SO MANY THOUGHTS WERE POURING through Lucien's mind. Anya wanted him. Truly wanted him. She'd sucked him, had drunk him dry. And had not seemed the least bit repulsed by his scars. No, she had seemed to glory in him.

He was still shocked. Death, too. The demon had yet to stop purring.

Lucien had not expected Anya to take him in her mouth. He had expected her to leave in a huff. He had expected her to be anything but a virgin. That this sexy, courageous, spirited woman had never been with a man...

He'd practically called her a whore, yet she was as pure as new-fallen snow. Guilt clawed at him. What a terrible curse to have hanging over one's head, especially for an independent woman like Anya. A goddess, no less, whose torment would not end in seventy to eighty years but would continue for an eternity.

How well he knew about eternal damnation.

How could Cronus order the death of such a precious woman? How could Lucien possibly kill her, even with dire consequences hanging over his friends' heads?

He couldn't, he realized. He'd never wanted to fall for a woman again, one he would one day have to cart to the hereafter. Yet here he was. Could have been perfect, Anya being an immortal like him, but she would not give up her key, whatever it was, and Cronus would not remove the death-command without it. Perfect, no. A nightmare, yes. But Lucien had fallen for her.

She understood him, amused him, even liked him. Certainly seemed to lust after him. She was everything he was not, and he was the better for it.

Perhaps it did not have to be a nightmare. If he were to steal the key from her...She would be angry, but he did not care. Anger was better than death.

Where did she keep it? He doubted she would let it out of her sight, but he hadn't seen anything resembling a key on her naked body. Could it be locked away in one of her many homes?

No telling when Cronus would next appear. Lucien would have to act quickly.

"Your turn again," Anya whispered in his ear. She rose over him like a sea siren in the ocean blue, pale hair tumbling down her shoulders in sensual disarray. Her skin was flushed and rosy with satisfaction, her lips red and swollen from his kisses.

He had never seen a more breathtaking sight, and all thoughts of the key vanished.

"You do not have to," he said, but he wanted her to do it. Desperately. He had neglected his body for so long, and the pleasure he found with her was so intense. "You took care of me earlier."

"That was earlier, and you're ready for round two. Besides, I like taking care of you." Her lips curled in a slow, wicked smile. "I can't seem to get enough of you."

"I cannot get enough of you, either." He caressed a lock of hair from her cheek. "Foolish me, for trying to push you away."

"Yes. Foolish. But don't worry. I'll punish you for that. I'll give you a tongue lashing you'll never forget." She rained little kisses down his cheek and neck, taking special care with his scars, licking and nibbling them.

What an amazing creature, he marveled. His cock was harder than ever before, pulsing with need. Rather than sate him, one taste had slain him. He was addicted to Anya. Her heat. Her softness. One taste made him want another and another and another.

He might never get enough of her.

In the past, it had been easier to go without sex than to risk any softer emotion, wondering if he would later have to watch his lover die. Right now, he couldn't go without.

Anya fascinated him, as well as Death. Her wit and tenacity gave her the courage to face him when anyone else would have run screaming. Not just because of his appearance, not just because he was possessed by a demon, not even just because he'd intended to kill her, but because of the insults he'd hurled.

Insults she had not deserved.

"I am sorry," he began, hands tangling in her hair. As he did so, he felt the first tug of Death. Heard a roar. Lucien blinked. The demon was being drawn to souls who needed him and was furious at the thought of leaving the bed. "I said it before, but I do not think I can say it enough."

"Why are you sorry?" The hot tip of Anya's tongue circled his navel.

Lucien tried to resist, tried to tune the demon out. "I was rude to you when you deserved only kindness." His testicles drew up and his cock twitched, seeking her. He bent his knees and planted his heels in the mattress. Her fingers curled around the base of his shaft, and he moaned. Sweet fire. He -

Felt another tug from Death, this one stronger, more intense. He nearly roared, and the sound would have blended with the demon's frenzied snarls. We'll move quickly. It was the first time he'd ever had to prompt the demon into action.

Stay.

She will be here when we return.

Hurry!

"I must go. Do not leave." He sat up and pressed a quick kiss to Anya's lips. "Please do not leave."

With that, he allowed his body to become mist and sink into the spirit world. Death seemed to be pacing the corridors of his mind, but flashed him to a small room. Blood coated the walls. Blood and other things he did not want to contemplate.

Two bodies lay on the floor, a man and a woman. The man, Lucien instantly knew thanks to his demon, had wrongly suspected the woman of cheating on him, had shot her and then turned the gun on himself.

Bastard, he thought, then stilled. Hadn't he basically accused Anya of the same? Scowling, Lucien pounded a ghostly hand into the man's body first and jerked the spirit out, not even trying to be gentle.

The spirit struggled against Lucien's hold. Screamed when he saw Lucien's eyes. Faster than he had ever moved before, Lucien flashed to hell and practically threw the spirit inside. He went back to the room and gathered the woman more gently.

She saw him and gasped. "Naked," she said, staring at him. "Am I in...heaven?"

Should have dressed first. "Not yet." Spirits often tried to talk to him, and he rarely replied. This time, his response was automatic. "Soon. The angels are much prettier than I." He escorted her skyward just as quickly, ready to return to his own piece of heaven.

He wasn't sure how long he had taken, but he flashed back to the home in Greece and materialized. Finally, Death quieted. Anya was on her back, one hand massaging her breasts, one hand between her legs, two fingers pumping in and out.

She was moaning, pink and dewy.

Once again, Lucien was on fire, burning, burning, as he crawled on top of her, jealous that he was not the one inside her. At the first touch, he and the demon sighed in unison. This was where they belonged.

Anya's eyes popped open. She grinned sensuously. "I couldn't wait."

Lucien rolled them over, pinning himself underneath her. "I am glad. I liked the sight of you."

"Mmm, you're so strong," she praised. "So determined. Why can't I get enough of you?"

Her eyes met his for a split second, and he felt like the most beautiful man ever to walk the earth. There was so much passion and admiration in that crystalline gaze of hers.

"You amaze me," he told her, caressing her cheek. Tenderness flooded him. He'd eschewed gentler emotions for so long he didn't yet know how to handle them. But he was willing to try. For Anya.

"Just wait..." Sensuously she moved down his body. Her head bent and her lush lips opened over the rounded head of his shaft one more time. Down she pumped, again taking him all the way to the back of her throat.

This time, there was no guilt to cloud his passion. He hadn't shamed her into this; she truly desired him. And the knowledge made him dizzy, made him sizzle. He was scorched and blistered to his soul as he arched his back, seeking more of that moist heat.

"So hot," she praised. Her teeth scraped the head gently, heating him even more.

"Anya." He clawed at the covers.

One of her hands dabbled at his testicles, and the other stretched up his chest to pluck at his nipple. All the while she continued to drive her mouth up and down. Soon he was writhing, mindless of anything but the pleasure.

It was nearly more than he could bear.

Surely he, Death, would die when he came this time. Surely he -

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the slam of a door, the low baritone of a voice exclaiming at the destruction found in the living room.

Anya's heavenly mouth stopped moving. He nearly roared, nearly cursed, nearly hacked the entire bed to pieces. Where is your calm? He was panting, sweating. Aching. The demon was snapping ferociously again.

"Lucien," Anya said. She was breathless.

He struggled to control his body, his mind, drawing in shallow rasps of air as best he could. Blood screamed in his ears. Desire continued to beat hard fists through him. He needed to come. He needed to make Anya his woman, over and over again.

"Lucien," she repeated as the voice became louder.

"What the hell happened?" he heard Strider growl. Footsteps pounded.

"Defeat," he snarled. "Do not enter my bedroom. I need a moment."

"We need a moment," Anya called.

The footsteps ceased. "One minute, and I'm coming in."

Lucien tried to sit up just as cold steel clamped around his wrist. Brow puckered, he looked to the side. Frowned. Anya had locked him to the bed.

"Anya," he said. "A game?"

"No."

A pause. A muscle ticked below his eye. "Chains cannot hold me."

"These can." She hopped off the bed and rushed to the closet, jerking a shirt and pair of pants from the hangers. "Sorry, sugar, but we aren't done talking and I can't let you leave until we are."

He tugged at the chain. It rattled, but didn't break. Dread coursed through him. He tried to flash, but failed. The reason she'd gone to his room in Buda became clear. She'd gathered the chains. "Let me go. Now."

She looked at him, a flitter of sadness in her eyes. "I don't have the key."

"It is in my pants. Those," he said, motioning to the closet floor with his free hand. In his preoccupation with Anya, he'd forgotten to leave the key in Buda with the chains, so had been carrying it around.

She picked them up. "These?"

"Yes."

She dug the small metal key out and held it in her flat palm. Tiny dark clouds formed around it, a contained gust of wind seeming to swirl just above it. In a blink, the clouds disappeared and the wind died. The key was gone. She brushed her empty hands together in triumph over a job well done.

"Anya!" he shouted. "What did you do? Where is the key?"

"Lucien?" Strider called, concerned.

"Not yet," he called back.

"Don't worry," Anya said. "You aren't helpless. That little key Cronie Wonie wants, well, it's the All-Key and it can unlock anything. Even those." She pointed to the chains.

"Prove it. Unlock me. Now!"

"Sorry, sweetcakes, but you need a little Lucien-time, and I'm nice enough to give it to you."

"Anya!" He was naked and undeniably aroused. If only a raging hard-on would go away because of a little anger. He wished, but no. "We had a truce."

"Which is why you're chained and not dead." Fully dressed now, she approached the bed. His clothing bagged on her, but she had never been more beautiful.

He lunged for her, hoping to grab on to her wrist, but she danced out of his reach with a laugh. "You deserve this, and you know it. Take the punishment like a good boy."

"Anya," he said again, trying to sound composed. He didn't. If his voice had been a sword, she would have been hacked to pieces.

Staying out of striking distance, she pinched the edge of the comforter and tossed it over his erection. "There. Your modesty can be preserved."

Even then, he wanted her. Ribbons of hair streamed around her and she was staring at the blanket with longing, as if she wanted to be the one draped over him.

"Anya - "

"Get rid of Defeat, and I'll come back." With that, she disappeared.

His head fell against the pillow. "Damn this!" He slammed his unfettered hand into the headboard behind him.

Strider burst into the room, two blades upraised. "Ready or not," he said, "here I come." He glanced at the damaged chamber and then the chains. "What the hell happened? House is a mess, too."

"Put those away," Lucien said, motioning to the weapons with a tilt of his chin. "Anya and I had a little fight."

All hint of concern left Strider's harsh features. "And then you decided to play a game of bondage? I dig." He laughed. "I didn't think you were into that kind of thing."

"Shut up and get out of here. She won't come back until you do."

"Hell, no. I'm not leaving." Strider plopped onto the side of the bed. "One, I want to witness the fireworks. Two, I'm not leaving you helpless. We may not have been in touch these past few centuries, but that doesn't mean I don't have your back now. Just don't get any ideas. I don't swing that way."

Lucien kicked him in the chest, sending him to the ground. "Strider." He covered his face with his free hand. "Gods, this is humiliating." Had Reyes or Paris been the ones to find him, it would not have been so bad.

"You want popcorn or something?" Strider asked, darting to his feet with a grin.

"I want you to leave."

"Uh, no."

"I'm not helpless. And she won't hurt me. She could have already, but she didn't."

A pause. A sigh. "Fine." Strider strode from the room.

Lucien thought the warrior meant to leave the home completely, but Strider returned a few moments later holding a small black cell phone.

"This little baby has camera and e-mail capabilities." Wiggling his eyebrows, he snapped a few photos of Lucien on the bed, making sure to get the chains.

"Stop," Lucien growled.

"Uh, again, no. Now make love to the camera for me. Good, good. The angry sex look is perfect. Man, this is one for the scrapbook."

Lucien glared at him. "Some men fear my anger."

"Hate to break it to you, Death, but I don't think they will when they see you attached to a headboard, a blanket tented over your lap."

Heat infused Lucien's cheeks. "I will pay you back for this. You know that, don't you?"

Strider suddenly sobered. "Don't challenge me. You know I am Defeat's keeper, and I'll do anything - even kill my own mother if I had one - to win a challenge. I can't stop until I do."

Lucien threw a pillow at him. "Then put the camera away and leave."

Smiling again, Strider finally did as ordered. Well, one order at least. He stuffed the camera in his pocket. "So, hey. Have you seen Paris?"

"No. Why?"

"He took off earlier to do some shopping, and I haven't seen or heard from him since."

"He's probably with a woman. Or two. I wouldn't worry about him. Knowing him, he'll want to be at top strength before he joins the search, which means he might be a few days behind us. He has needed even more sex than usual lately."

"Apparently he's not the only one." Strider leered at him. "Gideon will be ticked if Paris left without him. Guess I'll have to let the boys work it out. I've got a plane to South Africa to catch. I'm eager to start looking for little Miss Hydra and whatever treasure she's hiding."

"Did you call Sabin?"

"Oh, yeah. He's excited as hell. Says they haven't had any luck at the Temple of the Unspoken Ones, even with several blood sacrifices, but he senses that something is there and doesn't want to leave."

"Good." Hopefully someone would find something sooner rather than later. "I have not had a chance to flash to him." His mind had been too consumed with Anya.

Strider's phone gave a loud beep. The warrior withdrew it and flipped it open, grinning. "Speaking of Sabin, I already e-mailed your picture to him and he just replied. He thinks you look real good like that. Says you should pose more often."

Lucien fell back, banging his head against the board. The chains clinked. "Get out of here. Anya and I have something to settle."

"Man, you are one lucky son of a bitch. I'd like to settle something with that delicious cupcake."

Lucien's eyes narrowed, rage sparking to life. "Do not talk about her like that."

Strider blinked in wonder, but left it alone. "I'll stay close until I know you're free. See you around, Death. Have fun." He strode out of the room, then out of the house, the door closing behind him with a snap.

"I am alone now," Lucien called.

No response.

"Anya."

Nothing.

He waited several more minutes, then called her name again. Still she did not respond. Damn this! Was she playing with him? Punishing him?

Or was something wrong with her?

A horrifying image suddenly popped in his head, so vivid he broke out in a sweat. Anya standing in the middle of her apartment in Switzerland, Cronus looming over her. They were locked in a heated debate.

Lucien's demon snarled, and Lucien began to suspect the image was indeed real. It was simply too detailed, down to the bead of sweat on her temple. What were the two saying? He couldn't hear, and panic speared him.

Had Cronus decided to kill her on his own, then? Lucien struggled more forcefully against the bonds, but the links never budged.

"Anya!"

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