The Darkest Whisper (Lords of the Underworld #4)(34)
Author: Gena Showalter

“I won’t,” she rushed out, even though she’d denied Anya’s claim earlier. Encouraging an admirer could lead to problems. Bloody, life and death problems.

“I’d take excellent care of you, I swear it.”

“For a day. Maybe a day and a half,” Anya retorted dryly. “He’s a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. And though he’s not a Lord, he does have a curse hanging over his head. I have the book to prove it.”

William growled low in his throat. “Anya! Must you share my secrets with everyone?” He flattened his palms on the arms of his chair. “Fine. If you can spill, I can, too. Anya’s the reason the Titanic sank. She was playing chicken with the icebergs.”

Scowling, Anya anchored her hands on her hips. “William had a bronze made of his penis and placed it on his mantel.”

Rather than embarrass the man, her words spurred him on. “Anya visited the Virgin Islands a few years ago and after that, all the natives started calling them the Islands.”

“William has a tattoo of his own face on his back. He says it’s ’cause he doesn’t want to deprive the people behind him of his beauty.”

“Anya—”

“Wait!” Gwen said with a laugh. Their easy banter had chased away her nervousness. “I get the point. You’re both depraved. Now enough about you two. Someone tell me something about Sabin. You said you would, Anya.”

“Did she now?” William immediately gave her his full attention, blue eyes sparkling. “Allow me to help her out. Sabin once stabbed Aeron, the tattooed warrior with the buzz cut, in the back. Not in a playful gesture, either, but to kill him.”

“Did he?” she asked. William seemed outraged by that fact. Gwen thought perhaps she should be, as well, but Sabin was the kind of man who fought dirty—as both she and Anya had remarked—and that, well, impressed her. Her sisters were like that; sometimes, despite her instinctive fear of violence, she secretly wished she were like that, where nothing mattered but victory.

“Bor-ing,” Anya said. She rubbed her hands together, as if she was happy to have her turn.

“Wait. Tell me why Sabin stabbed him,” Gwen said.

“You’re digging William’s story, then? Fine.” Anya sighed. “I’ll finish it for him. The Lord/Hunter war had just erupted. In ancient Greece, in case you’re wanting a timeline, before those delicious gladiators. Anyway, Hunters, being human, were losing and so they began using women as Bait to draw, trap and slaughter the Lords. They managed to kill Sabin’s BFF, Baden.”

Gwen’s fingers fluttered over her throat. “He told me.” He must have been more devastated by the loss than she’d realized.

“He did?” One of Anya’s eyebrows winged up. “Wow. He’s usually so tight-lipped. But why do you look close to tears? You didn’t even know the man.”

“Something’s in my eye,” she rasped.

Lips twitching, Anya said, “Sure. Whatever you say. But back to my story. Sabin and the other warriors pounced on the Hunters responsible and destroyed them. Afterward, Sabin wanted to continue the killing spree. The others didn’t. Wait, that’s not true. Half agreed with Sabin, half craved peace. Aeron was going on and on about dropping things, starting a new life away from the Hunter war, blah, blah, blah, so Sabin, in his grief and fury, plunged his dagger into the man’s back.”

“Did Aeron retaliate?” Gwen pictured the warrior in her mind. Tall, muscled and heavily tattooed, as William had said. Hair cropped to his scalp, violet eyes stark and gloomy. He seemed cold but quiet. Almost unassuming. Yet she’d seen the way he’d viciously attacked those Hunters.

Who would win a fight between the two?

“Nope,” Anya said. “And it pissed Sabin off even more. He then went for Aeron’s throat.”

Was it bad that she was relieved? She didn’t like the thought of Sabin being hurt. Or assaulted.

“Still want to be his female?” William interjected, sounding almost hopeful. “My offer is still good. I can make all your naughty dreams come true.”

If she were Sabin’s, which she wasn’t, yeah, she’d still want to be with him. William was beautiful, didn’t intimidate her like the others, but he also didn’t tempt her in any way. Her eyes craved the sight of rugged, sometimes boyish Sabin. Her ears craved the sound of his hard voice. Her hands itched to touch that sun-kissed skin. Silly girl. He couldn’t have been any clearer about wanting to keep her at a distance.

What would she do if he changed his mind, though? He was everything she feared and there’d be no controlling him.

“Oh, and just so you know,” William added, grinning wickedly, “he’s possessed by the demon of Doubt. So anytime you find yourself battling insecurities, he’s the reason. I, however, will make you feel special and loved. Cherished.”

“No, you won’t,” the very voice she’d been dying to hear suddenly proclaimed from behind her. “You won’t be seeing another morning.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SABIN KNEW he looked like a monster. Blood coated him like a second skin, his eyes gleamed wildly, feral—they always did after something like this went down—and he smelled like old pennies. He’d meant to shower before approaching Gwen, not wanting to frighten her further. First, though, he’d gone to check on Amun. The man had stopped writhing but had not stopped moaning, still bound to his bed and clutching his head. He must have stolen more secrets than usual. Darker secrets. Usually he’d recovered by now.

Sabin felt guilty for having asked his friend to fill his head with more chaos, more voices. He soothed himself only with the knowledge that Amun knew what he was doing and wanted to defeat the Hunters as much as Sabin did.When he left, he’d decided to sneak a peek at Gwen and see how she was doing. Had Anya fed her? Frightened her? Learned more about her? The questions had taken residence inside his head and refused to leave, somehow overshadowing his desire to force more information out of the prisoners.

Except Gwen hadn’t been in his room.

Furious, he’d begun to hunt. Thinking Paris, who had left the dungeon soon after Sabin appeared, had used Sabin’s distraction to his advantage and seduced her, Sabin had stomped to the warrior’s bedroom, violence brewing inside him. Sabin had claimed Gwen as his. His. No one else would touch her. Not because he was jealous or possessive of her, of course, but because, as he’d already assured himself, he planned to use her as a weapon. Wouldn’t do to have one of the warriors pissing her off. Yes, that’s the only reason his vision had burned bright red and his fists had clenched, his nails elongating into his claws, his muscles gearing for confrontation.