The Darkest Night. Gena Showalter

      “Sorry,” she muttered. No touching, she reminded herself. It was better for both of them that way. She couldn’t seem to control her body’s reaction when they were close. Actual, prolonged contact might reduce her to a drooling puddle. “Maddox?”

      In profile his expression appeared blank, completely devoid of emotion. “Yes?”

      “Don’t be mad, but it is technically later so I’m going to bring us back to Topic One. What are you?” Before he could jump back into motion as if she hadn’t spoken, she added, “I answered your questions. Please answer mine.”

      He didn’t. But he did face her again.

      Nervous, she ran her tongue over her lips. His gaze followed the movement and his nostrils flared. She didn’t mean to, but she started babbling. “Look, there are all kinds of unusual creatures in the world. No one knows that better than me. Did I mention I know firsthand that demons exist? I just want to know what I’m dealing with here.” Shut up. Stop talking.

      If only he would respond. She’d never had to fill a silence before. Never thought silence could be uncomfortable.

      He eased down a step, the action measured and precise as it closed the small distance between them; she eased down a step in response, widening it again.

      “No more questions. I want you bathed, fed and resting within the hour. You’re covered in dirt, wavering on your feet because of hunger and there are dark circles under your eyes. Afterward, we can…talk.”

      Again that hesitation. It disconcerted her, and she gulped. “If I asked you to take me back to the city, what would you say?”

      “Unequivocally no.”

      I thought so. Her shoulders slumped. No matter how much she might want this man—or maybe because of how much she wanted this man—she had to start acting like a rational human being and escape.

      What if she was next in line for a stabbing? She wouldn’t rise from the dead, that much Ashlyn knew.

      Yesterday she would’ve sold her soul to come here. Who are you kidding? You did sell your soul. She might not have learned to control the voices unless Maddox was with her, but she simply couldn’t stay. There were too many uncertainties and too much violence.

      But to escape, she’d have to endure the mountain, the cold, the fog and the voices. You can do it. You have to do it.

      Maddox arched a brow. “Do I need to lock you up again, Ashlyn?” he asked, as if reading her thoughts.

      The threat scared and infuriated her, but she shook her head. No reason to upset him and risk getting herself killed or thrown back in that icy, damp prison, freedom unattainable. Outside of it, at least, she stood a chance. Small though it was.

       Silence isn’t as sweet as you hoped, is it?

      “Do you want to leave because there is someone you need to speak with?” he asked. He failed to disguise his growing anger with that polite inquiry—she saw the flickers of it just beneath the surface of his skin. “Is someone anxious to know where you are?”

      “My boss,” she said honestly. Maybe, if she found a phone, she could call him. He could then call the police—no. She nixed that thought immediately, reminding herself they might be entranced by the “angels.”

      But if she could call McIntosh, the Institute could devise a way to rescue her. She could return to her old life and pretend the last two days had never happened—even though the thought of abandoning Maddox created an inexplicable ache in her chest. Stupid girl!

      “Who exactly is your boss?”

      As if she would tell him and put an innocent man in danger. Instead, she gathered her courage and said, “Let me go, Maddox. Please.”

      Another pause, heavier than before. He stepped closer, placing them nose to nose as he had in the forest. His eyes were bright violet now. “Last night I told you to return to the city. You refused. You even followed me. You cried out for me. Remember?”

      The reminder stung. “A moment of insanity,” she whispered, looking down at her hands. Her fingers were intertwined, the knuckles white.

      “Well, that moment of insanity sealed your fate, woman. You’re staying here.”

      Maddox escorted the reluctant Ashlyn to his bedroom. He’d already cleaned the floor and thrown out the soiled mattress, replacing it with a new one from the array in the room next door. In anticipation of her seduction, he’d prepared a bath for her, made up a platter of meats and cheeses, opened a bottle of wine and turned down the clean, sun-kissed sheets.

      He’d never put so much effort into a coupling, had only heard Paris talk about how quickly women melted when men pampered them like this.

      Maddox hadn’t realized Ashlyn would spend the entire night in a cell or that she would need all of this care thanks to his friends. His fingers curled into a tight fist.

      Her comfort doesn’t matter. He wasn’t sure who the thought came from—the demon or himself. He only knew it was a lie.

      “Bathe, change and eat,” he forced himself to say. “No one will bother you.” He paused. “Is there anything else you might require?”

      She walked around him in a wide half circle, turning to face him almost immediately, as if she didn’t trust him at her back. “Freedom would be nice.”

      “Besides that.”

      Her gaze scanned the room. He didn’t like how pale she was, how wobbly and withdrawn. She had not been so drained last night, even in the bitter chill of the forest. “What about wiping out my memory of the past few days?”

      “Besides that,” he repeated darkly, not liking that she wanted to forget him.