The Darkest Whisper (Lords of the Underworld #4)(53)
Author: Gena Showalter

He rolled from the warmth of her body and sat up, typing, T, call when have new intel.

The reply was nearly instantaneous. Duh.

He lay back down. The sandwich was gone and the water drained. He’d never even seen her move. He pretended not to notice the missing food as he stuffed the phone in his pocket. “Sure you don’t need anything?”

She swallowed audibly, and he almost laughed. “I need a bathroom. And a shower.”

“No shower. Not without me. You’re so weak you’ll fall.” Sabin gathered her up. He expected her to protest but she burrowed her head in the hollow of his neck. So trusting. Damn, but he liked that.

“I won’t shower, then. Things happen when we shower together.”

As if he needed a reminder. “I’ll control myself,” he told her.

“But will your demon? I don’t have the strength to fight him. Just…give me ten minutes,” she said when he set her down. Her curls were knotted around her head. “Come to my rescue only if you hear bone slam into porcelain,” she added as she gripped the sink for balance.

He felt his lips twitch, beyond relieved that she was strong enough to tease him. “I will.”

Nine minutes later, she emerged, face damp, the scent of lemons wafting from her. His mouth watered for a taste, a deeper, fuller taste than he’d gotten last time. She’d brushed her hair, and it cascaded down her back. “Feel better?”

Her gaze remained fixed on the floor, her cheeks bright with color. “Much. Thank you.” She tried to walk, but both of her knees collapsed.

Sabin had her snuggled against his chest before she hit the ground. Once more, she welcomed his attention. So did he.

“I got my ass handed to me, huh,” she said, wincing when her wounded shoulder brushed the sheets.

“Yes.” He stood at the side of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. “But we can fix that. I’ll train you.” Whether or not she ever fought again, she needed the necessary skills to protect herself.

Whether or not she ever fights again—like it’s a question now? I thought you wanted her to fight, no matter what. He couldn’t blame the hesitation on Doubt. It was all his.

“Okay,” she said, surprising him. Her eyelashes were drifting shut once more. “I’ll let you train me, because you were right. I like the thought of hurting Hunters.”

Not what he’d expected her to say. “You may change your mind before I get through with you. I’ll hurt you, even though it won’t be intentional, make you bleed and break you down.” But she would be stronger because of it, so he wouldn’t go easy on her.

Are you trying to talk her out of it?

No, he just wanted her prepared. He wasn’t hardwired like the other warriors to view female soldiers as weak, fragile and in need of protection. He didn’t coddle them, either, and never had. Maybe that’s why Cameo had chosen to go with him when he and Lucien had split the group. He even treated female Hunters the same way he treated male ones. Had he tortured a few? Yeah. And he wasn’t sorry. He’d do it again, do more if necessary.

With Gwen, however, he was a bit uneasy. She wasn’t just any other female soldier and she wasn’t his enemy.

No reply.

“Gwen?”

A breathy sigh. She’d fallen asleep again. He covered her more securely and settled in beside her, resigned to the now familiar task of waiting for her to wake up.

“MOVE EVEN AN INCH, and I’ll take your goddamn head off.”

Sabin came awake instantly. Cold steel pressed into his jugular, a bead of blood trekking down his neck. His bedroom was dark, the curtains over the window drawn. He drew in a breath and caught a scent—female. The intruder smelled of ice and wintry skies. Her long hair tickled his bare chest.“Why’s my sister in your bed? And why is she sleeping—and injured? Don’t tell me she’s fine or I’ll make you eat your own tongue. I can smell the wounds on her.”

The other Harpies had arrived.

Apparently they’d blown through Torin’s state-of-the-art security without a single problem, because none of the alarms were screeching. Still more proof that he needed these women on his team—assuming he still had a team. “Are my men still breathing?”

“For now.” The blade pressed deeper. “Well? I’m waiting, and I’m not the most patient of creatures.”

Sabin remained utterly still, not even trying to go for the weapon under his pillow. Some help here, he said to Doubt.

I thought you hated me.

Will you just do your job?

He swore to the gods the demon sighed inside his head. Are you sure you want to hurt this man? Doubt asked the Harpy. What if he’s Gwen’s lover? Gwen might hate you forever.

Her hand trembled against him, loosening slightly.

Good boy. It was moments like this that made him appreciate the beauty of his curse. “She’s here because she wants to be here. And she’s injured because my enemy came after us.”

“And you didn’t protect her?”

“You’re one to talk.” His teeth ground together. “No. I didn’t. But I learn from my mistakes and it will never happen again.”

“You’re right about that. Did you give her blood?”

“No.”

There was an irritated growl. “No wonder she’s sleeping with you in the room! How long ago was she injured?”

“Three days.”

A gasp of outrage. “She needs blood, you ass. Otherwise she’ll never recover.”

“How do you know? She told me she’s never been injured.”

“Oh, she’s been injured, she just doesn’t remember. We made sure of it. And just so you know, you’re going to pay for every mark on her. Oh, and if I find out you’re lying, that you’re the one who hurt her…”

“I haven’t personally injured her.” Yet. The thought sobered him as nothing else could have.

She eyed him from top to bottom. “Look, I might be impressed by the stories I’ve heard about you, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to trust you.”

“Talk to Gwen, then.”

“I will. In a minute. So tell me. Which demon are you?”

He debated the wisdom of replying. If she knew the truth, she would know to guard herself against Doubt.

“I’m waiting.” The tip of the blade pressed into his carotid.

What the hell, he decided. If he had to unleash the demon, she wouldn’t stand a chance even if she knew what it was. No one did, not even him. “I’m possessed by Doubt.”