men had imprisoned and raped innocent, immortal women in hopes of creating half-breed children they could raise to hate and fight Gideon and his friends. Children who would’ve been able to help the Hunters find Pandora’s box before the Lords could, all in hopes of using the artifact to separate each demon from its host. An act the warriors wouldn’t survive, as man was now bound irrevocably to beast.
That, too, was part of their punishment for opening that stupid box.
Gideon withdrew the key to Scarlet’s cell, his new fingers stiff and shaky from disuse, and reached out.
“Wait.” Strider placed a hard hand on his shoulder, trying to hold him in place. Gideon could have shaken free, but he allowed his friend the illusion of winning this small battle of wills. “You can talk to her here. Get your answers here.”
But they had an audience, which meant she couldn’t relax. And if she couldn’t relax, she wouldn’t allow him to touch her. Degenerate that he was, he wanted to touch her. Besides, how else was he going to seduce information from her? By telling her how ugly she was? By telling her what he didn’t want to do to her?
“Don’t ease off, man. Like I haven’t told you countless times, I have no plans to bring her back when I find out what I don’t want to know. Okay?”
“If you can bring her back. We discussed that little problem already, too. Remember?”
Kinda hard to forget. Unfortunately. “I won’t be careful. You don’t have my word. But I don’t need to do this. It’s not important to me.”
That hard hand never left him. “Now isn’t the time to leave us. We have three artifacts, and Galen’s pissed as hell. He’s gonna want revenge for the one we took from him.”
Galen was leader of the Hunters, as well as a demon-possessed warrior. Only, he looked angelic and was paired with the demon of Hope, so all of his human followers thought he was, indeed, an angel. Because of him, they blamed each of the Lords for the world’s evil. Because of him, they expected a future free of that evil, and fought to the death to achieve it.
Aeron’s new woman, Olivia, who actually was an honest-to-her-God angel, had stolen that third artifact from the bastard. The Cloak of Invisibility. As there were four artifacts needed to lead the way to Pandora’s box—the All-Seeing Eye (check), the Cage of Compulsion (check), the Cloak of Invisibility (as stated, check) and the Paring Rod (check coming soon)—Galen was desperate to win back the Cloak, as well as confiscate all the others.
Which meant their war was really heating up.
Didn’t matter, though. Nothing was going to deter Gideon from his present course of action. Mainly because part of him felt like his very life depended on this.
“Gid. Dude.”
He flicked his friend a narrowed glance, lips pulling back in a snarl. “You’re begging to be kissed.” Beaten to hell.
A moment passed in heavy silence.
“Fine,” Strider finally muttered, raising his arms, palms out. “Take her.”
Jeez. “Wasn’t planning on it, but many thanks for the approval.” But why wasn’t Strider collapsed on the ground, out for the count? He’d just lost a challenge, hadn’t he?
“When will you return?”
Gideon shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking…a week?” Surely seven days was plenty of time to soften Scarlet toward him and get her to open up about their past. Right now, she seemed to hate his guts. He didn’t know why, but he would. It was a vow. But still. She clearly preferred dangerous men. Why else would she have supposedly married him? So he fit the bill.
“Three days,” Strider said.
Ah. Negotiation time. That was why Strider hadn’t fallen to his demon. He wasn’t defeated, merely trying another strategy. Gideon could dig. He felt just as guilty about leaving his boys behind as he did about leaving Scarlet in this cell. They needed him, and if they were hurt while he was gone, he would completely flip his lid.
“I’m not thinking five now,” he compromised.
“Four.”
“No deal.”
Grinning, Strider nodded. “Good.”
So. He had four days to soften Scarlet. He’d fought more difficult battles in less time, he was sure. Funny that he couldn’t recall them at the moment, though.
Hell, maybe he just suffered from selective memory loss. Maybe fights and Scarlet—whom he’d probably fought with a lot, since she was opinionated, bossy and mouthy as shit—were the biggest casualties of that loss.
He would’ve liked to remember the sex, though. Mind-blowing. He just knew it.
“I’ll inform the others,” Strider said. “But in the meantime, I’ll drive you to wherever you want to take her.”
“Sure thing.” Gideon finally inserted the key and unlocked Scarlet’s cell, the door swinging open with a whine. “I’m not gonna drive her myself. I want everyone to know where we’re going.”
Strider gave another growl, this one just as frustrated but now laced with anger. “Stubborn jackass. I have to know you made it safely to wherever you’re going or I won’t be able to concentrate enough to kill anyone. And you know I’m on a strict, at-least-one-Hunter-a-day diet.”
“That’s why you won’t be getting a phone call from me.” Gideon approached Scarlet’s still-sleeping form. She no longer surrounded herself in that impermeable darkness while she slept. As if she wanted Gideon to always be able to see her. As if she trusted him not to hurt her.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
“Gods. I can’t believe you talked me into this. Did I tell you already that you’re a shithead?”
“Nope.” Gently he scooped Scarlet into his arms.
Sighing, she rubbed her cheek against his heart. A heart that was now beating against his ribs like a sledgehammer. She must have liked the erratic rhythm, because she cuddled closer. Nice.
She was five-nine to his six-three, slender, but leanly muscled. She had refused the clothes he’d offered her, so she wore the T-shirt and jeans Aeron had found her in.
Gideon inhaled deeply again, but this time there was no guilt. She smelled of floral-scented soap, and it consumed him. What had she smelled like all those years ago, when they’d supposedly been married? Flowers, like now? Or something else? Something more exotic? Something as dark and sensual as she was? Something he would have enjoyed sucking into his mouth as he tongued her from head to toe?
Head out of gutter. Now wasn’t the time to indulge such thoughts.
He turned with her clutched tightly to his chest, a treasure he would protect while they were outside the fortress walls. Even from his friends. He knew he was contradicting himself, thinking of her in such romantic terms and so ferociously, when his intentions were neither pure nor honorable, but he couldn’t help himself. Stupid lust.
Strider’s
