The Darkest Surrender (Lords of the Underworld #8)(34)
Author: Gena Showalter

Except tonight, he was concentrating on all the details that didn’t matter.

Unimportant: Kaia looked sexier than ever. His own personal GI Jane doll—the X-rated edition. She’d painted her face black and green to better blend into the night, and wore a black bandanna over her mass of red waves. Her short shorts had Booty Camp stamped across the ass.

Strider kept envisioning the vigorous de rigueur training at such a camp. The hands-on instructing. The type of discipline dished out to the attendees who misbehaved.

Hello, Stridey-Monster.

Just what he needed—his dick as hard as a steel pipe and rubbing against the ground, leaving a telltale trail. That damn kiss had ruined everything. Had he kept his tongue to himself, he could have continued thinking of Kaia as a friend and only a friend. Now, he just wanted to convince her that blow jobs were a mandatory part of their arrangement.

Don’t you dare speak up, he told his demon.

Silence.

Whew. “You’re damn straight I meant we’d scout them,” he finally said. A sharp stone scraped his stomach and he welcomed the sting. Helped clear his perspective. A discussion about goals—good. Fantasizing about his companion—bad. So, so wonderfully bad. “What’d you think I meant?”

“Well, duh. I thought you wanted to hobble them.”

Wait just a sec. “So it’s okay to bust your opponent’s kneecap before a competition, but it’s not okay to steal the grand prize for your…your…consort?” He almost couldn’t say the word. Doing so made their arrangement seem permanent, rather than temporary.

She stopped to gape at him. “I can’t believe you just asked that. Busted kneecaps are expected among my kind. Even encouraged.”

“I thought you’d never participated in the Harpy Games before?”

“True, but I watched my mother when she did.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “You can do some hobbling.” Meanwhile, he’d stick to his original plan. While she decreased the number of her competitors, he would study the Harpy campsite. Layout, sentry placement, response times. “Use your hands, though, because knifing them seems a bit harsh.” Actually, he just didn’t want to accidentally track the blood inside the tents, leaving evidence of his intentions behind.

“Say no more. I came prepared for a little nonslashing action.” She slid one of her elegant hands down her…panties? She did. Sweet heaven, she did. Right in the center, where she was probably warm and wet, ready for his mouth, his cock. “I’ve got something I think you might like.”

Hell, yeah, she did. Stridey-Monster got real uncomfortable real fast, and yep, there was definite snakelike trailage behind him. Then Kaia shocked him by sliding her hand back up and holding out her palm. In the middle rested a small silver bar.

Disappointed and surprised, he frowned. “What’s that?”

“Watch.” She gripped one end and flicked her wrist. Snap. The bar grew several inches. Another flick, another few inches, until the damn thing resembled an oversize police baton. Or Stridey-Monster.

“I want one of those,” he said.

Her eyes glittered with relish. “I know, right. But hands to yourself, demon boy. This one’s mine. Now, come on.” She skidded back into motion.

“Hey. I’m your consort. What’s yours is mine, Harpy girl.” And what’dya know? Saying the title hadn’t been such a chore that time.

He crawled after her. Finally they reached the edge of the makeshift camp, as evidenced by the fire crackling in the heart of the grounds. In his early days here on earth, his hunting of Hunters had very often led him to camps just like this one. Multiple tents, boulders acting as chairs, and fowl roasting over the flames. Only, there’d always been soldiers patrolling the area.

“No one’s here,” he whispered.

“I know,” Kaia replied. She sighed, despondent.

The occupants had left in a hurry. The scuff of their boots in the dirt was evidence of that, as though they’d been moving too swiftly to pick up their feet. The fowl was burned, charring more and more with every second that passed, plumes of black smoke wafting toward the sky. There was a water bottle lying flat, liquid gushing from it.

“I heard them abandoning ship,” she added, “but I hoped there would be a few stragglers. Doesn’t anyone defend their turf anymore?”

She’d heard them? When he, a trained soldier, hadn’t heard a goddamn thing? No need for an ego check. He sucked. Don’t forget Mission One. The Rod—and not the one in your pants. “I’ll give the place an inspection. You stay here and act as lookout.”

“No way. I’ll give the place an inspection. You stay here.”

“Damn it, Kaia. You better—umph.” Something hard wrapped around his ankles and jerked, sliding him backward. He twisted midway, sitting up despite his momentum, and shoved.

There was a pained, feminine grunt as his assailant stumbled and he was released.

Win, Defeat suddenly said, speaking up for the first time since they’d left the motel.

Did. For the moment, at least. Female warriors surrounded him, glaring down at him. Each held some type of weapon, from machetes to axes to Neolithic daggers.

Well, well. Slowly he stood, palms up and out, all innocence—all lie. “Evening, ladies. Something we can do for you?”

Kaia settled into a crouch and squawked. A squawk he recognized. Her Harpy had just taken over. From the thought of him being injured? Or because another woman had put her hands on him? Either way, she was seeing the world through a haze of red and black, a need for blood thickening her tongue.

“Mine,” she said in a low, dual-layered voice. That was the only warning she gave before she attacked.

As she twirled that bat with a grace and purpose that astonished him, Defeat gave a whimper rather than another demand for victory. She moved like a dancer. A lethal, psychotic dancer who hoped to spend the rest of her life in prison. My kinda woman. Metal slammed against bone, the latter crackling. More grunts, a few groans.

And then the battle was really on.

He caught a glimpse of Kaia’s expression as she spun. Cold, merciless. Red flickers joined the black in her eyes. Like flames. True, crackling flames. He could feel their heat, causing sweat to bead over his skin. An azure glow even emanated from her skin. Not a Harpy glow, with those lovely rainbow shards trapped beneath the surface, but the hottest lick of fire.

He remembered their kiss—again—and the way she’d burned him, how hot she’d been. A living furnace. It had turned him on, made him feel on top of his game. Now he wondered…