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 mass only hours of daily physical exertion could provide. They were loaded down with weapons and ready to fight at any moment of any day. They had to be.
“I don’t recall deciding to throw a party up here,” Reyes said.
“Well, 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,
