The Darkest Assassin (Lords of the Underworld 14.6)

His eyelids turned heavy, sinking low over his eyes. “Perhaps I…the feel of your body gloving mine…”

“Shhh. Too much talking.” Fighting a smile, she combed her fingers through his hair. “I’ve got a better use for our mouths.”

* * * *

The next day

A bead of sweat trickled down Fox’s spine. “So, this is Hell,” she muttered. Or rather, one of ten territories in Hell.

Earlier today, Bjorn had asked her to open a portal to this very spot. One by one, his soldiers had rushed through. Then Thane’s. Then Xerxes’. She’d had to keep the portal open for hours, a first for her.

Bjorn had remained next to her. Toward the end, she’d been so drained, he’d had to hold her up. Finally, he’d ordered her to close the portal. She’d protested. The last section of Warriors hadn’t made it through, but he’d insisted.

Then, the argument ended…because she’d passed out, exhausted…only to awaken inside a completed cabin, alone, next to a note.

Because of your portal, we were the first to arrive in Hell. We had our pick of territories, and I owe you thanks. Which I will give as soon as I return…and you’re naked. If you’re reading this, I’m somewhere outside helping my soldiers get settled. For safety reasons, I ask that you stay put. Please? Yours, Bjorn. P.S. I’ve taken your weapons.

She heaved a sigh, her shoulders rolling in. He didn’t trust her, and she understood, but it still hurt like a punch to the gut. Would he ever trust her? Was he ashamed of their budding relationship? Or maybe just Fox herself? Maybe he didn’t want his peers to know he cared about her?

That hurt, too. Actually, that hurt worse.

She stepped outside, the breeze sweltering and scented with sulfur, and studied her surroundings. This territory happened to be owned by Hades, one of the nine Kings of the Underworld. His son, William of the Dark—aka the Ever Randy, the Panty Melter, and a prince of darkness—often stayed here, in a massive fortress made from brimstone and gold. The home of my dreams. In the backyard, there was a boarded-up stable also made of brimstone and gold.

As hundreds of Sent Ones erected cabins all around the stable, whispers abounded. Ultimately, she concluded William kept a young woman locked in the stable. Some claimed she possessed a beauty beyond imagining. Others called her plain. Some said she had blue hair. Others said pink or white. Some said she had brown eyes. Others said green or blue. Everyone agreed she had to be something special to obsess the Ever Randy, who liked to select a new lover every night.

Uh, maybe he had multiple women in there? One way or another, Fox would find out. For the right price, she would free the woman/women…and, depending on her/their attitude, either sell her/them back to William or escort her/them to—

No, no, no. Stop! Fox had traveled here for Bjorn, not a job. Besides, she owed him. Big time. By fighting to save her life, he’d put his reputation on the line. From now on, her actions would be a reflection upon him. She had to behave.

Determination rooted in her heart as she studied the remaining terrain. Smoke and soot covered the ground. A ground that spontaneously spit streams of fire into the air, turning the area into an oven. There wasn’t a single plant or weed in the vicinity. No signs of life, period. Unless she counted the demons hiding around the property, spying on the Sent Ones.

Suddenly, the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention, and she frowned. Feeling as if she were being watched, Fox scanned the area—there. Him. Those little hairs practically vibrated. With white-gold braids and skin to match, he had a distinct appearance she would have remembered if ever they’d met. Which meant, they hadn’t met. However, he’d clearly heard of her. He stood a hundred yards away, glaring as if she’d murdered his cat.

Note to self: I should get a cat. Though she wanted one, badly, she refused to repeat her mistake with Tawny, living in fear that an enemy would strike at the animal just to hurt her. But, now that she and Bjorn were together, her pet could have Sent One protection twenty-four-seven.

Wait. Was she together with Bjorn?

They’d never had a talk about their relationship. She knew he desired her sexually, knew he had fun with her. Did he think about her when they were apart, the way she thought about him? He must.

Had he truly forgiven her for her past actions? Surely. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have slept with her. Right? Right. On the other hand, he’d left her defenseless, so, how much did he really care for her?

Would he get in trouble with his bosses for dating a war-criminal? Probably. Had he fallen for her even a little? Please, please, please.

Where was he now, exactly? I miss him.

Ugh. What kind of romantic loser had she become?

Pounding footsteps yanked her from the mental Q and A. And subsequent pity party. The male who’d glared at her stomped across the sea of Warriors, supplies, and cabins, radiating menace. The tips of his white-gold wings dragged the ground, collecting soot.

Part of her longed to face off with him. But…what if he was related to one of the ten? He deserved a chance to spew his fury, and she deserved the rancor. The other part of her demanded she honor Bjorn’s wishes and go inside to avoid making a scene. If the man threw a punch at her, she’d have to block…and fight back. He could get hurt, and she’d have an eleventh casualty to add to her tally of wrongdoings.

Sighing, she backed up, one, two, three steps. After passing the open door, she kicked it shut. Now what?

The cabin had three rooms—a living room, a kitchenette, a bathroom, and a bedroom with a second, private bathroom—but few furnishings. Only two love seats for gamers, a TV with multiple streaming services already programmed in, and a bed.

Her heart raced. Had he gotten the chairs and TV for her?

No way he’s ashamed of me. Fox grinned from ear to ear. Perhaps she’d re-watch an old season of Big Brother, then do a little internet trolling. Could you get wi-fi in Hell?

If not, she could open a quick portal to her home, where she kept an antenna she’d built with magical wire able to power anything, anywhere, at any time. Why not fetch the antenna, anyway? It’d come in handy in other ways.

Problem: she tried to open a portal and failed.

Fox ran her tongue over her teeth. Once again, Bjorn had done something to negate her ability, which meant he trusted her less than she’d thought. Another gut punch. But again, she understood. She really did. And she would fight, fight so hard to win him over. Giving up wasn’t an option. She—

The door swung open, the white-gold-haired man stomping inside. Great! Thanks to Bjorn, she had no weapons, and no way to open a portal. Isn’t life grand?

Without looking away from Fox, he kicked the door shut, shaking the entire cabin. He held a dagger in each hand, the metal glinting in the light.

Her heartbeat sped up, sending a prickle of unease down her

spine. She raised her chin and squared her shoulders, going cold. The best—only—way to battle.

Must kill him before he kills you, Distrust whispered.

She ground her teeth. Exactly what the demon said when she’d faced the ten.

Ignore him! Easier said than done. Flippant, she asked, “Did you hear about my sale and come running? Well, you should have brought a friend. For a limited time, I’m giving two spankings away for the price of one!”

Rage mottled his face. Guess I’ll call him Mr. Rage.

He pointed a dagger tip at her. “I do not know how you convinced a male as honorable as Bjorn to spare your life, and it doesn’t matter. I will stop you, and one day, he will thank me.”

Mr. Rage lunged for her, swiping the daggers in her direction.

Fox jumped backward, avoiding a strike. But, unused to the home’s layout, she slammed the backs of her knees into a recliner, and fell. Damn it! Before she could jump up, Mr. Rage flared his wings and spun.

Contact. A sharp sting erupted in her cheek, and blood dripped down her chin. Realization: There were hard, razor-sharp hooks hidden beneath his feathers, and she’d just gotten a taste of their capabilities.

He spun again, no doubt intending to run a hook across her vulnerable throat. Reflexes on point, she pulled the lever on the chair, whooshing back. The hooks missed her face by half an inch. At the same time, she grabbed a fistful of feathers and yanked.

He howled. She grinned.

She kicked out her legs, nailing his man-junk. Air left his lungs in a mighty heave as he hunched over. She kneed his chin. He bellowed in pain and stumbled backward. As she stood, he planted his sandaled feet against the wood floor and hurled a dagger at her.

A pained gasp parted her lips, the blade embedding in her collarbone. Trembling, queasy, she yanked it free. Ow, ow, ow. Despite a surge of adrenaline, the pain proved agonizing. Black dots wove through her vision. A river of hot blood ran down her chest. Had the blade hit a few inches down, he would have sliced open her heart.