The Darkest Night

“What’s going on?” Reyes demanded. Seeing Ashlyn, he gaped. Shock settled over his features. “Why have you brought a woman into the house?”

Hearing the commotion, Paris and Aeron raced into the foyer, features taut. When they spotted Maddox, they relaxed. “Finally,” Paris said, clearly relieved. But he, too, spotted Ashlyn. He grinned. “Sweet! A present? For me?”

Maddox bared his teeth. Kill them, Violence beseeched, a seductive whisper now. Kill them.

“You shouldn’t be here.” The words tore from his throat. “Take her and leave. Before it’s too late.”

“Look at him,” Paris said, his relief and amusement gone. “Look at his face.”

“The process has already begun,” Lucien said.

The words spurred Maddox to action. Though he found he didn’t want to release Ashlyn, even in his madness, he tossed her at the group. Lucien caught her effortlessly. The moment her weight settled on her feet, she winced. Must have twisted her ankle on the hill, Maddox realized, concern slipping past bloodlust for a split second.

“Careful of her foot,” he commanded.

Lucien released her to look at her ankle, but Ashlyn scrambled away from him and limped her way back into Maddox’s arms. His concern intensified as his arms wound around her. She was trembling. But a moment later, he stopped caring. A pestilent haze fell over his mind, brutality obliterating every emotion in its path.

“Release me,” he growled, pushing her.

The woman clung to him. “What’s wrong?”

Lucien grabbed her, jerking her backward and locking her in an iron grip. Had she touched Maddox a second longer, he might have clawed her to pieces. As it was, he slammed his hands into the nearest wall.

“Maddox,” she said on a tremulous breath.

“Do not hurt her.” The words were for himself as much as the others. “You,” he grated, pointing to Reyes with a crimson-stained finger. “Bedroom. Now.” He didn’t wait for a response, but pounded up the stairs.

He heard Ashlyn fight for freedom and call, “But I want to stay with you.”

He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. He allowed himself a single glance over his shoulder.

When Lucien further tightened his hold on the struggling Ashlyn, his dark hair brushing her shoulders, Maddox’s need for bloodshed strengthened. He almost changed paths, almost sprinted back into the foyer to hack his friend to pieces. Mine, his mind shouted. Mine. I foundher. No one but me should be allowed to touch her.

Maddox wasn’t sure whether it was the spirit or himself who thought such a thing, and he didn’t care. He just wanted to kill. Yes, kill. Fury, such fury, exploded through him. He did stop. Did change direction. He was going to slice Lucien in half and coat the floor with his friend’s blood. Destroy, destroy, destroy. Kill.

“He’s going to attack.” Lucien.

“Get her out of here!” Torin.

Lucien dragged Ashlyn from the room. Her panicked cries echoed in Maddox’s ears, which only managed to increase his darkest needs. The image of her pale, lovely face flashed in his mind over and over again, becoming the only thing he saw. She was terrified. Trusted him, wanted him. Her arms had reached for him.

His stomach was a stinging mass of pulsing agony, but he didn’t slow his steps. Any minute, midnight would arrive and he would die—but he was taking everyone here with him. Yes, they must be destroyed.

“Ah, hell,” Aeron muttered. “The demon has taken over completely. We’ll have to subdue him. Lucien, get back in here. Hurry!”

Aeron, Reyes and Paris advanced. With the speed of a single breath, Maddox unsheathed his daggers and launched them. Expecting the attack, all three men ducked and the silver blades soared over them, embedding in the wall. Two seconds later, the men were on top of him and he was lying flat on his back. Fists jabbed into his face, his stomach, his groin. He fought. Roaring, growling, punching.

Knuckles slammed into his jaw, dislocating the bone. A knee jammed into the sensitive flesh between his legs. Still he fought. And as the battle raged, the warriors managed to drag him up the steps and into his bedroom. Maddox thought he heard Ashlyn sobbing, thought he saw her trying to tear the men away from him. He jabbed his fist forward and hit something—a nose. Heard a howl. Experienced satisfaction. Wanted more blood.

“Damn it! Chain him, Reyes, before he breaks somebody else’s fucking nose.”

“He’s too strong. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold him.”

Minutes passed as he fought, maybe an eternity, then cold metal locked around his wrists, his ankles. Maddox bucked and arched, the links cutting into his flesh. “Bastards!” The pain in his stomach was unbearable now, no longer sporadic but constant. “I’ll kill you. I’ll take every one of you to hell with me.”

Reyes stood over him, a dark glaze of determination and regret blanketing his tanned features. Maddox tried to knock him down by raising his knees and kicking, but the chains held. The warrior, too, held steady, withdrawing a long, menacing sword from his side.

“I’m sorry,” Reyes rasped as a clock chimed the hour. And then he stabbed Maddox in the stomach.

The metal sliced all the way to his spine before leaving his body. Instantly blood poured from the wound, wetting his chest and stomach. Bile burned his throat, his nose. He cursed; he bucked.

Reyes stabbed him again. And again.

The pain…the agony… His skin felt scorched. With only those three slices, his bones and organs were already shredded, each tear a point of anguish. Still he fought; still he felt a desperate urge to kill.

A woman screamed. “Stop! You’re killing him!”

When her voice pierced Maddox’s consciousness, his struggles became all the more wild. Ashlyn. His woman from the forest. His. Get to her, had to get to her. Had to kill her—no! Had to save her. Kill…save…the two needs battled for supremacy. He jerked at his chains. The metal shackles dug deeper into his wrists and ankles, but he reared up and kicked. The bed shook with the force of his movements, and both the headboard and footboard bent forward with a whine.

“Why are you doing this?” Ashlyn shouted. “Stop! Don’t hurt him. Ohmygod, stop!”

Reyes stabbed him again.

Black cobwebs wove over his vision as he searched the room. Paris, he saw dimly, was striding toward Ashlyn. Reached her, wrapped his arms around her. She was dwarfed by the larger man, enfolded in his shadow. Tears glistened in those amber eyes and on her too-pale cheeks.

She fought, but Paris held firm and dragged her from the room.

Maddox uttered an animalistic roar. Paris would seduce her. Strip her and taste her. She would not be able to resist; no woman could. “Let her go! Now!” He strained so fervently for freedom, a vessel burst in his forehead. His vision blackened completely.

“Get her out of here and keep her out.” Reyes stabbed Maddox once more, the fifth blow. “She’s making him more crazed than usual.”

Had to save her. Had to get to her. The sound of rattling chains blended with his panting as he struggled all the more.

“I’m sorry,” Reyes whispered again.

Finally, the sixth blow was delivered.

That’s when all of Maddox’s strength seeped from him. The spirit quieted, retreating to the back of his consciousness.

Done. It was done.

He lay on the bed, drenched in his own blood, unable to move or see. The pain didn’t leave him, nor did the burning. No, they intensified, more a part of him than his own skin. Warm liquid gurgled in his throat.

Lucien—he knew it was Lucien for he recognized the deceptively sweet scent of Death—knelt beside him and clasped his hand. That meant his demise was close, so torturously close.

But for Maddox, the true torment had yet to begin.

As part of his death-curse, he and Violence would spend the rest of the night burning in the pits of hell. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a cough emerged. More and more blood was rushing into his throat, choking him.