The Darkest Surrender (Lords of the Underworld #8)(25)
Author: Gena Showalter

He’d thought wrong.

What a cluster! If the Unspoken Ones had possessed the Rod, they wouldn’t have given it to Juliette. Not without payment, and that payment would not have come in the form of cash or jewels. They wanted only Cronus’s head.

Since the god king still lived, no exchange had been made. Which meant the Unspoken Ones were completely untrustworthy, and there was no telling what they would do with the Cloak if Strider failed to deliver that head.

Win, Defeat growled. No question, just a flat-out acceptance for the challenge presented.

There would be no squabbling on his part. Even though they now had two open objectives. The Cloak, and Kaia. I know. I will.

First, he had to steal the Paring Rod. Sabin hadn’t lied. If it ended up in the wrong hands—and by “wrong,” he meant any hands but his own—Pandora’s box could be found, and he and his friends destroyed. Their demons would be ripped from their bodies and sucked back inside.

Great in theory, but man and beast were connected in a hard-core, can’t-live-without-you kind of way. Apart, the men would instantly kick the bucket and the demons would go bat-shit crazy.

Urgency rushed through him. Strider stopped in the center of the room and faced Kaia. “We have to steal it.”

Her mouth fell open, red and lush and oh-so-tempting. “Uh, what now?”

“Forget the games and help me steal the Rod.” He gritted his teeth like a good little soldier and added, “Please.” Sometimes a guy needed a wingman, and now was one of those times. He had no idea how Harpy minds worked or where that Juliette person was likely to hide her treasure.

Kaia was his inside source. His only way in.

Her pupils dilated—with anger. Great. Exactly what he didn’t need. The little lady in a temper, unafraid to use it. Then she ran her tongue over her teeth, and a bolt of lust shot straight through him, melting the ice and leaving a smoldering inferno behind, making him long to stoke that temper higher.

At a time like this? Really?

No time is the wrong time, his libido piped up. She might attack, but at least her hands will be all over you.

He could have kicked his own horny ass.

“Not just no, but hell, no,” she said, chin lifted stubbornly.

Dread replaced his urgency. He knew that look. He’d seen it before, directed at the roomful of Harpies. Their gazes had flayed her alive, for some reason, but she hadn’t backed down.

“And you aren’t stealing it, either,” she added.

As if. “Are you trying to punish me, Red?” He’d made the fatal mistake of being honest with her, of telling her he was here to help her but not to romance her. He’d known better, too. Never show a woman your cards. “Because if that’s the case—”

“Oh, my gods. Are you that egotistical?” Those silver-gold eyes sharpened like daggers, cutting him up inside. He didn’t like her angry (for the most part), and he didn’t like her hurt. Just then, she appeared to be both. “Not every thing is about you, Strider.”

“I know that. Believe me, I ego check all the time. So tell me, what’s the problem? I seem to recall a certain redheaded Harpy once saying she’d do anything, as long as it was immoral and the price was right. So do it. Name your price, and do it.”

“There is no price,” she snapped. “Not for this.”

“Are you afraid?” A low blow, yeah, but he was desperate.

She hopped off the TV, teeth bared and sharpening into something far more dangerous than one of those daggers, black bleeding into her eyes and overshadowing all hint of color.

“You’re gonna get it now,” Bianka sang, and Lysander pressed his hand over her mouth, preventing her from saying anything else.

“Idiot,” Sabin muttered. “I’m not even gonna assist you. You deserve what’s about to happen.”

“I’m afraid of nothing.” Two voices layered Kaia’s words, and both were raspy, menacing…slashing. In and out she breathed, each inhalation labored, each exhalation ragged. “You’re very lucky my Harpy is adamantly opposed to harming you, or you’d be in pieces right now. And if you try to steal the Rod on your own, after I told you not to, I will challenge you to contests you cannot possibly hope to win. Forever.”

He wanted to shake her. Wanted to kiss her—but only to shut her the hell up, of course. Damn it, she skirted the edge of challenge even then. Defeat prowled from one side of his skull to the other, practically foaming at the mouth for a go at her. Only fear of losing kept the demon from accepting.

You’re the one who demanded we come here. You’re the one who decided to take down anyone who attacked her. Yeah, Strider had been leaning in that direction himself. Yeah, he kinda wanted to gut and decapitate her opposition before they could strike a single blow against her. However, he understood his own motives—attraction, and an overdeveloped sense of possession. Defeat’s motives? Not so much. Why are you doing this?

Win, was all the beast said. As always.

“Got it?” Kaia demanded when he offered no response.

Disappointment rocked him. She was trying to punish him, and he’d kind of expected better of her. They might snipe and snap at each other, they might be hopelessly fascinated by each other, but they were also friends. Or so he’d thought. Friends helped friends.

Case in point: he was in Wisconsin when he should have been in any of a thousand other places.

He spun around and glared at Bianka. He didn’t mind thieving on his own. Usually. However, Harpies were a different breed of animal than anyone or thing he’d dealt with before. They could move faster than the eye could track. They could rip through a man’s trachea with only their teeth. Hell, they could rip through an entire army in seconds.

There was no line they wouldn’t cross, no deed too vile. If he went for the Rod and they caught him, they would kill him. But without the Rod, he was dead, anyway. So, no contest. He was going for it.

“What about you?” he threw at Bianka.

“Tone, warrior,” Lysander said, his voice so mild Strider almost couldn’t detect the power behind it. Almost.

That’s not a challenge, he told his demon, refusing to repeat himself to Kaia’s twin. Thankfully—or not—Defeat was still too focused on Kaia, the Cloak and the Rod. If Strider failed to obtain the latter two, and soon, he would lose the battle. He would hurt. Yet he couldn’t leave Kaia without hurting, either.

Bianka shoved Lysander’s hand away from her mouth. “Sorry, big boy, but I can’t help you.”