The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(24)
Author: Gena Showalter

Yes. Maddox relaxed instantly and eased to his feet. He even held out his empty hand to help Aeron stand, but Aeron brushed him aside and stood on his own. Paris had once called Maddox "The Mood Swing"; he had been joking at the time, but Maddox was starting to believe the truth of his words.

"I’m not going to say it, but you know what I’m thinking, right?" Aeron asked dryly.

Yes. He knew. He was as bad as Paris – if not worse.

"Children," Lucien muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Mommy," Aeron replied, but there was no heat in his tone.

Maddox closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating, trying to make himself believe. Ashlyn is just a woman. She means nothing but temporary satisfaction. The shadows and pain he’d glimpsed in her eyes meant nothing. They would not soften him, much less bewitch him. Not anymore. He had to start thinking of her as he did the others.

Any more of this absurd fighting, and he would have to dig his dignity out of the garbage.

Hell, maybe the gods had finally decided to chastise him and had sent Ashlyn to drive him crazy, to cause him pain and suffering. To punish him. Maybe he was no longer to yearn for eternal death at night. Maybe he was to yearn for eternal death all day long.

"Good?" Lucien asked.

Not even close. He might be calm now, but he was worse off than ever. Still, he nodded and stalked down the hallway without another word, up the stairs and into his wing of the fortress. Better to get this over with.

When Lucien and Aeron once again flanked him, Aeron said, "My blade."

"It’s nice," he replied, purposely misunderstanding. He did not return it.

Aeron snorted. "I didn’t realize you were hard up for a weapon."

"If you want to keep yours, take better care."

"The same could be said of your head."

Maddox offered no response. The closer he came to his bedroom, the more he could smell Ashlyn’s honey scent. A scent that was all her own. Not from soap or perfume, but from her. His body hardened painfully, his c**k filling with heat and need. He’d been waiting for a sip of that honey forever, it seemed. She’s just like other women, remember? Nothing special, he reminded himself.

He flicked a glance at his companions. They appeared oblivious to the sweet fragrance in the air. Good. He wanted Ashlyn, all of her, to himself. Nothing special, damn you.

When they reached the threshold, each of them paused. Aeron tensed and readied his remaining blade. A hard mask covered his face, as if he were preparing himself to do whatever was necessary. Lucien, too, produced a weapon – a .45, cocked and ready.

"Look before you attack," Maddox said through clenched teeth.

They nodded, neither sparing him a glance.

"On three. One." His ears twitched as he listened. No sound emerged from inside. Not the splash of bathwater or the gentle rattle of dishes on the tray. Had Ashlyn really escaped? If she had…

"Two." His stomach knotted in anger and fear, and the scabs there burned. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife. He might just leave the fortress, might search the ends of the earth for her.

Nothing special indeed.

"Three." He twisted the lock and pushed open the door. Hinges creaked. All three men stormed inside, silent, prepared for anything. Maddox scanned the room, taking in every detail. Floors – no footprints. Window – still closed. Platter of food – untouched. Some of his clothes had been tossed out of the closet and were now strewn around the floor.

Where was she?

Aeron and Lucien fanned out as he inched along the closet wall, alert, watchful. He jumped into the small space, blade raised. Found nothing.

The covers shifted on the bed and a soft, breathy moan drifted through the air.

"Weapons down," Maddox commanded in a fierce whisper, blood sizzling from the sound of that feminine sigh.

Several seconds ticked by before either man obeyed. Only then did Maddox approach the bed, slowly… sweating… For some reason, he was trembling like a fragile human. He suspected the image he was about to see would undo him.

He was right.

He found a sleeping beauty. Ashlyn. Angel. Destruction.

Her amber hair was splayed over his snow-white pillow. Her lashes, two shades darker than her hair, cast spiky shadows over her dirt-smudged cheeks. She hadn’t bathed, hadn’t eaten. She must have tumbled to sleep soon after he’d left.

"Pretty," Aeron said, reluctant admiration in his tone.

Exquisite, Maddox silently corrected. Mine. Her lips were red and puffy, deliciously swollen. Had she chewed them from worry? He watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, found himself reaching out – don’t touch, don’t touch – helpless to prevent the action. But he fisted his hands just before contact. His body was once again rock hard, need simmering inside of him. A dark need, frightening in its intensity and still so much more powerful than Violence had ever been.

How did she elicit such a response from him simply by breathing?

Touch her. Who wanted it? Him? The demon? Both?

Didn’t matter. Just one caress, then he’d leave. He’d shower and return when she was rested – and he’d have himself under firm control by then. Surely he would.

Finally, opening his hand, his fingertips brushed the side of her cheek. A whisper-soft caress. Her skin was silky smooth, electrical. He tingled on contact, his blood instantly heating another degree.

Her eyelids popped open, as if she, too, had felt the jolt.

She jerked upright, hair cascading down her shoulders and back. Her sleep-rimmed eyes searched, locked with his, widened. "Maddox." She scrambled backward until she was smashed against the metal headboard. Chains rattled from the sides of the bed, the chains that bound him every night. "Maddox," she repeated, scared, awed… happy?

He, Lucien and Aeron stepped backward in unison. He knew why he moved – he’d seen his downfall in her pretty eyes the moment their gazes met – but he didn’t know why the others had reacted that way.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she gasped out. "And what happened to your face? You’re bleeding." He heard concern and it shook him deeply. Would she always affect him so?

She glanced at the others and gave a choked whimper. "It wasn’t enough for you to kill him last night, you had to beat him up today, too? Get out, you… you… murderers! Get out right now!"

She leapt from the bed and stood in front of Maddox, wobbling slightly as she held out her arms to ward them off. Protecting him? Again? Eyes wide, he met the equally astonished gazes of the others.

Her actions were those of an innocent… or someone pretending to be innocent. Even so, Maddox found that he wanted to touch her again. In… comfort? He shook his head. Couldn’t be. Had to be pleasure. That made sense. He was a man; she was a woman. He desired.