The Darkest Touch

  He owes me, after all. Hadn't he made her sad? Wasn't he obligated to make her happy? Only way to completely clear his ledger.

  "I know I'm not overselling this when I say you're about to have the best dining experience of your life." Approaching Torin, she held up a stone plate piled high with goodies. "You're welcome."

  He grimaced as he looked over her offering. "Twigs. Leaves. Mushrooms. Bugs? Pass."

  "I'll take that as a yes, please, and thank you."

  "Take it as a no."

  "A soft no? Like absomaybe?"

  "A hard no. Like absolutely not."

  "So...I should save some for later?"

  "Save some for never."

  "But..." I foraged for you. "Never mind." She shrugged to mask her upset, and popped a mushroom into her mouth. "Your loss."

  "My win."

  "Someone's clearly in the mood to argue," she said.

  "What can I say? You bring out the worst in me."

  A sudden, light mist began to fall over them. "Are you proud of yourself?" she asked softly. "I'm five seconds away from killing myself and then killing you."

  Torin looked around, sighed. "Did you know that fifty-one percent of all statistics are useless?"

  "Uh...no?"

  "Yep, and seven-fifths of people do not understand fractions."

  "That's...bad?"

  The mist stopped, and Torin said, "I'm taking that bath." He grabbed his shirt by the collar and yanked.

  A protest died before it ever left her lips. Looking away proved impossible. Drugging warmth swirled in her mind, making her light-headed before racing through the rest of her.

  He stilled with his hands on the waist of his pants. He met her gaze and arched a brow. "Turn around."

  "Why? Are you shy?"

  "Maybe I think there's no reason to tempt a starving woman with what she'll never have."

  A stinging reminder of his resistance, meant to discourage her. Well, she would let him think he'd succeeded. For now. Every victory came with a kickass plan. It was time she created one.

  "I'm going to pass on your offer to cook," she said, turning away.

  The rustle of clothing pricked her ears. "I don't recommend you do that. I'm starved, and as you've probably noticed," he added darkly, "I get cranky when I'm starved."

  "Do you really want to feed on the offspring of a fallen angel?"

  "Excuse me?"

  As water splashed, she swung back around. He was submerged to his shoulders. "How old are you?" An older immortal would have recognized the beast he'd slain.

  "Old enough to know better. Old enough that I can only use one pickup line appropriately--hey baby, you better call life alert because I just fell for you and can't get up."

  Pickup line...pickup line...she racked her brain until she found an explanation and brightened. "Mine would be--roses are red, violets are blue, if you don't do what I say I will kill you."

  He blinked over at her for a long while, looking ready to burst into laughter--or curse.

  "Seriously," she said. "How old?"

  "I'll say at least three thousand and leave it at that."

  "So...basically you're a fetus." No wonder he was too embarrassed to tell her.

  When he merely picked up the bar of soap, she pushed him from her mind, spending the next half hour disposing of the Nephilim, not wanting the stink of his rotting corpse to draw the notice of his friends. And he had friends. They always ran in packs. Evil was a parasite, dependent on others for survival.

  Which was exactly how the world saw Curators, she thought with a sigh. Was that how Torin saw her?

  Yeah. Probably. His attitude about the bond...

  Bonding to him was possible. It was always possible. She'd have to be more careful than ever, especially with the new direction of their relationship.

  "How do we get out of this realm?" Torin asked.

  "Wouldn't you like to know," she snapped, irritated with him.

  "Um, yes. That's kind of why I asked."

  Calm. Steady. He's done nothing wrong--at the moment.

  She couldn't resist another peek at him. He'd already pulled on a clean pair of pants, but they hung low on his waist, revealing a dark goody trail, a match to his eyebrows. So beautiful.

  "It's simple," she said. "We find the key and unlock the door."

  "What if I already have a key? Where's the door?"

  A key, he'd said. Not the key. Interesting choice. What was his game? "It's at the edge of the realm. About three days from here. Or I can flash you there. Won't take but a second. All you need to do is cut out your brimstone scars."

  He smiled at her, irritating her all over again. "Thanks, but I'd rather walk."

  She shrugged as if it were no big deal. Meanwhile, it was a big freaking deal! "More time for us to spend together, then."

  He pulled on a shirt, saying dryly, "Yay me."

  A flash of anger, a boom of thunder. "I'm sensing you don't realize how lucky you are. How privileged. People have paid me fortunes to stay by their side during war."

  "Except that I'm your opponent."

  "I thought not, but I could certainly be convinced to change my mind again."

  As he opened his mouth to reply, the three prisoners he'd worked with to subdue her suddenly charged the campsite. Instinctively she summoned a great gust of wind to knock them backward, but they must have given themselves brimstone scars to block her powers, because they stepped right on through it, closing in on her and Torin--who had swiped up a dagger and stepped in front of her, prepared to guard her.

  Some of her anger with him drained.

  Before the trio could reach him, she flashed hundreds of branches into their path as she'd once done to Torin, but this time, she added trees. So many the warriors couldn't find their way through. But they tried, diligently, violently, more determined to reach her than she'd realized.

  "How would you like this to end?" she asked Torin. "I'm open to suggestions."

  "Let's make our way to the door."

  "I can hold them off with trees even when I leave the camp, but the immortals are sure to break free soon enough and follow us."

  "If all goes the way I'd like, we'll be in the next realm before they catch up."

  "We'll have to hurry. The scars--"

  "Are staying."

  "Very well." But when I finally get you into my bed, Charming, those scars will be the first thing to go, whether you agree or not....

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE NEXT FEW days proved to be the hardest of Torin's life. Literally.

  Keeley was temptation wrapped in desire, dipped in ecstasy and rolled in satisfaction, and there was no doubt in his mind she'd been designed simply to torture him.

  The way she walked and talked--living sex. The way she smelled--edible. The things she radiated--pheromones and crack, surely. Her incomparable strength. Her sense of humor, a little warped. A perfect match to his. The way she thought. He wasn't ever sure what went on inside that beautiful head of hers, and the mystery intrigued him. The things she said sometimes baffled him, sometimes amused him, sometimes even angered him, but never ever bored him.

  Her loyalty to her friend might just surpass his. The little sounds she made when she enjoyed what she was eating--an audible caress. Not that she ever ate much, which he didn't understand, but she'd shut him down any time he'd asked her about it.

  She was nothing like he'd first assumed. Not cruel, not insane...not really. Well, not to him. She was...perfect.

  He was consumed by a need to protect her, even from herself. He wanted to be near her, just in case she needed him, to soothe the worst of her emotions before the world around them had time to react. The storms when she became angry. The snow when she grew sad. The glow of the sun when she was happy. A very rare occurrence.

  He alone seemed capable of rousing each of her emotions, as if he held her heart in the palm of his hand and turned it however he willed. And that, right there, was another reason he craved he
r. Because he affected her--and he liked it.

  As they'd traipsed through the realm, he tried focusing on his hobbies. Anything to get his mind off desires he had no business entertaining. He carved an entire set of gnome-shaped chess pieces. He folded a thousand leaves into flowers.

  Keeley stole them.

  Something else he liked about her. She took what she wanted.

  "It's raining," she said from behind him.

  "I noticed." The pounding storm had nothing to do with her emotions. It had started yesterday morning and hadn't let up even once. The puddles of water--lakes, really--now reached his ankles.

  But even the constant cold shower failed to help his situation. He ached. He craved. And he wasn't sure he could go another hour let alone another minute without putting his hands on Keeley. He'd wear gloves, wouldn't let his skin brush against hers. He would cup her breasts lightly, and play between her legs gently, and that would be enough.

  It would have to be enough.

  But it wouldn't be, would it?

  Icy water trickled between his shoulder blades as he hacked through a thick wall of foliage with more force than necessary, clearing a path. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she hadn't lagged--again.

  She had stopped to check her cuticles--again.

  He should have been annoyed. She needed a good toweling, not a manicure. He was just glad she hadn't taken off on her own. With the Terrible Trio scarred with brimstone and on the loose, she needed a strong, strapping warrior to guard her.

  It was an excuse. He knew that. Keeley had more than proved she could defend herself against anyone, anytime. But the hard truth of the matter was this: she couldn't actually take care of herself. She never ate unless prompted. She only slept when she was sick. She often slipped inside her own head, the rest of the world forgotten.

  What did she think about in those moments?

  Hades?

  Want to rip off his balls and stuff them down his throat.

  "Keeley," Torin snapped. "Walk."

  She pursed her lips as she flounced past him. "Grumpy much?"

  Damn. The sway of her hips... Was his tongue hanging out?

  Gotta be a man, not a besotted puppy.

  He'd never acted this way before and decided there could be only one reason he would do so now. Gritting his teeth, he demanded, "Did you bond with me?"

  She flicked an irritated glance over her shoulder, water falling down her cheeks like tears. "As one of the smartest people on the planet, I can happily say no."

  "Good," he replied as he took the lead. That was not disappointment he was feeling.

  Snowflakes began to descend, blending into the rain, floating around him.

  He'd hurt her feelings, he realized.

  Great! He had to deal with guilt on top of everything else. Time to distract them both. "Have you noticed the forest creatures have stayed away from us?"

  "Word of my exploits has clearly spread."

  As good an explanation as any. "Do you think they wonder why we kill people who kill people for killing people?"

  "Probably not. I mean, if the creatures here have only half a brain, they're actually gifted."

  He snorted, and then she chuckled, and then they were both laughing outright. The snow stopped, proving he'd done what he'd intended.

  He hacked a new wall of foliage to shreds, the tree limbs stretching toward him, ravenous leaves snapping. "After you."

  "My hero-villain," Keeley said, moving past him. "Does your mother know you're such a gentleman half of the time?"

  An ache in his chest. "I don't have a mother."

  "What?" She rounded on him. There was no pity in her eyes, only curiosity. "You've never had anyone tuck you in at night, either?"

  Either? "I came into this world fully formed. What of you?"

  "The old-fashioned way, though I don't enjoy thinking of my emotionless mother and greedy father getting frisky"

  Emotionless and greedy. He didn't enjoy the thought of little Kee Kee subjected to such things. The Sugar Plum Fairy should have been pampered.

  He reached up to smooth away the wet hair clinging to her cheek but ended up fisting his hand and dropping his arm. Can't forget. Not for a moment. But it was becoming harder and harder to catch himself.

  "They were cruel to you?" he asked, walking around her and taking the lead.

  "During the best times, yes." She stepped up to his side, keeping pace. "During the worst, they paid me no heed at all. Which is probably why I ensured there were as many 'best' times as possible."

  Breaking my heart. A daughter so neglected she would rather be punished than ignored. "I'm sorry."

  A faux-casual shrug as she said, "The past shaped me into who I am. How can I regret it?"

  Not one for pity. Got it. But he wanted to know more about her. Wanted to know everything about her.

  Because...shouldn't admit it...can't help myself...he was in total like with her. Stupidly, foolishly, but there it was. There was no question he liked her looks--his constant erection was proof of that. But more important, he liked her. Who she was, even what she was.

  Never had a relationship been more doomed.

  "I've heard Curators were created before humans," he said. "True or false?"

  "True. The earth was ours. But as you know, the fallen angels challenged the Most High, lost and came here. The Curators who bonded to them lost their light and it wasn't long before most of the earth was infected."

  Most of, she'd said. "Not all?"

  "There was a walled-off section, a garden, where the humans were created. But the leader of the fallen angels later found a way in there, too."

  Lucifer? "These lights," he said. "I've heard talk of them, but I'm not sure I understand them."

  "Imagine Curators are lightbulbs. We literally glow. It's an outward sign of the conscience we possess within."

  "And without the light?"

  "Absolute darkness. No conscience."

  "How have you kept your light all these centuries?"

  "What makes you think I haven't lost it? I mean, you can't see it. It's hidden inside my body."

  "I thought you had. At first. Now?" Simplest explanation? "I'm still alive."

  Minutes ticked by without a response from her. "The truth is," she finally said, "I did almost lose it. For a while, bitterness was my best friend and suffocating dark closed in. Then Mari showed up and chased it away. I could breathe again, could think clearly, and realized I would have endured a thousand imprisonments simply to meet her."

  And I took her away.

  He thought he'd come to grips with that. But could anyone ever really come to grips after destroying someone's only source of joy?

  "Where will this doorway lead us?" he croaked.

  "To the next realm."

  "Which is?"

  "Someplace different than this one."

  Such a fount of information. "I want to go home."

  "No problem." She blinked at him, all innocence. "Cut out the scars and I'll flash you there."

  He was tempted. Extracting a pound of flesh no longer seemed to be her objective. But if she were to turn on him, the scars would be his only weapon against her. A warrior never surrendered his weapons.

  "I want to go home without cutting out the scars."

  She expelled a breath. "Well, then, I've got good news and bad news."

  "Start with the good news."

  "Bad news," she said, and he rolled his eyes. "Flashing is the only way to skip through realms. Well, that, and opening portals. But I can't flash you, and I can't open a portal without the necessary tools. That means we'll have to travel from realm to realm until we reach your home, and it could take years." She marched in front of him and held out her hand, stopping him. "But the good news is, we've finally reached the doorway."

  No way in hell. They stood at the edge of a cliff, a sea of nothingness stretching for miles ahead.

  "Let me guess," he said dryly. "We're supposed to jump, an
d you'd like me to go first."

  She rolled her eyes. "Always thinking the worst of people is a disease, you know. Courtesy of your demon?"

  "Courtesy of me."

  "Well, I suppose it'll take someone nicer than me to cure you of it."

  "You're nice."

  Please. "Flattery is just another form of lying and will get you a dagger in the gut." How nice was that?

  "A mean person wouldn't have warned me. A mean person would have simply struck."

  Clearly fighting a smile, she pivoted and stretched out her hand. Crackles of electricity shot from the tips of her fingers and hovered in the air, growing wider, longer, creating cracks in the atmosphere, each pulsing with a vibrant array of colors.

  A single burst of bright light expanded through the colors like a bullet, causing them to widen...before being sucked back inside, leaving--

  A doorway!

  While he could still see the black nothingness around its edges and the accompanying rain, he could see a new world in the door's center. One without rain.

  "Your key," Keeley said, motioning to the doorway.

  Though he didn't like the idea of using the All-key in front of another person, considering the number of people who had tried to kill Cronus to possess it, he strode forward. Seeing no knob and not knowing what else to do, he flattened his palm against the center of the door. It was solid to the touch...at first. Soon the grain beneath his hand began to shimmer, waves rippling from top to bottom. Then, as easily as that, the block vanished and there was only air between him and the next realm.

  "So. You have the All-key," she said. "Taken from Cronus just before he died, I'm guessing. No wonder you were able to escape the prison."

  No comment. No reason to promote a conversation that would invariably lead to Mari. "What's next?"

  "This might seem a little wild, but...walk through."

  Smart-ass. He entered the dry land and nearly howled with relief.

  Keeley remained close to his heels. Too close for comfort.

  He looked around, seeing another forest, this one straight out of a nightmare. The trees were black from trunk to tip, with twisted vines slithering along the branches like snakes. Small fire pits blazed in every direction. Smoke billowed, thickening the air.

  "Welcome to the Realm of Lost and Found," Keeley said, holding out her arms to encompass the ruined landscape.