The Darkest Night. Gena Showalter

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СКАЧАТЬ hurt me. Please, don’t hurt me.

      A pause. A snap.

      An anguished cry.

      My arm! Huge, gut-wrenching sobs. You broke my fucking arm! Ashlyn’s own arm throbbed in sympathy. I didn’t…do anything…wrong.

      The voices had returned in full force.

      She huddled on the floor of a dark, dank cell, shivering and scared. “I just wanted to find someone who could help me,” she whispered. Instead, she’d fallen straight into a Grimm’s folk tale, but with no happy ending in sight.

      I will. I will. Just…need…a…moment.

      The one-sided conversation had been rolling through her mind for an eternity, it seemed, now a discordant concerto of anger, desperation and pain. Above it, however, a single voice rose: Maddox’s. Not a voice of the past, but a memory. A burst of screams.

      “You left the Institute for this.” She shook her head in grief and disgust, wanting to convince herself this day had been nothing more than a nightmare. That a man had not been slain right in front of her. Stabbed. Repeatedly. But she knew the truth. His shouts… God, his shouts. His rage at being chained and beaten, his torment…worse than anything she’d ever heard from another human being.

      Tears rained down her face. She couldn’t get his image out of her head—not his image before he died and not his image after. Harshly handsome face almost savage in its intensity. Facial bones blurred and sunken. Violet eyes bright. Violet eyes closed. Tall, tanned and muscled body. Broken, bloody, lifeless body.

      She whimpered.

      After shoving her into this cell, Maddox’s killers had promised to bring her blankets and food. The vow had been delivered ages ago, but no one had returned. She was glad. She didn’t want to see them again. Didn’t want to hear them, didn’t want to talk to them. She’d rather endure the cold and the hunger.

      Shivering, she tugged her jacket tight at the collar. She was thankful she still had it, that the men, those barbaric monsters, hadn’t taken it from her during the seemingly endless trek from topside to underground.

      Just then, something scampered across her fingertips, squeaking happily, and she jerked. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. She scooted into the nearest corner. Mouse. A hairy little rodent that would eat anything, and where there was one…

      Stomach churning, she swept her gaze through the cell. Not that it did any good. The room was too dark, and she wouldn’t have been able to see a hand—or a monster—if it were right in front of her face.

      “Stay still.” Deep breath in. “Stay calm.” Deep breath out.

      I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but please don’t hurt me again, Broken Arm said, sobbing his way back into her thoughts. I didn’t mean to sneak inside. There was a long pause. Okay, yes, yes. I did. I meant to, but I only wanted to see who had taken residence here. I’m not a hunter, I swear I’m not.

      Ashlyn’s ears twitched, and she pressed deeper into the rocky wall. Hunter, the man had said. Maddox’s killers had called her a hunter. What did they mean? Bounty hunter? She frowned and rubbed her swollen, aching ankle. Who could ever think that of five-foot-five, average Ashlyn?

      “Doesn’t matter. You have to find a way out of here, Darrow.” She had to tell the authorities what had happened to Maddox. Would they believe her? Would they even care? Or had the men here somehow bewitched them as they’d done the rest of the townspeople—angels, indeed—allowing them to do anything they wanted, whenever they wanted?

      A sob gushed from her lips; a tremor raked her. No one should have to die that slowly, that painfully. Dignity gone. Cries unheeded.

      One way or another, Maddox would be avenged.

      MADDOX SCREAMED.

      Flames licked him from head to toe. Blistering, melting away his flesh, reducing him to nothing but bone. No, not even bone, he mused in the next instant. The flames had reduced him to ash. But he was still aware…always aware. He still knew who he was, still knew what he was, and that he would have to return to the fire tomorrow.

      The agony was nearly more than he could bear. Plumes of smoke thickened the air, scattering soot in every direction. Disgustingly, he knew that soot belonged to him. Was him.

      Much too soon, it returned to where he had stood, fused together and became a body, a man—a man that once again caught fire. A body that once again melted bit by grueling bit, pouring flesh from muscle, then flickering orange-gold sparks over muscle before disintegrating altogether. There was another blackened breeze, returning everything to its place so the entire process could repeat itself. Again and again and again.

      All the while, Violence roared inside his head, desperate to escape, no longer sated as it had been at the moment of his death. Blending with that were the sounds of the other condemned souls, screaming as the flames of hell devoured them. Demons, those disgusting winged creatures with glowing red eyes, skeletal faces and thick yellow horns atop their heads, fluttered from one tormented prisoner to another, laughing, taunting, spitting.

      I have one of those monsters inside me. Except mine is worse.

      The other demons knew it, too. “Welcome back, brother,” they would jeer before licking him with their fiery, forked tongues.

      Always before, Maddox had wished to fade into nothing when the fire overcame him, never to return to hell or to earth. He’d wished to end his miserable existence and finally stop the pain. Always before—but not tonight. Not this time.

      Tonight, pain was eclipsed by desire.

      Ashlyn’s image rose inside his mind, taunting him far more than the demons. You’ll find nothing but bliss with me, her eyes seemed to say, lips parting, softening for a kiss.

      She was a puzzle he yearned to solve. His first glimpse of heaven with her warm, amber-rich hair and honey-colored eyes. She was exquisite and lush, and so unequivocally feminine she called to his every masculine instinct.

      Surprisingly, she had fought to stay with him. Had even fought to save him from the others, he’d realized only a few minutes ago. He didn’t fully understand why, but he liked the notion anyway.

      He might not have known what he wanted to do with her earlier, but he knew now. He wanted to taste her. All of her. Bait or not. Hunter or not. He simply wanted. After all his suffering, he deserved a sliver of happiness.

      Even in his days as an elite warrior to the gods, he had never desired a specific woman above all the rest. After, he had always taken what he could get, when he could get it. But Ashlyn, he wanted specifically. Ashlyn, he wanted now.

      Where had Lucien placed her? In the room adjoining his? Did she lounge on the bed, naked body wrapped in silks and velvets? That’s how he would take her, Maddox decided then. Not outside as was his custom. Not on a cold, twig-laden ground. But in a bed, face to face, skin to skin, pumping and sliding slowly.

      His body burned with the thought—a burn that had nothing to do with the flames.

      She means us harm. We’ll harm СКАЧАТЬ