The truth was he'd done it because he'd seen those words and flowers in his mind, over and over again. They'd plagued him, and he'd known, known they meant something, but not what they meant. Now he knew he'd seen them on this woman. Which meant whether they were married or not, they had spent time together.
Why can't I fucking remember it?
I know, Lies replied, as if he'd asked the demon.
Shut up. I like you better when you're quiet.
The sound of water hitting porcelain suddenly reverberated through the hotel room. Scarlet was probably naked now, he thought. Probably soaked in that water and moaning as it slid down her luscious body.
He moaned, scrubbing a hand down his face and hoping to wipe away the naughty images flashing through his head. Didn't help. He closed the rest of the distance, arm extending for the knob. Goodbye, testicles. We had a good run.
Just as before, he caught himself in time. He growled, backed away and planted his feet more firmly in place. No, no, and no.
At least he didn't have to worry about her escaping. Not successfully. While she'd slept, he'd placed tiny sensors on all the doors and windows and wired them to his phone. He'd know the moment she tried to leave. And she would. Soon. She wouldn't be able to help herself. Fighting was clearly part of her nature.
So was annoying him.
How was he supposed to handle a woman who picked her last name based on who she was currently lusting after? Which was fine when she was lusting after other females. Sexy, even. Something to be encouraged, too. But the males? Hells. No. Not if there was a chance they were hitched, and not until they had things settled between them.
Still. He knew how he wanted to handle her. Skin-to-skin. Every part of him longed to step into that shower, lick her all over, tasting her. Then, oh, yes, then, he'd sink deep inside her, feel her tug his hair and scratch his back. Feel her legs wrap around him and hold on tight. Hear her gasp his name and beg him for more.
Mini Me, his most beloved appendage, started weeping, and the twins begging, uncaring about potential loss.
Not gonna happen, men. Not yet, at least. She'd resisted him more intensely than he'd expected. Not that he'd tried very hard. Hard. Ha. But maybe that was a good thing. As Strider had reminded him, Hunters were in Budapest and out for blood. Now that they could kill the Lords and pair the demons with people of their choosing, now that the Lords were close to victory, the Hunters were more determined and vicious than ever. If Gideon seduced Scarlet, he would forget about guarding her.
He could have taken her to another city, he supposed, and seduced her there. That would have been safer. But, no. He couldn't leave his friends like that. They needed him more than ever. Maddox was consumed with easing his pregnant wife; Lucien's girlfriend was planning their wedding; Sabin's wife was visiting her sister in the heavens, so the warlord was pretty much operating on a hair-trigger of emotion; and Reyes's woman had enough shit to deal with. As the All-Seeing Eye, she could peer into heaven and hell, and the things she saw were often far worse than anything Scarlet could manufacture in her dream-world.
Not to mention, Aeron, until recently the keeper of Wrath, was still recovering from his interlude with death. For the first time in centuries, his mind was his own, his demon no longer a part of him. As expected, he hadn't yet acclimated to the change.
Gideon wasn't envious as some of the warriors were. He actually liked his other, darker half. Together, they were more powerful. Together, they were stronger, smarter, and no one but Scarlet could lie to him. Okay, fine. A few others could, but only when he let his emotions get the better of him. Which wasn't often.
But speaking of being unable to tell truth from lies...I've been lying to you all along. We were never married, Scarlet had said.
Damn her and her seductive wiles. Were they or weren't they? He had those flashes of her, yes, as if he had taken her to bed before. As if he had savored every inch of her and had already done all the things he now wanted to do. But those could very well be urges he'd had, mere fantasies, rather than reality.
Gideon sighed and strode to the bed where Scarlet had lain. He lifted the sheets and pressed the still-warm cotton to his cheek, the scent of midnight orchids wafting to his nose. Had he experienced this warmth skin-to-skin? Did he know that scent?
Scowling, he dropped the sheet as his cock wept a little more. Get out of here before you forget your good intentions and storm into that bathroom.
His demon liked the thought of storming. Don't enter the bathroom. Don't enter the bathroom right now!
Seriously. Shut it. Even though Gideon had told Scarlet in his roundabout, deceitful way that he wouldn't be fetching her any food, which he'd meant at the time, he left and locked the room, rode the elevator downstairs, wrote out what food he wanted, then handed the receptionist the note.
Lies prowled angrily through his head the entire time, hating the distance from Scarlet. Completely surreal.
The receptionist smiled and began typing. "Give us an hour, Mr. Lord." He almost corrected her and said Pattinson. Anything to connect him to Scarlet. Instead he nodded and returned to the room. Scarlet was hungry. Therefore he would feed her. Wife or not. Because bottom line, he still had questions for her and she still had answers.
How he proceeded after this, as caveman or seducer, would be up to her.
CHAPTER THREE
HAD SHE EVER felt this fantastically clean? Scarlet marveled as she brushed her hair.
Gods, this was nice. Not a speck of dirt marred her. She now smelled of the same apples-and-vanilla fragrance that coated the air, along with the usual floral scent that coated her skin. Courtesy of her father? She'd always wondered.
Her sore muscles felt revived, her spirits restored. Well, kind of. Why was she still here? Why wasn't she running, as she'd promised Gideon she would?
Nightmares didn't reply, the water having lulled the demon into a peaceful sleep.
Didn't matter. She already knew the answer. Gideon still intrigued her.
How many times do you need to be told? You can't let yourself develop feelings for him again.
Easy to think. Hard to actually prevent. Gideon had seen to everything. He'd placed a toothbrush, toothpaste and hairbrush on the sink. Oh, yeah. And a freaking blue bow for her hair. Clean clothes had rested on the toilet lid, though they weren't what she would have chosen for herself. He'd picked a flowing, barely there blue dress rather than pants and a T-shirt. High heels rather than boots. He hadn't given her a bra. Just blue panties.
Clearly, he had a fascination with blue. Why?
She should know, and hated that she didn't. Was this a recent development?
Wasn't like it mattered, she told herself next. His thoughts and reasoning weren't her concern.
"I'm so happy waiting for you," he called through the door.
The sound of that rumbling voice caused goose bumps to break out over her entire body. She imagined him pacing back and forth in front of the door, and she wanted to grin. Patience had never been his thing. She'd always liked that, mostly because he'd been so eager to be with her.
He used to rush to her cell after every mission, kiss her face, hands roving, desperate to relearn her curves.
"I missed you so much," he'd said. Every damn time.
"Don't leave me again." Always her reply.
"I'd stay in this cell with you if I could." A fleeting, sad smile, offered the very last time they'd had this exchange. "Maybe one day I will."
"No." She hadn't wanted that for him, no matter how much she craved being with him. "Just...make me forget you were ever gone."
And he had. Oh, had he.
If he could have removed the collar that had been permanently anchored around her neck, he'd always said, he would have done so and run away with her. But he hadn't possessed the ability. Only a few of Zeus's chosen had. So the golden collar had remained, seemingly glued to her skin and keeping her weakened, her demon's powers muted.
Besides, only a select group of immortals were able to flashto travel from one location to another with only a thoughtin and out of Tartarus, and Gideon hadn't been one of them. He would have had to sneak her through the entire realm, past the guards and to the gate. One, on its own, would have been difficult; together, they were impossible, even without the collar. But he'd still wanted to try.
With the thought, she felt herself softening. Damn it! Fight it. You can't survive another heartbreak, and that's all he has to offer. Heartbreak.
She dropped the brush on the sink and as it clattered ominously, tugged the dress over her head. The soft material stroked her skin, and she moaned. She'd never dressed herself this way, but maybe she should have. So decadent... The panties were equally soft, which elicited another moan. The heels, she left alone, donning her old boots instead. Better to beat a heartless man into submission with.
Finished, she turned, shoulders squaring, determination rising. One last encounter with Gideon, and then she was ditching him. But that was it, the end. She'd finally have closure. For surely that's what she needed, what she lacked. Once she had it, she would return to the life she'd begun building for herself. A life as a human mercenary. Or rather, a jack of all wicked trades.
Do it. Get it over with.
"Are you kidding me with this?" she said as she stomped from the bathroom and held out the bow. A cloud of sweetly scented steam followed her.
Immediately his electric gaze raked her, lingering on his once-favorite places. Something dark entered his eyes, and he gulped. "What?" The word was a croak. "I thought it was ugly." Meaning he thought it was pretty.
And he wanted her to have pretty things. How...sweet.
Damn him!
He stood in front of a wheeled square table that hadn't been there before, arms once again crossed over his chest. To keep from throttling her?
"So you like women who dress like schoolgirls." She ignored the thundering of her heart and the heat spreading through her veins. "I didn't realize you had such innocent fantasies," she said, then wanted to curse. She'd sounded breathless. Maybe because her statement had raised a very naughty question. What did he fantasize about nowadays?
How did he like his sex? As gentle and consuming as he once had?
How did he like his women? As sweet as she'd once been? Most likely.
He'd shown only a few signs of attraction to her since discovering her inside his dungeon, and she was as hard as stone.
She had to be. Her life didn't allow for dresses like this one. She had to be prepared to fight, always. She was a child of Rhea, the god queen, and she would make an excellent hostage to ransom. Not that her mother would pay it. More than that, she had many enemies, for killing her would remove her half-mortal self from the line of succession.
The scent of fresh baked bread, chicken and rice suddenly hit her nose and her mouth watered. Forget the bow. Forget closure. Her hand fell to her side. "You brought me food," she said, dazed.
Another sweet gesture, the jerk.
"Nope. It's all for me." He eased into the chair behind him. Steaming plate after steaming plate littered the surface of the table, that steam wafting around him and creating a dream haze. "That color looks terrible on you, by the way."
She licked her lips. Over the food, she told herself. Not because he liked the way she looked. Which was good. "Payback is a bitch, you know. And you can count on the fact that I'll put you in this dress sometime soon."
He shrugged, drawing attention to the wide girth of his shoulders, then held out one of the plates. The one with chicken, rice and veggies. She was walking to him, hands outstretched, before she realized what she was doing. After she claimed the plate, she plopped into the seat across from him and dug in.
So. Good.
"So...why don't you sleep during the day?" he asked. "When the people here aren't awake."
That, she didn't mind sharing. Even though she could guess his plan. Start her off with something light. Get her talking while she was distracted with food. "Somewhere in the world, people are asleep when I am, and the demon finds them. Besides that, every day I fall asleep a single second later. And every night I awaken a single second later. The time always varies ever so slightly, ensuring we're able to target everyone at some point." In other words, fear us.
"Not good to know." A pause, then, "I don't want to know why you got the tattoos. I don't want to know who gave you those tattoos. And I most definitely don't want to know how things ended between us."
Yep. She'd been right. "I told you we weren't really married." She chased a deliciously flavored bite of buttered carrots with a glass of red wine. Even. Better.
"And I believed you."
She shrugged, mimicking his nonchalance. "I've answered enough of your questions tonight. And I know that's why you brought me here. To relax me, lower my guard and find out everything you're dying to know so you can lock me back up." And worse.
"You're wrong," he said, reaching out and cupping her hand with his own. He brought it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss into her suddenly burning flesh. "I just wanted to spend time with you, to get to know you, the world around us forgotten."
Softening...again... They were words she'd longed to hear so badly she'd often ached physically. Hearing them now...
And realizing they were a lie...
The softening instantly ceased. Suddenly she wanted to remove the invisible knife he'd left in her back and stab him with it. Since he wasn't crumpling into a heap of pain, as she'd heard he did when he spoke the truth, she knew he'd just told a whopper.
He was playing her, and she'd almost let him. Harden up. You're a bitch. Act like it.
"That's easy for you, isn't it? Forgetting the world around you, I mean." Bitterness crept through her tone, and there was nothing she could do to defuse it. "Your poor, sad memory."
He frowned, and his hand fell away.
She wanted to shout. With frustration. With a demand that he touch her again. With fury that she wanted him to touch her again. Instead, she remained quiet and finished her meal, consuming every last crumb, every drop of wine, and leaving nothing for the man across from her.
"Why are you so...not stubborn about this?" he asked with what seemed to be genuine curiosity. "About keeping me in the light?"
Because she'd spent thousands of years wondering where he was, what he was doing and who he was doing it with. Wondering if he ever thought of her, wondering why he never returned for her. Wondering if he was even alive. Each day had been worse than the last, a constant churning in her mind, her emotions rolled out, flayed and left raw.
But she'd known with gut-wrenching intensity that he loved her, so she'd finally had to accept that he hadn't returned because he'd been killed. Death was the only thing that could have kept him away. So she'd mourned him, crying so forcefully, so intensely, she'd actually shed tears of blood.
And when she'd finally discovered that he lived...Oh, the pain. Pain that still haunted her, a constant shadow in her heart.
In contrast, he'd been wondering about her for a few weeks. He didn't cry himself to sleep about it. He didn't throw up because the worry and the heartache were too much to bear.
Her hands clenched so tightly, the glass she held shattered. Beads of crimson sprang up all over her palm, but she didn't flinch at the ensuing sting. This was nothing compared to what she'd once endured. Nothing. She no longer cried about anything.
Gideon sighed and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, inspecting the damage. "Love to see you injured. Don't want to make it all better." Truth.
When he had strode into his fortress's dungeon and she'd seen his beautiful face, the only thing she'd truly felt at the time was awe. He was alive. He was with her again. But then the anger had sparked. Followed by the resentment and the consuming urge to hurt. None of those compared to what she felt just then, however.
Rage. So much rage.
How dare he. How fucking dare he care about such paltry wounds! He was sitting there, calm as could be, poking at her emotions like a child with a stick because he could. Because she was a big, fat question to him. That was all. He wanted answers. Not her. Not her forgiveness. He couldn't care less about easing her real injuries and making her "all better."
Had she been nothing to him, even all those centuries ago? Yes, he'd wed her, but he'd left her soon after. Left her, she now knew, to steal and open Pandora's box. She also knew he'd been paired with his demon and shoved out of the heavens soon after that. But she'd been possessed that same day, still locked inside her cell.
After those centuries spent in darknesswhat oddly seemed like a mere blink of time for her whenever she looked backhad passed and she'd once again had control of her mind, she'd remembered Gideon. Realized he'd been given a demon, too, and figured he had gained control of himself, as well. So she'd waited for him to return for her. And waited. And waited, for so damn long. Then all those questions began swirling in her head. And then the worry had set in, followed by the grief that he hadn't survived.
And in that grief, she'd done things that had shocked even her demon. Terrible things. None of the gods and goddesses sharing her cellthe one she'd been moved to, away from the tender hand of her motherhad survived her rampage.
The Greeks had nearly executed her for those actions, but in the end, Zeus had preferred to parade her in front of Cronus, his own father and greatest foe, enjoying the fact that she was proof Rhea had cuckolded him. Anything that tormented the deposed Titan king was worth keeping alive, the Greek sovereign had said, no matter how dangerous that thing was.
And then the Titans finally won their freedom. Cronus and Rhea would have liked to leave her behind, she knew, but they'd needed her skills to help defeat the Greeks.
Once the screams had faded and the blood had stopped flowing, she'd scoured ancient scrolls for information about the Lords of the Underworld, hoping to find them and ask how Gideon had perished. Where his bones rested. She'd intended to give him a proper burial, pray over him, say goodbye.
Instead, she'd discovered her husband was still alive.
Her relief had known no bounds. But then, neither had her upset, for that's when other questions had begun plaguing her. Why hadn't he come back for her? Why hadn't he sent word that he'd survived?
She'd sought him out to ask him. And yes, to throw herself back into his arms. To feel him surrounding her, sliding in and out of her, once again. Finally. The way she'd been dreaming about for so many years.
She'd found him in that bar in Buda. She'd walked past him. Except, he hadn't noticed her. Glanced at her, yes. Moved his gaze away as if she were of no consequence, yes, that, too. He'd been too busy crooking his finger at a human female, and then having sex with that female right there in the club.
Scarlet had left, heartbroken all over again. As she did her best to learn about modern human society by watching TV, all the while secretly hoping Gideon would find her worthy when she did soher, a woman who had been raised among criminals, who had never been wanted by her mother, had never known her father, and who had a wretched demon trapped inside hershe'd kept her ear to the ground, always curious about Gideon and what he was doing.
Maybe she'd purposely allowed the Lords to capture her. Without consciously admitting that she craved a moment like this. A moment to see what a shit Gideon truly was. A moment to finally, blessedly cut him from her thoughts. Which, even now, was completely against her nature and something she'd sworn never to do. Captivity was something she despised. Yet she'd stayed in that fucking dungeon and hadn't tried to escape. For this man who didn't remember her. A man who had no problem using her. Hurting her. Tearing her down.
He. Needed. To. Suffer.
Scarlet jumped to her feet, plate in hand. A plate she tossed at Gideon without warning. It crashed into his face and shattered just as her wineglass had done. And just as her hand had beaded with blood, so did his face. Not enough.
Scowling, he jumped up, as well. "That was nice. Thanks!"
She'd already launched another plate, and this one slammed into his chest. It, too, broke apart, slicing past his T-shirt.
"What don't you think you're doing?"
"I'm not kicking your ass. I'm not hating your guts. I'm not thinking you are the biggest ass the gods ever created. How's that? Did I speak a language you can understand?" Kill him. She wanted to kill him.
"I may remember you, Scarlet," he bellowed, backing up when she grabbed her fork and held it out like a dagger. She'd murdered men with less. Even immortals. "But you haven't haunted me." Motions stiff, he raised his shirt. Amid the cuts, above his heart, was a tattoo of eyes. Dark eyes. Like hers. "Don't you see? You...haven't...haunted...me."
It was a lie, like him. It had to be.
"That proves nothing! Thousands of people have dark eyes."
He slanted his head and brushed the hair from the back of his neck. There, she found a tattoo of bloodred lips in the shape of a heart. Like hers. Then he turned and raised his shirt again. On his lower back were flowers, all kinds of flowers, and the words TO PART IS TO DIE.
It was an exact replica of her own tattoo. He'd shown it to her once before, the first time he'd entered the dungeon, but seeing it again was still like being punched in the chest.
"I just want to make no sense of this," he added softly. He pivoted, facing her once again. "Don't help me. Please."
Seeing those tattoos didn't lessen her fury. No, seeing them increased it. He'd imagined her, but he'd still slept with all those other women. He'd still continued on with his life, not seeking out the source of those images.
"You think that makes everything better, you uncaring bastard? While you were down here whoring around, loving life, I was in Tartarus, a slave to the Greeks." One step, two, she eased around the table and approached him. Warrior that he was, he remained in place. "What they wanted me to do, I had to do. Whether I wanted to or not." Parading around naked for their enjoyment. Fighting with other prisoners while they bet on the winner. Scrubbing other people's filth on her hands and knees. "Yet you left me there. You never came for me. You promised you'd come for me!"
Seething, panting, she stabbed the fork into his chest and twisted with all her strength.
Surprisingly, he didn't try to stop her. Didn't try to defend himself. Rather, he stood there, his eyes narrowing. In his own fury? And if it was in fury, who was he pissed at? Her? Or the Greek gods who had forced her to do those vile things?
Didn't matter. This was just the beginning of his punishment.
"And do you know what else?" Her fingers clutched the fork so tightly, her knuckles screamed in protest. "After I came here and saw you with another woman, I gave myself to another man. Willingly this time. And then another." Lies, all lies. She'd tried. She'd wanted to hurt him that way, but she hadn't been able to follow through.
And oh, how she hated herself for that failure. More than wanting to hurt him, though, she'd needed someone to make her feel as he once had. Protected, loved, cherished. Like a treasure. That, too, had failed miserably. She'd walked away from both encounters feeling hollow and sad.
Gideon's shoulders slumped, and all that dark emotion seemed to drain from him. "I'm not sorry. I love that you felt the need to do such a thing. I don't want to kill the men you were with. Even though I remember everything about our time together. You still somehow do not affect me."
He was sorry, he loathed that she'd done such a thing and wanted to destroy the men. Pretty words. For him. But she was having none of it. He was far too late. With a snarl, she jerked the fork out of his chest, the prongs dripping crimson, then stabbed him anew and twisted. He grunted.
"Again," she snarled, "do you think that makes everything better? You think the fact that you've forgotten me makes your actions any less painful?" Shut up, shut up, shut up. She didn't want him to know how much he'd damaged her.
"I don't" He frowned. Then he reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew his phone. His gaze quickly scanned the screen, and when their eyes next met, there was smoldering rage in those electric depths. "We don't have visitors."
"Friends of yours?" She didn't ask how he knew. She could guess, loving modern technology as she did.
"Yeah. I adore Hunters."
She could have struck him again, quickly jabbing both of his eyes, leaving him to deal with the uninvited guests injured and blinded. But he was hers to hurt, not theirs.
"How many?" she demanded, removing the utensil and switching the focus of her rage. Wake up, Nightmares. Your skills might be needed.
The demon stretched and yawned inside her head.
"I know," Gideon said.
So he was as clueless as she on that score. "Which door did they enter?" she asked.
"Not the front."
She performed a quick inspection. There was a doorway that led out of the bedroom-slash-kitchenette into a vestibule. That vestibule branched into three hallways. No matter which direction the intruders came from, they'd have to enter it. Perfect.
You ready, baby? Because Mama was wrong. No maybe about it. You're needed.
A purr of anticipation rumbled through her. Gonna be fun.
I'll handle the final blow. Okay?
Greedy.
Yes. But then, she needed some outlet for the growing darkness inside her. And leave Gideon alone. I don't want him to see the things you show his enemies.
That earned her a growl. I would never hurt him.
It was a declaration she'd never thought to hear, even with the creature's reluctance to scare the warrior in his dreams. Had the circumstances been different, she would have demanded to know why. Not that it would have done her any good. Nightmares was as generous with answers as she was.
"Get on the bed," she commanded Gideon. "I've got this."
"Hell, yes," he said, unsheathing a sharp, gleaming knife and a small revolver from the waist of his pants. He'd been armed this entire time, yet he hadn't defended himself against her. "I relish the thought of you battling such sweethearts alone."
Macho men. They considered women a liability in situations like this. But this one would soon learn. She wasn't the same girl he'd known in prison. Or rather, the same girl he couldn't recall.
"They're here. I know they're here," someone whispered. A whisper, yes, but her ears registered every word as if the person were right beside her. A skill she'd developed in prison. A skill that had saved her life on countless occasions.
"If we take him the girl, they'll have to let us in," another said.
"And the guy?" Yet another.
"Dies."
As Nightmares laughed, more than ready to begin, Scarlet shoved Gideon back into his chair. He landed with a huff as she lowered her internal guard and unleashed her demon. Darkness exploded from her, thousands of terrified screams threading through the impenetrable thickness. Even Gideon, powerful immortal that he was, wouldn't be able to see through it. She, however, would have no trouble drinking in every sparkling detail.
"I'd cover your ears, if I were you," she suggested.
"Scar," he began, as close to her name as his demon would apparently let him get, a hint of anger in the undertone. And oh, was his expression stony. He hated this. But whatever he meant to say was cut off as Scarlet pressed a finger against his lips, a silent command for no talkie-talkie. The enemy would hear.
A moment passed. The stiffness never left him, but Gideon nodded. He was graciously bowing out of the fight and letting her handle things. His surrender was completely unexpected. Why hadn't he jumped to his feet and foolishly demanded to help her?
Ponder it later. Frowning, she turned to face the intruders. There were four of them, all male, and all holding weapons.
Only four? They must think themselves stronger than they actually were. Or consider her and Gideon weaker than they really were. Or perhaps this was just the beginning. Most likely others were posted throughout the hotel, watching, waiting for the right time to strike.
As the men entered the bedroom, they encountered the darkness and the screams and stumbled to a halt, trying to orient themselves and figure out what was going on. But it was too late for that. Nightmares wove around them, a swirling, dark dancer, as graceful as he was lethal, holding them in place, even floating to their ears and whispering their deepest fears.