Free The Darkest Surrender by Gena Showalter Page A

mouth fell open, and she sputtered. “Yeah. See ya,” she said weakly. He’d never been quite that nice to her, either.
    He must be softening in his old age.
    Next he found himself standing in the doorway of Sabin’s bedroom, eating handful after handful of Red Hots. He had a stash of his favorite candy hidden in every cornerof the fortress. He watched his friend toss all kinds of shit into a suitcase. His wife, Gwen, bustled around him, making a halfhearted attempt to fold the mountain of clothes Sabin had wadded into balls, stack the weapons he had only partially sheathed and remove the bullhorn from the case for a third time.
    Once, the Harpies had called her Gwendolyn the Timid. Strider didn’t know what they called her now, but the moniker certainly didn’t fit anymore. The little firecracker had come into her own and kicked even Kaia’s ass, locking her in the dungeon below to prevent her from peeling Sabin’s skin from his body and wearing it as a victory coat.
    Kaia.
    His heart skipped a stupid beat, making him feel like a schoolboy with a crush. Something he’d never been. Zeus had created him fully formed, a weapon ready to be unleashed upon anyone who threatened the former god king and those he loved. Even then, before Strider had been given his demon, he had liked to win, railroading anyone who got in his way.
    What joy could be found in defeat? None.
    His demon grunted in agreement.
    Strider refocused on his surroundings before the little shit began pushing him around. As he continued to watch Gwen, he noted how much she resembled her older sister.
    Kaia.
    Here we go again. Gwen had a thick mass of blond hair streaked with red—the same shade of red as Kaia’s. If he were being honest, though, Kaia’s was prettier. Wavier, silkier. And while Gwen’s eyes were a startling mix of gray and gold, just like Kaia’s, Kaia’s were still lovelier. On her, the gray veered toward liquid silver and the gold, well, the gold flickered like fireflies.
    What are you? A wuss? Stop weaving poetry.
    Anyway. When Kaia’s Harpy took over, her eyes wentcompletely black, death swimming in their depths. But, if he were still being honest, even that was sexy.
    Gwen and Kaia shared the same button nose, the same cherub cheeks. Same stubborn chin. Yet somehow Kaia was sin incarnate and Gwen was innocence walking. Made no sense. Even still, the resemblance affected him, heating him up.
    He willed his body to remain unaffected. Sabin would fuss if Strider sported a hard-on around his precious. And of course, “fuss” meant Strider would find his intestines wrapped around his neck, breathing a thing of the past.
    Bring it, he thought.
    Defeat chuckled, startling him.
    On edge, he waited for a challenge to be issued. It never came. Sweet gods above, he’d have to be more careful. No more close calls.
    What was he doing here, anyway? He should be in the heavens with Paris. He should be in Nebraska with William, torturing the family who had abused Gilly, a human they’d befriended. He should be out there killing Hunters. He should be in Rome, bargaining with the Unspoken Ones—monsters who were chained inside an ancient temple, desperate for freedom.
    He’d given them one of the four godly artifacts needed to find and destroy Pandora’s box. A relic the Hunters were searching for, as well.
    The Unspoken Ones had the Paring Rod and the Cloak of Invisibility, and the Lords had the Cage of Compulsion and the All-Seeing Eye. So. Lords 2. Hunters 0. Boo-yah.
    Unspoken Ones weren’t interested in the actual artifacts, though. They were interested in what they could trade for the artifacts. Whoever presented them with the head of the current god king (minus his body) would earn the Paring Rod in return, leaving only the Cloak to claim.The Cloak Strider had once owned but had exchanged for Haidee.
    At the time, he hadn’t minded making the exchange because he’d been pretty damn confident the Unspoken Ones would keep the thing