The Darkest Whisper

“Take mine.” His callused thumb caressed her cheek, abrading lightly. “Yes?”

Take his…what? she wondered, and then she didn’t care. Her chest! Constricting, pinching bone and muscle together. A sharp pain tore through her ribs and slammed into her heart, causing the organ to skitter to a momentary halt. Gwen jerked.

“You’re turning blue, darling. I’m going to place my mouth over yours, give you my breath. All right?”

What if this is a trick? What if—

Shut up! Even in her haze, she knew the eerie, ghostly whisper was not her own. Thankfully, it heeded her command and quieted. Now, if only her lungs would open up. “I—I—”

“Need me. Let me do this.” If he feared her response, he gave no indication. One of his hands trailed to the base of her neck and drew her forward, even as he leaned into her. Their lips pressed together, a heated tangle. His hot tongue pried her teeth apart, and then warm, minty air was sliding down her throat, soothing.

Her arms wound around him of their own accord, holding him captive, meshing them together chest to chest, hardness to softness. His necklace was cold, even through her shirt, and made her gasp. She greedily took his breath. “More.”

He didn’t hesitate. He blew inside her mouth, and another warm, calming breeze moved through her. Little by little the dizziness faded; her head cleared, darkness once more giving way to light. The frantic dance of her heart slowed to a gentle waltz.

A need to kiss him, truly kiss him and learn his taste, filled her. His origins, forgotten. His past, of no consequence. Their audience, vanished as if they’d never been present. Only the two of them existed. Only the here and now mattered. He’d calmed her, saved her, gentled her, and now, here in his arms, real life slipping away, the fantasy she’d had of him, of them, played through her mind. Bodies wrapped around each other, straining. Skin slick with sweat. Hands roaming. Mouths seeking.

She threaded her fingers through the silkiness of his hair and tentatively brushed her tongue against his. Lemon. He tasted of sweet lemons and a hint of cherry. A moan escaped her, reality so much more decadent than she could have dreamed. So heady…so…heavenly. Pure and good and everything a girl could want from a lover. So she tilted her head and did it again, sinking deeper, silently demanding more.

“Sabin,” she breathed, wanting to praise him. Maybe thank him. No one had ever made her feel so protected, cherished, safe, needy, so needy. Not with something as simple as a kiss. A kiss that left no room for fear. Perhaps she could let go, even be herself, and not worry about her dark side…about hurting him. “Give me more.”

Instead of obeying, he jerked his head away and tugged her arms from him until there was no longer any physical link between them. “Touch me again!” she wanted to shout. Her body needed him, needed contact.

“Sabin,” she repeated, studying him. He was panting, trembling, his face pale—but not from passion. Fire didn’t dance in his eyes, determination did.

He hadn’t kissed her back, she realized. Her own desire-haze faded, just as the dizziness had done a bit ago, leaving the harsh realities she’d foolishly forgotten. Voices clamored around her.

“—didn’t see that one coming.”

“Should have.”

“Not the kiss, idiot. The calming. Her eyes had turned, and her claws had emerged. She was poised to strike. I mean, hello. Am I the only one who remembers what happened to the Hunter who tangled with her?”

“Maybe Sabin’s a portal to heaven like Danika,” someone said dryly. “Maybe the Harpy saw a few angels while receiving mouth-to-mouth.”

Male chuckles abounded.

Gwen’s cheeks heated. Half of what they’d said escaped her understanding. The other half mortified her. She’d kissed a man, a demon, who clearly wanted nothing to do with her—and she’d done it in front of witnesses.

“Ignore them,” Sabin said, his voice so guttural it scraped against her eardrums. “Focus on me.”

Their gazes clashed together, brown against gold. She scooted as far back in her chair as she could, putting as much distance between them as possible.

“Are you still afraid of me?” he asked, head tilting to the side.

She raised her chin. “No.” Yes. She was afraid of what he made her feel, afraid that what he was would again cease to matter. Afraid he’d never crave her the way she suddenly craved him. Afraid that the wonderfully protective man in front of her was nothing more than a mirage, that evil waited just below the surface, ready to devour her whole.

Such a coward you are. How the hell could she have kissed him like that?

One of his brows arched. “You wouldn’t be lying, would you?”

“I never lie, remember?” Ironically, that was a lie.

“Good. Now listen closely, because I don’t want to have this discussion again. I have a demon inside my body, yes.” He gripped her armrests so tightly his knuckles slowly blanched. “It’s there because centuries ago I stupidly helped open Pandora’s box, unleashing the spirits inside. As punishment, the gods cursed me and all the warriors you see on this plane to carry one inside ourselves. In the beginning, I couldn’t control that demon and did some…bad things, as you said. But that was thousands of years ago, and I now have control. We all do. Like I told you in that cell, you have nothing to fear from us. Got me, red?”

Red. Earlier, during her panic attack, he’d called her something else. Something like…sweetheart? No. Tyson used to call her sweetheart. Dearest? No. But close. Darling? Yes! Yes, that was it. She blinked in surprise. In delight. This hard warrior who could cut a man’s throat without hesitation had referred to her as precious treasure.

So why hadn’t he kissed her back?

“We’ve reached our destination, guys,” an unfamiliar voice dripping with relief said over the intercom. The pilot, she figured, and experienced a wave of guilt for the trouble she had caused. “Prepare for descent.”

Sabin remained in place, an indomitable rock between her legs. “Do you believe me, Gwen? Will you still willingly travel to our home?”

“I was never willing.”

“But you never tried to escape.”

“Should I have braved a strange land by myself, with no provisions?”

He frowned. “I’ve seen for myself how skilled you are. And we’ve offered you provisions time and time again. For whatever reason, part of you wants to be with us or you wouldn’t be here. You know it, and I know it.”

Logic she couldn’t deny. But…why? Why would part of her want to stay? Then or now?

You know the answer to that, though you’ve tried to deny it. Him. Sabin. Not attracted to him? Ha! She studied him, noting the thin lines of strain branching from his eyes, the spiky shadows cast by his lashes, the muscle twitching in his jaw. The erratic pound of his pulse, now so loud in her ears. Maybe he was just as attracted to her, but was fighting it, as she was. The thought pleased her.

Did he have a woman waiting for him in Budapest? A wife?

Gwen’s hands fisted, the nails digging deep, cutting. She was no longer pleased. This doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t want him.

“Gwen. Will you?”

The way he said her name was a slap and a caress at the same time, jarring her, making her shiver. She liked that he sought her cooperation, though she suspected he would try and force her to his will if she declined. “Maybe I should have run.”

“To what? A life of regrets? A life of wishing you had acted against the ones who hurt you? I’m offering you a chance to help me kill Hunters. And just so you know, killing them won’t be the only benefit,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I can help you control your beast the way I control mine. I can help you channel it for a good cause. Don’t you want to be in control?”

All her life, she’d wanted only three things: to meet her father, earn her family’s respect and learn to control her Harpy. If Sabin could deliver on that promise, she would finally, after all these years, have achieved one of the three. He was probably overreaching and destined to fail, but it was a temptation she couldn’t resist.

“I’ll go with you,” she said. “I’ll help you as best I can.”

Relief pulsed from him as he closed his eyes and smiled. “Thank you.”

That smile relaxed the stark edges of his face, making him appear boyish once again. As she drank him in, the plane jolted abruptly. Sabin was pushed back; she was propelled forward. To her delight—dismay—the distance between them never widened.

“On one condition,” she added when they settled.