The Darkest Secret (Lords of the Underworld #7)(37)
Author: Gena Showalter

Oh, God. She’d been wrong, she thought dizzily. He knew.

He’d already known she was a Hunter, yes. She’d told him.

Now, however, he knew the rest, the worst of the details. He knew about her part in Baden’s death.

Why hadn’t he kil ed her already?

The moisture in her mouth dried, and her knees began to tremble. “Defeat—Strider told you who I am.

What I’ve done.” She was proud to note that no emotion fil ed her voice, only arctic steel.

No. I discovered the truth on my own. You were Hadiee then, but are now Haidee. Whoever you were, whatever you are, you were there when Baden was slain.

Confirmation. “And yet you of al people hold me like this?”

As she snapped the question, understanding dawned. This was the calm before the storm. He’d merely shown her the pleasure she could have had but now would be forever denied.

A bitter laugh escaped her. In a lifetime of regret and pain, he had no idea that denying her would simply be more of the same. That he wouldn’t break her. Wouldn’t ruin her. No matter what he did, she’d already experienced worse.

Amun spun her around before severing al contact. Their gazes locked, black fire glittering down at her.

She gasped as another realization struck. He hadn’t been unaffected by touching her. Far from it. Lines of tension branched from his eyes and mouth. His lips were pul ed taut over the straight white pearls of his teeth. His breath emerged shal ow and fast, his nostrils flaring.

Wait. Did he want her? Or was he simply pissed?

The swel ing had gone down in his face, revealing a rough beauty that shocked her further. His skin was like the richest coffee mixed with the slightest dol op of cream.

Those gorgeous black eyes were framed by a thick fan of silky lashes, lashes longer even than hers. He had an aquiline nose, regal and proud. His cheekbones were so sharp they could have cut glass. Lips that would have been considered cruel if not for their soft pink color glistening with moisture.

His chest was bare, scabbed in striking patterns of four.

Claw marks, she thought with a shiver. His own? Hers? His ni**les were smal and brown, beaded.

Rope after rope of muscle descended the torso of a man who had honed his strength on the battlefield rather than inside a gym.

He wore sweatpants that hung low on his waist, revealing the barest hint of dark, springy curls on his groin. And when she saw that the rounded head of his penis stretched past the material, se**n pearling from the slit, she swal owed, her gaze jerking back up to his face.

He was the gentle one, Strider had said. Yet she’d never seen a man look quite so fierce.

How did you get me mixed up with him?

“You guys look a lot alike. Weirdly alike.”

Was he immortal? Pause. You know I’m immortal, right?

“Yes, I know, and no, he’s not. Believe me, I would have known. He was injured time and time again, but he healed as slowly as any human.”

So our likeness is a mere quirk of fate? Doubtful. I was created by Zeus, ful y formed, and I’ve often wondered if the former king had simply looked down from his perch in the heavens, picked out a face he liked and boom. But that creation happened thousands of years ago, so my face had to come first.

“And so you think someone else created Micah? Someone who saw you?”

Yes.

“Then how is he human?”

There are gods, humans, demigods, and then creatures in between. He could be any number of things.

“Wel , maybe Zeus saw past, present and future faces, and picked from those. Or hey, maybe Micah’s your son, and you just don’t know it. I’m sure you’ve picked up a few humans in your time.”

Not possible.

“Why? Accidents happen, even with immortals.”

I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Like, a century.

And if he looks to be my age…

She couldn’t hide her relief. He hadn’t been with anyone in over a hundred years. Same with her. “Oh.

Wel , maybe he’s a descendant of yours. Maybe it’s just one of those strange, unexplainable things. Or hel , maybe—”

Okay. Maybe you’re right, he al owed. Doesn’t matter, anyway. We’re on opposing teams.

“Very true.”

So why did you change your name? he asked, switching gears.

“The simple change of spel ing helped me blend in as society changed around me,” she said. “Plus, there are more Haidees than Hadiees, and I didn’t want to be spotlighted for any demons that happened to be looking for me.”

If you wanted to blend in, you shouldn’t have done so much to stand out. His gaze raked her hair, her tattoos.

She stiffened at his obvious censure. What did she care if he found her appearance lacking? Except for the ache in her chest, she didn’t care at al , she told herself.

How are we connected? he demanded, switching the subject again. Bye-bye distraction. He’d asked an excel ent question. How were they connected in mind and body?

“I—I don’t know.” Her cheeks flamed when she heard the stutter. She had fought and won too many battles to count.

This man would not intimidate her.

Why can’t I harm you?

Had he tried? The thought unsettled her. “Maybe for the same reason I can’t harm you.”

And that is?

You’re the sweetest form of temptation. I know the spicy decadence of your kiss. I’ve ridden your fingers and want to ride them again. Not that she’d make such an admission aloud. “I don’t know. I’ve had the opportunity, though,” she reminded him. “Several times.”

A sigh slipped from him, easing some of his tension. But you soothed me instead. Protected me.

She nodded. “As you did for me.”

For a long while, only the pattering of the water against the porcelain could be heard. Part of her was glad they knew about each other. That she didn’t have to wonder what would happen when he discovered her secrets. The other part of her had never been more frightened.

They knew, but if they pursued each other anyway…there could be no excuses for their actions. For their stupidity.

Their friends would blame them, perhaps begin to hate them. And for what? No matter what they did, there could never be a happily ever after for them.

She must have retreated into her mind—a shocking discovery, that, since she never al owed herself to drop her guard—because she never saw him move, but suddenly his hands were clamped onto the flare of her hips. Another gasp escaped her as their gazes tangled anew.

Amun backed her up, pushing her under the waterfal , then walked through the spray himself, not stopping until she was smashed against the tiled wal . And even though they weren’t touching anywhere but her waist, the heat of him wrapped around her, sinking past skin into bone. Her ni**les hardened, aching for contact.