The Darkest Kiss by Gena Showalter Page A

conversations between him and the other immortals, which had to irk her when she desired answers they wouldn’t give.
    â€œWord has already spread about you and a woman at the club,” she said, blinking innocently. “Who is she?”
    â€œShe is no one.” Except the new center of his world. Anya, beautiful Anya. His hands curled tightly at his sides. Even her name excited him, caused his blood to simmer deliciously and his body to ready for sex. She’s not for you. “Warriors should not gossip.”
    He and Anya probably looked silly together. Her, the epitome of lush femininity. Him, an ugly beast of a man. Still, he could not stop himself from imagining his hand fisted in her hair, his body pounding in and out of hers. Hard, fast. Slow, tender.
    Pretty, Death suddenly growled.
    Lucien blinked in surprise. Usually the demon remained a compulsion rather than a voice; always a part of him, yet always distanced. Why it would speak up now, he didn’t know. Still, he found himself replying. Yes, she is. Four times he had seen her. Four times he had spoken to her. For these past few weeks, he had scented her. Already she was ingrained in his cells—his thoughts, his desires, his purpose—more than anyone else, even his beloved Mariah, had ever been.
    Want her. Death again.
    Yes.
    Tastes good. Have her before we kill her.
    No! Even as he shouted the word inside his head, he felt the demon tugging at him, trying to force him to find Anya.
    He planted his feet into the ground. Not yet.
    â€œLucien,” Ashlyn prompted, drawing his attention back to her. The pressure inside of him eased. “I’m not a warrior, so I can gossip. You kissed her. Everyone said they saw you—”
    â€œI am fine, and the woman is of no concern,” he lied. Gods, another. Usually he abhorred lies. He reached out to tweak Ashlyn’s nose, heard Maddox growl and dropped his arm. Maddox did not like for anyone else to touch his female. Ever. And for the first time, Lucien understood that. He despised the thought of other men touching Anya.
    Idiot. The woman manipulated with a smile on her perfect face, and he was willing to bet that, like her mother, she had been intimate with legions. Whether she’d used those lovers for pleasure or power, he didn’t know. Shouldn’t care.
    What if she were seducing another right now, trying to secure protection from Lucien?
    A roar shoved from his throat and he found himself twisting, moving to confront the wall again, punching, punching, his knuckles throbbing insistently. From the corner of his eye, he saw Maddox whip Ashlyn behind his back.
    What are you doing? Anya can well take care of herself. She doesn’t need a man to protect her.
    Perhaps she was alone on the beach, as needy and confused as he was. The thought softened the edges of his anger, even as it made his body incredibly hard. But as much as he wished to believe it, he knew a woman like her would not crave a scarred man like him. Not truly. No matter how hot her kisses. How many had turned away from him over the centuries? How many had cringed when he neared?
    Countless.
    And that had been—was—just the way he liked it.
    Deep breath in, deep breath out. “How is Torin?” he asked, changing the subject as he stalked to the bed. “I do not like how slowly he is healing.”
    Ashlyn shoved Maddox aside, and the big warrior scowled, but let her. “I think I figured out why he hasn’t bounced back as quickly as the rest of you do. He’s Disease, right? Well, I think his cells are affected by that sickness. They have to fight the virus as well as the wound. Anyway, he is healing. He’s eating on his own now.”
    â€œGood. That’s good.” Lucien still felt guilty about the attack Torin had endured. He should have been here. Should have sensed Torin’s pain.
    If the Hunters who had sneaked inside hadn’t touched Torin’s