because of this woman.
Each warrior had loved Baden like a brother, and each had felt as if they were his greatest confidant. That’s where the true beauty of the man had lain. His ability to captivate everyone around him. Which had been a miracle, considering the nature of his demon, Distrust.
Now, Amun held one of Baden’s killers in his hands. Cupped her temples as he’d once cupped Baden’s.
“Are you okay?” Haidee asked him, all concern and sweetness. Her grip on him tightened.
His horror was followed by a quick burst of confusion. How was this possible? She’d died. Hadn’t she? Yes. Yes. She. Had. Died. Hunters had used her as Bait—dressed her up like a pretty, helpless doll, sent her knocking on Baden’s door, begging for help. She had lured him straight into slaughter. The rest of the Lords had arrived just before he’d lost his head; they’d attacked. But even if they had arrived a few minutes sooner, they would have been too late. All the pieces of the game had been set.
Amun remembered the blood, the screams. Remembered Strider victoriously lifting Haidee’s head when the battle had finally ended, and like Baden, she’d been without a body. Not even an immortal could recover from that. Otherwise Baden, more alive than anyone he’d ever known, would have risen from the grave long ago. Instead, the man’s soul was trapped somewhere in the heavens.
The horror intensified to a shattering level. Amun couldn’t bear to remember. Not this. Because the longer he wallowed in the past, the more likely he was to lose his tether on the other deep, dark emotion buried inside him.
Rage. He would destroy the fortress in a way Maddox, keeper of Violence, never had, ruining their home stone by precious stone.
His hands fell away from Haidee and flopped to his sides. Her past faded, as did his own, and he could only stare at her, this present version, hate blending with his horror—then completely overshadowing it. Yet even with that earth-shattering hatred flooding him, the lust remained undiminished.
His body simply didn’t care what she’d done.
The pink tip of her tongue swiped over her mouth, leaving a sheen of moisture. Dust motes sparkled around her, and with the pink streaks in her hair and the haze of his vision, she looked like an X-rated fairy-tale fantasy come to dazzling life. Her shirt hugged her breasts, and her nipples were pearled into decadent peaks.
“What was that?” she breathed, unaware of the change in him.
What do you mean? The question snapped like a whip, lashing out before he could reason what to do, how to proceed.
“The … memories. Of me as a child, then as me as an adult, on the veranda.”
She’d seen what he’d seen, then. That had never happened before, either. And yet, she made no mention of Baden—but then, Amun hadn’t truly pictured his friend, had he? No, not true. He had. There’d been a split-second glimpse. She just hadn’t noticed, then, the other memories holding her attention captive.
Therefore, she would have no warning, no way to prepare herself for his retaliation. And he would. Retaliate. He needed to punish her, needed to hurt her. So very badly.
Still she didn’t seem to notice the darkness of his emotions. Gray eyes wide, she shook her head. “I’ve never remembered the good parts of my lives. Those memories are always taken from me.”
Lives. As in, more than one. Had she been reborn more than once? Was she here to finish the job she’d started all those centuries ago? To cause the destruction of everyone he loved?
How had she gotten here? Why hadn’t she tried to kill him already? Why did she treat him with such affection? He’d never had to wonder about someone’s motivation before. He knew the truth, always. Knew what those around him most wanted to hide. This uncertainty was maddening, increasing the depths of his rage.
Answers first, he decided. Except, he had no idea how to urge her in that direction.
“Whatever you did … however you did it …” Wonder consumed her expression, lighting her up. “Thank you.” With a shaky hand, she brushed a budding tear from the corner of her eye. “Thank you. I knew I’d once had a sister, but I hadn’t known what she looked like.”
And the other vision? Could he trust a single word out of her deceitful mouth?
“I have an idea, but I’m not sure.” Slowly she smiled, a vibrant smile of white teeth and untamed joy. “Maybe … maybe when we’re safe we can do this again? I can find out if I’m right.”
The smile he’d seen before, that barest hint of delight, should have warned him of the devastating impact a full-on smile would cause. It hadn’t. He sucked in a breath, lost in her—and never wanting to be found. The gray of her eyes lightened so much he could see tiny flecks of blue. The rose in her cheeks deepened, his fingers itching to discover if the color warmed her flesh, or if those cheeks were as deliciously chilled as the rest of her.
He couldn’t soften, he reminded himself darkly. Couldn’t crave her in any way.
“What?” she asked, suddenly unsure. She’d finally noticed the change in him. “You’ve never looked at me like that before.”
How am I looking at you? Like he wanted to stab her? He would. Soon. For Baden. For the others who still mourned the loss of their friend.
“Like I’m … edible.” She leaned down, her breasts rubbing his chest, her breath fanning over his ear. “I like it,” she whispered.
He could only sit there, wanting desperately to grab her, hold her there—to choke her, he assured himself—but unable to make his useless body cooperate. Then, as if she hadn’t just sent a thousand bolts of white-hot need—to choke her—through him, she straightened, returning them to the business at hand.
“Okay. So. We can’t leave yet, which means we have to prepare. Maybe … maybe we can blockade ourselves in here. That might buy us some time.”
Leave? She meant to leave with him? Without the artifacts she’d mentioned? Without trying to pry information out of him? That made no sense. Unless …
Prepare for what? His execution?
“The Lords.” She popped to her feet and slowly spun. “I’ll have to shut the door between the rooms.” As she spoke, she rushed to the wall. She hooked her fingers around the edge of the “door,” and pulled.
Scraaape.
Gradually, the hole closed. Haidee then shoved the dresser against the exit he hadn’t known about, preventing anyone from opening it from the other side. Well, anyone of normal strength. She did the same to the front door, using his vanity.
Amun watched her, no closer to answers now than he’d been before traipsing through her head. Perhaps even further away. She was serious about protecting him. Despite who and what he was.
“If you continue to heal so rapidly, and they continue to stay away, we might be able to fight them when they finally bust inside. We can escape. And I know, I know. Our motto is ‘die if you must, but take as many Lords as you can with you.’ And I was totally prepared to do that when I thought you couldn’t be moved. But sometimes it’s better to get out and come back later,
