The Darkest Surrender (Lords of the Underworld #8)(71)
Author: Gena Showalter

Finally she spotted footprints that didn’t belong to a Harpy. These were big, thick and pressed deeply enough that whoever had made them weighed at least two hundred pounds of solid muscle.

That narrowed things down a bit. She was dealing with either a Hunter, Sabin or Lazarus. Her mind buzzed, quickly eliminating suspects. If this were a Hunter, there would be other footprints. After all, Hunters were like cockroaches. Where one hid, a thousand others did, as well. If this were Sabin, she would scent Strider. The two were never far apart.

That left Lazarus the Tampon.

Well, well. Maybe they’d have their knock-down drag-out at last. And wouldn’t you know it? They’d have that knock-down drag-out while she lacked full throttle. Wasn’t that just peachy?

A hard weight crashed into her back, throwing her face-first to the ground. That same weight pressed against her so forcefully her wings were smashed into their slits, hindering their movements and decreasing her strength even more. Oxygen gushed from her suddenly dirt-coated mouth, an explosion that left her reeling.

She’d been so determined to sneak up on her prey, she’d failed to guard her back properly. She knew better! Damn it, what was wrong with her?

Here was more proof of her weakness. No wonder her sisters hadn’t wanted her in the air.

Nothing would prevent her from fighting, though. Her claws emerged, and her fangs sprouted. But just as she attempted to twist and wedge her knee between their bodies, a male voice whispered, “Don’t. I won, and that’s that.” Satisfaction and pleasure layered that familiar—beloved—voice.

Strider. Unlike Juliette’s satisfaction, his didn’t bother her. She actually reveled in it. He was here. He was with her, alive and well. He was also in danger, but at the moment she couldn’t make that matter. He was here!

“We good?” he asked in that same silky whisper. His warm breath caressed her ear and absolute relief washed through her. Until he added, “Wait, don’t answer. That bastard Lazarus is just ahead, waiting for you. He set a trap.”

When she caught her breath, she rasped out, “What kind of trap?”

“The kind with flowers, candlelight and a bejeweled goblet filled with his probably diseased blood.”

Her eyes widened. Lazarus was going to try and…seduce her? Why? “I don’t know about diseased, but that blood is probably poisoned.” Right? A trick meant to lure her into softening before the bastard went in for the kill.

“If we’re lucky, he’ll die of disappointment when you fail to show.”

“Actually, if he’s lucky.”

“Good point. Now I have to decide whether to kill him now or kill him later.”

“Option two?” she asked hopefully.

“My thinking exactly. Right now, I have something better to do.” Strider eased back a little and she finally twisted, lying on her back. His legs straddled her waist, and his navy eyes glared down at her. Dirt smudged his sun-kissed skin and his pale hair was pink with dried blood and plastered to his face. “Don’t worry, though. He’ll get his.”

“Are you hurt?” If someone had hurt him, she would unleash her Harpy. She wouldn’t be able to help herself. She would—

“I’m fine.” His expression softened, and gods, he was beautiful. “Remember the Hunters who last attacked you? Well, they suffered afterward. You’re welcome.”

Her relief intensified, mixing with a sense of pride. This was her man, her warrior. No one was stronger. No one was as vengeful or as capable. “Thank you. Now, you have to go,” she told him, giving him a little push. “Rhea could be nearby, and you are—”

“Nope.” He didn’t budge. “Sabin and the angels are looking for her. So far, they haven’t found any hint of her presence.”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Shut it, Kaia,” he said, cutting her off a second time. “You’re in trouble and only digging the hole deeper.” He pushed to his feet only to bend down and grab her wrist, tugging her to her feet in turn, spinning them both around and leading her away from Lazarus.

Leaves and branches slapped at her, and insects buzzed, some daring to bite her.

“I can’t go too far,” she said, huffing from exertion already. Damn. Her side and leg throbbed, the wounds having opened when she fell. Now, blood trickled from each, catching in her boots.

“You’ll go as far as I tell you,” he snapped, unaware of her pain.

“Strider, listen to me. My sisters are fighting. I have to—”

“I don’t care what they’re doing. You and I are going to talk. Now keep it down while I find a place for us. If you don’t, I’ll gag you. And Kaia? I really hope I get to gag you.”

She pressed her lips together, silent as he urged her deeper and deeper into the forest.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

STRIDER HAULED KAIA through thickening mist and across a rushing river. When he’d first come here, the trees had tried to eat him alive and he’d had to hack his way to safety every few minutes. Now, those same trees remained perfectly still, not a single leaf dancing in the swirling breeze. What was that about?

The question ceased to matter when he reached the cave he’d discovered while tracking Kaia. Would serve her right to be thrown inside, a boulder shoved in front of the only exit. She could spend a few years in solitary confinement, thinking about her mistakes.

He meant to yell at her, he really did—for leaving him behind, for almost walking into that bastard Lazarus’s seductive trap, which Strider would punish him for setting, by the way—but as he backed her against the crystal wall, he was given his first full-length glimpse of her since tackling her fine ass to the ground. Her gorgeous red hair was damp at the ends and dripping little water beads onto her bare stomach.

The river had washed away the makeup that always coated her skin, leaving her glimmering like a diamond in blazing sunlight. Not as brightly as before, though. And she was shivering. He frowned. Why was she shivering? It was as hot as hell in here.

That did nothing to diminish her appeal. Nothing could. Maybe because she wore a tiny half top and a pair of shorts. Both were white, now see-through, and he saw. Blushing, beaded ni**les, and then, between the long, lithe length of her legs, a delicious patch of red in the center, and if he didn’t look away soon his erection would bust through the zipper on his pants.

He studied the rest of her. She was injured, he realized. The angry wounds in her side and on her thigh caused fury to well inside him, replacing the lust. No wonder her skin lacked its most brilliant sheen and her body couldn’t stop trembling.