The Darkest Whisper. Gena Showalter

she didn’t have to. The truth was there in her now-grim expression.

      As soon as he finished interrogating the Hunters, every single one he’d found in these catacombs was going to die. By his hand. He’d take his time with the kills, too, enjoy every slash, every drop of blood spilled. This girl was a Harpy, spawn of Lucifer as Gideon had said, but even she did not deserve the gnawing torture of starvation. “How did you survive? I know you’re immortal, but even immortals need sustenance to remain strong.”

      “They put something in the ventilation system, a special chemical to keep us alive and docile.”

      “Didn’t fully work on you, I take it?”

      “No.” Her little pink tongue slashed over her lips hungrily. “You mentioned energy bars?”

      “We’ll have to leave this chamber to get them. Can you do that?” Or rather, would she do it? He doubted he could force her to do anything she didn’t want to without ending up cut and broken, maybe dead. He wondered how the Hunters had trapped her. How they had gotten her here and lived to tell the tale.

      A slight hesitation. Then, “Yes. I can.”

      Once again moving slowly, Sabin clutched her arm and helped her to her feet. She swayed. No, he realized, she snuggled up next to him, seeking closer contact with his body. He stiffened, poised to pull away—keep her at a distance, have to keep her at a distance—when she sighed, her breath trekking through the slashes in his shirt and onto his chest.

      Now his eyes closed in ecstasy. He even wound an arm around her waist, urging her closer. Utterly trusting, she rested her head in the hollow of his neck.

      “I’ve dreamed about this, too,” she whispered. “So warm. So strong.”

      He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, felt Doubt prowling the corridors of his mind, rattling the bars, desperate to escape, to obliterate Gwen’s ease with him.

      Too much faith, the demon said, as if that were some sort of disease.

      The perfect amount, if Sabin were being honest with himself. He liked that a woman was looking at him as if he were a prince of light rather than a king of darkness, someone she needed to run screaming from. He liked that she’d allowed him to soothe her torment.

      Foolish of her, though, he had to admit. Sabin was no one’s hero. He was their worst enemy.

      Let me talk to her! the demon demanded, a child denied a favorite treat.

      Quiet. Causing Gwen to doubt him could very well rouse the feral Harpy, placing his men in danger. That, Sabin would not allow. They were too important to him, too necessary.

      Distance, as he’d realized before, was needed. He dropped his arms and stepped away. “No touching.” The words were a croak, harsher than he’d intended and she blanched. “Now come. Let’s get out of here.”

       CHAPTER FOUR

      THE WOMAN WAS GOING TO KILL HIM, and not because she was stronger and more vicious than he was. Which, if he thought about it, she was. He’d never ripped a man’s throat out with his teeth, and he was damned impressed that Gwen had. She’d made the Lords of the Underworld look like marshmallows.

      Two full days had passed since Sabin and his crew had rescued her from the pyramid. The only time she’d seemed content was at her first glimpse of the sun. Since then, she had not relaxed. Or eaten. The energy bars she’d so wanted, she had merely gazed at with utter longing before shaking her head and turning away. She hadn’t even showered in the portable stall he’d had Lucien fetch her.

      She didn’t trust them, didn’t want to risk poisoning or the vulnerability of unconsciousness or nakedness, and that was understandable. But damn it, he was seething with the need to force her to do those things. For her own good. Without the shit that had been pumped into her cell, she had to be feeling every bit of her starvation. She had to be exhausted and dirty as she was—from the past two days, as well as her confinement, which was strange because the other women had been clean—she couldn’t possibly be comfortable. Forcing her, however, was not an option. He liked his trachea where it was.

      Only thing she’d taken from him was clothing. His clothing. A camouflage tee and military fatigues. They bagged on her, even though she’d rolled the arms, waist and legs, but there wasn’t a female who’d ever looked better. With that wild fall of strawberry curls…those take-me-to-bed lips…she was utter perfection. And knowing the material she wore had once touched his body…

       I need to end my self-imposed celibacy. Soon.

      The moment he returned to Buda, that’s what he’d do. Find a willing woman who wanted only a good time and, well, show her a good time. No one would get hurt because he wouldn’t be sticking around. But maybe then his head would clear and he’d figure out how to deal with Gwen.

      Something else that bothered him was the way Gwen had planted herself in the corner and watched him no matter who entered his tent. Him. As if he were the biggest threat to her now. He’d snapped at her that day in the cavern, yeah, telling her not to touch him, but he’d also ensured that she remained on her feet on the trek through the desert to set up camp. He’d stayed with her, guarded her while the other warriors went back to the pyramid to search for anything they might have missed the first go-round. Did he really deserve the death glares?

       Maybe…

       Shut up, Doubt! I don’t need your opinions.

      Don’t know why you care what she thinks. You’ve never been good for women, now have you? Funny that I now need to remind you about Darla.

      Crouched on the sandy floor, Sabin closed the lid of his weapon case with a forceful snap, locked it and turned to the bag of food he’d had Paris bring him.

      Darla, Darla, Darla, the demon sang.

      “Like I said, you can shut the hell up, you dirty piece of shit. I’ve had all of you I can take.”

      Gwen, still in the far corner, jerked as though he’d screamed. “But I didn’t say anything.”

      He’d lived among mortals for a long time and had trained himself to converse with Doubt inside his head. That he’d forgotten his training now, in the presence of this skittish yet deadly woman…mortifying.

      “I wasn’t speaking to you,” he muttered.

      Paler than usual, she drew her arms around her middle. “Then to whom were you speaking? We’re alone.”

      He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not without lying. Since Doubt’s inability to lie had long ago spread to Sabin, he had to stick to the truth, evade, or he’d be sleeping for the next few days.

      Thankfully, Gwen didn’t press the issue. “I want to go home,” she said softly.

      “I know.”

      Yesterday, Paris had questioned all the freed women about their confinement. They’d indeed been kidnapped, raped, impregnated and told their babies would be taken from them and trained to be defenders against evil. Afterward, Lucien had flashed all but Gwen—who had told Paris nothing—to their families, who would hopefully hide them from Hunters in the peace and comfort that had been denied them during their captivity.

      Gwen had asked to be taken to a deserted stretch of ice in Alaska, of all places. Lucien had reached out to take her hand, despite her failure to cooperate, and Sabin had stepped between them.

      “Like I said in the cavern, she stays with me,” he’d said.

      Gwen had gasped. “No! I want to go.”

      “Sorry. Not gonna happen.” He’d refused to face her, afraid he’d cave and release her despite the fact that her strength, speed and savagery could win him this war, thereby saving his friends.

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