If only.
I’m as bad as the monsters.
CHAPTER THREE
“I KNOW WHERE your woman is.”
Reyes straightened on the couch, the tip of the knife stilling inside his arm. He’d pushed it deep, so deep he’d sliced the vein in half. But the wound healed all too soon, sealing shut around the blade. Blood dried on his skin.
He’d jumped from the roof three days ago and was only now recovered enough to walk. Unfortunately. Pain was louder and more demanding than ever, wanting something more. What, Reyes didn’t know. This cut hadn’t helped in the least.
He ripped the weapon free, creating another injury. He licked his bottom lip, trying to savor the pain. This injury healed quickly, as well. Not enough of a sting. Never enough.
“Nothing to say to me?”
“You’re as bad as Gideon.” He glared over at Lucien, who stood in the doorway. The warrior’s dark hair fell in waves to his shoulders and his mismatched eyes gleamed with expectation.
“As if I would lie.”
They were alone in the entertainment room. Paris, who could usually be found there watching one of his fleshfests, was now in the city, keeping up his strength by bedding as many women as he could. Maddox and his woman, Ashlyn, were in their bedroom. As always.
Sabin and the other warriors were currently in the kitchen—they’d kicked Reyes out ages ago for bleeding on the table—outlining a plan to raid the Temple of the Unspoken Ones in Rome without humans knowing they were there.
Reyes doubted the temple would lead the way to the All-Seeing Eye, the Cloak of Invisibility or the Paring Rod, whatever that was, but he was in the minority so he kept quiet. Still, he knew he was right. If there were something to be found amid the crumbling rock, moss and seashells, they would have found it by now. Besides, the Cage of Compulsion they’d discovered after searching the Temple of the All Gods hadn’t helped them find the box in any way.
Yes, it was a nice weapon to own. Anyone locked inside that cage was magically compelled to do anything the owner commanded of them. But who were they supposed to lock inside it? What were they supposed to command that person to do? Until they learned the answers, he suspected Lucien and Anya would continue to play with it like naughty children.
“Reyes,” Lucien said. “We were discussing Danika.”
“No, we weren’t.” He wanted her purged from his mind, but he was beginning to suspect she was a permanent part of him now. Like his demon. Only worse. She had destroyed his precious sense of peace. Peace that had not returned, even while he was lying in bed, broken and throbbing in delicious agony.
“Shall I tell you what I know about her?” Lucien asked.
Do not take the bait. You’re better off not knowing. Without Reyes providing a constant stream of tangible pain, his demon would spiral out of control, ravenous for someone’s bodily suffering. His—others. It didn’t matter. That’s one of the reasons he’d sent Danika away. Were he to find her, he might one day hurt her irreparably.
“Tell me,” he found himself commanding, his voice hoarse.
“Three days ago, she stabbed a man.”
That sweet little angel, hurt a human? Reyes snorted. “Please. Now I’m sure you are lying.”
“When I have never lied to you before?”
No, Lucien had never lied to him. Reyes gulped back a surge of bile, his next words emerging hard and strained. “How do you know she harmed a man?”
“More than harmed. She killed him. The victim lingered in the hospital for two days and only died this morning. When I was summoned to take his soul, I saw he bore the mark of a Hunter.”
“What!” Reyes popped to his feet, fury washing through him. Hunters had found Danika? She’d been forced to slay one? In that moment, he no longer allowed himself the delusion of disbelief. Hunters hated him. They could have seen her here, at the fortress, followed her and tried to torture her for information about him.
His teeth gnashed together. Damned Hunters! They were so mindlessly fanatic they believed all of the world’s evil stemmed from the demons inside the Lords. They were ruthless in their quest to destroy those spirits and the men who harbored them, and they would not hesitate to cut down anyone they considered a friend of the warriors.
Danika was not a friend, but they couldn’t know that. Even now, they might be planning to use her as Bait, hoping to draw him out in the open by dangling her in his face.
This changed everything.
“Was she hurt? Did they touch her?” He palmed his second blade before he realized what he was doing: preparing for war.
Lucien continued his story as if Reyes had never spoken. “As I escorted the Hunter’s soul to hell, I saw the last few acts of his life inside my mind.”
“Was. She. Hurt?” The stilted question hissed out of his throat, from between his clenched teeth.
“Yes.”
Pain prowled the corridors of his mind, sharpening its claws against the sides of his skull. “Is she—” Reyes pressed his lips together. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Could barely tolerate thinking it.
“No,” Lucien answered anyway. “She is not dead.”
Thank the gods. Relief gobbled up his fury, and his shoulders sagged. “Were any other Hunters involved?”
“Yes.”
Again, Lucien did not elaborate.
“How many?”
“One. She broke his nose.”
“On purpose?” he asked, shocked.
“Yes.”
The Danika he remembered had been gentle, sweet. He was not sure what to think of this tigress, but he would stake his own life on the fact that she was tormented by her actions.
“Where is she?” He would go to her, check on her, find a way to protect her from future Hunter attacks, and then he would leave her. He would not allow himself to linger, would not even engage her in a conversation. But he had to see her, had to verify that she was alive and well.
Afterward he would find and savagely kill the other Hunter responsible for her pain. A broken nose wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy his raging need for vengeance.
Lucien didn’t answer him. “We’re traveling to Rome in less than a week to search the temple again. We need those artifacts.”
So that was the way they were going to play it, huh? “I know.”
“I want Aeron brought here before we leave.”
“You want to place the entire household in danger, then. You want to ignore Aeron’s wishes to appease your own.”
“He is one of us. He needs us now more than ever.”
Reyes stalked forward, past Lucien and out of the room. Since Anya and Ashlyn had moved in, the old crumbling fortress had been transformed into a home. Flowers now overflowed from colorful vases. The walls had been lined with artwork Anya had stolen—mostly of naked men; she had a wicked sense of humor—and the furniture had been updated.
Haphazardly patched-together couches were out and plush leather was in. Intricately carved and polished chests, wire-rimmed benches and pillowed lounges filled the rooms and adorned the hallways. He’d been leery of the women at first. Now, he wasn’t sure what he’d do without them. They were anchors amid a terrible storm.
His boots pounded the staircase, creating a wild thump, thump rhythm. He rounded