The Darkest Warrior (Lords of the Underworld 14)

"I dreamed of...an impossibility," she said. Before he had a chance to respond, she placed the focus on him. "You used past tense with your family, people and army. What happened?"

"I haven't been home in a while." The muscles in his shoulders bunched as he pointed to the distance. "Another doorway is up ahead. This one leads to Amaranthia, the realm of all realms, and the greatest home in the history of homes. Or it will be, soon."

"Wait. We're already at the end of our journey?" Her gaze skipped past him, searching, searching but finding no hint of a doorway. "But... I thought it would take us days or weeks." As soon as they stepped past the doorway, the terms of their bargain changed.

And no, she wasn't excited.

"Some things you should know," he said. "Amaranthia has long stretches of desert sand, the occasional oasis, only three major bodies of water, magic and endless wars."

"Magic?" As in, hocus-pocus?

"Time uses a different clock there," he continued, ignoring her question. "A hundred years in Amaranthia can be minutes, hours, days or weeks in the mortal realm. The clock speeds up or slows down depending on the season."

Was he kidding? He had to be kidding.

Tension crackled over every inch of her body. "When I turn one hundred and eighteen years old, my friends might have only lived another couple of hours or days?"

"Exactly," he said with a nod. "I have lived thousands of years moving between realms. You won't know the difference."

"But they will." She dug in her heels, saying, "I'm not going to your realm. Take me to Budapest. Or anywhere, as long as I stay on Earth."

He pulled her along, increasing his pace. "Be thankful Amaranthia is not a realm where time flows backward. And you already agreed to go. There will be no take backs."

"No, I--"

"My friends are there. Cameron, keeper of Obsession, and Winter, keeper of Selfishness." He tilted his head to the side, and pursed his lips. "She could inadvertently learn the truth, perhaps cause problems."

Was he talking to himself--about Gillian? "What truth?" she demanded. "Cause problems? Why?"

"Very well, I'll do it," he said, still speaking to himself. Then, "I have a confession to make, lass. And when you learn the truth, you will not cause me problems. Understand?"

"What truth?" she repeated. "Tell me."

"Before we married, I told you that I didn't know you belonged to William of the Dark, but I lied."

"Wait. What?" Lied? But her lie-dar had never pinged! And despite her earlier suspicions of this very thing, shock managed to punch her in the gut, stealing her breath. "Lying is the language of my stephorrors."

"I'm nothing like those men. I never harmed you. I ensured you were made healthy...while also putting myself on the right path to achieve my goals." As if he were reading from a script, he said, "Bond. Escort. Return. The bonding is done, the escorting close to an end. Then I'll return. William. War."

"War?" Gillian ears began to ring. "You acted as if you were doing me a favor, you rotten piece of garbage, but you were only helping your goals! One of which includes war."

As calm as ever, her insult of no consequence, he said, "I misled you for three reasons. One, I needed to convince you to bond with me. Two, you would have resisted our travels. And three, I need William's help, and you are my bargaining chip."

Even worse! He'd used her against William, a man who'd only ever protected her. Dang it, she should have protected him right back.

"Our deal is off, Puck! Off! Do you understand?"

"I understand you are being irrational."

Irrational? "I'm not going to make you laugh or cry, you miserable piece of crap. I'm going to make you dead."

A bomb of fury discharged inside her, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. Her heart melted against her ribs, warping the beat, and the sides of her lungs fused together.

Red dots flickered through her sight line, giving her tunnel vision. Must destroy Puck!

Launching onto his back, she hammered her fists into his chest. With each blow, sharp pains consumed her chest. Who cared? What was pain?

"Coward! Liar!" The worst insult of them all. "You disgust me." Not good enough. "You repulse me." Better.

"You are alive because of me."

"I'm miserable because of you!"

Regret seemed to pulse from him, there and gone in a flash.

An illusion? Too late to tell. With a screech, she switched her aim to his face, and battered his nose. More pain, blood pouring down her mouth and chin. Still she didn't care.

Puck caught her wrists in a bruising grip, effectively ending her tirade. "My news should thrill you. After I drop you off with my friends, I'll return to the mortal realm to recruit William. He'll help me win back my crown, and I'll sever my bond to you."

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Tamp down your fury. Act as if all is well. When the time comes, strike.

First, she had to gather information. "What do you mean, you'll sever our bond?" she asked through clenched teeth. "We can officially divorce without dying?"

"That is the plan, aye." He offered no more, just resumed marching forward.

Um, did he not realize plans could be derailed? "Explain," she insisted, trying to hop off his back.

Silent, he readjusted her position and tightened his grip, ensuring every step rubbed her breasts against him. Lance after lance of pleasure tore through her, and she hissed.

"Let me down. Now. I won't fight you anymore." Not yet, anyway.

Perhaps the fear in her voice spurred him on. He wrapped an arm around her waist and swung her around. For a split second, she hung upside down. Then he righted her and placed her on her feet, directly in front of him.

"I will do anything to win my crown," he told her. "No deed is too dark. No task too gruesome."

The fire in her veins cooled. "Why?"

"Long ago, my brother betrayed me. He turned a champion into a monster and later killed our father, all to keep the Connacht crown for himself. He is destroying my home, hurting my people, and he must be stopped. I will save the lands and the clans, and I will avenge the wrongs done to me. According to the Oracles, my only hope of success was finding William of the Dark and wedding his woman."

Oracles? And oh, how casually he spoke of Gillian's doom.

"I deserve to wear the crown," he added. "I deserve vengeance. And I will be good to my people. I just need William's help."

"You're despicable," she spat.

"I know. But at least you're still alive. I saved you from certain death, something your precious William wasn't willing to do."

"Thanks for the reminder, goat man. But to what end?" she snapped. "Sometimes death is preferable to life." Her stephorrors had taught her that lesson very well. "William is smart. He'll know better than to trust you."

Puck hiked his wide shoulders in a shrug--a shrug!--and offered no assurances to the contrary.

She had to escape him, had to warn William.

Gillian faked left and darted right, but only made it four steps away before Puck caught her.

"Brace yourself," he said. "We enter Amaranthia in five, four, three, two..."

She attempted to wrench free, but he tightened his hold.

Between one blink and the next, everything changed. The humid heat of the rain forest morphed into cold desert winds, grains of sand pelting her skin. The drop in temperature shocked her system and momentarily rendered her immobile.

Two golden suns shone from a purple-red sky. There were no homes that she could see. No animals, bodies of water or people.

Escape. Now! She spun, shoved Puck out of the way and soared through the invisible doorway they'd just exited--

Nope. She ate sand.

"Where is the doorway?" she screeched. Where had it gone?

Puck peered up at the odd-colored sky, his arms spread, his legs braced apart. Before her eyes, he transformed, the horns vanishing, and the fur on his legs quickly following suit. His cheekbones, on

ce sharp enough to cut glass, softened somewhat. His claws retracted, and the boots and hooves turned to mist, revealing human feet.

Not just beautiful. Utterly exquisite... But also a stranger to her. She'd rather deal with the devil she knew.

He closed his eyes, inhaled...exhaled...as if savoring the moment. Another deception, surely. This horrible male savored nothing.

"How is this possible?" she demanded.

"A right of birth and magic. But it hasn't happened in so long... I thought the ability gone forever."

No way, no how magic controlled his appearance. Absolutely impossible! Except, he'd just gone from beast to chic in less than a blink. Denial was silly. Magic truly existed, and not just the hocus-pocus variety.

One day, too many fantastical things would happen and her mind would break.

A right of birth, he'd said. "So you didn't have horns and hooves as a child?" she asked.

"Not until my possession."

"Can you use magic to morph into other forms, as well?" she asked, wanting--needing--to know the depths of his power.

"Once, but no longer." Just as quickly as Puck had transformed into a normal man, he returned to his beastly form.

"Why don't you stay normal, then?"

A muscle jumped underneath his eye. "You think I don't want to?" He took her hand and--

She gasped. His skin--calloused and warm--glowed. Beautiful, sweeping symbols stretched from the tips of his fingers to his wrists. Reminded her of henna markings, except actual jewels seemed to glitter beneath the surface of his skin.

As he kicked onward, dragging her along, she asked, "How are your hands lit up like a Christmas tree?"

"How else? Magic," he repeated.