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, though, he could have won her over, seduced her, softened her toward him. Perhaps…but he refused to even try. The women he bedded always succumbed to his demon, became drunk on it, addicted to its predilections. They developed their own need for pain, lashing out and hurting everyone around them.
“Someone gather the others,” Reyes said, sarcasm dripping from the words and hopefully hiding his inner agony. “We’ll make this a reunion.” What was Danika doing right this second? Who was she with? A man? Was she cuddling against him as Anya was cuddling against Lucien? Was she dead, buried as Aeron was buried? His hands curled into fists, his nails elongating into claws, slicing skin and stinging beautifully.
“You can shut it, Painie,” Anya said, facing him. She burrowed her head in the hollow of Lucien’s neck, blue eyes peeking through thick strands of pale hair. “You’re wasting Lucien’s time, and that seriously irritates me.”
Bad things happened when Anya was irritated. Wars, natural disasters. Reyes’s weapons left in the rain to rust. “He and I have already spoken. He has the information he desired.”
“Not all of it,” Lucien said.
“Tell him or I’ll push you,” Anya said. “And then I swear to the gods—bastards that they are!—that while you’re recovering and unable to stop me I’ll find your little girlfriend and mail you one of her fingers.”
Just the thought caused a red haze to curtain his eyes. Danika…hurting… Do not react. Do not allow fury to swamp you. “You will not touch her.”
“Watch your tone,” Lucien told him, tightening his grip on his woman.
“You don’t even know where she is,” Reyes said more calmly, marveling at how protective the once stolid Lucien was.
Anya smiled a secret smile.
“Anya,” he warned.
“What?” she asked, all innocence.
“Aeron needs to be with us,” Lucien said.
“Aeron is no longer up for discussion,” Reyes growled. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see the torment in his eyes. You didn’t hear the pleading in his tone. I did what I had to do, and I’d do it again.” He spun away from his friends. Glanced down. The puddles were now undulating fiercely against the jagged rocks lining the ground. They were still beckoning.
Deliverance, they whispered.
Just for a little while….
“Reyes,” Lucien called.
Reyes jumped.
CHAPTER TWO
“ORDER’S UP.”
Danika Ford caught the two steaming plates that slid across the silver warmer. One a greasy hamburger, hold the onions. The other a chili dog with extra cheese. Both were overflowing with heart-attack-in-the-making fries and wafting delicious scents to her nose, making her mouth water and her stomach rumble.
Last thing she’d eaten had been a bologna sandwich before bed last night. The bread had
