That clearly wasn’t what he’d wanted to discuss, but she could roll. Smooth sailing, she reminded herself. “Well, you haven’t earned one.”

“So what do I have to do to earn one?”

“Don’t know. Everyone’s different. It’s a we-know-it-when-we-see-it kind of thing.”

Another bout of silence ensued, this one so tense and heavy she couldn’t have hacked through it with a sword and chain saw. She had no idea what was swirling through his head.

“I thought you didn’t care what we called you,” she said, just to shatter the tension.

“I don’t,” he gritted out. “I was just curious.”

“Okay.”

“Again with the agreeable attitude. Are you more injured than I realized?”

She busied herself with plucking at her dress, trying not to let the comment get to her. “I’m not always a pain in the ass, you know.”

“Stop messing with your clothes,” he growled.

She froze, not even daring to breathe. He’d still not glanced her way, yet he’d known what she was doing? He was that aware of her?

“Okay. Consider it done.” Smooth sailing was already paying off. Fighting a grin, she settled deeper into the seat and dropped her feet onto the floorboard.

About an hour from civilization, they pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a dilapidated shack sporting a blinking neon sign that read Crazy Abel’s. There were a handful of other cars there and two big burly guys stumbling from the front door.

“A bar?” she asked, trying not to pout. “A human bar?”

“You get to play before you pay.”

Really? Forget pouting. Excitement poured through her. “You should have told me. I would have worn my slutty outfit.”

His narrowed gaze swept over her, lingering on her cleavage. He parked—nearly sideswiping another car—and she jumped out, halfway to the entrance before he’d even opened his door. She passed the still stumbling humans, grimacing at the smell of cheap beer and cigarettes. They whistled at her and changed directions to follow her.

“How much?” one asked.

Oh, no, he didn’t. She spun around, hands on her hips, teeth bared in a scowl. “What did you say?”

“We’ll pay the price, whatever it is, we swear,” the other said. “After.” Both snickered, then the first patted the second on the back in a job well done, as if he’d just negotiated the deal of a lifetime.

Before she could reply, Strider stalked over and punched them both in the back of the head. At the same time. They propelled forward, but he caught them by the hair before they could hit the ground, used his knees to slam into the back of theirs, and forced them both to kneel before her.

“Apologize,” he commanded, and there was so much darkness in his voice she could almost smell the fire and brimstone. “Now.”

Kaia’s heart fluttered. The men obeyed, babbling and crying. Strider lifted one and tossed him. The human went soaring and crashed into a car, the alarm suddenly screeching. The second man joined him a moment later.

“Thanks,” she said, fighting the urge to melt into a shivery puddle at his feet. “My pleasure.”

They entered the bar side by side.

THE WOMAN WAS GOING TO SLAY him with that killer body of hers. Delicious curves were wrapped in a swath of material that might not pass for a bathing suit in some countries. Her skin was luminous, but lacking its multihued shimmer. She must have covered herself with total-body makeup. Not that he’d complain.

Anything that would stop other men from desiring her had his stamp of approval.

Who was he kidding? Men not desire her? That was never going to happen. No matter what she did to her skin, no matter what she wore, men would always desire her. The knowledge pissed him off—and filled him with pride.

She considered Strider her consort. No one else.

Resisting her was becoming harder. And harder. Literally.

“Hey, who is—Anya? Gideon? Amun? And, like, a thousand others.” Kaia had to shout to be heard over the blaring music. She peered up at him with wide silver-gold eyes, soft with an emotion he couldn’t name. “How did you get all of them here?”

A man could lose himself in those fathomless depths. “I asked and Lucien flashed.” More like he’d demanded and Lucien had dragged his feet. But who cared about details? “They’re only here for the night, though.”

“Sweet! One night, I can love them. Two, and I always want to kill them.”

“Just don’t mention,” he lowered his voice, “first prize. Okay?” They’d be all over his case about it. What he’d done with the Cloak of Invisibility would be thrown in his face. His motives would be questioned. His smarts. They’d want to stay, want to search for the Paring Rod, steal it.

He and Sabin had already chatted. The others needed to guard the two artifacts they already had. They needed to protect the fortress in Buda. They needed to remain vigilant against Hunter attacks. If, however, the two of them failed to steal the Rod on their own before the final Harpy game kicked off, they would call for reinforcements.

Tonight, while Kaia was distracted with her training, they were going to hunt down the Eagleshields. In fact, that’s what Sabin was doing right now. Peering down from the heavens, finding the seemingly unfindable. Boss man should be here any minute to drag him away.

“I won’t mention anything about anything, I swear. And thank you!” A huge grin split Kaia’s red-painted lips and she clapped. Then she jumped up and planted a scorching kiss on his cheek before dashing away. Her mouth burned his flesh, perhaps imprinting his every cell.

The past few days, all he’d been able to do was think about her. She’d been so pale, so still, so weak, and he’d been so desperate to help her, yet unable to do more than feed her his blood…and crave. Oh, had he craved. Still craved.

Something he’d realized, though, was that sleeping with her had to wait until after the games. Right now, he had to remain strong. He couldn’t risk being laid flat by losing a challenge. Any challenge. Even one in the bedroom.

Once her well-being no longer depended on him, nothing would keep him out of those microscopic pants. He had to have her. Had to taste her, hear her cry his name. Hell, he planned to gorge himself on the woman, no matter the consequences. And not just once, as he’d thought to limit himself before, but over and over again.

He watched as she threw herself into Amun’s arms. The warrior looked tired, and there were bruises under his eyes, but he appeared genuinely happy to see Kaia as he spun her around. Gideon, the punked-out keeper of Lies, grabbed her up and hugged her tight. She threw back her head and laughed before messing up his blue hair and tugging at his eyebrow ring. How carefree she was, how uninhibited.

How mine, he thought darkly, then forced himself to add, for now, at least.

Inside his head, Defeat perked up.

Oh, no, you don’t. You just stay silent, you little prick. You weren’t invited to this party.

A growl rang in his ears, and he recognized the sound as the war cry it was.

You want to win the Paring Rod, right? Or would you rather return to Pandora’s box and rot? Because if I fail, Kaia’s our only hope. And if she fails, we’ll lose the artifact. If we lose the artifact, the Hunters could use it to get their hands on the box, suck you back inside. Eternally trapping you.

Silence.

Yeah. He’d thought so. There was nothing Defeat despised more than his memories of the box, the darkness and isolation. What he didn’t mention was that if he managed to steal the Rod, Kaia would hate his damn guts. She’d forgive him, though, as Juliette had forgiven her man for his dark deeds. Right?

“Kye,” he heard Gideon say. “I wouldn’t like you to meet my hideous husband, Scar.” He motioned to the black-haired stunner by his side with a wave of his hand. Since Gideon couldn’t speak a word of truth without experiencing debilitating pain, he’d lied. About everything.