The Darkest Passion (Lords of the Underworld #5)(28)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t agree with you.” Though Olivia trembled—she was alone, weaponless, defenseless and unstable—she stood her ground. “Aeron will be mine.” One way or another. She wouldn’t lie about that, even to save herself.

A forked tongue swiped over those pointed teeth. “You gonna pay for that, angel. With your life.”

Legion leapt at her.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SEVEN DAYS. Seven damn days, and not a single result. Strider, keeper of Defeat, wiped his sweaty face with a towel. He propped himself against the boulder at his back and surveyed his surroundings. The sun was shining brightly, hotter here than it had ever been in Buda. Pristine water gently washed toward this island near Rome, the soft hum of it a balm for his ears.

All that remained of the Temple of the Unspoken Ones were battered pillars identical to the one at his back—some fallen, some standing—and an altar still stained and splattered with crimson. There was a vibration of energy in the air. Energy that caused his hair to stand on end. And yet, despite the altar and the energy, Strider felt an odd sort of kinship with the place. After all, a lot of people considered him an unspoken one. Evil and unnecessary.Not that he agreed. He was paired with Defeat and couldn’t lose a single challenge without suffering for it. Where was the evil in that? Wasn’t like he killed indiscriminately just to win an Xbox game or anything.

Anyway. Last time he’d been here, archaeologists had been studying every nook and cranny. Hunters had been among their numbers, hoping to find one of Cronus’s powerful artifacts or even Pandora’s box itself. They weren’t here anymore. Why?

Though the temple had risen from the sea only a few months ago, trees had already grown, tall and lush and green. They circled the area where the temple had once stood proud, but they didn’t quite touch that temple. They actually arched away from it, as if afraid of getting too close.

What was here that hadn’t been the last time he’d visited was bones. Human bones. The archaeologists’, most likely. What had killed them, he could only guess. There was no trace of flesh or blood. Yeah, an animal could have devoured so many people in the handful of months since he’d last been here, but wouldn’t there have been some trace of the feasting? Well, besides the bones. A bloodstain here, a piece of rotten meat there. Claw marks where the humans had fought for freedom. Footprints where they had tried to run away.

There weren’t.

So. What could consume so cleanly? A godly creature, that’s what.

Anya, (minor) goddess of Anarchy and Lucien’s girlfriend-slash-soon-to-be-wife—horror of horrors, the naughty little vixen had decided to plan a wedding for herself—didn’t know much about these Unspoken Ones, so wouldn’t verify his idea that they had turned the humans into meals-on-heels. The gods had never, well, spoken of them, she’d said, so she wasn’t sure what they could do. The gods had feared them, however.

Still, Strider wasn’t leaving. He had to find those artifacts. He had to find Pandora’s box. He had to destroy the Hunters. Finally. His life depended on it. Hell, his peace of mind depended on it. Every day Defeat spoke a little louder inside his head, so every day he was reminded more and more of the first days of his possession. Days he wanted to forget.

His demon had been a roar, a constant scream, the consuming need to challenge everyone he encountered driving him. No matter the consequences. Kill a friend? So be it. As long as he won.

He’d hated himself back then. His friends had probably hated him, too. Well, not true. They’d been as wild from their demons as he’d been from his. It had taken centuries to learn how to control themselves. But while they now had control of their darker halves, he was edging closer to its loss.

“Looks like someone decided to take his break before the rest of us,” a raspy voice teased from behind him.

Strider turned. Gwen, a redheaded beauty who was stronger and more vicious than any of the Lords, approached him, a glistening bottle of water in her hand. She tossed it at him, and he easily caught it. Within seconds, he had the entire thing drained. Gods, the cold felt good as the liquid moistened his dry throat.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Slowly she grinned, and he knew exactly why Sabin had fallen in love with her. Naughty women ruled. “I stole it from Sabin.”

“I heard that, wife,” Sabin said, striding around the boulder across from them. He increased his speed until he reached Gwen’s side, then draped an arm around her shoulders.

Immediately she reached up and twined her fingers with his. She even leaned her head against his side, trusting the man to hold her up and keep her safe. They might enjoy one-upping each other, but they were unified. That much was clear.

Their pairing had initially shocked Strider, truth be told. After all, Gwen was Galen’s daughter and Galen was leader of their greatest enemy. More than that, Sabin was the keeper of Doubt and Gwen had been a timid little mouse the first time the two had met. The demon had practically eaten her alive.

Now, there wasn’t a more confident woman alive. How the two had reached this point and made things work, Strider wasn’t sure. He was just glad he wasn’t the one in a committed relationship. He liked women—even the un-naughty ones. Oh, did he like women. But relationships? Not so much.

He’d had a few girlfriends over the years, and at first, he’d loved it. Loved the commitment, the exclusivity. When they’d discovered his penchant for winning, however, most of them had tried to work it to their advantage.

“Bet you can’t make me fall in love with you.”

“I doubt you can convince me that we’re meant to be together forever.”

He’d played that game too many times before, winning hearts he’d no longer had any interest in winning. Now, he enjoyed them once—maybe twice—fine, maybe three times—and then it was goodbye old, hello new.

“What’s this about breaking early?” Sabin ushered Gwen to the altar and leaned his hip against the stone. He guided her in front of him, again wrapped her in his arms and held her tight against his chest, her head resting under his chin.

Strider shrugged. “I was thinking.” Rather than examining the stones for symbols or messages as he’d been ordered.

Sabin had been Strider’s leader his entire life. Yeah, Lucien had been commander of the elite army while they’d lived in the heavens, but it had been Sabin that Strider had looked to for advice and guidance. Still did. The man would have beheaded his own mother if it meant winning a battle. Not that any of them had a mother. They’d been born fully formed. But Strider valued that kind of commitment.