However long it takes, whatever you have to do, you will bring her to me, Cronus had said. Or all those you love will suffer.
Lucien felt a spark of anger leap through himself, but he quickly tamped it down. No anger. He was Death. Right now he had no other purpose. Emotion would only hinder him; he knew that well.
However longs it takes. Cronus's voice once again echoed in his mind.
For a moment, only a moment, Lucien entertained the possibility of taking forever. An eternity. You know what happens when you hesitate. The one destined to die suffers a far worse fate than originally intended. Do it! Or your friends, too, will suffer a far worse fate.
Determined, Lucien materialized and stepped forward. Gravel crunched under his boots, and Anya's head snapped up. Instantly their gazes locked. Her crystalline eyes widened, filling with such intense heat and longing they singed him.
Her mouth fell open in shock as she popped to her feet. "Lucien."
The sweetness of her voice blended with the strawberries-and-cream scent she emitted. As his body tensed erotically, his resolve weakened. Again. Stay strong, damn you.
Not realizing the danger she was in, she remained in place, still peering over at him through the thick shield of her lashes. "How did you find me?"
"You are not the only being capable of tracking an immortal," he replied, giving her only half of the answer.
Her gaze traced over him, so hot he thought she might be mentally stripping away his clothing. Women simply did not look at him like that. Not anymore. And that this one did…He was having more and more trouble controlling his reactions. His cock grew harder with every second that passed.
"So you've come to finish what we started, have you, Flowers?" She sounded eager.
"That is not why I've come." He spoke the words precisely. There is no other way. You must do this deed.
Her lush red lips edged into a frown. "Then why—" She gasped and anchored one hand on her suddenly cocked hip. "Did you come to insult me some more? Because you should know, I'm not going to tolerate it. I am not unimportant!"
Oh, yes, he had hurt her, and the knowledge once again filled him with guilt. Foolish to feel guilt when he'd come here to hurt her irrevocably, but the emotion proved too strong to fight. Still he repeated, "That is not why I've come," this time adding, "I'm sorry, Anya, but I've come to kill you."
CHAPTER THREE
I'VE COME TO KILL YOU.
The words echoed through Anya's mind, a bleak promise she couldn't quiet. Lucien never joked. She knew that well. Had watched him all these weeks without seeing a single smile or hearing a hint of humor pass his exquisite lips. More than that, the spirit of Death radiated from him now, a skeletal mask glowing underneath his skin.
The scent of roses thickened the air, almost mesmerizing, beseeching her to do anything and everything he asked. Even die.
Her heart skipped a beat. She'd seen him take a soul before; it had been a morbidly beautiful sight, yet one she'd never thought to experience firsthand. She was immortal, after all. But she knew better than most that even immortals could be slain.
The night she'd cut the heart from the Captain of the Guard, ending his miserable existence once and for all, the prospect of mortality had become very clear. Of course, it had become even clearer after her arrest and subsequent imprisonment while the gods debated what to do with her.
Every day inside her cell, the bars had seemed to tighten around her and the screams and moans of the other prisoners had seemed to grow louder. Maybe they'd been her screams. Being unable to nourish her need to create disorder had hurt unbearably.
She'd quickly realized life, even for an immortal, could be ruined or ended too soon. And she'd decided to fight for hers, then and always. No matter what. Freedom, whether physical or emotional, would never be taken from her again.
The gods had thought otherwise. Ultimately they'd decided to make her a sex slave to their warriors. A fitting punishment, they'd said. She'd taken their captain; now she could comfort the captain's army.
It would have destroyed her—mind, body and soul. Her determination might have withered. But her father had come for her, rescued her, despite the retribution he would heap on himself. Once again, she'd been free. Once again, she'd had a chance at the happiness she'd always craved.
And now Lucien, a man she desired, a man she'd kissed, wanted to end her, take everything from her? A thousand different emotions bubbled inside her, and she wasn't sure which to concentrate on first. Fury? Confusion? Hurt?
"Why do you want to hurt me?" she demanded.
"I do not want to hurt you. I must. Apparently, you are too wild to roam free."
Oh, those words rankled! It was one thing for all Olympus to rebuff her—she was used to that. But for some reason, despite everything, Lucien's opinion of her mattered.
"How did you find me?" she repeated.
Not a flicker of feeling touched Lucien's cold expression. "That doesn't matter."
"I could disappear in the blink of an eye."
"Run and I will find you again. No matter where you go, I will always find you."
Both seductive and frightening. "Why don't you attack me, then? Get it over with so there doesn't have to be another chase?"
He raised his chin, his jaw squaring stubbornly. "I will. I want you out of my mind first."
Doing her best to appear casual, she leaned back against the swing's chain. "I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted, honey. Is wild little Anya so bad a kisser the disgust of knowing you've had your tongue in her mouth refuses to leave you?" She sounded as unconcerned as she looked—she hoped—but inside, she trembled.
How did the sight of him still manage to affect her? Worse, now that she knew the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against hers and the sensation of his hands clutching her, drawing her closer, all of her reactions to him seemed to be intensified.
She craved more. Perhaps it's time to visit a therapist.
"I'm sure you know how good your kisses are." There was a trace of bitterness in the words.
"You make that sound like a crime."
"It is."
Anya's eyelids narrowed to tiny slits. She'd been alive a long time; she hadn't lived as a complete innocent, but she hadn't lived promiscuously, either. Why would she, even before her curse, when she knew the pain of being labeled easy?
Like anyone, however, Anya craved admiration and affection. She liked the way men looked at her and had often lain awake in bed, wishing for the sexual relationship she could never allow herself.
"We can do this easily, Anya."
"What, kiss again?"
He gulped forcefully. "See to your death."
Don't give him a reaction. A good warrior always used an adversary's emotions against him, and Lucien was a damn good warrior. But so was she. "Tell me again why you want to kill me, sweetcakes. I've forgotten."
A muscle ticked under his eye. "I told you. I do not want to slay you, but the gods have ordered me to do so."
And no one, not even a Lord of the Underworld, could disobey the gods without severe consequences. Dread curdled her stomach. Still, she had to admit she was glad Lucien had not come eagerly.
"All gods or one?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.
"One. Cronus."
"The bastard king," she said, just for the god's benefit. I hope you're listening, you greedy coward.