The Darkest Surrender (Lords of the Underworld #8)(67)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Thank you.” Kaia stood and closed the rest of the distance between her and the Hunter. He was taller than her by at least five inches and probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds, yet the scent of fear wafted from him, acrid and potent. He’d had a front row seat to the show, after all.

“Please…don’t kill me…” he cried. “Not like that. Not like them.”

“I won’t,” she promised with a cold smile. “And in return, you’re going to do me a favor. Yes?”

“Yes.” Tears of relief tracked down his cheeks. “Please, yes.”

“Good. That’s good. Now, listen closely because I won’t repeat myself.” She unsheathed the dagger from her ankle holster and ripped a strip of furred cloth from her fallen coat.

“Wh-what are you doing? You said you weren’t going to hurt me.”

“No, I said I wasn’t going to kill you and I’m not.” Moving swiftly, she worked the crimson strip around his neck. “Are you listening? Good. Here’s what you’re going to do…”

STRIDER SCENTED THE BLOOD long before he saw the pools of it.

He’d been on Kaia’s trail for hours, his demon going crazy inside his head. Win, win, win. If he heard the word one more time, he was going to kill someone. Namely himself. Then Kaia. Seemed impossible, but he’d find a way to do it. He was that determined and she was that much to blame for this mess.

Except, as he sniffed to make sure he’d identified the notes correctly, he forgot about his irritation with Defeat, forgot about his anger with Kaia and thought only of her safety. Definitely blood.

He and Sabin shared an oh-shit glance and burst into rapid-fire movement, shoving past ice-laden branches and being slapped in the face for their efforts. Strider had his Sig in one hand and a dagger in the other, ready for anything—except to see Kaia hurt. Or worse.

Win, win, win.

Find her? Yeah, he would. Save her? Yeah, he’d do that, too. Lysander and Zacharel flew overhead and they must have scented the odor of death as well, because those long, graceful wings began flapping frantically, and they began a quick descent.

All four men hit the scene at the same time.

Bodies littered the ground. All male. Blood soaked the snow, evidence the humans had not died easily—but by the end, they had probably begged for that death.

Lysander walked the scene, sniffing, touching. “A few of the Harpies were injured.”

“Kaia?” he croaked, his heart skidding to a stop.

A terrible pause. “Yes, but she walked away. They all did.”

Thank the gods. His heart eked back into a semblance of a beat.

“These humans were tainted by the demon of Strife,” Lysander added. “Their minds were locked only on dissension.”

Rhea was possessed by the demon of Strife. And Rhea had opened her Garden of Goodbyes to all Harpies. To better destroy the women of her enemies? “Not the demon of Hope?” he asked, hopeful himself.

“No. This was Strife’s doing, no question.”

Shit. Strider’s job—protecting Kaia—was now ten thousands times more difficult. Not that he cared. He’d do what he had to do, even go up against the queen of the gods. “How can you tell?”

“Each demon emits a certain scent.” The words were said with disgust. “And the pungent stench of discord seeps from these men even still.”

“Our girls are in danger, then,” Sabin growled.

“We know.” But that was Sabin for you, Captain Jackass of the USS Obvious. Strider scrubbed a hand down his face. Now he was just being testy. Something else to blame on Kaia. Who was injured, without his blood to heal her.

“I will summon my angels to clean the mess,” Zacharel said.

His angels? “Not yet.” Amid the death, he, too, caught the hint of a scent. Kaia’s, to be exact. His sense of smell might not be as highly developed as Lysander’s, but when it came to Kaia, Strider was attuned to the littlest things.

Sniff. He followed the coppery odor and Sabin followed him. Sniff. Strider crouched and lifted a broken arrowhead. Blood coated the tip. He brought that tip to his nose and gave another sniff, this one deeper. Sure enough, Kaia’s scent was there. As Lysander had said, she’d been injured.

Having the evidence right in front of him did something to him. A red haze of fury dotted his vision. The thin shaft snapped in his hand. I need to hold her. Make sure she’s okay. And I need to hurt the one who hurt her.

“She’s fine,” Sabin said. “She walked away. The angel can’t lie.”

He heard a muffled whimper and every muscle in his body stiffened. Someone lived. He and Sabin broke apart, winding around a thick tree stump. A man—human, a Hunter, his arms pinned at his sides and turned to display his tattooed wrist—was trapped there, wearing nothing but a blood-coated bow around his neck. Furred, like Kaia’s coat.

A gift, then.

When the Hunter spotted the warriors, he began crying in earnest.

Strider stomped to him and gripped his chin, his dagger pressed against the man’s cheek. “You’re alive for a reason. What is it?” Wait. Precautions first. “If you dare try and utter a word of challenge, I’ll cut your throat before you can finish. Understand?” He wouldn’t put something like that past his Harpy. She was a wily little thing, determined to leave him behind.

Well, too bad. Rhea would strike at him the moment she spotted him, but he didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t supposed to hurt her, because hurting her would hurt Cronus—literally—and Cronus would then eat him for lunch. Neither thought bothered him. He was going to be there for Kaia. Was going to shelter her from the god queen at all costs.

For the Paring Rod, yeah. For his demon, yeah, that, too. But mostly because he was desperate to finish what they’d started inside the bar. If he didn’t get that lithe little body under him, and soon, he would implode.

What happened to waiting until after the competition?

Stupid plan’s been ditched. I want her now.

“Yo-you are the one named St-Strider?” the human asked.

He gave a stiff nod.

“I’m—I’m supposed to tell you n-not to worry. The g-girls have everything under c-control.”

Sabin moved to Strider’s side. “That’s all?”

The human flinched. “N-no. If you follow them, if they catch sight of you, they’ll let themselves be d-disqualified.”

Strider and Sabin shared another look, far past oh-shit and now entering oh-fuck territory. If anyone was willing to cut off her nose to spite her beautiful face, it was Kaia.