hate you, Danika had said.
I know, he’d told her, and he’d meant it. He’d once held her and her loved ones prisoner. He’d helped bring her to theHunters’ attention. She had every reason to despise him. But now, he wanted to give her something good. Something she could smile about in the years to come. Even if it was only a simple meal.
Up the stairs he climbed, and still, he did not spill a drop. Most likely, she was still sleeping. He hated the thought of waking her, but knew it was for the best. The paleness of her skin and the shadows under her eyes concerned him. She needed sustenance.
While she’s here, I’ll see to her every need. She’ll want for nothing.
He sailed into the bedroom, but stopped abruptly when he reached the edge of the bed. His mouth dried and the haze of red returned to coat his vision. The black sheets were rumpled. Empty.
Danika was gone.
CHAPTER SIX
A ERON CROUCHED in his underground prison, fury flowing through his veins. Fury with himself, the gods, his demon. Reyes. He should have killed me. Too late now. I want to live. I want to taste the death of those women.
Darkness would have enveloped him completely, but he’d long since given over to his demon. His eyes glowed bright red, throwing crimson beams wherever he looked. Mud and rock surrounded him. He was buried so deep in the earth he could hear the screams of the damned, could smell the sulfur and rotting flesh wafting from hell’s gates. He’d thought Lucien was the only warrior with access to the hereafter, but apparently Reyes had it, as well.
Wrath, his demonic companion, foamed at the mouth and chomped at the edges of Aeron’s mind, desperate to escape this hated place. To act.
Too close to home, the demon shouted. Won’t go back.
“No, you won’t go back.”
Aeron couldn’t survive without his demon; they were now one being, two halves of a whole, incomplete without the other. No longer was Aeron ready to die. Craving his own demise had been a momentary burst of madness, surely. Now he knew, now he accepted. He couldn’t allow himself to be killed until the blood of those four women stained his hands, coated his arms and filled his mouth.
Mallory, Tinka, Ginger and Danika.
He smiled, practically tasting their deaths already. Cut their throats, Cronus, the king of gods, had commanded him. Do not leave their sides until their hearts stop and their lungs still. Aeron thought he might have resisted at first—innocent, they were innocent—but he could not be certain. Allowing those women to live seemed…abhorrent.
“Soon,” he promised himself. He trembled with anticipation.
He’d killed recently. He knew it, deep in his bones, but his memory was hazy. All his mind would provide was the image of an old woman splayed on the cold ground, blood crusted on her temples. There were tears in her eyes and cuts on her right arm.
“Don’t hurt me,” she begged. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
In one hand, Aeron clutched a dagger. His other hand was pure claw, sharp and lethal. He lunged forward—
And then, as always, the vision faded completely. What had happened after that? What had he done? He wasn’t sure. His only certainty was that he would not have backed away from the kill. He would not have left her alive.
Want out. Want up! Want to stretch wings and fly.
“I know.” Aeron jerked at his chains. They rattled and cut his already scabbed wrists, but they didn’t budge. He bared his teeth in a scowl. Fucking Reyes.
Fucking Pain.
Aeron could not recall how Reyes had defeated him and carted him here, only that he had. A tortured “Forgive me” still rang in Aeron’s ears.
They were the same words Aeron used to mutter as he stood on the outskirts of Budapest, watching the humans, amazed that they blithely went about their days unconcerned about their inherent weaknesses and the knowledge that they would soon die. Some by his hand.
Aeron had sometimes erupted into blood-rages, Wrath judging
I know, he’d told her, and he’d meant it. He’d once held her and her loved ones prisoner. He’d helped bring her to theHunters’ attention. She had every reason to despise him. But now, he wanted to give her something good. Something she could smile about in the years to come. Even if it was only a simple meal.
Up the stairs he climbed, and still, he did not spill a drop. Most likely, she was still sleeping. He hated the thought of waking her, but knew it was for the best. The paleness of her skin and the shadows under her eyes concerned him. She needed sustenance.
While she’s here, I’ll see to her every need. She’ll want for nothing.
He sailed into the bedroom, but stopped abruptly when he reached the edge of the bed. His mouth dried and the haze of red returned to coat his vision. The black sheets were rumpled. Empty.
Danika was gone.
CHAPTER SIX
A ERON CROUCHED in his underground prison, fury flowing through his veins. Fury with himself, the gods, his demon. Reyes. He should have killed me. Too late now. I want to live. I want to taste the death of those women.
Darkness would have enveloped him completely, but he’d long since given over to his demon. His eyes glowed bright red, throwing crimson beams wherever he looked. Mud and rock surrounded him. He was buried so deep in the earth he could hear the screams of the damned, could smell the sulfur and rotting flesh wafting from hell’s gates. He’d thought Lucien was the only warrior with access to the hereafter, but apparently Reyes had it, as well.
Wrath, his demonic companion, foamed at the mouth and chomped at the edges of Aeron’s mind, desperate to escape this hated place. To act.
Too close to home, the demon shouted. Won’t go back.
“No, you won’t go back.”
Aeron couldn’t survive without his demon; they were now one being, two halves of a whole, incomplete without the other. No longer was Aeron ready to die. Craving his own demise had been a momentary burst of madness, surely. Now he knew, now he accepted. He couldn’t allow himself to be killed until the blood of those four women stained his hands, coated his arms and filled his mouth.
Mallory, Tinka, Ginger and Danika.
He smiled, practically tasting their deaths already. Cut their throats, Cronus, the king of gods, had commanded him. Do not leave their sides until their hearts stop and their lungs still. Aeron thought he might have resisted at first—innocent, they were innocent—but he could not be certain. Allowing those women to live seemed…abhorrent.
“Soon,” he promised himself. He trembled with anticipation.
He’d killed recently. He knew it, deep in his bones, but his memory was hazy. All his mind would provide was the image of an old woman splayed on the cold ground, blood crusted on her temples. There were tears in her eyes and cuts on her right arm.
“Don’t hurt me,” she begged. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
In one hand, Aeron clutched a dagger. His other hand was pure claw, sharp and lethal. He lunged forward—
And then, as always, the vision faded completely. What had happened after that? What had he done? He wasn’t sure. His only certainty was that he would not have backed away from the kill. He would not have left her alive.
Want out. Want up! Want to stretch wings and fly.
“I know.” Aeron jerked at his chains. They rattled and cut his already scabbed wrists, but they didn’t budge. He bared his teeth in a scowl. Fucking Reyes.
Fucking Pain.
Aeron could not recall how Reyes had defeated him and carted him here, only that he had. A tortured “Forgive me” still rang in Aeron’s ears.
They were the same words Aeron used to mutter as he stood on the outskirts of Budapest, watching the humans, amazed that they blithely went about their days unconcerned about their inherent weaknesses and the knowledge that they would soon die. Some by his hand.
Aeron had sometimes erupted into blood-rages, Wrath judging
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