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  For L.A. Banks, my birthday twin. Thank you for bringing me light during one of the darkest times in my life. You are, and will always be, in my heart. I miss you, my sister, I always will.

  And for my family for being there when I need you. And to Monique who is one of the greatest editors I’ve ever worked with. And for my entire SMP team who make these books possible. May God bless and keep you all.

  “All men while they are awake are in one common world. But each of them, when he is asleep, is in a world of his own.”

  —Plutarch

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Titles by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Sherrilyn Kenyon’s Blockbuster Bestselling Novels

  Copyright

  PROLOGUE

  “Was hell good for you?”

  Seth looked up from beneath the strands of his blood-soaked auburn hair, to snarl at the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in centuries.

  Noir.

  Primal god.

  Lord of all things dark and deadly.

  Rank bastard.

  He would have responded to the stupid question, but his mouth had been bolted shut by the demons who’d been torturing him for the last …

  Ah hell, who could count that high? And why would anyone want to when every single heartbeat drove home a pain so foul he no longer remembered living without it? Indeed, over the centuries, pain had become its own source of pleasure.

  Yeah, I’m even more fucked up than Noir.

  With the bolt in place, he hadn’t been able to speak since he’d been thrown in here. Not that he would. He’d never give any of them the satisfaction of hearing him beg or cry out. Only one person had ever made him do that and, even after a millennium, his adoptive father’s mocking condemnation still echoed in his ears.

  Screw them. He wasn’t a child now, and he’d die before he ever humiliated himself again by asking for something he knew he’d never receive.

  But he would have insulted Noir if he’d been able to. As it was, all he could do was glare his hatred at the ancient being and wish he possessed his full powers so that he could rain down utter misery on all of them.

  Almost seven feet in height, Noir made the demons around them tremble in fear. His immaculate black suit and crisp white shirt looked out of place in the cold dark room—a room with walls that were splattered and stained with Seth’s blood.

  Noir reached up and patted him on the cheek like he was a dutiful puppy. “Mmm. I have to say hell doesn’t appear to agree with you. I’ve seen you look at least a little better than this sorry state.”

  “Fuck you,” Seth said, but his words were indistinguishable. The bolt kept him from moving his mouth or tongue. All it did was shoot an excruciating jolt of pain through him.

  Like he needed that.

  Noir arched his black brow. “Thank you? I can’t imagine why you’d be thanking me for this misery. You are a sick bastard, aren’t you?”

  Seth ground his teeth. The playful light in Noir’s black eyes told him that the pig only said it to piss him off.

  It worked. Not that Noir had to make the effort. The mere fact that … Seth couldn’t think of an insult bad enough. That Noir lived was enough to grate his last nerve.

  Noir glanced around at the others. “Leave us.”

  Could that tone be any more commanding?

  Oh yeah, wait. We were talking about Noir. Of course it could.

  And the ancient god didn’t have to say it twice. The demons immediately vanished, terrified that Noir’s wrath would deliver to them the same “hospitality” he’d shown Seth. After all, Seth had once been Noir’s most beloved pet—one he’d lavished with gifts in between the abuse.

  The dark god had never been able to stand the demons who served him.

  Hell, I’d run, too, if I could.

  Seth envied them that freedom as his naked body hung lankly from the ceiling, with his hands shackled over his head. He’d been in this position for so long that his wrist bones protruded through the open cuts the manacles had worn through his flesh.

  He was sure it had to hurt, but that pain blended in nicely with all the others so that he couldn’t tell where one ache began and another throb ended. Who knew torture could have benefits?

  Once they were alone, Noir returned to stand in front of him with a snarl that was as impressive as it was cold. “I have a proposition for you. Are you interested?”

  Not even a little. He’d had his fill of bargains. No one could ever be trusted to hold up their end of them. Let Noir go roast his nuts in a fiery hellhole somewhere.

  The gods knew, in this place, Noir wouldn’t have far to go to find one.

  Seth looked away.

  Noir tsked. “You know you have no choice except to obey me, slave. I own you.”

  And that ate on him even more than the flesh-devouring vermin the demons had salted his wounds with. Damn you all. His own family had sold him to Noir when he’d been nothing more than a child. It was something no one ever allowed him to forget.

  As if he could.

  Noir buried his hand in Seth’s hair and yanked his head back. That action caused the bolt to dig deeper into his throat and tongue.

  The sudden pain of it made his eyes water in protest as his old wounds were reopened and blood poured into his mouth.

  Maybe this time I’ll drown from it. But he knew the sad truth. He was immortal. Death would never save him from this misery, any more than it had spared him from the rest of his violent past.

  His only way out was Noir’s ever missing mercy.

  Noir tightened his fist against Seth’s skull, wrenching his hair even more. “I have need of your special services.”

  I have need of your rank heart in my fist.

  The bastard smiled as if he could hear that thought. “If you fail me this time, I can assure you that your next stint here will make this one seem like paradise. Do you understand?”

  Seth refused to respond.

  Noir snatched a handful of hair out as he released him. Pain seared his scalp, causing the vermin in his body to bite even more ferociously as they scrambled toward the fresh blood.

  Seth’s breathing turned ragged as he locked his jaw even tighter to keep from groaning out in utter relentless agony. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought the wave of unconsciousness that threatened to take him under. They only made it worse on him when he passed out.

  Don’t do it, asshole. Focus …

  Damn you, stay awake!

  He gripped his restraints as his vision swam.

  Noir gave him an acidic smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You will do me proud and get what I require, or…”

  He didn’t finish the threat. He didn’t have to.

  They both were more than aware that Seth would do anything to keep from returning to this sorry state of existence. In spite of all his bravado, he knew the bitter truth.

  He’d been broken by their cruelty.

  And he would never be the same.

  There was nothing left inside him except a hatred so profound, so deep, he could taste it. That bitter hatred mixed with the steel of the bolt, and blood—it was all he’d had for nourishment these centuries
past.

  Noir’s smile turned genuine. “I knew you’d come around eventually.” He snapped his fingers.

  The manacles on Seth’s hands broke free. He fell from the ceiling to land on his legs. But centuries of abuse and nonuse kept them from supporting his weight.

  He crumpled to the ground where he lay so weak, he couldn’t even lift his head. No part of his body worked anymore. It’d been too long since he last used his muscles.

  Noir kicked him in the stomach hard enough to turn him over, onto his back. Curling his lip, he raked Seth with a sneer. “You’re disgusting, you pathetic dog. Get cleaned up.” Then he vanished into the darkness.

  Seth lay on the floor, his mouth still bolted closed. Blinking hard, he stared at his blood on the walls around him. The shadows there seemed to make the bloodstains dance. And in the flickering, he saw the outline of his naked, ravaged body.

  All this because he’d once made a bargain with the only person he’d ever called friend.

  I will never again be so stupid.

  Because no one had helped him. Not once. Not in all this time. Not a single entity had come to offer him any kind of compassion or solace … not even an apology.

  A sip of water …

  It, too, was a lesson he would remember.

  Whatever Noir asked of him, he would do. Without question. Without mercy. Anything to keep from returning here and being hurt anymore.

  Just one minute of peace … please. Was that really too much to ask?

  His resolve set, he braced himself for the new onslaught of pain and slowly pushed himself up on trembling limbs as he felt his god powers finally returning. With every heartbeat he grew stronger. Still, they wouldn’t go to full strength.

  Ever.

  Noir had never allowed that. Either he or Azura would drain Seth whenever his powers became too strong.

  But he had enough that he could finally clothe himself and stand upright, even if it was on unsteady feet. And when the demons returned, he gave them the payback they deserved.

  They begged him for clemency. But he had none left. Not after they’d ruthlessly violated every part of him to the point he couldn’t remember a time when his body hadn’t throbbed from their torture. Minute by minute, for countless centuries, they had brutally stolen any lingering shred of humanity he might have once possessed.

  Nothing would ever take that away and he would never, ever again trust another soul. No matter what. May the gods help whoever Noir wanted him to go after.

  For he would take no pity on them whatsoever.

  CHAPTER 1

  Hell had many connotations, each one as unique as the individual who defined it. To one person, the idea of being trapped for eternity in a Michael Bolton video was the epitome of horror. To another, it was being stuck in an elevator with someone talking too loud on a cell phone, and not being able to gut that person for their rudeness.

  To Lydia Tsakali, hell was the darkness surrounding her that echoed with the screams of the damned being tortured. It wasn’t just their loud misery or their pleas for mercy to the ones who didn’t care that made it so bad, it was the memories those screams evoked. The haunting terror of something she never wanted to think about again. Long buried, those flashbacks of that one night in her life, and the raw emotions they exposed, still had the ability to bring her to her knees.

  Don’t think about it.

  How could she not? That night had been the last time she’d had a family who loved her. Then, like now, she’d only been able to see the oppressive black that had made her eyes ache. The darkness had pressed so hard against her that she’d feared herself blind as well as mute. And when she’d finally breached the dark to see light, all she’d found was blood and terror …

  You’re not a pup anymore.

  No, she was a jackal full grown. More than that, she was a well-trained warrior with over a thousand years of hard combat training behind her. There wasn’t a single soul in Azmodea who could harm her.

  You forgot about Noir.

  All right. There was one.

  What about Azura?

  Okay, two … But that was all right. She’d had much worse odds more times than she could count. Yeah, but they didn’t have the powers of a primary god.

  Mind? Are you trying to turn me coward?

  I’m trying to talk sense into you before it’s too late. We haven’t lived this long by being eat up with stupid—not with all the people out to kill us. And for what? Solin? He’ll slaughter you when he finds out you did this.

  What kind of idiot are you?

  Apparently one with a limitless supply of stupid. If it’d been anyone other than Solin trapped here, she’d have never done this.

  But she loved him too much to leave him to this end. He’d taken her in when no one else would. Had trained her and stood by her. Taught her how to survive and how to fight. Without him, she’d be dead.

  Even he would call you stupid for this.

  And he would, too.

  Kindness is a rotten fruit that poisons anyone who partakes of it. Throw it in the face of your enemies and let it ruin them instead.

  How many times had he said that to her?

  Yet, in spite of the hatred he’d carried in his heart and had voiced repeatedly, he’d raised her like a beloved daughter. Never once had he been stingy with his love, patience, or kindness.

  Not with her.

  Others … they saw a side of him that he very rarely turned in her direction. Thank the gods.

  The personality is defined by its inconsistencies, not its consistencies. Another favorite Solin quote. It’s what makes us unique and who we are. The sound of his voice in her head was enough to make her smile in spite of the danger she faced.

  I’ve got to find him.

  He would come for her if she needed it.

  Yeah, right.

  But she knew the truth in her heart that denied what her head tried to tell her. Solin would be there for her always. To her, he was a hero.

  Something moved to her left. Lydia froze as her hyper hearing picked up on the slight sound. The surge of adrenaline kicked her other senses into high gear. Her nostrils widened as a new scent hit her. Male. Demon.

  Close.

  Don’t breathe … Don’t breathe …

  Not because she didn’t want it to detect her. But because the stench would be sickening for a human. To a half-breed Were-Hunter it was beyond painful. She clamped her fingers down on her nose to block the odor from getting in.

  Still, she could smell it. Don’t gag …

  What? Did demons bathe in shit? She hated to be so obscene, but really … What was it about demons that made so many of them nauseating?

  Out of nowhere, he appeared directly in front of her. A smile curved his bulbous lips. “My, my … what have we here? Didn’t realize I’d ordered delivery. How nice of you—”

  To die for me. She finished his sentence in her head as she grabbed him by the throat, and cut his words off.

  But when she moved to stab him, he evaporated from her grasp into a smelly purple fog.

  Crap.

  Lydia turned a small circle in the blackness, trying to get her bearings and locate him before he told anyone she was here. She could no longer smell or hear him.

  Definitely not good. At least not for her.

  A piercing shriek drowned out the cries of the others. She clamped her hands over her ears. Just what I need. Bleeding eardrums.

  The shriek grew louder.

  It was getting closer.

  Something hard struck her back, knocking her down.

  Even though the mere thought of it killed her, she dropped her hands from her ears and pulled her other dagger out. Here, demon, demon … come get some.

  The sound of slithering moved to her right. She ran for it, lashing out in a hope of striking whatever foe was there.

  Instead of drawing their blood, she drew her own the minute she slammed into a closed iron door that had blended in perfectly with
the darkness.

  Sonofa … She hissed at the pain exploding through her skull. Blood poured from her nose.

  She kicked at the offending door.

  To her surprise, it slammed open, rattling on its hinges. Light flooded into her tiny space, temporarily blinding her. She blinked until her eyes adjusted, then frowned at the sight of some luminescent tubing that provided the light from the slick ceiling above her. How weird. It vaguely reminded her of a glowstick, but this fluid was thicker and a vivid and eerie blue.

  Now she could see the dank walls that appeared to bleed and breathe. She curled her lip in distaste. What was that?

  Bet it’s what smells.

  Nah, only demon toe funk could be this abhorrent. And speaking of demons, hers seemed to have vanished completely.

  Where are you, you bastard?

  Her luck, going for friends.

  But that wasn’t her main concern. Where was Solin? She’d tried repeatedly to use her telepathy to contact him, but whatever was holding him had somehow blocked that ability. She couldn’t even reach him through a dream state. Which, given both of their powers, shouldn’t have been a problem.

  She hated this feeling of being completely alone. It reminded her of those weeks in her childhood when she’d had no one. The time she’d staggered through the blistering desert looking for water …

  We’re always alone. You can be in a crowded room and still feel the bite of loneliness. Personally, I find that it bites deepest whenever others are around. Another thing Solin forever harped on.

  He was ever the pessimist.

  She turned a corner and froze.

  The smelly demon was back.

  And as she’d feared, it’d gone for friends …

  A lot of friends. Maybe two or three dozen. And the moment they saw her, their demonic eyes lit up and radiated color even brighter than the glowing tubes. They might as well have drool dripping from their chins.

  Run!

  She wasn’t a coward, but only a fool would face that number without backup. And she wasn’t a fool. After throwing her right dagger at the tallest one, she turned and ran in the opposite direction as fast as she could. She hoped that dagger had made contact and brought down at least one of them. But she wasn’t going to wait around and find out.