The Darkest Whisper (Lords of the Underworld #4)(21)
Author: Gena Showalter

Who are you?

Before Sienna, he would have been the one fighting to protect the female. That he wasn’t now, that he actually wanted her injured, should have filled him with guilt. Instead, he was angry that he hadn’t done a better job of guarding his friends against her. All possible threats had to be eliminated. Throughout the years, the other warriors had tried to convince him of that but he’d always resisted. Now, he understood.

It was too late to do anything to her, though. Sabin wouldn’t allow it. Guy was wasted. Even before the rift that tore Lucien’s group from Sabin’s, Paris didn’t recall ever seeing Sabin this intent on a woman. Which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. If the girl’s timidity wasn’t an act, then Sabin would destroy her, one bit of her self-esteem at a time.

Maddox emerged from the second Escalade, a dark slash in Paris’s periphery. The keeper of Violence didn’t bother grabbing his bag but pounded swiftly up the porch steps. The doors swung open and his pregnant female flew outside, laughing and crying. Ashlyn leapt into his arms, a blur of gold, and he swung her around. They were locked in a heated kiss seconds later.

It was tough to imagine the savage Maddox as a father—even if the baby ended up half demon like the Lords.

Next came Danika, who halted in the doorway and scanned the crowd for Reyes. The lovely blonde spotted him and squealed. As if that squeal was a mating call of some kind, Reyes palmed a dagger and stalked to her.

Possessed as he was by the demon of Pain, Reyes could not feel pleasure without physical suffering. Before Danika, the warrior had had to cut himself twenty-four/seven to function. During their stay in Cairo, he hadn’t had to injure himself once. Being away from Danika was pain enough, he said. Now that they were reunited, he’d have to cut himself again, but Paris didn’t think either of them minded.

With a growl, Reyes swept her into his arms and the two disappeared inside the fortress, Danika’s giggling the only remaining evidence they’d been nearby.

Paris rubbed at a sudden ache in his chest, praying it would go away. He knew it wouldn’t, though. Not until he’d had his ambrosia. Every time he was around these couples so obviously in love, the ache sprouted and stayed, a parasite that sucked the life right out of him, until he drank himself into a stupor.

There was no sign of Lucien, who had flashed home rather than endure the long plane ride. He and Anya were probably locked inside their room. One small favor, at least.

He noted that the Harpy had watched the couples as intently as he had. Because she was fascinated or because she hoped to use the information against them?

No other females were in residence, thank the gods. No one Paris could seduce and eventually hurt when he screwed her over for someone else. Gilly, Danika’s young friend, now lived in an apartment in town. The kid had wanted her own space. And they’d pretended to give it to her, not telling her that her home was wired to Torin’s surveillance systems. Danika’s grandmother, mother and sister had left, as well, and were now back in the States.

“Come,” Sabin said to the Harpy. When she failed to comply, he motioned her to his side.

“Those women…” she whispered.

“Are happy.” Confidence layered every syllable. “Had they not been so eager to be reunited with their men, they would have greeted you personally.”

“Do they know…?” Once again, she had trouble finishing her sentence.

“Oh, yes. They know their men are possessed by demons. Now come.” He waved his fingers.

Still she hesitated. “Where will you take me?”

Sabin pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He was doing that a lot lately, it seemed. “Come inside or don’t, but I’m not waiting out here for you to make up your mind.” Angry footsteps, the slam of the door.

Anyone else he simply would have picked up and thrown over his shoulder, Paris suspected. Her, he allowed to choose. Smart of him.

The Harpy glanced left and right, and Paris braced himself to give chase. Not that he thought he could catch her if she decided to kick it into hyperdrive as she’d done inside that cavern. But he was prepared to fight her if necessary.

Another red flag started waving in his mind. She could get away, here and now. Even earlier, before they’d boarded the plane. Hell, she could have escaped while they camped in the desert. Why hadn’t she? Unless she was Bait, as he’d suspected, here to learn everything she could about them.

Though she had denied it, Sienna had been Bait. She’d kissed him even as she’d poisoned him—and she’d merely been human. What kind of damage could this Harpy do?

Let Sabin worry about this one for now. You have enough on your plate o’ fuck.

Finally, she decided to follow Sabin and headed inside, her steps tentative.

“The prisoners are in need of interrogating,” Paris said to no one in particular.

Cameo flipped her dark hair over one shoulder and bent to grab her bag. No one tried to help her. They treated her like one of the guys because she preferred it that way. At least, that’s what he’d always told himself. He’d never tried to treat her as anything else because he’d never wanted to sleep with her. Perhaps she would have liked to be pampered upon occasion.

“Maybe tomorrow,” she said, her tragic voice nearly making his eardrums bleed. “I need to rest.” Without another word—thank the gods—she marched inside.

As well as Paris knew women, he knew beyond any doubt that she was lying. There’d been a sparkle in her eyes, a rosy flush to her cheeks. She’d looked aroused, not tired. Who did she plan to meet?

She’d been hanging with Torin a lot lately and…Paris blinked. No, surely not. Torin couldn’t touch another being skin to skin without infecting it with disease—as well as everyone that person encountered, causing a plague to sweep the land. Not even an immortal was safe from harm. That immortal wouldn’t die, but would become like Torin, unable to know the caress of another without severe consequences.

Didn’t matter what they were up to, really. He had work to do. “Anyone?” Paris said to those remaining. He wanted this shit over with, like, now. The sooner he finished beating information out of the Hunters, the sooner he could barricade himself inside his room and forget he was alive.

Strider whistled under his breath, pretending not to hear him as he edged toward the front door.

What the hell? No one appreciated violence better than Strider. “Strider, man. I know you heard me. Help me with the interrogation, yeah?”