Gena Showalter - The Darkest Whisper

Dear Reader,

Im thrilled to present The Darkest Whisper, the fourth installment of my paranormal series Lords of the Underworld. In a remote fortress in Budapest, twelve immortal warriorseach more dangerously seductive than the lastare bound by an ancient curse none has been able to break. When a powerful enemy returns, they will travel the world in search of a sacred relic of the godsone that threatens to destroy them all.

I had such a wonderful time torturinguh, writing Sabins story. He has always placed victory above everything else. Even love. Watching him interact with Gwen, a woman who drives both him and his demon, Doubt, to distraction, was thrilling. After all, theres nothing sexier than a strong, fierce man brought to his knees.

Join me on a journey through this darkly sensual world, where the line between good and evil blurs and true love is put to the ultimate test. And stay tuned for further adventures from the Lords of the Underworld in 2010, as the stakes get higher, the quest more dangerous and the romance hotter!

Wishing you all the best,

Gena Showalter

I exist. I want to live inside your brain.

To Nix of the Immortals After Dark for coming to play in my sandbox

To Christy Foster for all your help online

To Krystle for the wonderful title

To Nora Roberts, an amazingly talented woman and writerwho just happens to be great at fixing toilets, too!

To my editors Tracy Farrell and Margo Lipschultz, whose bountiful support blesses me more than I can ever say

And LAST on this list:

To Jill Monroe. I guess youre okay. Kind of. (Fine. I love and adore you beyond what is deemed healthy.

You are a shining star, a talent beyond compare, beauty personified and the other reason I exist.)

Sabin, keeper of the demon of Doubt, stood in the catacombs of an ancient pyramid, panting, sweating, his hands soaked in his enemys blood, his body cut and bruised as he surveyed the carnage around him. Carnage hed helped create.

Torches flickered orange and gold, twining with shadows along the stone walls. Walls that were now spattered with vivid red, drippingpooling. The sandy floor was thick like paste, wet and colored black. Half an hour ago it had been honey brown, grains sparkling and scattering as theyd marched. Now bodies littered every square inch of the small corridor, the scent of fatality already rising from them.

Nine of his enemy had survived the attack. Theyd already been stripped of their weapons, hustled into a corner and bound with rope. Most trembled in fear. A few had their shoulders squared, their noses in the air, hatred in their eyes, refusing to back down even in defeat. Damned admirable.

Too bad that bravery had to be quashed.

Brave men didnt spill their secrets, and Sabin wanted their secrets.

He was a warrior who did what needed to be done, when it needed to be done, no matter what was required of him. Killing, torturing, seducing. He didnt hesitate to ask his men to do the same, either. With Huntersmortals whod decided he and his fellow Lords of the Underworld made good whipping boys for the worlds evilvictory was the only thing that mattered. For only by winning the war could his friends finally know peace. Peace they deserved. Peace he craved for them.

Shallow, erratic rasps of breath filled Sabins ears. His, his friends, his enemies. Theyd fought with every ounce of strength they possessed, each of them. It had been a battle of good versus evil, and evil had won. Or rather, what these Hunters considered evil. He and his brothers-by-circumstance thought otherwise.

Yeah, long ago theyd opened Pandoras box, unleashing the demons from inside. But they had been punished eternally, each warrior cursed by the gods to host one of those vile fiends inside himself. Yeah, theyd once been slaves to their new, demonic halves, destructive and violent, killers without a conscience. But they had control now, human in all the ways that mattered. For the most part.

Sometimes the demons did fightdid windid destroy.

Still. We deserve to live, he thought. Like everyone else, they suffered if their friends were hurt, read books, watched movies, gave to charity. Fell in love. Hunters, though, would never see it that way. They were convinced the world would be a better place without the Lords. A utopia, serene and perfect. They believed every sin ever committed could be laid at a demons feet. Maybe because they were dumb as shit. Maybe because they hated their lives and were simply looking for someone to blame. Either way, killing them had become the most important mission of Sabins life. His utopia was a life without them.

Which was why he and the others had relinquished the comforts of their Budapest home to spend the past three weeks searching every godsforsaken pyramid in Egypt for ancient artifacts that would lead to the recovery of Pandoras boxthe very thing Hunters planned to use to destroy them. Finally, he and his friends had hit the jackpot.

Amun, he said, spotting the soldier in a far, dark corner. As usual, man blended perfectly with shadow. Sabin motioned toward the captives with a grim shake of his head. You know what to do.

Amun, keeper of Secrets, nodded forbiddingly before striding forward. Silent, always silent, as if afraid the terrible secrets hed gleaned over the centuries would spill from him if he dared utter a single word.

Seeing the hulking warrior whod ripped through their brethren like a knife through silk, the remaining Hunters took a collective step backward. Even the brave ones. Wise of them.

Amun was tall, leanly muscled, with a stride that was somehow both purposeful and graceful. Purpose without grace would have made him seem normal, like any other soldier. The combination allowed him to exude the kind of quiet savagery usually found in predators used to bringing their prey home between their jaws.

He reached the Hunters and stopped. Scanned the thinned crowd. Then shoved forward and grabbed the one in the center by the throat, lifting him so that they were eye to eye. The humans legs flailed, his hands clutching Amuns wrists as his skin blanched.

Let him go, you filthy demon, one of the Hunters shouted, jerking on his comrades waist. Youve killed countless innocents, ruined so many lives already!

Amun was unmoved. They all were.

Hes a good man, another cried. He doesnt deserve to die. Especially at the hands of such evil!

Gideon, the blue-haired, kohl-eyed keeper of Lies, was at Amuns side in the next instant, batting the protestors away. Touch him again, and Ill kiss the hell out of you. He withdrew a pair of serrated knives, still bloody from his most recent clashes.

Kiss equaled beat in Gideons upside-down world. Or was it kill? Sabin had lost track of Liess code.

A moment passed in confused silence, the Hunters trying to figure out what exactly Gideon meant. Before they could decide, Amuns hostage stilled, wilting completely, and Amun dropped him to the ground in a motionless heap.

Amun remained in place for a long while. No one touched him. Not even the Hunters. They were too preoccupied with reviving their fallen cohort. They didnt know that it was too late, that his brain had been wiped, Amun the new owner of all his deepest secrets. Perhaps even his memories. The warrior had never told Sabin how it worked, and Sabin had never asked.

Slowly Amun turned, his body stiff. His black gaze met Sabins for a bleak, tormented moment in which he couldnt mask the pain of having a new voice inside his head. Then he blinked, hiding his pain as he had a thousand times before, and strode to the far wall while Sabin watched, resolute.