon.”

      Reyes snorted. “He escaped once. He could escape again. Even from Maddox’s chains, I’m thinking. His bloodlust gives him a strength I’ve never encountered before. Better he stay where he is.”

      “He’s your friend. He’s one of us.”

      “He’s warped now, and you know it. Most of the time, he is not aware of his own actions. He would kill you if given the chance.”

      “Reyes—”

      “He’ll destroy her, Lucien.”

      Her. Danika Ford. The girl. Reyes had seen her only a few times, talked to her even less, but still, he craved her with every ounce of his being. Something he didn’t understand. He was dark, she was light. He was anguish, she was innocence. He was wrong for her in every way, and yet, when she looked at him, his entire world felt right.

      He knew beyond any doubt that the next time Aeron reached her, the warrior would savagely murder her. There would be no stopping him. Not again. Aeron had been ordered to kill Danika—and her mother and her sister and her grandmother— and was as helpless against the gods and their powers as everyone else. He would do it.

      Reyes’s temper flared and he had to glance at the rocks below to calm himself. Aeron had resisted the gods’ dark task at first. He was— No. He had been a good man. But with every day that had passed, his demon had grown stronger, louder inside his head, until finally it overtook his mind. Now Aeron was the demon inside him. He was Wrath. He obeyed. He slew. Until those four women were destroyed, he would live only to hunt and kill.

      Except, inside Danika’s temporary apartment those fourteen days, four hours and fifty-six minutes ago, there had been a small part of Aeron that had known the crimes he committed. A small part that hated who and what he had become and desired death above all things. Desired an end to the torment. Why else would Aeron have asked Reyes to kill him?

      And I refused him. Reyes couldn’t bring himself to hurt another warrior. Not again. Still. What kind of monster left his friend to suffer? A friend who had fought for him, killed for him? Loved him?

      There had to be a way to save both Aeron and Danika, he thought for what, the thousandth time? He’d spent countless hours pondering, but still did not see a solution.

      “Do you know where the girl is?” Lucien demanded, cutting into his musings.

      “No, I do not.” Truth. “Aeron found her, I found Aeron, and that’s when we fought. She ran. I didn’t follow her afterward. She could be anywhere by now.” Best that way. He knew it, but he was still desperate to know her location, what she was doing…if she lived.

      “Lucien, man, what’s taking so damn long?”

      At the second intrusion, Reyes finally turned. Paris, keeper of Promiscuity, now stood beside Lucien. Both men were facing him, eyes narrowed. Beams of crimson moonlight fell around them but not on them, as if those colored rays were afraid to touch the evil that even hell itself had been unable to contain.

      Immortal that he was, Reyes saw them clearly, gaze cutting expertly through the darkness.

      Paris was tall, the tallest of the group, with multicolored hair, pale otherworldly skin and eyes so pure a blue not even the most fanciful poetry would do them justice. Human women found him mesmerizing, irresistible, constantly throwing themselves at him and begging for a single touch. A heated kiss.

      Lucien, though mated now, was not so lucky. Human women stayed far away from him. His face was hideously scarred, grotesque even, giving him the appearance of a bedtime monster found only in fairy tales. Didn’t help that he had mismatched eyes—a brown one that saw the natural world and a blue one that saw the spiritual world—and both promised death would soon come knocking.

      Both men were corded with the kind of muscle