Kitabı oku: «The Darkest Craving», sayfa 2

CHAPTER TWO

KANE BATTLED A tide of pain, humiliation and failure. He’d been created fully formed, a warrior to the depths of his core. Throughout the centuries, he had fought in countless wars. He had slain enemy after enemy, and had walked away with many a blood-drenched injury—but he’d walked with a smile. He’d fought, and he’d won, and others had suffered for coming after him. And yet, here he was, on the floor of a dirty motel, too weak to move, at the mercy of a beautiful, fragile female who’d seen him at his worst: chained, violated and carved open after yet another round of torture.

He wanted those images cut from her mind, even if he had to reach inside and remove them with a blade.

Then, he would cut them out of his own. The Hunters, blaming him for every disaster they’d ever faced. Their bomb. A trip into hell. A horde of demon minions attacking, killing the Hunters and secreting Kane away. Day after day of torment.

Shackles. The drip, drip of blood. Satisfied grins, bloodstained teeth. Hands, everywhere. Mouths, seeking. Tongues, licking.

A soundtrack played quietly in the background. Moans of pain—his. Moans of pleasure—none his own. The slap of flesh against flesh. The scrape of nails, digging deep. A bark of laughter.

Terrible scents filled his nose. Sulfur. Arousal. Dirt. Old copper. Sweat. The pungent sting of fear.

One brutal emotion after another bombarded him. Disgust, rage, feelings of utter violation. Sorrow, humiliation, sadness. Helplessness. Panic. More disgust.

He moaned, a tragic sound. Desperate to avoid a breakdown, he erected a brick wall around his screaming mind, blocking the worst of the emotions. Can’t deal right now. Just … can’t. He was free at least. He couldn’t forget that. Rescue had come.

No, not a rescue. Not at first. Warriors had stolen him from the minions, only to tie him down for their own special brand of torture.

Then, the girl had arrived, demanding he help her with the vilest of tasks.

“What have you done to him?” a male voice roared. “Why were there Fae soldiers ready to sneak into this room?”

“Wait. You’re not with the Fae?” she demanded.

“Who are you, female?”

Kane recognized the speaker. Sabin, his leader, and the keeper of the demon of Doubt. Sabin was a male who wouldn’t hesitate to snap a woman’s neck if he thought that woman had hurt one of his soldiers.

“Me?” the girl said. “I’m no one, and I’ve done nothing. Really.”

“Lies will only make it worse for you.”

Another speaker Kane recognized. Strider, the keeper of the demon of Defeat. Like Sabin, Strider wouldn’t hesitate to harm a woman in defense of a friend.

Kane should have been comforted by their appearance. They were brothers of his heart, the family he needed, and they would protect him, whisk him to safety, and do everything within their power to ensure he healed. But he was scabbed, bruised and emotionally naked, and they were now witnesses to his shame, too.

“Oh, sweet heat. Why didn’t you step into the light sooner? I know who you are,” the girl gasped out. “You’re … you’re … you.”

“Yes, and I’m also your doom,” Sabin snapped.

The warrior assumed the black-haired girl was responsible for Kane’s condition. A mistake. He tried to sit up, but the muscles in his stomach were useless, not yet completely woven back together.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” said the girl, “but that’s got to be the lamest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and Kane here has said some doozies. You’re a magnificent warrior known throughout all the lands for your strength and cunning. I know you can issue a better threat than that.”

More than once, the silly things that had come out of that candy-apple mouth had made him want to smile, despite the pain relentlessly battering him. Now was one of those times. He didn’t understand it.

“There’s a right way to take that?” Sabin snapped. “Guard the door,” he said to Strider. “I’m going to tear her from limb to limb.”

“No can do, boss. I’m calling dibs.”

“Does that mean we’re battling to the death?” she asked casually.

“Yes,” both men replied in unison.

“Oh, well. Okay, then. Let’s get started, shall we?”

Kane stiffened.

“Is she serious?” Sabin.

“No way.” Strider.

“I am,” she said. “I really am.”

Big talk for such a tiny girl.

A girl who confused Kane in every way.

She had tended him gently, tenderly, and yet he had hurt from more than just his injuries. And not a good hurt, either, to let him know he was alive, but a sharp throb that rode the waves in his veins, reaching him at a cellular level, like a disease, a cancer, eating at him, demanding he get away from her as quickly as possible. And yet, inside, deeper still, where primal instinct jerked at a flimsy leash, a desire to grab her, to hold on and never let go, consumed him.

She was beautiful, funny and sweet, and he heard one word every time he looked at her. Mine.

Mine. Mine. MINE.

It was a constant stream of noise, undeniable—unstoppable. It was also wrong. His “mine” would never cause him pain. And he didn’t want a “mine.” Any time he’d tried to make a go of a relationship, the evil inside him swiftly destroyed it—and the female. Now, after everything that had happened to him …

A rise of the disgust, sizzling and blistering, tightened his hands into dangerous weapons. No, he didn’t want a “mine.”

“You eager to die?” Strider asked, stalking a circle around her.

“You stalling?” she said. “Don’t think you can take me?”

The warrior sucked in a breath.

The girl had issued a challenge—intentional or unintentional?—and the warrior’s demon had just accepted. Strider would do everything in his power to win, and Kane couldn’t blame him. Anytime the male lost a challenge, he suffered in agonizing pain for days.

Demons always came with a curse.

Have to stop him. Whether the girl belonged to Kane or not, she wasn’t to be harmed. Seeing a single bruise on that sun-licked skin would unhinge him, he knew it, could already feel the darkness rising, his control teetering at the edge of chilling violence.

As he again struggled to sit up, multiple footsteps pounded, causing the floor to reverberate. Low growls erupted. The swish of clothing whispered past. Flesh met flesh, bone met bone. Metal clinked against metal. The males would destroy her.

“Is that all you got?” the girl taunted—a taunt undercut by her heavy panting. “Come on, fellas. Let’s make this memorable, one for the history books!”

“No,” Kane tried to shout, but not even his ears picked up the sound.

Strider jumped over him. Another clang of metal echoed.

“How can this be memorable?” Sabin roared. “The only thing you’re doing is leaping out of the way when we strike.”

“Sorry. I’m not meaning to, but instinct keeps kicking in,” she said.

To anyone but Kane, who knew her secret desire, the conversation would have sounded weird.

The fight continued, the two men chasing the girl around the small room, leaping on furniture, bouncing off the walls, slashing out with hungry blades and missing as she darted out of the way.

The urge to commit violence sharpened with deadly force.

“Don’t hurt her,” he growled. “I’ll hurt you back.” He would do anything to protect her.

Even in this pitiful state?

He ignored the humiliating question.

Question. Yes. He had more questions for the girl than he’d already asked—and this time, she would answer satisfactorily or he would … he wasn’t sure what he would do. He’d lost all sense of mercy and compassion inside that cave.

The threat stopped Sabin in his tracks. The warrior lowered his weapons.

Strider refused to give up, and finally managed to grab the girl by the hair. She yelped as he jerked, tugging her into the hard line of his body.

Kane managed to get to his feet, intending to rip the two apart. Mine. He stalked forward, tripped over a shoe, thanks to the demon, and came crashing down. Pain consumed him.

Before the girl had a chance to scream for help, or curse Strider’s very existence, he knocked her ankles together and sent her propelling to the floor. He went down with her, pinning her shoulders to the floor with his knees. Though she struggled, she couldn’t work her way free.

“I said … don’t hurt,” Kane shouted with what little strength he had left.

“Hey. I barely touched her. I also won,” the warrior announced, a huge grin lifting the corners of his mouth.

Sabin marched to Kane’s side, crouched, and helped roll him to his back. Then the warrior slid gentle hands under his head and shoulders. Kane flinched from the contact, his mind blaring out a protest he refused to let his mouth deliver, but still his friend held firm, easing him into a sitting position.

“We’ve been looking for you, my man.” Tender words meant to assure and comfort him. Too bad nothing would ever assure and comfort him again. “Weren’t ever going to give up.”

“How?” he managed to ask. Let me go. Please, just let me go.

Sabin understood his question, but not his inner plea. “There was a story in a tabloid about a superwoman in New York carrying a hulk over her shoulder. Torin worked his magic and hacked into security cameras in the area, and boom. We had you.”

From her trapped position on the floor, the girl looked over at him. Panting, she said to Sabin, “Hey, can’t you tell he’s not liking the physical contact? Let him go.”

How had she known, when one of his best friends hadn’t noticed?

“He’s fine,” Strider said. “Why are you wearing gloves, female?”

Ignoring the question, she closed her eyes and asked, “Are you going to kill me now?”

“No!” Kane roared. MINE! MINE!

Strider sheathed his blades and stood. Immediately the girl climbed to her feet. Long strands of hair had fallen over her brow, onto her cheeks; she pushed the locks behind the pointed ears that had so startled him.

Most of the Fae preferred to remain in their realm. They weren’t the most beloved of races, and immortals tended to attack first and ask questions later. Still, Kane had run into a few throughout the centuries. Each Fae had possessed curling white hair and skin as pale as milk. This one had a slick fall of jet-black silk, with no hint of a wave, and skin the most luscious shade of bronze. Marks of her humanity?

Her eyes belonged to the Fae, though. Large and blue, like the rarest of jewels, the color lightened and darkened with her moods. Right now they were crystalline, almost lacking any color at all. Was she frightened?

The demon of Disaster liked the thought and purred his approval.

Shut up, Kane snarled. I’ll kill you. Kill you so dead.

The purrs became chuckles, and Kane had to force himself to breathe, in and out, in and out, slow and measured. He wanted to cut off his ears in the hopes of silencing all that sickening amusement. He wanted to tear the room apart, destroy every piece of furniture, take down every wall, rip up every inch of carpet. He wanted to … grab the girl and carry her away from this awful place.

His gaze met hers, and she offered the sweetest of smiles. A smile that said, It’s going to be okay, I promise.

The rage dialed down to a simmer.

That. Quickly.

How had she done that?

Of all the faces she had flashed, this was by far the prettiest. She had the longest lashes he’d ever seen. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, her nose perfectly sloped and her lips heart-shaped. There was a slight point in her chin.

She was like a little girl’s doll come to dazzling life, and she smelled of rosemary and spearmint—a fresh-baked bread paired with an after-dinner mint. In other words, home.

Mine.

Never, the demon snipped, and the ground began to shake.

Stupid demon. Like any other living creature, Disaster experienced hunger. Unlike others, fear and upset were his favorite foods. So when he yearned for a meal—or just wanted dessert—he caused some sort of catastrophe for Kane, as well as those around him.

Sometimes, those catastrophes were small. A light bulb would short out, or the floor would crack at his feet. Too many times, those catastrophes were large. A limb would fall from a tree. Cars would crash. Buildings would crumble.

Hatred scraped at his chest. One day, I’ll be free of you. One day, I’ll destroy you.

The shaking stopped as the demon laughed with glee. I’m a part of you. There’ll be no getting rid of me. Ever.

Kane pounded a fist into the floor. Long ago, the Greeks had told him only death would separate him from the demon—his death—but that Disaster would live on forevermore. Perhaps that was true. Perhaps not. The Greeks were famous for their lies. But either way, Kane wouldn’t risk death. He was twisted enough to want to witness Disaster’s defeat, and just cold enough to want to be the one to deliver the final blow.

There had to be a way to have both.

“—right? Yes?” the girl was saying.

Her lilting voice brought him back to the present.

“Uh, Kane,” Sabin prompted. “Did you promise to do that?”

She had been speaking to Kane, then, and he could imagine what she’d said. He shook his head, his neck almost too weak to support the action. “No. I didn’t.”

“But … but … his memory must be impaired.” Her gaze swung to Strider, cerulean flooding her irises, becoming an ocean of anger. “What about you? Will you carry out his end of the bargain?”

“Me?” Strider thumped his chest.

“Yes, you.”

“And just how do you want me to proceed, hmm?”

A violent tremor swept through her, but she said, “I want … I want you to take your dagger and … stab me in the heart.”

The warrior blinked, shook his head. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You actually want to die.”

“I don’t want to, no, but I need to,” she whispered, the anger giving way to defeat.

Kane swallowed a roar, remembering her words in the cave.

I will take you to the human world—and in return, you will kill me. I’ll have your vow first.

Maybe he hadn’t believed her then. Maybe he’d been too lost to his own pain to care. But now, the fact that she wanted to die … not just no, but hell no. He would die first.

“Why did you dodge my blows?” Strider demanded of the girl.

“I told you. Instinct. But I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

Mine, Kane heard again, a deep, rumbling growl rising … rising … escaping. “Mine! Touch her and I’ll kill you.”

Both Sabin and Strider stared at him with astonishment. Kane had always been the calm one, and had never before raised his voice to his friends. But he wasn’t the man he used to be—wouldn’t ever be that man again.

“Please,” she begged the warrior, those eyes swirling with flecks of baby blue. How desperate she sounded.

How much more hotly his rage burned.

Something terrible had to have happened to her to make her feel death was the only option available. Had someone … had she been forced—he couldn’t finish the thought. He would erupt. Or bury his head in the hollow of her neck and sob.

He peered up at Strider. Big, blond Strider, with his navy eyes and warped sense of humor. “Bind her. Gently. Bring her with us.” He would help her.

“What?” She held up her hands, palms up, and backed away from the warrior. “No way. Just no way. Unless you’re planning to take me to an undisclosed location, so no one will see the blood.”

He could have lied. Instead, he remained quiet as Sabin assisted him to his feet. Broken bones that had only recently been reset screamed in protest, and his knees nearly buckled, but he held steady. He wouldn’t allow himself to go down. Not again. Not in front of his min—the girl.

“Sorry, honey cakes,” Strider said, “but you don’t get a say in what happens next. You’re gonna live and not die, and that’s that.”

“But … but …” Her gaze found Kane and pleaded. “I’ve wasted so much time with you. I have no one else to ask for help.”

“Good.” Any man who thought to give her what she asked for would die the worst of deaths.

“Good? Good! Oh!” Anger overshadowed everything else, and she stomped her foot. “You heartless, overgrown lout!”

“Because he won’t hurt you? That’s a first.” Strider reached out, intending to grab her.

In a snap, she kicked out her leg, nailing the male between the legs. As Strider hunched over, gasping for breath, she bolted for the door, tossing over her shoulder, “I’m so disappointed in you, Lord Kane!”

She vanished into the night.

He tried to follow after her, but curse his weakness, his knees buckled. “Come back, female! Now!”

She never reappeared.

Kane experienced a tidal wave of rage that made a mockery of what had come before. He would get her back. He would stalk through the night, grab everyone he spotted, and, if they couldn’t point him in the right direction, rip their spines out of their mouths. He would leave an ocean of blood in his wake, and she would have only herself to blame. He would—

Do nothing, Disaster finished with a laugh.

It stung all the worse because Kane could only remain crumpled on the floor.

“Bring her back to me,” he shouted to Strider.

Moaning in agony, the warrior toppled to the floor. He’d just been bested by a puny little girl; his demon would be throwing out pain for the next several days.

“Go!” Kane commanded Sabin.

“No. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Go!” he insisted. “Bring her back.”

“Yelling at me isn’t going to change my mind.”

Kane tried to crawl to the door, but dizziness crowded into his mind, stopping him. He spit out a mouthful of curses.

Could nothing go right for him? Not even once?

Disaster started laughing all over again.

CHAPTER THREE

The Realm of Blood and Shadows

A week later

KANE ROSE FROM the king-size bed and padded to his private bathroom. Already naked, he stepped into the shower. Hot water beat against newly healed skin, all the bruises and scabs finally gone. And yet, his muscles had yet to unknot.

The fury he’d experienced at the loss of his rescuer had yet to fade, and hatred for Disaster was a constant burn in his chest. And his memories … they were the worst.

They came during the day. They came during the night. He could be lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, and all of a sudden he would be transported back to hell, his wrists and ankles bound. He could be in the shower, like now, with the water raining over him, and all of a sudden he would see the dirt, blood and … other things once caked on his skin, and no amount of scrubbing would make him clean.

He was pretty sure the wires in his brain had gotten cut during his torture. And as he’d healed physically, those wires had been reattached in the wrong places. Darkness had become a perfume that constantly wafted from his pores. Hungry anger now simmered inside him, desperate for a target.

No one was safe.

He’d lost his appetite. He could no longer sleep. Sudden noises made him scramble for a weapon.

Once, he’d rolled with the punches life threw at him. Once, he’d been a softer, nicer guy. Now, there would be no more rolling. Now, he was a raging bull, at times too violent to contain. Any wrong was punished immediately—no one would ever think him weak enough to challenge again.

The shambles of his room proved it.

He soaped up, rinsed off and towel dried, every action stiff, forced. Standing in front of the mirror, he studied his foggy reflection. His skin was pale. Dark hair dripped water down his shoulders and chest. Because of the weight he’d lost, his cheeks had yet to fill out. His lips were compressed into a thin line, as though they’d never known a smile. Maybe they hadn’t. Any memory with an accompaniment of amusement no longer seemed to belong to him. Everything positive had happened to someone else. Surely.

But the worst thing about him? His eyes were no longer a mix of brown and green. They were a mix of brown, green—and red. Demon red.

A sense of repugnance grew. Disaster was attempting to control him. And the demon was actually succeeding, whispering reminders about what had happened inside that cave.

A hand here … a mouth there … so helpless …

How dirty was Kane now? How tainted?

A whip across your legs. A dagger along your ribs.

How much of a failure was he?

Hot breath on your wounded skin … kisses … tongues …

Fighting to breathe, Kane flattened his hands on the edge of the sink. He hardly cared when the porcelain cracked. He wanted to rip Disaster out of his chest, and strangle the creature with his bare hands.

Yes. That’s the way his tormentor would die.

Soon.

If he could get his mind right, at least a little, he could figure out a way to make it happen. But any time he wasn’t plagued by gut-wrenching memories, he was plagued by thoughts about the girl from the motel. The Fae. He ached as he’d done when she’d touched him. He tensed. He cursed.

He yearned.

He remembered the adoration painted on her face as she looked at him, as if he were someone special. A look he still didn’t understand—but wanted to experience again.

He replayed the silly words she’d spoken to him.

I never lie—except for the few times I do, in fact, lie, but it’s never intentional, and I’m totally telling the truth right now, I promise.

You weigh, like, ten thousand pounds. But they’re glorious pounds.

I’ve been crossing off the seconds in the calendar in my heart.

He wanted to know what else she would say.

Who was she? Where was she? What was she doing?

Were memories she’d rather not recall afflicting her? Was she hurt? Alone? Scared?

A few times, fear had wiped away her adoration and sass, leaving her with nothing but tremors.

He understood all too well the difficulty—the desperation—of an inescapable past.

Had she found someone to end her? Had she ended herself?

Or was she still alive?

His arms dropped to his sides as his hands fisted. She was his. She—

Wasn’t his.

Still, he wasn’t going to take care of his problem until he’d taken care of hers, was he? He couldn’t leave her out there, desperate and afraid, possibly in danger. The girl had saved him from the most horrific situation of his life. Even though she’d run away from him, he had to step up and save her from what had to be the most horrific situation of hers.

She was right, after all. He owed her. And he would pay up. Just not the way she wished. He would fix her life the way he couldn’t fix his own. Then, one of them would be happy.

She deserved to be happy.

If she still lived.

He sucked in a sharp breath. She had better still live, or he would … he would … He punched the mirror, shattering the glass. The sound of tinkling bells filled the small enclosure. Several pieces arrowed into his leg, cutting into his thigh. A gift from Disaster, he was sure. Gritting his teeth, he removed the shards.

After he helped the girl, he could concentrate on killing the demon. He wouldn’t give up until he succeeded. He couldn’t take this anymore, and he didn’t want his friends to have to take it anymore, either. He was too much of a danger to those around him, and there were too many innocents here.

He would leave today, he decided, and he wouldn’t ever come back.

Sorrow settled heavily on his shoulders, weighing him down. He couldn’t talk to his friends about his decision. They wouldn’t understand. They would try to talk him into taking another path. They might even lock him away for his “own good.”

They’d done it once before.

Kane wouldn’t sneak away, but he wouldn’t admit the truth, either. He would say his goodbyes, as if he meant to return after his rescuer had been saved. Only he would know this was it. The end.

Jaw locked, Kane strapped weapons all over his body. There were multiple blades, two Sigs and several clips. He dressed in a black T-shirt and camo pants, then tugged on his favorite pair of combat boots. He stomped from the bathroom, glass crunching under his feet, his mind a field of evil laughter.

Stupid demon.

During Kane’s absence, his friends had moved into a fortress in the Realm of Blood and Shadows, a kingdom hidden in a pocket between earth and the lower level of the skies. He strode down the hall, his gaze on the walls covered with pictures of a beautiful blonde female in various outfits and positions. Lounging on a velvet-lined couch, standing in a rose garden, dancing on a table. Blowing a kiss. Winking.

Her name was Viola, and she was a minor goddess of something or other, as well as the keeper of Narcissism. He couldn’t help but compare her to sperm: she had about a one in three million chance of becoming a human being with actual emotions. The girl irritated the fire out of him.

He pounded down the stairs, then down another hallway, this one littered with ridiculous portraits of the warriors wearing ribbons and lace and smiles—and nothing else. They’d been painted by a dead man, if ever Kane met the guy, and had been commissioned by Lucien’s fiancée, Anya, the goddess of Anarchy, without permission.

Finally Kane reached his destination. Maddox and Ashlyn’s bedroom. His first stop on the Tour of Goodbyes.

Maddox was the keeper of Violence. Ashlyn was the new mother of the warrior’s twin babies.

For a long while, Kane watched Ashlyn, silent. She was a delicate beauty with honey-colored hair and skin, and she swayed in a rocker, singing to the bundle of joy clutched lovingly in her arms. Beside her, Maddox swayed in a second rocker. He was a brute of a man with black hair and violet eyes, and seeing him kiss the tiny fingers wrapped around his pinky did something to Kane’s insides. Twisted and knotted them, until he experienced the same lance of pain his pointy-eared rescuer had caused.

What was that?

William the Ever Randy—aka the Panty Melter, Kane thought with an eye-roll—sat at the edge of the king-size bed, a pink comforter plumped around his battle-honed body. Somehow, the feminine coverlet failed to diminish the savage intensity of his strength. He wasn’t demon-possessed. No one knew what he was, exactly. All they knew was that he had a temper rivaled by few, and a mean streak longer than any Kane had ever before encountered. He smiled when he killed his enemies—and laughed when he stabbed his friends.

“When’s it gonna be my turn?” William whined. “I want to hold my preciouses. Preciousees? Whatever. I want!”

O-kay. That was new.

“They aren’t yours,” Maddox snapped, doing his best to whisper for the sake of the babies.

“They kind of are. I delivered them,” William pointed out.

“I conceived them.”

“Big deal. Most guys can do that. Not many have the know-how to slice a woman from hip to hip and dig the little creatures out of her … uh, never mind,” William said as a fierce growl rose from Maddox.

Expecting a fight, Kane stepped inside to claim the baby.

William’s electric blues swung his way. “Disaster. Couldn’t stay away from the most delightful darlings ever born? Oh, yes, you are,” he cast at the children. “Yes, yes, you are.”

Baby talk. Disgusting.

The negative reaction surprised him. Once, he would have been right there beside William, saying the same things, in the same manner. In the dark of night, he used to dream of such a happily ever after for himself. A loving wife. Adoring children. Then the minions had tried to steal his seed and he … he …

“Don’t call me by the demon’s name,” he snarled, then realized his fervency had caused the children to jolt awake and cry. Shame coursed through him. “Sorry. But I’m not that disgusting piece of—” Yelling again. “Sorry. Just watch your mouth, okay?”

“Hush now,” William said sternly, and Kane had no idea who the command was for.

Didn’t matter, really. Everyone quieted.

Ashlyn glanced over at Kane, her amber eyes welcoming. She looked nothing like Kane’s woman—no, not his, he quickly amended—and yet she reminded him of the girl. The delicacy of her bone structure, perhaps. Or the depth of her concern for those around her, maybe. “Do you want to hold Urban?”

“No, thank you,” he replied at the same time Maddox said, “No, he doesn’t.”

A stilted moment of silence elapsed.

Kane ignored the hurt the words caused. The refusal was justified. He was a danger to everyone he encountered. Had his mind not been such a mess, constantly feeding the demon the tastiest of meals, light bulbs would have been shorting out and the walls and floors would have been cracking.

“I just wanted to get a look at them before … Well, I’ll be leaving a little later today. I’ve got a female to help.” He cleared the clog of emotion from his throat.

“Well, come on, then,” Ashlyn said. “Sabin and Strider mentioned the pointy-eared woman from New York. I like the sound of her.”

“She’s …” Magnificent. Lovely. Witty. “Something.” His insides tightened as he approached the rockers.

William stood to do the same, remaining by his side, stiff, his hand poised over the hilt of a dagger. To protect the babies from Kane’s affliction? Yeah. Probably.

Can’t blame him.

“You gettin’ so close to me ’cause you’re trying to taste my flavor, Willy boy?” he said to the warrior who had yet to back off. Teasing was better than raging. Or worse. Crying.

“Maybe.” William allowed a few more inches of space. “But you just ruined it. Flavor? Seriously? I like my conquests with a little more maturity.”

“I’m mature. I’m even old enough to plow your mom.”

“Please. She would eat your liver for lunch and your kidneys for dinner.”

“Could you guys be any more disgusting?” Ashlyn asked.