The Darkest Lie. Gena Showalter

warning, she jammed the fork into his jugular. He screamed, but that scream blended with all the others floating from her. A chilling but welcome music. Warm blood spurted from him, coating her hand as he collapsed. She eased to the next man, gifted him with that same gentle touch, the calm before the storm, then stabbed him, as well.

      More blood sprayed, a river of the deepest scarlet, the very essence of her name.

      She finished off the other two just as quickly and efficiently. Just as ruthlessly. Perhaps she should have played with them a bit. Oh, well. Next time.

      Once the moans and movement ceased, she closed her eyes and tugged the shadows and screams back inside her. There they whirled like a tornado until she blocked them from her awareness, something she’d learned to do over the years. Otherwise, she would have tumbled into insanity a long time ago.

      Perhaps it was a blessing that she and Gideon would never be intimate again, she thought then. When she lost control of her body’s sensations, she lost her hold on her demon, allowing the beast to have free rein even though she was awake. What she’d done to those boys—Hunters?—would be done automatically to her lovers. Not the cutting, but the absolute dissolution of light, the cries of the damned ringing in their ears.

      For a man, it was hard to stay, well, hard during something like that. Watching fear and disgust contort Gideon’s features while his cock was buried deep inside her might just end her. Her pride, surely. Her will to live, maybe. Already, she existed on only an instinctual level. Breathe, eat, kill. That was it.

      Mind on the task at hand. Gideon was sitting exactly as she’d left him. Only, his expression was blank, a guarded mask as his gaze raked her, taking in the blood coating her hands. He traced his tongue over his teeth before looking at the men.

      “Harmed?” he asked, still without any hint of emotion.

      “Dead,” she replied. “You’re welcome.” Would a thank-you have been too much to ask? She’d saved him from suffering a single injury. Well, besides the ones she’d given him.

      Blue eyes snapped back up, pinning her in place. “Yeah, I was talking about them. Not you.”

      Oh. He wanted to know about her? Shocker. No softening. “I’m fine. Not a scratch on me. But we should probably go.” Our separate ways, she silently added, ignoring the pang in her chest. “I’m sure more Hunters are on their way.”

      He offered no reply.

      Do it. Leave, she commanded herself. She didn’t. She remained in place like the idiot she was. Closure must not have been achieved yet. Not really.

      What would it take?

      “Are you just going to sit there?” she threw at him.

      He stood, but still he didn’t sheath his weapons. “You and utensils make a bad team.”

      Another pang speared her chest. “No more compliments, or I’ll give you another firsthand demonstration.” Just to taunt him, she held up the dripping fork and waved it through the air.

      “Yes, please. Another demonstration would be nice.” He bypassed her, unafraid, and crouched in front of her victims. With quick proficiency, he searched their bodies, even under their clothing. “All of them are marked.”

      Her arm fell heavily to her side. Hunters tattooed themselves with the symbol of infinity, their way of proclaiming they wanted a forever without evil. That these boys didn’t bear the mark…Huh. “Maybe they’re just recruits. When they entered, one of them said something about being let in. Maybe he meant being let in to the Hunters Are Assholes club.”

      Gideon nodded as he stood, a lock of cobalt falling over his brow. “That makes no sense.”

      “Because I’m smarter than you are.” She fought the urge to smooth the hair into place. Still no closure, but she forced herself to say, “I guess we’re done here, then.” For real, this time.

      “Sure.” He closed what little distance there was between them, putting them nose-to-nose, his heat enveloping her, his musky cologne fuzzing her senses. “Don’t listen carefully. I’m upset you’re okay.” His lashes fell, oh, so slowly, before stopping, lingering, and she knew he was peering at her lips.

      Thinking of kissing her?

      She gulped. No. No, no, no. “Gideon.”

      “Keep talking.” Slowly, still oh, so slowly, he leaned toward her, as if he did intend to kiss her.

      No. No, no…yes. Yes, yes, yes. Every muscle in her body tensed, waiting, ready. The blood inside her veins sizzled and snapped. Would he taste the same? Feel the same? She had to know. Then she could leave him. Then she would have closure and wouldn’t ever have to look back and wonder.

      But just before their lips touched, his fingers circled her wrist with a soft clink. No, not his fingers. Too stiff, too heavy and too cold. Frowning, she glanced down and saw that he’d handcuffed them together. Understanding dawned.

      That…bastard…

      A red haze shuttered over her vision. Not dots, but a full-on cloud. Tricked. The bastard had tricked her. Had never meant to kiss her. Had used her obvious desire for him against her.

      “I hope you’re proud of yourself.” That was all the warning she gave him. She jabbed the fork into his chest and rather than twist, she slammed her palm into the handle, pushing it deeper. This time, he couldn’t contain his grimace. “And I hope you know this will seem like child’s play when I’m done with you.”

      “As long as we’re apart,” he gritted out, “I’m happy.”

      As long as…as long as…He needed to be together to be happy? Though part of her suddenly wanted to grin sheepishly, perhaps bat her lashes, she scowled up at him. Stupid softening heart. He’d just betrayed her, and she almost melted when he tossed a few flattering words at her. Flattering words that meant nothing, because he still only wanted answers.

      “Tell me. Does this make you happy?” She kneed him in the balls.

      He hunched over, gasping, but amid those gasps, she managed to make out a single word: “Yes.”

      Good. “So where are you taking me?”

      “Heaven.” Another gritted admission.

      Still. She easily translated. He planned to take her straight into hell.

      Chapter Four

      AFTER THE swelling went down in his balls, Gideon phoned Lucien, keeper of Death, asking for cleanup at the hotel, then dragged a protesting Scarlet outside, through the glass-covered atrium and along the brightly lit city streets to the Escalade he’d hidden in a parking garage a few blocks away. Night was in full swing, the star-sprinkled sky framing the golden half-moon. Though he was prepared for anything, there were no other Hunters—or recruits, as the case may have been—waiting to attack.

      He wasn’t sure how those four kids had followed him. Especially if they’d had no training. He’d made damn sure he’d lost any tails. If there had been tails, that was. Which he would’ve bet every cent of his, uh, Torin’s money that there hadn’t been. So either a god or goddess was watching him and reporting his whereabouts or the boys had simply gotten lucky and had happened to be at the hotel when he checked in.

      He didn’t believe in coincidences, so the first was most likely. Cronus was helping the Lords and Rhea, the god queen, who was at war with her husband, had teamed up with the Hunters. But why would she send recruits to fight him, rather than actual Hunters? And would Gideon’s location be compromised no matter where he went?

       Probably.

      His hand clenched on the steering wheel as he threw the vehicle into Reverse, Scarlet’s arm moving with him.

      “What’s got your panties in such a twist?” she asked conversationally.

      He wasn’t