The Darkest Assassin (Lords of the Underworld 14.6)

Wait. Hold up. Did he radiate fear?

No. No way. This particular Sent One feared nothing. But, as minutes bled into each other, her curiosity intensified. Seriously, what the hell was going on?

He thinks to trick you somehow. Whatever he tells you to do, do the opposite!

And there was Distrust, ready to work her into a frenzy. Fox resisted the urge to obey, instead pressing her lips together and nodding at Bjorn.

Her ears twitched, the click-clack of high heels reverberating through the cell at a slow, steady pace. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. One after the other.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Bjorn.” A woman’s lilting voice reverberated through Fox’s cell. “In the past hour, I’ve summoned you twice, yet here you are.”

Summoned? What, the bitch had snapped her fingers? She must be his lover, then. But why would he act so weird about a girlfriend? And why were Fox’s nails sharpening into claws at the thought of Bjorn with some nameless, faceless female? Foolish!

At last, the speaker strode into view, stopping directly in front of Bjorn. Fox stared, awed. Beautiful. Oddly magnetic. Angelic. On the short side and trim, wearing an ice-blue gown made from see-through scarves. Curly white-blond hair flowed to a trim waist, the perfect complement to her tanned skin and black-as-night eyes. Her nails were blacker than night, and as long and sharp as Fox’s claws.

Bjorn didn’t move, didn’t speak. Then. In that moment, Fox realized the truth. He did fear this woman, but mostly he raged. Whoever she was, he hated her with the heat of a thousand suns.

The woman walked a circle around him, tracing one of those razor-sharp nails across his chest and back. Blood welled and dripped. Wow. She’d sliced his skin, and he’d let her. Seriously, what the hell is going on?

The intruder spared Fox a quick glance before dismissing her, as if she meant nothing.

That’s right, sweetness. Pay this little filly no mind. I’m just a prisoner in a novelty tee and butt floss.

When the woman stood before Bjorn once again, she gripped his chin between her fingers and glared up at him. “I do not know how you gained the strength to resist my summons, but it stops now. When I call, you run. Otherwise, I’ll come to you. That happens, and I’ll kill one of your friends. Their life will be payment for my inconvenience. Do you understand?”

He jerked his head in a facsimile of a nod. “My complete disgust for you. That is how I now resist. That is also how I’m able to speak of you to others, when I could not utter a word about you before.”

The intruder narrowed her eyes further. “Say it,” she snapped.

A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “Yes, Alana. I understand,” he grated, pink stains of humiliation spreading over his cheeks. “You call, I run.”

“That’s my good boy.” Alana patted his stubbled cheek and stepped back, widening the distance between them. “You have one hour to finish this…whatever this is. Do not be late.” The smoke enveloped her, and she vanished. Next, the remaining shadows vanished, too.

For a long while, Bjorn remained in position, panting, his hands fisted. Fox felt like a voyeur, witnessing a major life event she wasn’t supposed to see.

“Who is she?” The words croaked from her.

He flexed his jaw. “She is…my wife.”

Chapter Five

Bjorn stalked to his bedroom, careful to avoid crossing paths with Thane or Xerxes. If they knew Alana had summoned him, they would worry. They would also drown in guilt, blaming themselves for their inability to save him. No one could save him.

He remembered the day he’d met Alana. She’d come to the Downfall, looking like a wingless angel on the hunt for a husband. Not that he’d known it at the time. Her top three requirements? Strong, immortal, and damaged.

Bjorn had been in a bad place then. Needing to hurt someone, he’d approached Alana. They’d flirted, nothing more, and only for a short time. It hadn’t taken long to notice the severity of her narcissism. He’d ditched her fast. But soon after, she’d returned…with a legion of shadow warriors.

A battle erupted, Bjorn’s crew against hers. Thane and Xerxes had almost died. Innocents had died, slain by one of the world’s greatest evils. Even now, the memory caused rage to sear his chest.

Alana had done it all to force Bjorn into a marriage bond. Wed me, or more will die. The choice is yours. The marriage bond had been her insurance policy, after all. With it, Bjorn and Alana were linked. When one died, the other followed. Now, his friends couldn’t murder his tormentor without killing him, too.

The funny thing? Not ha-ha funny, but how-is-this-my-life funny. Bjorn had more reason to despise Fox than Alana, yet he wanted Fox. Badly. And yet, if Fox had visited the Downfall before their shower-time battle, he’d failed to notice her. He’d gravitated exclusively to the sweet-as-sugar, angelic-looking types. But, as many sweet females as he’d bedded before the start of his celibacy, he’d never walked away satisfied, or eager for a repeat.

Why hadn’t he gone for the pale, Goth types? Fox’s straightforward, no-bullshit manner left him panting for more. Plus, she looked ridiculously adorable in a stupid T-shirt and a G-string.

The corners of his mouth curled up, only to fall. He shouldn’t crave Fox, and he would never want Alana, a bitch and a parasite. She increased her lifespan by morphing into dark mist, possessing his body, and stealing his soul or life-force.

Bjorn shut himself inside his bedroom. He pushed open the doors that led to his balcony and stepped to the rail-less edge. Wind whipped his robe around his ankles as he dove off. Falling…spreading and flapping his wings… He caught an air current and flew high…higher.

A secret of the Sent Ones: In the sky, there were thousands of invisible doorways hidden inside designated clouds, and they led to different parts of the world. Some even led to other worlds, realms and dimensions. Bjorn navigated the path without incident, reaching Alana’s lair in less than half an hour. A dark, cavernous realm that made his skin crawl.

He entered the palace. A cavern comprised of black stone, rose-scented smoke and cloying darkness. The stone caused a reaction similar to poison ivy: brush against it, and you blister. The smoke burned his eyes and stung his nostrils. The darkness set his nerves on edge.

The only light came from two rows of torches. What held those torches? Men and women hanging from pikes. They formed a line on both his left and right sides, creating a path. Some victims moaned in agony. Some sobbed. All had a small stack of kindling piled around their feet.

If anyone dropped their torch, they would set that kindling ablaze, then slowly burn to death, regenerate, then burn to death again. One of the most torturous ends an immortal could experience.

Every victim projected a bombardment of pain and hopelessness, and yes, his skin crawled. With every atom of his being, Bjorn longed to put the immortals out of their misery. His nature demanded it; as a Sent One, his sole purpose was the eradication of evil. But…

On his first visit here, he’d given in to his urge to help and removed the prisoners from their pikes. For his efforts, Alana had given him a taste of the very punishment he’d fought against: twenty-four hours on a pike of his own.

Weeks had passed before he fully recovered.

His hands flexed around imaginary sword hilts. Must help them.

No! Must resist. He had a plan. One day, after he’d found a way to sever his bond with Alana and survive, he would return. He would free every prisoner and force Alana to taste the punishment before he killed her. Also, he needed to maintain his strength however possible today.

He quickened his steps, the tips of his wings collecting soot from the ground. Once he finished with Alana, he must deal with Fox once and for all.

Fox… Anticipation fizzed in his veins. He couldn’t wait to breathe in her lusciously sweet fragrance, feel the sublime heat of her body, or gaze upon those arresting features. He even enjoyed conversing with her; the woman wielded a ready wit he found appealing. She also displayed a talent for maskin

g her emotions, making him frantic to dig deep and discover the truth beneath the unconcerned veneer.

The fact that he’d hardened while speaking with the murderess didn’t matter. His dick ached for the challenge she presented, but his mind had not—did not—and never would.

A foul taste coated his tongue, and he scowled. The bite of a lie. Had he just told himself an untruth? Possibly. Fine, definitely. Fox’s standoffishness was so different from Alana’s clinginess, of course he liked it.

Careful. Alana, Queen of Shadows, always sensed when Bjorn considered someone attractive…and mutilated their face. She believed she owned him, spirit, soul and body. In her mind, no one else should play with her toy, even though said toy did nothing to encourage her advances. Actually, he did the opposite. Anytime she’d invited him into her bed, he’d declined. Bjorn refused to pretend to crave someone he despised.