Темнейшее поражение

Animosity was good, and he seriously hoped she maintained a tight grip on it, despite the fact that he’d had to move heaven and earth to get here. Heaven—phoning Paris and convincing the warrior to drop everything up there, have Lysander bring him home, and come with Strider. Earth—phoning Lucien and convincing the warrior to drop everything and use his flashing ability to get them from Budapest to Alaska in a mere blink of time. Neither of which had been an easy task.

In fact, he would rather have had his tongue removed with a dull, rusty butter knife. Both men had asked questions. Lots and lots of questions he hadn’t wanted to answer.

And yeah, Strider now owed the keeper of Death a favor, too. They were piling up, all because of the deceptively delicate-looking, utterly curvy stunner in front of him—who clearly wanted his head on a pike.

“Would have been nice if you’d given me some direction. Torin had to search every—” Strider stopped himself before he publicly admitted that Torin, the keeper of Disease, could hack into every database known to man. A skill like that was better kept under wraps. “He just had to search for you. Cost us some time.”

“So?”

“So. That’s all you have to say for your appalling behavior?” Thank gods she was doing as he’d hoped and holding tight to that animosity of hers. Yeah, thank gods. “You could have called Bianka. Word is, she’s here in Anchorage with you.” Not that she’d taken his call. “Instead, you waste my time with this shit.”

“So?”

Damn it! Would it have killed her to show him a little gratitude? He could have stayed home, left her rotting. Instead, she’d metaphorically batted her lashes at him and he’d jumped like a girl with a rope. Frustrating woman.

He’d done her wrong, yes, and unlike Haidee, she hadn’t deserved it. Thought you weren’t gonna ponder that. The memories came, anyway.

A group of Hunters had been riding his tail for days, but he’d been too wrapped up in his pity party over losing Haidee to Amun to notice or care. Kaia had stepped in and saved the day, preventing a disastrous ambush. And gods almighty, she was sexy when she fought.

He hadn’t seen that particular fight, but he’d seen several before it—and the one after it—and had even practiced battle-moves with her. He could very well imagine the lethal dance she’d performed that night.

Then had come the battle after, when she’d challenged him to a round of Who Can Slaughter More Hunters. He’d been royally pissed because one, she could slaughter more Hunters, no question, and two, he’d had other things to do. Like take his first vacation in centuries. Still, the challenge had been issued, his demon had accepted, and Strider’d had to drop everything or suffer a loss.

To his shock, she had let him win. Harpy that she was, she could rip through an entire army in seconds—all without breaking a sweat or a nail—but rather than render the final blows, she’d piled up her still-breathing conquests and given them to Strider. Then she’d taken off.

He hadn’t heard from her again until she’d left that message.

Yeah, he needed to apologize.

“Not to point out how lame you are or anything,” Kaia said to him, buffing her nails on her shirt, “but I once had to bail Bianka out of jail twelve times in one day. I didn’t complain a single time.”

Not amused, he reminded himself. “Have I ever told you how much I hate when people exaggerate?”

“I swear!” She stomped her foot. “I honestly didn’t complain.”

Really not amused. I won’t laugh. “Not what I was calling you on.”

“Oh, well.” The indignation drained from her. “I never exaggerate. Ever.”

His throat got tight as he swallowed back a laugh—of exasperation, not amusement, he assured himself. “You’re exaggerating now.”

“And you’re still whining, you crybaby!”

Gods, she was lovely when she was pissed. Her eyes glittered more gold than gray, as if flames danced through her irises, and her cheeks flushed the color of a rare, exotic rose. That glorious mane of red hair practically lifted from her scalp, as if she’d stuck her finger into a socket. Energy crackled around her.

“Wow,” Paris said, glancing around. “This is a lot of fun.”

“Have I ever told you how much I hate sarcasm?” Strider asked him.

Kaia drew in a measured breath, her gaze remaining on Strider. “Lookit, all your crybaby bawling aside, I’m not paying you back and I’m not showing up for my hearing.” Her chin flew into the air, all snotty attitude and refusal to forgive. “So there.”

Goodbye, non-amusement. Screw an apology. Defeat was humming now, gearing up to fight, intimidated by her or not. Strider popped his jaw but didn’t say another word. He just turned on his heel and stomped out of the building before things got ugly, forcing Paris and Kaia to follow. Together. Maybe they’d do him a solid and hold hands.