The Darkest Kiss by Gena Showalter Page B

skin, infecting themselves with disease and weakening their forces, Torin would have died. Lucien had thought he’d taken the necessary precautions to prevent such an event, for he would rather his neck be sliced than one of the others. Yet his necessary precautions had failed.
    â€œAnd how is Aeron?”
    â€œWell.” Ashlyn faltered, sighed. She bit her lip. “He’s not so good.”
    â€œThe bloodlust is so great he’s taken to clawing himself,” Maddox said, his voice grave. “Nothing I say penetrates his dark thoughts.”
    Lucien massaged the back of his neck. “Are you two going to be all right on your own?”
    â€œYes.” Maddox wrapped his arm around Ashlyn’s waist. “Torin is able to monitor the grounds on his computers and now that my death-curse is broken,” he said, hugging his woman close, “I can leave at any time to defend us or procure items we might need.”
    Lucien nodded. “Good. I’ll let you know what we find.” He swiped up his bag and said over his shoulder, “Thank you for the flowers, Ashlyn.” Without another word, he flashed to the Cyclades Islands in Greece.
    Silver stone walls gave way to white stucco. The home he had already purchased and furnished was open and airy, with towering white columns and gauzy white material draping the windows.
    He dropped his bag and stepped to the nearest balcony, an airy terrace that looked out onto the clearest water he’d ever seen. Smooth, no waves. Not even a ripple. The sun glowed lovingly—it was already midday—and lush green bushes with bright red blooms framed the edges of the building.
    Perhaps he and the other warriors should have stayed in Athens or Crete to be closer to the ancient temple they meant to search, but there was more anonymity on the islands. Fewer tourists and even fewer locals.
    â€œThe fewer the better,” he muttered.
    He did not remember much of his time here, all those thousands of years ago, so he could not compare then with now. Those days had been dark, filled with screams and pain and acts so evil he didn’t want to remember them.
    I am a different man now.
    And yet, he felt as if he would soon commit his most evil act yet. Slaying Anya. Do not think about her death. Not now.
    What should he think about, then? he wondered, refocusing on the crystal water. Whether or not she would like the view? He rubbed his jaw with a sigh—and found that he was truly curious. Would she?
    Doesn’t matter. You can’t let it matter. He forced his attention to the left— do not think about Anya— and marveled at the newest sight: emerald mountains laced with white and violet. Surely this was the gods’ greatest creation.
    No, that would be Anya.
    His teeth gnashed together. What must he do to wipe her from his mind? He knew what he wanted to do. Strip her right here on the balcony and push her naked body against the iron railing, sunlight caressing her as he meant to do. He would touch her so exquisitely she wouldn’t care about his scarred face. He would make her climax, over and over again, shouting his name. Desperate for more of him. So desperate she would forget every other man she’d slept with and think only of Lucien. Crave only Lucien.
    The chances of that happening were as slim as those of Lucien’s face returning to its former glory. Not that he wanted it to. He’d earned every one of his scars. They were a part of him now, a permanent reminder that loving a woman equaled pain and suffering.
    He had never needed the reminder more.
    He could not put off thinking of Anya’s death, he decided. She would haunt him until he figured this out. Get it over with . How should he kill her? He didn’t want to hurt her, so it would have to be quick. When should he do it? At night, while she slept? His stomach churned with acid. What exactly would the Titans do if he failed? Like Aeron, would he