I’ll find a way. I swear to the gods I’ll find a way.
The vow was the last thing she heard from him. The darkness thickened until she could see the slick texture of it, the evil that oozed from it. Like black oil, coating her…destroying her.
Demons, she realized with a moan. The demons—his demons—were now a part of her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
WHAT THE HELL HAD HE done to her?
Amun was in a panic. Physically, he had never felt better; he was clearheaded, sated, both energized and relaxed. Cold, yes. He was far colder than he’d ever been. Rather than destroy him, as the cold had done to the congo, he was strengthened. And yet, his woman now suffered unbearably. Her beautiful skin was flushed a bright red, but not from pleasure. She was racked with pain, her body curled into itself, her fingers actually gnarling as she screamed, over and over again.
He’d promised to help her, but he didn’t know how, had no medicine, could only ask for—the backpack, he thought suddenly. Some of his panic eased as his gaze landed on the angel’s gift. Of course. So simple. Please be simple. The backpack had given him back his hands. Now it would give Haidee back her life.
Amun grabbed the pack, his grip so tight he feared he would rip the material. Give me something to help her, something to save her. Though urgency bombarded him, he waited one second, two.
Trembling now, he reached inside and found—nothing. Help me help her, he demanded. Again, nothing appeared inside. Cursing, Amun upended and shook the material, but still he found nothing. The bag remained empty.
That didn’t mean…couldn’t mean… No. No! He refused to believe Haidee was beyond saving. She would survive this, whatever “this” was. She had to; he needed her. Had never needed a person more.
He didn’t care that she would be reanimated if she…if she…he couldn’t even think the word. She hated when that happened, hated the pain that followed. Hated her loss of memories.
She would survive, he thought again. She was the missing piece of his soul, a necessary part of his soul. How he’d ever lived without her, he didn’t know. But he did know that he loved her. Loved her strength, her courage, her wit and the tender way she cared for him, so at odds with the sexy, tough-girl look of her. He loved the way she gave herself to him, her body his to do with as he pleased, inhibitions vanquished.
He had only to kiss her, and she became a live wire in his arms. No other woman had ever responded to him like that. She truly reveled in his touch and wasn’t ashamed to beg for more. She made him forget they were on a mission, made him forget that anyone or thing existed beyond the two of them.
And she had chosen him. She’d known the consequences of cutting ties with the Hunters, of becoming Amun’s woman—he’d made sure of it—but she had chosen to be with him anyway.
He wasn’t giving her up. Once, he’d thought he could. Once, he’d thought their time together would end the moment they left this realm. Wrong. He was keeping her. Now, always. Just as he’d told her.
Hot, she whimpered. Hot. Tears trickled from her closed eyelids, catching in her lashes before running down her cheeks.
She was talking inside his mind. He’d thought he’d heard her earlier, had convinced himself he was mistaken, but now there was no denying the truth. The connection was complete. The barrier that had kept her out of his head, whatever it was, had clearly been shattered. Probably because he had utterly lowered his guard the moment he’d penetrated her.
He had been defenseless against her, vulnerable, and hadn’t cared. He had welcomed her, every part of her, inside and out. He had craved an unbreakable connection, no matter the consequences, wanting no secrets between them. The good, the bad, he’d wanted to share all of it. With her and no other. Just as she had said. All, everything.
He had to save her.
Amun eased beside her and gently, so gently, lifted her in his arms. He sat with his back propped against a rocky wall and settled her on his lap. At first, she struggled against his hold, every motion probably torturing her. Then the new coolness of his skin seeped past the new burn of hers. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, moaned and cuddled against him.
So evil, she whimpered.
He traced his fingertips over her brow, trying to ease the fever there. What’s evil, sweetheart? The demons.
Demons? Amun stilled, not even daring to breathe. He’d felt her tugging on them, felt them resisting her, but his pleasure, the cold, he’d lost track of everything else. They’re…inside you?
Yes. Another whimper.
Mine?
I think so.
How could that be? He closed his eyes, searched his mind—and found no evidence of the vile essence that had nearly destroyed him before Haidee had entered his life. There were no disgusting urges waiting to pounce, no creatures writhing deep in his cognizance, no painful memories desperate to spring to the surface.
He should have been happy, but he was infuriated. With himself. He would rather deal with the evil himself than subject Haidee to a single moment of this. Damn it. He had to help her. Another thought struck him, and he flinched.
If Secrets had left him, too, Amun would die. For the moment Secrets had possessed him, they’d become two halves of a whole. One could not survive without the other. Not really.
Secrets, he found himself rushing out.
His voice must have nudged the creature. Secrets sighed with relief. Relief and joy. Once again, it was just the two of them. And though Haidee’s chill—Amun’s chill now—cloaked them, there was no more fear. They’d faced the storm and survived. Hell, they’d thrived.
How had Haidee taken the other demons but not Secrets?
He didn’t know, but he could find out. And perhaps, in doing so, he could save her. Determination replaced every other emotion inside him. You’re going to find the answer, all the answers, and you’re going to help her.
Information was the demon’s crack. Eagerly Secrets forced his way into Haidee’s mind. Actually, “forced” was too strong a word. The demon glided on in, as if the welcome mat had been placed at the front door, the windows left open. Even more astonishing, there were no barriers. The floodgate had opened. Whatever the demon wanted to glean, he gleaned.
Amun swam through the churning, never-ending sea of memories, searching for what he needed and discarding what he didn’t. He discarded most, in fact, but at long last, his efforts were rewarded. The story of Haidee’s life unfolded as if he were turning pages in a book.
After the Lords of the Underworld were kicked out of the heavens and tossed to earth, Themis, the Greek goddess of Justice, decided to balance the scales. The world had been given demons, and so, to her, the world required demon executioners. Executioners she could control, as the angels—demon-slayers in their own right—refused to do her bidding. Unable to simply create beings from air as Zeus, the god king, Themis was forced to find another way.
When she heard the prayers of Haidee’s parents, the answer came to her. The couple was childless, barren and desperate, and in their desperation, they agreed to the bargain Themis proposed. The goddess would bless the mother’s womb, and that womb would bear fruit. The couple would raise that child for ten years, and at the end of that tenth year, they would give her to the person of Themis’s choosing, so that she might be trained. They weren’t to worry, though, for the goddess would bless them with other children. Children they would be allowed to keep.