Gods, he loved his friends. They supported him no matter what. They always had.
“By the way. You look like you’re a cat, and you just found a bowl of cream,” Strider said with a shake of his head. “That’s not comforting. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, do you?”
Maybe not. Because he hadn’t looked forward to something this intensely in a long time, and he probably should’ve been wary. Having his idiocy pointed out, though…“I’m not showing you a finger in my mind. Do you know that?”
“Yeah, I know. It’s your index finger and you’re telling me I’m number one.”
He laughed. Something like that.
“Four days,” his friend reminded him. “Or I come find you.”
Gideon blew him a kiss.
Strider rolled his eyes. “You wish. But listen. I’ll be praying for you to return to us alive. And with the girl. And that she’s alive, too. Oh, and that you’re satisfied with what you learn. And that she satisfied you in other ways, so you’ll forget about her like you’ve done all the other women in your life.”
Okay. That was a lot of prayers. “Thanks. A lot. I really mean that. So when didn’t you become a priest? And when did the gods decide they liked answering us?” Strider had never wasted his time on prayers before, and the gods actually adored ignoring their requests.
No, not true, he corrected himself. Cronus, the newly crowned Titan king, now liked to visit the fortress without an invite and make all kinds of shitty demands Gideon and the others were forced to obey.
Like killing innocent humans. Like choosing to save either your woman or your friend. Like begging to be told where your friend’s spirit had been sent when the friend in question had had his head cleaved from his body. Yeah, that had happened. Aeron had lost his head to a warrior angel and at Cronus’s behest, Gideon had begged (in his way) to know where the man’s spirit resided, tears streaming down his face. Actually, all of them had begged and sobbed like babies.
But in the end, Cronus had still refused to tell them. Because they’d needed a lesson in humility, the bastard had said.
Then, of course, Aeron had returned on his own. Or rather, with his sweet Olivia’s help. He’d been restored to his body, minus his demon, and once again lived here in the fortress. But Gideon had yet to forgive Cronus for his disregard, so prayers weren’t something he would be offering anytime soon.
“Priest.” Strider’s head slanted thoughtfully. Of course, he ignored Gideon’s questions. Him, though, Gideon easily forgave. “I like it. I mean, it’s practically true. I have sent many women through the gates of heaven.”
Hadn’t they all?
And Scarlet would be no different, he assured himself.
Grinning now, Gideon carried his woman away.
Chapter Two
SCARLET AWOKE with a jolt. But then, she always did. The moment her demon’s required time in dreamland ended, awareness would slam into her brain, as if she’d been hooked to a generator and the switch had been flipped.
Panting, sweating, she sat up, wild gaze roving though not really seeing. Yet. The screams she and her demon had garnered from their victims were already fading, but the images they’d projected into those sleeping minds remained in hers. Crackling flames, melting flesh, black ash wafting and dancing in the breeze.
The night’s terror du jour had been fire.
She couldn’t control the demon while she slept, as he searched out anyone he could find, wreaking what havoc he could. She could, however, make suggestions, urging him to attack certain people in certain ways. And he usually rushed to do so. Not that she’d made any suggestions lately.
Ever since the Lords of the Underworld had captured her, she’d been operating on autopilot, her thoughts consumed with one warrior in particular. The blue-haired, gorgeous, utterly frustrating Gideon.
Why didn’t he remember her?
As always, recalling his selective amnesia had every muscle in her body tensing on bone. Her hands fisted; her teeth gnashed together, little pains shooting through her jaw. But most of all, a savage need to kill someone, anyone, consumed her.
Anger isn’t good for those around you. Calm down. Think of something else.
She forced her mind to return to her demon; sadly, death and chaos were a much safer topic than that of her husband. During their hours awake—which amounted to twelve each and every day, though not always the same twelve—she pulled the strings. She could summon the darkness, and she could garner the screams. The demon could urge her, and she often heeded those urgings. Turnabout was fair play, after all. And usually, Nightmares liked to urge. Scare him…Make her scream…
But right now, her demon was strangely content.
We’re out of the dungeon, Nightmares said, seeing their surroundings before she could.
Aw. No wonder.
The flames finally died, and Scarlet scanned the area. She frowned. Okay. So. Where the hell was she now?
She’d been locked in that dungeon for several weeks, enclosed in crumbling stone and iron bars. Pained moans had constantly drifted from the other cells, and all kinds of pungent, acrid scents had taken up permanent residence inside her nose.
Now…decadence. Floral paper decorated the walls, and dark velvet curtains hung over the bay windows. There was a glistening, violet chandelier over the bed, the lights shaped like bundles of grapes. And the bed, well, her gaze slid along every inch of it. Large, with soft blue sheets and four hand-carved posters.
Best of all, the air smelled sweet, like those hanging grapes mixed with apples and vanilla. She breathed deeply, savoring. How had she gotten here? Without her knowledge?
Clearly, she’d been carried while she’d slept like the dead. Something she usually despised but couldn’t this time because it meant she’d been set free, just as she’d hoped. Yes, hoped. She hadn’t wanted to remain in that fortress, just to be near Gideon. Really.
Still. While she was lost to the dreams of others—and yeah, no matter what time she slipped into that realm of darkness and turmoil, someone, somewhere was sleeping, the demon feeding off their terror—anyone could attack her, and she would be unable to defend herself. Anyone could do anything to her, and she would be powerless to stop them.
Being moved while she was helpless irked.
Usually she protected herself from just such a situation with shadows. She had only to crook a mental finger just before she drifted and they would envelop her the entire time she slept, making it impossible for anyone to see her. But once she’d realized she was inside Gideon’s home, she’d stopped summoning those shadows.
Perhaps she’d wished, on some level, that watching her while she slept would revive his memory of her. Perhaps she’d wished he would grow to desire her again and beg to be a part of her new life. Which was stupid. The bastard had left her to rot inside Tartarus; she
