Galen had somehow found the unfindable. The lost demon of Distrust, crazed and worked into a frenzy. He’d then trapped Distrust inside a room and convinced the beast to possess someone else. A female, a Hunter.
Though they’d made inquiries, they’d never learned anything more about the girl. Not her location, not her condition.
“Attitude.” Sabin tsked under his tongue. “Anyway, Cronus has decided he wants her. He’s got Amun looking into it.”
Ah. So that’s why Amun had been summoned. Rhea be damned, he supposed. But if Sabin knew this, that meant Haidee had known. Which meant she hadn’t wanted to share the information with Strider. A little punishment, he was sure, and he couldn’t blame her.
“What does the girl have to do with us kicking some Hunter ass now?” he asked.
“The Hunters will be scrambling to keep her hidden and too busy to attack us.”
“So you hope. But again, if that’s the case, there’s no better time to strike.”
“If we can find them. Without Amun, we have to rely on our lame-ass detective skills.”
Hardly. “We’ve got Ashlyn.” Maddox, the keeper of Violence, had married a woman with the ability to stand in one location and listen to all the conversations that had ever taken place there. No one could hide from her.
“Haven’t you heard? She’s currently bedbound. The twins she’s carrying had a sudden growth spurt. She’s so big, she needs help getting to the bathroom. Maddox thinks she’ll deliver soon.”
Poor bastard was probably going crazy with worry. Ashlyn was (mostly) human, and therefore as delicate and fragile as a glass vase. Nothing like Kaia, who could— Do not go there. “I don’t know about you, but I’m a damn good detective.”
Sabin shrugged. “Okay, think of it this way. I had a choice to make. Take advantage of our advantage, or take care of my wife. Guess which one I picked?”
When had Sabin become such a pussy?
“At least we don’t have to worry about our boys being hurt because we left them behind.”
As if they’d have to worry about that, anyway. The “boys” were as competent as Strider. Not to mention the fact that they were possessed by baddies like Pain, Disease and Misery. They were all but feral and had no need of babysitters, battle forthcoming or not.
“Well, I still can’t go. I have plans,” Strider said. And I can’t waver, that’s all there is to it. “I promised Paris I’d help him in the heavens.”
“Help him later,” Gwen said, butting back in to the conversation. “Kaia needs you now.”
His body reacted instantly, skin prickling with awareness— Kaia needs you—cells awakening—Kaia needs you—shaft thickening, hardening—Kaia needs you…needs you to touch her, strip her, fill her up.
“I’ll think about it,” he said raggedly, then strode into the hall and headed to his own bedroom before Gwen could threaten him a second time. Once there, he shut himself in and moved to the room’s center, gaze locked on his walls, mind buzzing.
He and Kaia had the same decorating tastes. Weapons had covered her walls the same way they covered his. He wondered if, like his, each piece in her collection belonged to the humans and immortals she had defeated over the centuries.
Kaia. Defeat. Two words that had become synonymous to him.
Harpies were all about survival of the fittest, and that he could dig. Because of Gwen, he knew that sleeping in front of humans—or anyone but their consort, for that matter—was forbidden. He knew they were not allowed to reveal a single weakness to anyone—even their consorts. And they were never, ever to steal from their sisters. If they broke any of those rules, they were punished.
Damn it, what the hell was he going to do about her? She could take care of herself against anyone except another Harpy. Plus, Kaia would need every advantage she could get. Like, first and foremost, resting. She would need to rest between games, whatever those games might be. She thought Strider was her consort, so she would only rest with him at her side.
Second, she would need someone to ensure she ate properly. Look how she’d allowed herself to waste away in jail.
Third, she would need someone to guard her back if she stole anything, and knowing her, she would steal a lot of somethings. Preferably someone who didn’t have to guard her—or his—own back, as well.
Half the participants usually died, Gwen had said. Half. Harpies showed no mercy, took no prisoners. For whatever reason, Kaia would have a bull’s-eye on her back.
If he did this, if he went with her…he would have to find a way to steel himself against her appeal. Because, no matter what, he couldn’t sleep with her. Not just because of Paris, but because she would view any intimate contact as a commitment, as a Harpy/consort bond. A forever kind of bond. No way was he signing on for a lifetime sentence.
Could he resist her, though?
Better question: Could he protect her? If her enemies learned who he was, they could use his demon against her. They could challenge him to hurt her. They could challenge him to destroy her.
Win? Defeat said, raspy voice drifting through Strider’s head.
Shit. I stopped myself from going there, so you do the same. Please.
Win, the demon repeated, a demand this time. A demand that held a tinge of fear.
Too late, he thought. Defeat had gone there, and there’d be no backing off. Win, against any Harpies who try to hurt Kaia?
WIN.
Yep. Against the Harpies who tried to hurt Kaia. Why? She isn’t your favorite person. Why have me protect her?
Win, win, win.
Why he’d expected an answer, he didn’t know. Unlike some of the other demons, his had a very limited vocabulary. Guaranteed, he’d gotten the short end of the stick. But…maybe Defeat recalled just how good a victory over Kaia felt, and wanted more. If she died, he couldn’t have more. Or maybe, possessive as even the demon was, Kaia was their personal battlefield, and others weren’t allowed to play there. Ever.
What he did know? He was going to the Harpy Games.
CHAPTER FIVE
KAIA LOVED WATCHING MOVIES, but right now, she felt like she had the starring role in a horror flick called Slumber Party Massacre. Only instead of a sleeping bag and a teddy bear, she carried a hatchet—call her sentimental—and a serrated blade.
She strode with her sisters down a long, dark hallway, seemingly alone, weapons clutched in their hands, too. Weapons were also hanging from their waists and rising from their backs. If the Bad Guy truly had been watching from the shadows, waiting to strike, he probably would have seen them moving in slow motion, their hair blowing in the breeze. Also, scary music would have been playing in the background.
Too bad this wasn’t Hollywood.
Taliyah was in the middle. She was the oldest among them by far, as well as the strongest, the deadliest. Tall, slender, pale from head to toe, she looked like an elegant ice queen—and had a personality to match. Emotions were not something Taliyah allowed herself to experience. While Kaia had always striven to be like their mother, Taliyah had opted to be the opposite. Logical, level-headed, a planner.
Bianka and Kaia flanked her sides, with Gwen on Kaia’s left. At one end of the Estrogen Brigade was Sabin, at the other was Lysander. Typically at events such as these, consorts were supposed to trail a few feet behind, but these men were hardly archetypal. They were equals. Beloved. Determined to protect.
Each of the women radiated a white-hot tension that blended perfectly with Kaia’s own. All thanks to the very stupid Strider. He wasn’t going to support her. Earlier today Gwen had led her to believe…had made her think…hope…crave…oh, well. Strider hadn’t shown up, even though she and her sisters had waited outside for half an hour and were now late to the meeting.