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“So do it. Hunt her down and marry her.”
William made it sound so easy. Just snap his fingers, and boom. Done. Only one little problem. He had yet to meet the keeper of Irresponsibility.
“I’m not sentencing a woman to an eternity with me.” He attached the bipod and rested the entire weapon on a thick stump.
“What about White?” William grumbled. “I happen to think you’ll end up with her, whether I like it or not.”
White was William’s only daughter, and, if Kane had to take a guess, one of the reasons William had followed him out here. William wanted Kane to stay away from the girl.
“I know you do,” he said. “What I don’t know is why.”
“Simple. I was once told her husband would cause an apocalypse.”
“By the Moirai?”
“One of the Moirai. I slept with Klotho. And both of her sisters.”
“I so did not need to hear that. Dude, they’re ancient.”
“They weren’t at the time,” William said with his classic wanton grin.
“Whatever. What about your whole free-will over fate spiel?”
“I believe you’ll choose her.”
“I hate her.” He remembered how, in hell, she had stood over his bound and mutilated form. Silent. Uncaring. Then, she’d left him to his suffering.
Actually, hate was too soft a word for what he felt for her.
“Maybe I’ll just avoid both women,” he added, “and save myself the trouble.”
“You? Avoid trouble? Ha!”
He gnashed his molars. “I can try. And what will you do if White and I do end up together, huh? You don’t think I’m good enough for her.”
“I certainly don’t. You just slept your way through a baker’s dozen.”
“At your urging.”
“And your point? I didn’t hold a gun to your head.” In some ways, Disaster had.
“If you two hook up, I’m moving back to hell. I don’t want to clean up her mess,” William said. “And I know she’ll make one. She won’t be able to help herself. It’s her nature.”
William, the adopted brother of the underworld’s king, Lucifer, had once lived in hell. Eventually, the hate, greed, envy and wickedness living in his soul had mated with the vengeance living in his heart. White, as well as her brothers, Red, Black and Green, had spewed from him.
He’d heard demons call them the four horsemen of the apocalypse. But these four were not, not really; they were more like shadows of the originals.
Actually, that’s exactly what they were. Shadow warriors.
They had been birthed in evil, and prophecy claimed they had futures to match. White was to conquer anyone she encountered, before somehow enslaving herself. Red was to bring war, Black famine, and Green death.
Little wonder Kane wanted nothing to do with White. He had enough problems, thanks.
And yes, he knew being conceived in evil had no bearing on the girl herself. He knew those in darkness could find their way to the light. He knew something beautiful could come out of something terrible. After all, diamonds were formed in the mantle of the earth, with horrendous heat and bone-crushing pressure.
He knew. But he didn’t care.
It wasn’t White he longed to see. It wasn’t White he yearned to scent.
It wasn’t White his mind pictured and his treacherous body suddenly responded to, shimmering need flash-flooding him, riding on bolts of lightning. It was Tinker Bell. Sweet, sexy Tinker Bell, with her—
Hands wandering … hot breath fanning over him … moans, groans …
Scowling, he tossed a handful of dirt into the fire. The flames sputtered and died. “You don’t need to worry about me. Like I said, I don’t want to marry anyone.”
“You would be lucky to win White!” William huffed.
The words penetrated Kane’s blooming rage and actually calmed him. One of his brows arched. “Now you want me to make a play for her?”
“No. But you should want me to want you to make a play for her. She’s highly desirable.”
“Well, I don’t want and I won’t ever want.”
“Why? Are your ovaries swollen?”
A bead of amusement rose in his chest, surprising him. “How has no one ever killed you?”
There was a pause as William opened another stolen nutrition bar, stuffed half into his mouth and swallowed. “Like anyone would want to see me dead. I’m too pretty.”
Pretty could only aid a person so long. “How many women have you been with?”
“Countless. You?”
“Not so many I can’t count them.”
“That’s because you lack skill.”
“Maybe, but at least I can control my desires. Your lust is too strong and your willpower too weak to allow you to resist anyone with a pulse.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve been with plenty of people without a pulse. More than that, I say no to Gilly every day.”
Gilly, his best friend. A human girl Reyes, the keeper of Pain, had rescued. She was only seventeen years old, and for some reason, she’d developed a crush on William. A crush that had deepened every time the warrior had come to visit the Lords, whom she lived with. She’d doctored him every time he’d gotten hurt in battle, and he’d comforted her every time she’d cried out from bad dreams, the horrors of an abusive stepfather rising to haunt her.
Now, she called the male every morning at 8:00 a.m. to make sure he was “all right.” Translation: alone.
He always was.
William might take a new woman—or ten—whenever the mood stuck, but he never let the females stay the night with him. Not anymore. He didn’t want to hurt his precious Little Gilly Gumdrop’s feelings.
Kane wasn’t sure why William took such care with the girl, when he’d never done anything sexual with her. At least, Kane didn’t think he had.
He better not have.
Eyes narrowed, William threw the rest of the food into the ashes. “Just remembered something. As I was packing, Danika showed up and asked me to give you the most important painting of your life.” He dug through his pack and withdrew a small, wrapped canvas.
Danika, Reyes’s woman, possessed the ability to see into heaven and hell, past, present and future, and paint the images. Like the Moirai, her predictions had never been wrong—that he could prove.
About ten yards away, a twig snapped.
The Phoenix had decided to close in, he realized.
Kane grabbed the canvas from William and stuffed it inside his own pack, then swung the whole thing over his back, using it as a shield, and lay flat on his belly. Closing one eye, he pressed the other against the night-vision scope on the rifle. In an instant, the world around him became painted with bright green.
The Phoenix was … there. She had climbed one of the taller trees and was currently walking across one of the thicker limbs … nope, she was hopping to another limb on another tree, coming closer and closer, clearly trying to sneak up on him.
Mine, Disaster said with a possessive growl, and Kane frowned.
Another mine?
The female looked to be five foot nine and scantily dressed, considering the weather. She wore a bralike top and tiny shorts, and there were two daggers tied to her calves, two sheathed in her combat boots.
Kane tracked her for a moment, watched as she paused and reached for one of the hilts. Never bring a knife to a gun fight, sweetness. You’ll lose every time. He squeezed the trigger.
Boom!
He was a great shot and knew he’d grazed her thigh before he even heard her shriek of pain. He leaped up and started running. By the time she hit the ground, gasping for breath, he was there, in her face. She was pretty. Blonde. Bold. Though he would have rather bathed in acid, he pressed his arm into her throat, making it even more difficult for her to take in any air, and patted her down to discard all of her weapons.
There were more than he’d realized. Eleven daggers. Two guns. Three throwing stars. Two vials of poison. A bag of pills. Detachable metal claws. And the makings of a bomb hidden in the soles of her shoes.
He tried not to be impressed.
Working quickly, he bound her wrists with a rope of chain he’d been using as a belt and tied her to the base of the tree. The moment he finished, he jolted away from her, severing contact. Already his stomach was churning, sickness brewing. But at least he didn’t experience the pain Tinker Bell caused.
A swarm of bees darted from the trees, circling Kane’s head. Disaster laughed.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
The girl kicked out her uninjured leg, swiped only at air. “Let me go!”
“I doubt that’s your name. Try again.”
“I had no plans to hurt you,” she snarled, her struggles increasing. Heat radiated from her, such intense heat, and it was only getting stronger. Any moment now, she would catch fire with flames as hot as those in hell and melt the metal links. “I only want to hurt Josephina. Now, I’ll kill you and enslave the girl.”
“Josephina?” A sting in his neck. He slapped at the wound, and a bee stung him on the wrist.
“As if you don’t know the girl you’re following. The Fae.”
His rescuer’s name was Josephina. Pretty. But he liked Tinker Bell better. “You want to enslave her, do you?” Was that why the girl had a death wish? She feared what the Phoenix would do to her?
Buzz, buzz.
Sting. Sting.
“Argh!” Again she kicked out. Again she missed. “I refuse to answer any more of your questions. Let me go or I’ll make you regret it before I slay you!”
“Did someone mention a lay? For the right price, I’m willing to make myself available.” William strolled into the area, chewing another nutrition bar. “And do you think she’s talking about the Fae female who just raced through our camp?”
“What!” Kane got in the warrior’s face. “When?”
“Just now.”
“And you let her go?” he roared.
Buzz. Sting.
“Well, yeah. Our chase would have ended, and I’m not ready to go home. She told me to tell you hi, though. Or maybe she said to tell you to do what you promised or leave her alone since you’re drawing the wrong attention to her. It’s so hard to tell when you’re not really listening.”
Battling an urge to slice the warrior to ribbons, and waste time, Kane gritted out, “Don’t let this one escape,” and bolted into action.
CHAPTER FIVE
JOSEPHINA SPRINTED THROUGH the forest, twigs beating at her, leaves sticking to her. She pumped her arms and legs with all her might and began to pant, the night air burning her nose and throat. In one terrible swoop, all of her enemies had found her—yet none of them wanted to kill her.
A Fae army was here, determined to escort her home.
The Phoenix was here, determined to enslave her.
Kane was here, determined to … finally do as he’d promised? Or did he plan to hand her over to her family and collect a reward?
Probably the reward. Some of the Lords were wily like that.
What had she done wrong? How had she been spotted? She’d been so careful, sneaking here, hiding there. Only twice had she spoken to a human, and only to ask the males to run her over with their cars.
Both men had looked at her as if she were insane.
Maybe she was.
All she knew was that death—any death—was preferable to life with her family. The pain and suffering that came with Synda’s punishments was bad, but the agony of not knowing what the next punishment would be was far, far worse.
Her own father hated her, and rejected her at every turn. For centuries, she’d just wanted someone to love her. To see value in her.
Of course, then there was Leopold. Her own half brother wanted her in his bed, and wouldn’t stop pressing until he got her there.
Every day was a new stress. Josephina would wake up feeling as if she were standing on top of a mountain, screaming for help, but no one cared enough to listen. Tension never left her. And by the end of each day, her nerves were so frayed she feared she would have a nervous breakdown.
It was too much. She was tired, so very tired. She craved an end. Needed an end. Finally.
Sadly, she couldn’t kill herself—and how morbid was a thought like that? Other Fae could end their own lives, but not her. To purposely injure herself was to suffer with that injury, no matter how severe, for weeks, sometimes months. Eventually, she would heal. Even from a beheading. Yes, her body would grow back. Her father had made sure of it, using an ability she would love to steal, but couldn’t. The guards protected him too diligently.
