The Darkest Pleasure. Gena Showalter

old age will wipe your memory like that,” Paris replied. “Remember, we need to discuss our next plan of action? Among other things.”

      He sighed. The warriors did what they wanted, when they wanted, and no biting remark would stop them. He knew that firsthand, because he was the exact same way. “Why aren’t you out researching Hydra’s hiding places?”

      Lush lips better suited for a woman thinned into a mulish line. Paris’s eyes flashed the kind of agony Reyes usually saw staring back at him from his own mirror, replaced all too soon by the warrior’s usual irreverence.

      “Well?” Reyes prompted when there was no answer.

      Finally his friend said, “Even immortals need coffee breaks.”

      There was obviously more to the story than that, but Reyes didn’t press. I am not the only man with secrets. Several weeks ago the warriors had split up to search for Hydra, a cranky half snake, half woman…thing who was guarding some of King Titan’s favorite “toys.” Those toys—weapons, really—were supposed to lead them to Pandora’s box. So far, they’d only managed to snag one. The Cage of Compulsion. They had only the barest of clues about the locations of the others.

      “Yes, but when faced with extinction, coffee breaks lose their importance. And yes, I realize I need to do more for our cause. I will. After.”

      Paris shrugged. “I’m doing what I can. The U.S. is a huge damn place and studying it from afar is almost as difficult as navigating its lands amidst all those people.” Each of the warriors had traveled to different countries to ferret out clues about the box, had no success and had quickly returned to learn what they could from here. Without switching his attention from Reyes, Paris asked Lucien, “Did he tell you where Aeron is or what?”

      One of Lucien’s black brows arched toward his hairline. “No. He didn’t.”

      “Told you he’d be difficult.” Paris frowned. “He hasn’t been himself for weeks.”

      Reyes could say the same about Paris, he realized as he noticed lines of fatigue and stress around the usually optimistic man’s eyes. Perhaps he should press Paris for answers. Clearly, something had happened to his friend. Something major.

      “We’re running out of time, Reyes.” Accusation coated Paris’s words. “Cooperate. Help us.”

      “Hunters are more determined than ever to end us,” Lucien added. “Humans have discovered the Unspoken Ones’ temple, limiting our access yet increasing that of the Hunters. We’ve only found one artifact out of four, but all are supposedly needed to locate the box.”

      Reyes arched a brow, mimicking Lucien’s earlier expression. “You think Aeron can help with any of that?”

      “No, but we do not need discord among us. Nor do we need the distraction of worrying about him.”

      “You can stop worrying,” Reyes said. “He doesn’t want to be found. He hates who and what he is and he hates us seeing him like that. I swear to you, he’s content where he is or I would not have left him.”

      The door to the roof burst open and Sabin, keeper of Doubt himself, stalked through, dark hair dancing in the breeze.

      “For fuck’s sake,” the man said, throwing up his arms. “What the hell’s going on?” He spotted Reyes and comprehension instantly dawned. He rolled his eyes. “Damn, Pain, you sure know how to spoil a meeting.”

      “Why aren’t you researching Rome?” Reyes asked him. Had everyone stopped working in the half hour he’d been on the roof?

      Gideon, keeper of Lies, was close at Sabin’s heels and prevented the warrior from answering with a sober, “My, my, how fun this looks.”

      In Gideon speak, “fun” meant boring. The man couldn’t utter a single truth without experiencing debilitating pain. Pain, exactly what I need. If only Reyes simply had to lie to receive it, how easy life would have been.

      “Shouldn’t you be helping Paris research the States?” Reyes demanded. He didn’t bother waiting for an answer. “This is starting to feel like a damned circus. Can’t a man do a little sulking and self-mutilation in private?”

      “No,” Paris said, “he can’t. Stop stalling, and stop changing the subject. Give us the answers we want or, I swear to the gods, I’m coming up there and laying a big wet one right on your mouth. My boy is hungry and looking to feed. He thinks you’ll do just fine.”

      Reyes didn’t doubt Promiscuity wanted to bed him, but he knew Paris, and knew the warrior preferred women.

      Get rid of them. Reyes studied his newest guests. Gideon was dressed entirely in black, with hair dyed electric blue, eyebrows pierced in several places, the silver studs gleaming, and charcoal-rimmed eyelashes. Humans found him cut-your-heart-out scary.

      Sabin wore all black, as well, but his brown hair, brown eyes and square, guileless face didn’t make him look as if he would kill anyone who approached him—and laugh while doing it.

      Both men were stubborn to their very cores.

      “I need time to think,” Reyes said, hoping to play on their sympathy.

      “There’s nothing to think about,” Sabin replied. “You will do what’s right because you’re an honorable warrior.”

      Aren’t you? Perhaps you are as weak as the human girl you desire. Why else would you hurt those who love you like this?

      Ouch, he thought, cringing. He was weak. He was— “Sabin,” Reyes growled as realization set in. “Stop sending doubts into my mind. I have enough of my own.”

      The warrior shrugged sheepishly, not even trying to deny it. “Sorry.”

      “Since our meeting is clearly not canceled,” Gideon said, “I’m not heading into the city, not visiting Club Destiny, and not screwing a few screams of pleasure out of a human female.” He disappeared behind the door a second later, shaking his head in exasperation.

      “Don’t cancel the meeting,” Reyes told the others. “Just… start without me.” He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze starting in the sky and falling slowly. Night’s sinister canvas still waited, beckoning him to finally leap. “I’ll be down in a few.”

      Paris’s lips twitched. “Down. Funny. Maybe I’ll meet you down there and we can play Hide-the-Pancreas again. Forcing you to completely regenerate rather than simply heal always amuses me.”

      Even Lucien grinned at that.

      “Oh, oh, I wanna play! Can I hide his liver this time?”

      At the sound of Anya’s sultry voice, Reyes stifled a groan.

      The white-haired goddess of Anarchy rushed through the doorway and threw herself into Lucien’s now-open arms, her strawberry fragrance drifting on the ever-increasing wind. The pair cooed and cuddled like lovesick idiots for an eternity, lost in each other, the world around them forgotten.

      It had taken Reyes a while to warm to the woman. She belonged in Olympus, home to the very beings he reviled—strike one. She left chaos in her wake, something as natural to her as breathing—strike two. But in the end, she had aided every warrior here, and had blessed Lucien with a happiness Reyes could only imagine.

      Sabin coughed.

      Paris whistled, though the sound of it was strained.

      A pang of envy tightened Reyes’s chest, squeezing at the heart that would soon stop beating. The heart he wished he did not possess. Without one, he would not have wanted Danika even though he knew he couldn’t have her.

      Didn’t matter, he supposed. She would never want him in return. Most women did not appreciate his particular brand of pleasure and sweet, angelic Danika would hate it more than most. Even being near him had terrified her.

      Perhaps,