He did know one thing. She wasn’t human, as she’d told Strider. No mere human could frighten demons as she’d just done. And they were frightened of her. They’d hidden inside Amun, rather than try and escape him as they’d done from the first.
“So what the fuck is she?” he muttered.
SCOWLING, STRIDER BARRELED his way inside Amun’s chamber. How eager Haidee had been to reach the warrior, her sworn enemy. And now Strider saw her sprawled on the bed, curled into Amun’s side, tenderly smoothing his brow. As if she wanted to be there. As if she was glad to be there. Helping a Lord.
She thinks Amun’s her boyfriend, remember? Of course she was glad. Of course she was helping.
“Ex?” he growled with more force than he’d intended.
Her gunmetal gaze shifted and locked on him warily. “What?” There was nothing wary about her voice. That single word snapped at him with more force than even he had used.
Clearly, she wanted him to get out and leave her the hell alone.
His molars gnashed together, and he beat down the tide of jealousy that suddenly raged through him. Jealousy. Jealousy over a Hunter. A Hunter he’d always planned to kill. Why couldn’t he simply be happy that Amun now had a chance to pull through?
Because Haidee was going to make Amun miserable. And if the big guy fell in love with her, he just might abandon his friends to be with her. Which would get his ass killed for good. Ultimately, she would betray him.
I won’t let that happen. Ever.
Win, Defeat said, sensing the challenge.
I will. Strider raised both of his hands. In the left, he held a syringe. In the right, chains. They’d been waiting in the hallway, but she’d been too damn concerned for Amun to notice. “You didn’t honestly think you’d have free rein with him, did you?”
CHAPTER NINE
AMUN DRAGGED HIMSELF FROM the tangled web of his mind and forced his eyelids to open. First things he noticed: the taste of frosted apricots filled his mouth, there was a wonderful chill inside him, cooling the fires that had raged, and an earthy perfume wafted into his nose every time he inhaled.
Second thing: sunlight streamed through the window, the heavy curtains parted and the blinds slatted to welcome every single bright ray. His eyes teared and burned, but at least those tears washed away the hazy shield seeming to cloak the entire room, allowing him a clearer view.
Third thing: Strider reclined in a cushy chair he’d placed just in front of Amun’s bed, watching him with an intent, almost forbidding expression.
Strider’s mind was blank, and purposely so. The warrior knew Amun could read every single one of his thoughts. Everyone here knew it. Which was why, when they wanted privacy—because Amun simply couldn’t stop the flow of their innermost secrets, no matter how much he wanted to—they had to wrap themselves in darkness and silence.
“How do you feel?” Strider asked, his timbre scratchy and rough.
Even though the new demons were rattling against his skull, Amun had no trouble understanding. He tried to raise his hands to sign his reply. Like shit, for the most part. The apricots, the chill, both overshadowed the worst of his pain. Only, his arms refused to obey the mental command. Why? His head turned to the left, gaze sliding to his wrist. Scabbed skin, dried blood. Fingers swollen, nails ruined.
Suddenly memories flooded him, Secrets stretching to wakefulness inside his mind, enjoying the unveiling of what his inner defenses would have liked to keep hidden.
Hell. Those other demons. The dark flashes, the vile urges. Haidee. The knowledge that he should kill her, the inability to do so. A taste of heaven, her body writhing against his, her hands all over him, her sweet cries in his ears. Strider. Battle, blood. Hating himself for hurting his friend and shielding a Hunter. Failing to reach the girl when she needed him. The return of the demons, the dark flashes and vile urges. No Haidee. No heaven.
Grim expectation mixed with white-hot rage and bone-numbing fear, all filling him as he jerked himself upright. The bedroom spun, a sharp lance of pain tearing through his temples. He didn’t care, remained upright. Where was she? Dead? The thought left him sick to his stomach.
No. No, he assured himself desperately, and he felt Secrets’s agreement. She couldn’t be. That earthy perfume belonged to her, as raw and basic as his need for her. He had to find her. Had to make sure she was okay, that no one had hurt her.
Even though you meant to kill her yourself?
He ignored the simple, rational question and experimented with his range of motion, lifting one leg and rotating his ankle. He grimaced, then repeated the process with the other leg. He grimaced again. Both legs fell back onto the mattress with a hard thump. The bones had woven back together, but they were still fractured.
“Whoa.” Strider pushed to his feet, the chair skidding behind him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Lie down. You’re still recovering.”
Amun hardly ever despised his inability to speak. Silence was his choice, his way of righting the wrongs he’d committed all those centuries ago, of helping the innocents so much like the ones he’d once slaughtered. Not to mention his friends. They had enough to worry about. But just then, he wanted to shout—the girl, where the hell is the girl—uncaring that the moment he did, all the secrets inside him would spill out, hurting everyone who heard them. Not physically but mentally, and that was a far worse pain to bear. He knew that very well.
Not even the warriors he lived with would be able to tolerate knowing when other men desired their women. Nor would they be able to tolerate the disgusting things their enemies had planned for their loved ones. Friendships would be destroyed, jealousy a constant companion, and paranoia would follow their every step.
Amun could deal because he’d spent thousands of years learning to distance himself from the visions and voices in his head, blocking emotions before they could even form. Not this newest onslaught, of course. He’d never experienced anything like this and had no idea how to cope. Had no idea how he was lucid now, the new demons cowering in the back of his mind. Unless…
Haidee.
Her name whispered through his mind, a plea, a prayer, his demon sensing the truth, even as Amun struggled to accept it. Was she responsible? The first time, as well as now?
The first time he’d tasted frosted apricots, he’d come to his senses. Now he tasted apricots again, and his senses once again returned. Couldn’t be a coincidence. His desperation to find her intensified.
He threw his legs over the side of the mattress, hinges squeaking. Every muscle he possessed knotted and ached, clamping tightly on those fractured bones.
“Amun, damn it. You’ve been bed-bound for days, recovering from your wounds and our little experiments. Stop before you—”
Agitation somehow making his motions fluid, he twisted to face his friend, lips pulled over his teeth. Most of what Strider had said confused him, but he left it alone. Finally forcing his hands to work, he jerkily signed, I’m sorry I hurt you. Sorry I challenged you before. But I have to find her. Where is she? If they’d hurt her, he didn’t know what the hell he’d do. Didn’t know how she affected him like this. Didn’t know why he cared what was done to her, whether she was responsible for his recovery or not.
Secrets whispered, She is fine, and despite the low volume, the High Lord still managed to be the loudest voice in his head. At the same time, Strider sat back down and said, “She’s there.” His tone was hard and unbending as he motioned to the left with a tilt of his chin.