The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(29)
Author: Gena Showalter

"A party would be fun," Torin said, once again amused. "Might help me forget all this hive-inducing male bonding." And then he, too, was off.

Reyes didn’t say a word. Just unsheathed a blade and stomped down the hall, leaving no doubt about what he planned to do. Maddox would have offered to cut him, to whip him or beat him and spare Reyes the agony of self-infliction, but he’d offered before and always the answer was an abrupt no.

He could understand Reyes’s need to do it on his own. Being a burden was almost as bad as being possessed. They all had their demons – literally – and Reyes didn’t want to make it worse for any of them.

At the moment, though, Maddox might have welcomed the distraction.

"I’ll see you losers later," Paris said. "I’m going back to the city." Fine lines of strain bracketed his eyes – eyes that were now a dull blue rather than bright with satisfaction. "I didn’t have a woman last night or this morning. All this – " he waved a hand toward the door " – has f**ked with my schedule. And not in a good way."

"Go," Lucien told him.

The warrior hesitated and glanced toward the door. He licked his lips. "Unless, of course, you’d allow me inside your bedroom…"

"Go." Lucien gestured impatiently.

"Their loss." Paris shrugged and disappeared around the corner.

Maddox knew he should offer to guard the women. After all, he was probably the reason they were here. But he needed to see Ashlyn. No, not needed. Wanted. Better. He did not need anything. Especially a human with questionable motives who was already marked for death.

But not knowing what these Titans would do next, he realized he did not want to waste another moment. He would go to Ashlyn even though he hadn’t completely subdued the demon. Besides, he might never be calm when it came to that woman. And it was better to do what he wanted with her now, before he was forced to – he could not even bring himself to think it.

"Lucien," he began.

"Go," his friend said again. "Do whatever you need to do to get yourself under control. Your woman – "

"Ashlyn is not up for discussion," Maddox responded, already knowing what Lucien meant to say. Your woman needs to be taken care of as soon as possible. He knew that, too.

"Just get her out of your system, then do what needs doing so that at least part of our lives can return to normal."

Maddox nodded and turned, part of him wondering if his normal life was worth returning to.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Maddox stepped into his bedroom, unsure of what he’d find. A sleeping Ashlyn? A freshly bathed, naked Ashlyn? A ready-to-fight Ashlyn?

A ready-for-pleasure Ashlyn?

To his irritation, his heart drummed erratically inside his chest. His palms were sweating. Fool, he chastised himself. He was not a human, a servant to fear, nor was he inexperienced. And yet, he wasn’t exactly sure how to handle this woman, this… punishment.

What he didn’t expect to find was an unconscious Ashlyn, sprawled on the floor, a puddle of crimson – blood? – around her, soaking her hair and clothes.

Darkness shuddered through him. "Ashlyn?" He was at her side in the next instant, crouching down, gently rolling her over and scooping her into his arms. Wine, only wine. Thank the gods. Droplets splashed her too-pale face and dripped onto him. He almost smiled. Just how much had she drunk?

She weighed so little he would have been unaware he held her if not for the low-voltage tingles seeping from her skin into his. "Ashlyn, wake up."

She didn’t. In fact, she seemed to slip deeper into unconsciousness, the movement behind her eyelids ceasing.

His throat was tight, and he had to force the next words out. "Wake up for me."

Not a moan, not a sigh.

Worried by her lack of response, he carried her to the bed, ripping off her wet jacket in the process and tossing it aside. Though he didn’t want to release her, he lay her on the mattress and cupped her face in his hands. Her skin was ice-cold. "Ashlyn."

Still no response.

Was she… No. No! Lead balls settled in his stomach as he flattened his palm over her left breast. At first he felt nothing. No gentle beat, no hard slam. He nearly belted out a curse to the heavens. Then, suddenly, there was a weak patter. A long pause. Another feeble patter-patter.

She was alive.

His eyes closed briefly, his shoulders sagging in relief. "Ashlyn." He gently shook her. "Come on, beauty. Wake up." What in the name of Zeus was wrong with her? He didn’t have any experience with inebriated mortals, but he did not think this right.

Her head lolled to the side; her eyelids remained closed. Her lips were tinted a pretty but unnatural blue. Sweat trickled down his temples. She was not simply inebriated. Had the night in that cell sickened her? No, there would have been signs before now. Had Torin inadvertently touched her? Surely not. She wasn’t coughing or covered in pockmarks. What, then?

"Ashlyn." I can’t lose her. Not yet. He hadn’t gotten enough of her, hadn’t touched her as he’d dreamed, hadn’t talked to her. He blinked in surprise. He wanted to talk with her, he suddenly realized. Not just sate himself inside her body. Not just interrogate her. But talk. Get to know her and find out what made her the woman she was.

All thoughts of killing her vanished; thoughts of saving her took their place, strong, undeniable.

"Ashlyn. Speak to me." He shook her again, helpless, not knowing what else to do. Cold continued to radiate from her, as if she’d been bathed in frost and dried in an arctic wind. He gripped the covers, pulled them up and tunneled them around her, trying to envelop her in warmth. "Ashlyn. Please."

Even as he watched, bruises formed under her eyes. Was this to be his punishment instead? Watching her die slowly and painfully?

The sensation of helplessness intensified. As strong as he was, he couldn’t force her to respond. "Ashlyn." This time her name was a hoarse entreaty. He shook her yet again, hard enough to rattle her soul. "Ashlyn."

Damn this. Still nothing.

"Lucien!" he roared, gaze never leaving her. "Aeron!" As far away as he was from them, he doubted they could hear. "Help me!" Had Ashlyn called for help? Bending down, Maddox meshed his mouth against hers, trying to breathe his strength into her. Warmth… tingles…

Her blue-tinted lips parted and she moaned. Finally. Another sign of life. He almost howled in relief. "Talk to me, beauty." He smoothed the wet hair from her face, disconcerted to find his hands trembling. "Tell me what’s wrong."

"Maddox," she rasped. Still her eyes remained closed.