The Darkest Night (Lords of the Underworld #1)(61)
Author: Gena Showalter

Even though they had killed Baden, Aeron had been prepared to leave them alone. He’d caused them just as much pain centuries ago, after all. But they had come here. They would start a new war if given the chance.

Realizing they’d been spotted, one of the humans stepped forward.

The strobe light was still spinning, spitting those fractured beams of light in every direction. They danced over the mortal’s young, determined face. He was smiling. He rubbed his right wrist with his left thumb, and in the wild light Aeron could just make out the symbol of infinity he traced.

"Who would’ve thought we’d get all the world’s evil together in the same room at the same time?" The man held up a small black box, two wires hanging from its sides. "Seriously, is it Christmas?"

Several of the warriors growled. Some withdrew guns, some preferred their sharpest daggers. All were ready to battle. Aeron didn’t wait – he found that he couldn’t, didn’t want to, was eager to act. Wrath had already judged this man and found him guilty of the crime of killing innocents in his quest to kill Lords.

Aeron tossed his blades, end over end, and both embedded to the hilt in the man’s chest.

His eyes bugged and that white-toothed grin froze on his face. He didn’t die immediately, as he would have if this had been one of Paris’s movies. He fell to his knees, panting, in pain. He’d live for a while yet, but there was nothing anyone could do to save him. "You’ll pray for death when we’re done with you," he gasped.

"Burn in hell, demon!" one of the other mortals shouted, tossing a dagger of his own.

One of the warriors fired his gun as the blade pierced Aeron’s chest. Aeron frowned. Gazed down at the pearl handle winking in the light. His heart continued to pump, slicing open with every beat. Ouch. They had quick reflexes. He would have to remember that.

Lucien and the others sprang forward.

The Hunter didn’t back down. "I hope you enjoy the fire," he said, swiping up the black box his fallen friend had dropped. Boom!

An explosion rocked the entire structure, blasting through stone and metal. Aeron was lifted off his feet and thrown into the air like a sack of feathers.

Defeated by humans. Unbelievable.

It was the last thought to drift through his mind before his world went black.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Maddox became aware of his surroundings with a jolt. Dead one moment, fully conscious the next. Ashlyn slept in the crook of his arm, her pliant body curled around him.

He glanced down at himself. She must have cleaned him and even managed to change the sheets despite his chains because the blood was gone. His scabs were back and stretched across his stomach and his ribs.

Ashlyn’s soft honey-colored hair ticked his chin; her warm exhalations fanned his skin. Alive and here. With him. He hadn’t imagined it. Straight from hell into heaven.

Come morning, he usually felt the need to destroy something. To fight. To forget the flames and the pain by giving in to the numbness and darkness of the spirit. Not so right now.

He felt – dare he believe it? – at peace.

Ashlyn looked so relaxed, he was loath to awaken her. No, not relaxed, he realized on closer inspection. Tearstains were evident on her cheeks and teethmarks marred the lushness of her lips, as if she’d bitten down hard and repeatedly.

He longed to caress a fingertip over the curve of her cheek, but couldn’t. Damned chains. "Ashlyn. Beauty. Wake up for me."

A soft moan parted those lips.

Sunlight caressed her as he craved to do himself, bathing her luminous skin and paying her absolute tribute. Her lashes were feathered, still damp from her tears, like strands of ribbon covered with dew.

She’d cried at his suffering. When was the last time someone had cried over him?

"Ashlyn."

She moaned.

He lowered his head and kissed the tip of her nose. As always, spears of electricity slammed into him. She must have experienced it, too, gasping out his name and jolting upright. The cover fell to her waist, revealing the baggy T-shirt she wore. His T-shirt. He liked her in his clothing, liked that she was covered by material that had once covered him. Lock after lock of hair fell down her shoulders and back.

When her gaze landed on him, she released a trembling sob and threw herself into his wide-open arms. "You’re alive. You came back from the dead again."

"Unlock me, beauty."

"I don’t have the key."

"It’s under the mattress." Lucien had stopped carrying the key years ago when Maddox managed to snap it from its chain around his neck. "Why didn’t they take you?"

"Torin hid me. Oh." She hurriedly dug under the springs, found it and released him. She fell back into his side, the scent of her skin distracting him from wondering why Torin would have done such a thing. "I’m so glad you came back to me."

He wound his arms around her waist, rubbing his hands up and down her back, soothing, calming. His joints protested, but he didn’t stop. "I came back. I’ll always come back."

"I don’t understand," she said on a shaky breath. Her body trembled. "Why do they keep doing this to you?"

"Another curse." His voice cracked with emotion. "I killed a woman, and now I must die as she died." He had not wanted Ashlyn to know what he’d done, but it wasn’t fair to keep her in the dark when she’d revealed all her secrets.

Ashlyn gripped him tightly. "Who was she? Why did you kill her?"

"The woman I told you about. The warrior, the one given the task I desired for myself. Pandora."

Her eyes stretched wide. "The Pandora?"

"Yes."

"That’s the box you opened? Dear Lord, I don’t know why I didn’t piece this together before. Why didn’t the gods just put the demons back inside the box?"

"Punishment. But more than that, the box was gone, with no way to be re-created."

"How did you kill…"

"My demon had overtaken me, and – "Again he could hear the torment in his own voice, and wondered what Ashlyn thought. "I lost control, became Violence completely, and my sword did irreparable damage to her. I have regretted the action ever since, doubt me not."

"But immortals can’t be killed eternally. Right? I mean, you’re proof of that."

"Most can be killed. Not easily, but it is possible."

"Well, everyone makes mistakes, and you’ve paid for yours," she said, her understanding surprising him. Warming him. Felling him. "I sort of wish you’d killed those gods who cursed you, too, because they’re vile, disgusting – "

Wincing, he plastered a hand over her mouth, cutting off her words. "She did not mean it," he said, eyes traveling ceilingward. "I will willingly take any punishment meant for her as my own."