The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(37)
Author: Gena Showalter

Her brow puckered, those dark, golden slashes drawing together. "You keep calling me that like it’s something foul and disgusting, but I have no idea what bait is."

There was genuine confusion in her voice. Innocent or actress? "I’m not going to kill you, but I expect total honesty from you from this moment forward. Understand? You will not lie to me."

Frowning, she said, "I’m not lying."

Slowly his blood began to heat, the spirit once again making its presence known. He hurried to change the subject. Hearing more lies might cause him to snap, to hurt.

Bait or not, he refused to let it come to that. "Let us talk of something else."

She nodded, appearing eager to comply. "Let’s talk about you. Those men stabbed you last night, and you died. I realize you came back to life because you’re an immortal demon warrior… thing. What I don’t know is why they did it."

"You have your secrets, and I have mine." He planned on keeping her here and keeping her alive, and because of that, he wouldn’t discuss his death-curse. She already feared him. If she knew the truth, she would despise him, too. Bad enough he knew what he had done to deserve such punishment.

More than that, if word spread of what happened to him every night, people might forget his reputation as an angel. Someone could snatch his body, cart him away, set him on fire or cut off his head and there was nothing he could do about it. He might desire this woman more than he’d ever desired another, but he didn’t trust her. Some of his brain, at least, was still in his head and not in his cock.

"Did you ask them to kill you so you could go back to hell to visit your friends down there or something?"

"I have no friends in hell," he said, insulted.

"So – "

"So nothing." She opened her mouth to speak, but he squeezed her side. "It is my turn to ask the questions. You are not Hungarian. Where, then, are you from?"

She settled into his side with a sigh, curling her body around his, back to stomach. That she was comfortable enough to willingly lie with him like this delighted him. "I’m from the States. North Carolina, to be exact, though I spend most of my time traveling with the World Institute of Parapsychology."

He flattened his hand on her belly and gently rubbed as he searched his mind for any reference to such an Institute. "And they are…"

"Interested in the supernatural. The unexplainable. Creatures of every kind," she answered on a contented exhale. "They study, observe and try to keep peace between the different races."

He paused. Had she just admitted to working for Hunters? Their hate-filled actions had always been carried out in the name of promoting peace for mankind. His brow furrowed in confusion. An odd thing to do, and certainly a first. "What do you do for them?"

She hesitated. "I listen in order to help find the creatures and any other objects of interest." She wriggled uncomfortably against the mattress, no longer quite so content.

"What happens when you find these things?"

"I told you. They’re studied."

When she did not elaborate, he stared up at the ceiling. His confusion intensified. Studied, as in killed? Was this a secret warning, her way of letting him know she did indeed work for Hunters? Did she work for them and not know it? Or was this Institute harmless and truly aiming for peace between the species? "Do the people you work with have tattoos on their wrists? A symbol of infinity?"

She shook her head. "No, not that I know of."

Truth? A lie? He didn’t know her well enough to gauge. Every fanatical Hunter that had attacked the Lords in Greece – and even those in the forest surrounding the fortress yesterday – had been branded with a tattoo. "You said that you listen. What exactly do you listen to?"

Another hesitant pause. "Conversations," she whispered. "Look, I thought I could talk about this, thought I wanted to talk about it, but I’m not ready. Okay?"

Violence sniped at that, and Maddox struggled to contain the demon. What was she hiding? "It doesn’t matter if you are ready to talk about it or not. You will tell me what I want to know. Now."

"No, I won’t," she said, stubborn again.

"Ashlyn."

"No!"

He was very close to rolling on top of her, pinning her to the bed and forcing the answers from her. Only the knowledge that she was still sick, still weak, held him in place. But he would get the answer one way or another. "Beauty, I ask only because I want to know you better. Tell me something about your job. Please."

Slowly she relaxed. "People who work for the Institute learn to keep quiet about their jobs. Not many civilians would believe what we do. Most would just consider us crazy."

"I will not think you crazy. How can I?"

She sighed. "All right. I’ll tell you about one of my assignments. Which one, which one," she muttered, then clicked her tongue. "I know! You might appreciate this. A few years ago, I – uh, the Institute discovered an angel. He’d broken his wings in several places. While we doctored him, he taught us about different dimensions and gateways. That’s the best part about my job – with every new discovery we learn that the world is a bigger place than any of us ever realized."

Interesting. "And what does the Institute do with demons?"

"Study them, like I mentioned. Step in and prevent them from hurting humans if needed."

Part of what she described meshed with the goals of the Hunters he had dealt with all those years ago, not to mention those he’d dealt with yesterday. The rest, well, didn’t. "Your people do not believe in destroying that which they do not understand?"

She laughed. "No."

Hunters did. Or had. At least, he thought so. So many years had passed since he had fought in that war that he sometimes had trouble remembering certain details. At one time, he knew he had understood why the Hunters wanted him and the others dead: they had done evil things, their abilities giving them the strength and longevity to do so forever if not stopped. But then the Hunters had killed Baden and his understanding had evaporated, for the demise of Distrust had divided the warriors. Half had craved peace, absolution and refuge, quietly relocating to Budapest. The others had sought revenge and remained in Greece to continue the fight.

He’d often wondered if the blood feud still raged and if the Lords who had stayed in Greece had survived these many centuries.

Maddox brushed a strand of hair from Ashlyn’s temple. "What else can you tell me of this Institute?"

Frowning, she turned her head and stared up at him. "I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I think they plan to study you next."