Читать книгу: «The Darkest Lie»

Praise for New York Times and USA Today
bestselling author
Gena Showalter’s

LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD

The Darkest Night

“A fascinating premise, a sexy hero and non-stop action,

The Darkest Night is Showalter at her finest, and a fabulous start to an imaginative new series.”

—New York Times bestselling author Karen Marie Moning

“Dark and tormented doesn’t begin to describe

these cursed warriors called the Lords of the Underworld.

Showalter has created characters desperately

fighting to retain a semblance of humanity, which

means the heroines are in for a rough ride. This is

darkly satisfying and passionately thrilling stuff.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews, 4 stars

“Amazing! Stupendous! Extraordinary!

Gena Showalter has done it again.

The Darkest Night is the fabulous start of an edgy, thrilling series…”

—Fallen Angels reviews

“Not to be missed…the hottest new

paranormal series.”

—Night Owl Romance

The Darkest Kiss

“In this new chapter the Lords of the Underworld

engage in a deadly dance. Anya is a fascinating blend

of spunk, arrogance and vulnerability – a perfect

match for the tormented Lucien.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews, 4½ stars

“Talk about one dark read…If there is one book

you must read this year, pick up The Darkest Kiss… a Gena Showalter book is the best of the best.”

—Romance Junkies

The Darkest Pleasure

“Showalter’s darkly dangerous Lords of the

Underworld trilogy, with its tortured characters,

comes to a very satisfactory conclusion…[her]

compelling universe contains the possibility

of more stories to be told.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews, 4 stars

“Of all the books in this series, this is the most

moving and compelling. The concluding chapters

will simply stun you with the drama of them…You

will not be sorry if you add this to your collection.”

—Mists and Stars

The Darkest Whisper

“If you like your paranormal dark and passionately

flavoured, this is the series for you.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews, 4 stars

Lords of the Underworld

In a remote fortress in Budapest, six immortal

warriors–each more dangerously seductive than

the last–are 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 gods–one that threatens to destroy them all.

Gena Showalter’s

paranormal series

LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD

continues with

THE DARKEST LIE

Also available in this series

THE DARKEST NIGHT

THE DARKEST KISS

THE DARKEST PLEASURE

THE DARKEST WHISPER

DARK BEGINNINGS

THE DARKEST PASSION

The
Darkest
Lie
Gena Showalter

www.mirabooks.co.uk

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Gena Showalter has been praised for her “sizzling page-turners” and “utterly spellbinding stories”. She is the author of more than seventeen novels and anthologies, including breathtaking paranormal and contemporary romances, cutting-edge young adult novels and stunning urban fantasy. Readers can’t get enough of her trademark wit and singular imagination.

To learn more about Gena and her books, please visit www.genashowalter.com and www.genashowalter blogspot.com.

In honour of the keeper of Lies, I thought I’d write

this dedication in Gideon Speak.

To someone who didn’t (and doesn’t) help me

every step of the way: Margo Lipschultz

To the five men I absolutely despise:

Jill Monroe, Kresley Cole and PC Cast

To my hated wife: Max

And firstly, to Gideon herself. To my complete

delight, you made my job so easy, the words flowing

like smooth, rich wine. You never once proved

stubborn, drove me to the edge of insanity or put

yourself in impossible positions that I then had to

scramble to find ways out of. Thank you.

Prologue

GIDEON STARED down at the woman sleeping atop the bed of cloud-soft cerulean cotton.

His wife.

Maybe.

Inky hair tangled around an innately sensual face, long lashes casting shadows over graceful cheeks. One of her hands rested at her temple, her fingers curling inward, her azure-painted nails gleaming in the golden glow of the lamp. Her nose was perfect in shape and size, her chin stubborn, and her lips the plumpest—and reddest—he’d ever seen.

And her body…gods. Perhaps those made-for-sin curves were the reason she bore the name Scarlet. Her wickedly rounded breasts…the slender dip of her waist…the feminine flare of her hips…the lean length of her legs…every part of her was meant to lure, to ensnare.

Without a doubt, she was the most hauntingly lovely female he’d ever beheld. A genuine sleeping beauty. Only, this beauty would come up swinging if he tried to kiss her awake.

The thought had him grinning in pure male satisfaction.

One look, and a man knew she was passion and fire underneath that snow-white skin. What most men didn’t know, however, was that, like Gideon, she was possessed by a demon.

Difference is, I earned mine. She didn’t.

For-freaking-ever ago, he’d helped his friends steal and open Pandora’s box, unleashing the evil inside. Yeah, yeah. A mistake. Hardly worth a second’s thought, if you asked him, but the gods hadn’t, so, as punishment, each warrior responsible was cursed to host a demon inside his own body. Baddies like Death, Disaster, Violence, Disease, yada yada.

There’d been more demons than warriors, though, so the remaining fiends had been placed inside the immortal prisoners of Tartarus. Where Scarlet had resided her entire life.

Gideon was paired with Lies, Scarlet with Nightmares.

Clearly, he’d gotten the short end of that demon-stick. She merely slept like the dead and invaded people’s dreams. He couldn’t utter a single truth without suffering. To tell a pretty woman that she was pretty was to fall to his knees, agony unlike any other exploding through him, cutting at his organs, acid spilling through his blood, draining his strength, even eroding his desire to live.

“You’re ugly,” he’d have to say instead. Most females would burst into tears and run the hell away. So, yeah, he was immune to tears.

But what would Scarlet do? he found himself wondering. And would her tears bother him?

He reached out and traced a fingertip along the curve of her jaw. Such silky, warm skin. Would she laugh at him, unconcerned? Would she try and slice his throat? Believe him? Call him a liar?

Or would she haul ass like the others?

The thought of hurting her, angering her and ultimately losing her didn’t sit well with him.

His arm fell to his side, hand fisting. Maybe I’ll tell her the truth. Maybe I’ll praise her. But he knew he wouldn’t. Make that mistake once, fine. You were stupid. Make it twice, and you were proving Darwin’s theory.

He’d already made it once.

Gideon’s greatest enemy, the Hunters, had captured him and told him that they’d killed Sabin, keeper of the demon of Doubt. Now, Gideon loved that man like a brother—boy could bitch-slap like no one else—so he’d erupted, screaming how much he hated them, how he was going to kill them all, and it had been the gods’ honest truth, every word of it. Though it might take him years, centuries, to see the promise through, that didn’t matter. He’d meant it and had been penalized for it, the anguish instantaneous.

After that, curled on the floor and writhing, he’d been an easy target for torture. And torture him the Hunters had. Repeatedly.

After beating him so severely his eyes had swollen shut and several teeth had flown the coop, after shoving sharp pins under his nails, electrocuting him and carving the mark of infinity—their mark—into his back, they’d removed his hands. He’d seriously thought he’d reached the end. Until a very much alive Sabin had found him, rescued him and carried him home (after doing some of that aforementioned bitch-slapping).

Thankfully, both of his hands had finally regenerated. Something he’d been waiting for. Very…patiently. So he could seek revenge, yes. Or rather, that had been the case at first. But then his friends had jailed this woman, this Scarlet, and she had claimed they were husband and wife.

His priorities had kinda switched at that point.

He didn’t remember her, much less wedding her. But he had seen flashes of her face all these thousands of years. Mostly every time he collapsed atop a woman, sweaty but not truly replete because he was too filled with longing for something, or someone, he hadn’t been able to name. Therefore, he couldn’t outright deny her claim. And he needed to deny her. To prove her wrong.

Otherwise, he would have to live with the knowledge that he’d abandoned a woman he’d promised to protect. He’d have to live with the knowledge that he’d slept with other women while his wife suffered.

He’d have to live with the knowledge that someone had fucked with his memory.

Yeah, he’d demanded an explanation from Scarlet, but she was stubborn to her core and had refused to tell him anything more. Like how they’d met, when they’d met, if they’d been in love, happy. How they’d split.

To be honest, he couldn’t blame her for keeping the details a secret. How could he? She had been as much a prisoner to the Lords as he’d recently been to the Hunters, and he hadn’t talked to his captors, either. Even during that oh, so pleasant hand extraction.

So, he’d come up with a plan. For Scarlet to open up to him, he would have to take her somewhere else. Just for a little while. Just until he had answers. Then, this morning, he’d done it. While his supposed wife slept, oblivious to the world around her, he’d kidnapped her from his home and carted her fireman-style to this hotel in central Budapest.

Finally, he would have everything he wanted.

All she had to do was wake up…

Chapter One

A few hours earlier…

LET’S GET THE PARTY STARTED, Gideon thought with unparalleled determination as he stomped through the renovated hallways of his Budapest fortress.

The demon of Lies hummed inside his head, heartily in agreement. Both of them liked Scarlet, their alleged wife, but for different reasons. Gideon liked the look of her and the saucy, forked-tongued comments she made. Lies liked…Gideon wasn’t sure. He only knew that the beast purred in approval every time she opened her beautiful, I-can-do-things-you’ve-only-dreamed-about mouth.

It was a reaction usually reserved for pathological liars. Except, the demon couldn’t actually tell if she fibbed or not. Which meant beneath all that affection for Scarlet, Lies was frustrated, sensitive to every word that left Gideon’s mouth. And that made Gideon’s life frustrating as hell. He couldn’t even call his friends by their own names anymore.

Was she or wasn’t she a filthy freaking liar? And yeah, he was well aware of the irony. He, a man who couldn’t utter a single truth, was complaining about someone who might be feeding him a big, heaping bowl of shit. But were they or weren’t they? Had they or hadn’t they? He had to know before he drove himself insane, puzzling over everything she’d ever said and everything he’d ever done and thought.

His request that she just lay out the facts, black and white, boom, done, over had been ignored for the last time.

He was finally taking action.

Hopefully, pretending to rescue her from his own dungeon would cause her to trust him. Hopefully, trusting him would cause her to open the hell up and answer his godsdamn questions.

Oops. His frustration was showing again.

“You can’t do this, Gid,” Strider, keeper of the demon of Defeat, said, suddenly keeping pace beside him.

Fuck. Anyone but him.

Strider couldn’t lose a challenge, any challenge, without suffering as Gideon suffered when he spoke true. Including Xbox, and that was seriously screwing with Gideon’s “Assassin’s Creed” mojo, because yeah, Gideon had challenged him, trying to distract himself and work out the stiffness in his new fingers.

Anyway. Always, without question, he and Strider guarded each other’s backs (video games aside). So, he shouldn’t have been surprised that his friend was here, resolved to save him from himself. Didn’t mean he’d roll over and play dead.

“She’s dangerous,” Strider added. “A walking blade through the heart, dude.”

Yes, she was. She invaded dreams, presented sleepers with their worst fears and fed off the ensuing terror. Hell, a few weeks ago, she’d done it to him. With spiders. He shuddered, momentarily sick to his stomach as he pictured the hairy little bastards crawling all over him.

Pussy. Suck it up. He’d faced countless swinging swords without flinching—as well as the monsters wielding them. What were a few spiders? Another shudder. Revolting, that’s what. He knew what they were thinking every time their beady eyes landed on him: tasty.

But why hadn’t Scarlet invaded anyone else’s dreams? He’d wondered about that almost as much as he’d wondered about their “marriage.” The other warriors, their female companions, she’d left alone. Despite the fact that she’d threatened to slaughter every single one of them. Something she truly could do.

“Damn it. Stop ignoring me,” Strider growled, punching a hole in the silver-stone wall seconds after they passed a closed bedroom door. “You know my demon doesn’t like it.”

Dust and debris plumed the air, a loud crack echoing. Great. Soon, other warriors would be up and running to find out what had just happened. Or maybe not. As temperamental as members of this household were (cough too much testosterone cough), they had to be used to unexpected, violent noises.

“Look. I’m not sorry.” Gideon flicked his friend a glance, taking in the blond hair, the blue eyes and the deceptively innocent features that were somehow perfect for his he-man build. More than one woman had called him “beautifully all-American,” whatever that meant. Those same women usually avoided looking at Gideon, as if even roving their gazes over his tattoos and piercings would blacken their souls. For all he knew, they were right. “But you’re correct. I can’t do this.”

Which meant that Strider was wrong and, yes, Gideon damn well could do this. So suck it!

Everyone who lived in this fortress—and godsdamn, there were a lot of people, the number seemingly growing by the day as his friends each hooked up with their “one and only” (gag)—was fluent in Gideon Speak and knew to believe the opposite of whatever he said.

“Fine,” Strider said tightly. “You can. But you won’t. Because you know that if you take the woman out of this home, I’ll go gray from worry. And you like my hair the way it is.”

“Stridey-man. Are you hitting on me? Trying to get me to run my fingers through those mangy locks?”

“Shithead,” Strider muttered, but his anger was clearly defused.

Gideon chuckled. “Sweetie pie.”

Strider’s lips even twitched into a grin. “You know I hate when you get mushy like that.”

Boy loved it. No question.

They snaked a corner, bypassing one of the many sitting rooms the fortress possessed. This one was empty. As early in the morning as it was, most of the warriors were still in bed with their women. If they weren’t weaponing-up at that exact moment, of course.

Out of habit, he scanned the area. In this particular room, portraits of naked men littered the walls, courtesy of the goddess of Anarchy whose warped sense of humor rivaled Gideon’s own. There were red leather chairs (Reyes, the keeper of Pain, sometimes had to cut himself to quiet his demon, so red came in handy), gleaming bookshelves (Paris, keeper of Promiscuity, enjoyed romance novels), and weird silver lamps that twisted and curved over the chairs; he had no idea who those were for. Fresh flowers bloomed from vases, sweetly scenting the air. Again, he had no idea. Fine. He’d requested those. That shit smelled good.

Gideon breathed deeply of that fresh, delicious air. Except he ended up inhaling a nose full of guilt. Sadly, that happened all the time lately. While he luxuriated in this, his would-be wife rotted below in the dungeons. Before this, she’d spent thousands of years in Tartarus, so that made him doubly cruel for leaving her down there.

Really, what kind of man allowed such a thing? An asshole, that’s who, and he was certainly king of them. After all, he was going to return Scarlet to the dungeon once his questions were answered. For, like, ever. Even if she was—or rather, had been—his wife.

Yes. He was a bad, bad man.

She was simply too dangerous to be permanently freed, her ability to invade dreams too destructive. Because when you died in one of Scarlet’s nightmares, you died for real. That was it. The end. And if she ever decided to aid the Hunters, which could happen, scorned women and all that, the Lords would never be able to sleep soundly again. And they needed their beauty rest or they became snarling beasts.

Case in point: Gideon. He hadn’t slept in weeks.

Slow down, his demon suddenly instructed. Moving too fast.

Usually Lies was merely a presence in the back of his mind. There, but silent. Only when the demon’s need was great did he speak up. But even then, he had to say the opposite of what he wanted. And now he wanted Gideon to hurry up and reach Scarlet.

Give me wings and it’s done, Gideon replied dryly, but damn if he didn’t quicken his step. He could and did think what he meant. Always. He never lied to himself or the demon during these private moments. Maybe because he’d had to fight savagely and without mercy for such moments.

Upon possession, he’d been lost to darkness and chaos, a slave to his soul-companion and his evil cravings. He’d tormented humans just to hear them scream. He’d burned homes to the ground, as well as the families inside them. He’d killed indiscriminately, and taunted while doing so.

It had taken a few hundred years, but Gideon had finally clawed his way to the light. He was in control now, and had even managed to tame the beast. For the most part.

Strider heaved a sigh, regaining his attention. “Gideon, man, listen to me. I said it once, but I’ll say it again. You can’t take the female outside these walls. She’ll run from you, you know she will. Hunters are in the city, we know that, too, and they could catch her. Recruit her. Use her. Or, if she refuses them, even hurt her like they hurt you.”

One, Strider was speaking as if Gideon couldn’t hold on to the wily temptress for a few days. And he could. He knew how to kick ass and take names with the best. Two, Strider was speaking as if Gideon would be unable to find her if he did indeed lose her. And three, Strider was probably speaking correctly, but that didn’t soothe Gideon’s sudden burst of anger. He may not be the smooth operator that Strider was, but he had some skills with the ladies, damn it.

More than that, Scarlet herself was a warrior. An immortal. She could surround herself with darkness. A darkness so thick no human light, and no immortal eyes, could penetrate it. Losing her wouldn’t be as disgraceful as losing, say, an untrained human.

Not that he’d lose her, he told himself again, and not that she would want to run. He was going to seduce her. Was going to pleasure the energy right out of her and make her desperate to stay with him. Which shouldn’t be too difficult. She’d liked him enough to marry him, right? Maybe.

Damn it!

“I know what you’re thinking,” Strider said after another sigh. “If she escapes you, so what? You’ll find her.”

“Wrong.” He had thought that, yeah, but he’d soon discarded the idea. So there. What are you? A girl?

“Well, what happens to her while you’re looking for her? During the day she needs protection, and if you’re not with her, who’s going to protect her?”

Fuck. Good point. Scarlet couldn’t function during daylight hours. Because of her demon, she slept too deeply. So deeply that nothing and no one could wake her until sunset, a fact he’d discovered after nearly giving her a brain aneurysm while trying and failing to shake her into consciousness.

He had been shocked when, a few hours later, her eyes had popped open and she’d sat up as if she’d just taken a ten-minute power nap.

Which had raised other questions. Why did her demon sleep during the day, when the people around her were awake? Didn’t that defeat the purpose of creating nightmares? And what happened when she traveled and the time zone changed?

“We’re lucky we found her when we did,” Strider continued. “If we hadn’t had Aeron’s angel on our side, we would’ve died trying to secure her. Setting her free, no matter the reason, is stupid and danger—”

“You haven’t said that before.” Over and over again. “Besides, Olive’s no longer on our team.” Meaning, she was. “She can’t help us again if needed.” Meaning she could. “Now, I hate you, man, but please keep talking.” I love you, but shut the hell up! Seriously.

Strider growled his renewed frustration as they pounded down the steps that led into the dungeon, stained-glass windows giving way to crumbling, bloodstained walls. The air became musty, tainted with sweat, urine and blood. None of it was Scarlet’s, thank the gods. His guilt couldn’t have handled that. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on whom you asked—she wasn’t the only being locked away. They had several Hunters awaiting payback, aka interrogation, aka torture.

“What if she was lying to you?” his friend asked. The man didn’t know when to quit, and yeah, Gideon knew Strider couldn’t quit. Which was why he didn’t simply punch his friend in the face and beat feet. “What if she’s not really your wife?”

Gideon snorted. “Forgot to tell you. Sifting through truth and lies is difficult for me.” Except with her, but he wasn’t going to issue that reminder just then.

“Yeah, but you also told me you don’t know with her.”

One of them had a perfect memory. Excellent. “There’s no way she can be my wife.” The chances were slim, but yeah, they were there. “I don’t have to do this.”

When Scarlet had first invaded his dreams and demanded he visit her in this dungeon, he’d been helpless to do otherwise, filled with a need to see her, some part of him recognizing her on a level he still didn’t understand. When she’d alleged they’d kissed, had sex, even wed each other, that same part of him had hummed in agreement.

Even though he didn’t fucking remember her.

Why couldn’t he remember her? he wondered for the thousandth time.

He’d been playing with several theories. The first: the gods had erased his memory. But that raised the question of why. Why would they not want him to recall his own wife? Why had they not erased Scarlet’s memory, as well?

The second theory: he’d suppressed the memory himself. But again, why would he have done so? How would he have done so? There were a million other things he’d actually like to forget.

The third: his demon had somehow erased the memory when they were paired. But if that were true, why did he recall his life in the heavens, when he’d been a servant to Zeus, tasked with guarding the former god king at every moment of every day?

He and Strider stopped at the first cell, where Scarlet had resided the past few weeks. She was asleep on her cot, as he’d known she would be. And as he’d done each time he’d seen her, he sucked in a breath. Lovely. But…

Mine? Did he want her to be?

No, of course not. That would complicate the hell out of everything. Not that he’d let it matter. He couldn’t. His friends came first. That’s the way things were, and the way they would always be.

At least she was clean; he’d made sure she had enough water to drink and to bathe. And she was well fed; he’d made sure food was delivered three times a night. He would do the same when he ultimately returned her. That would have to be enough.

Don’t hurry, Lies cried, practically jumping from one corner of his skull to the other. Don’t hurry!

Cram it, buddy. I’ll handle this. But he couldn’t force himself to move just yet. He’d been waiting for this moment forever, it seemed, and wanted to bask in it.

Bask? He really was becoming a woman.

Look away before you get an erection, he told himself. All right, now that was more manly. He purposefully shifted his gaze. The walls around her were composed of thick, impenetrable stone. Therefore, she could never see the Hunters imprisoned beside her. Actually, Gideon didn’t care about that. He didn’t want the Hunters seeing her.

Yeah. He wanted mine. At least for now.

Speaking of the Hunters, they spotted the warriors through their own bars and shrank into the shadows, their murmurs tapering to quiet. They might have stopped breathing as well, so afraid were they of being singled out. Good. He liked that his enemy feared him.

They had every reason to do so.

These men had imprisoned and raped innocent, immortal women in hopes of creating half-breed children they could raise to hate and fight Gideon and his friends. Children who would’ve been able to help the Hunters find Pandora’s box before the Lords could, all in hopes of using the artifact to separate each demon from its host. An act the warriors wouldn’t survive, as man was now bound irrevocably to beast.

That, too, was part of their punishment for opening that stupid box.

Gideon withdrew the key to Scarlet’s cell, his new fingers stiff and shaky from disuse, and reached out.

“Wait.” Strider placed a hard hand on his shoulder, trying to hold him in place. Gideon could have shaken free, but he allowed his friend the illusion of winning this small battle of wills. “You can talk to her here. Get your answers here.”

But they had an audience, which meant she couldn’t relax. And if she couldn’t relax, she wouldn’t allow him to touch her. Degenerate that he was, he wanted to touch her. Besides, how else was he going to seduce information from her? By telling her how ugly she was? By telling her what he didn’t want to do to her?

“Don’t ease off, man. Like I haven’t told you countless times, I have no plans to bring her back when I find out what I don’t want to know. Okay?”

“If you can bring her back. We discussed that little problem already, too. Remember?”

Kinda hard to forget. Unfortunately. “I won’t be careful. You don’t have my word. But I don’t need to do this. It’s not important to me.”

That hard hand never left him. “Now isn’t the time to leave us. We have three artifacts, and Galen’s pissed as hell. He’s gonna want revenge for the one we took from him.”

Galen was leader of the Hunters, as well as a demon-possessed warrior. Only, he looked angelic and was paired with the demon of Hope, so all of his human followers thought he was, indeed, an angel. Because of him, they blamed each of the Lords for the world’s evil. Because of him, they expected a future free of that evil, and fought to the death to achieve it.

Aeron’s new woman, Olivia, who actually was an honest-to-her-God angel, had stolen that third artifact from the bastard. The Cloak of Invisibility. As there were four artifacts needed to lead the way to Pandora’s box—the All-Seeing Eye (check), the Cage of Compulsion (check), the Cloak of Invisibility (as stated, check) and the Paring Rod (check coming soon)—Galen was desperate to win back the Cloak, as well as confiscate all the others.

Which meant their war was really heating up.

Didn’t matter, though. Nothing was going to deter Gideon from his present course of action. Mainly because part of him felt like his very life depended on this.

“Gid. Dude.”

He flicked his friend a narrowed glance, lips pulling back in a snarl. “You’re begging to be kissed.” Beaten to hell.

A moment passed in heavy silence.

“Fine,” Strider finally muttered, raising his arms, palms out. “Take her.”

Jeez. “Wasn’t planning on it, but many thanks for the approval.” But why wasn’t Strider collapsed on the ground, out for the count? He’d just lost a challenge, hadn’t he?

“When will you return?”

Gideon shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking…a week?” Surely seven days was plenty of time to soften Scarlet toward him and get her to open up about their past. Right now, she seemed to hate his guts. He didn’t know why, but he would. It was a vow. But still. She clearly preferred dangerous men. Why else would she have supposedly married him? So he fit the bill.

“Three days,” Strider said.

Ah. Negotiation time. That was why Strider hadn’t fallen to his demon. He wasn’t defeated, merely trying another strategy. Gideon could dig. He felt just as guilty about leaving his boys behind as he did about leaving Scarlet in this cell. They needed him, and if they were hurt while he was gone, he would completely flip his lid.

“I’m not thinking five now,” he compromised.

“Four.”

“No deal.”

Grinning, Strider nodded. “Good.”

So. He had four days to soften Scarlet. He’d fought more difficult battles in less time, he was sure. Funny that he couldn’t recall them at the moment, though.

Hell, maybe he just suffered from selective memory loss. Maybe fights and Scarlet—whom he’d probably fought with a lot, since she was opinionated, bossy and mouthy as shit—were the biggest casualties of that loss.

He would’ve liked to remember the sex, though. Mind-blowing. He just knew it.

“I’ll inform the others,” Strider said. “But in the meantime, I’ll drive you to wherever you want to take her.”

“Sure thing.” Gideon finally inserted the key and unlocked Scarlet’s cell, the door swinging open with a whine. “I’m not gonna drive her myself. I want everyone to know where we’re going.”

Strider gave another growl, this one just as frustrated but now laced with anger. “Stubborn jackass. I have to know you made it safely to wherever you’re going or I won’t be able to concentrate enough to kill anyone. And you know I’m on a strict, at-least-one-Hunter-a-day diet.”

“That’s why you won’t be getting a phone call from me.” Gideon approached Scarlet’s still-sleeping form. She no longer surrounded herself in that impermeable darkness while she slept. As if she wanted Gideon to always be able to see her. As if she trusted him not to hurt her.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Gods. I can’t believe you talked me into this. Did I tell you already that you’re a shithead?”

“Nope.” Gently he scooped Scarlet into his arms.

Sighing, she rubbed her cheek against his heart. A heart that was now beating against his ribs like a sledgehammer. She must have liked the erratic rhythm, because she cuddled closer. Nice.

She was five-nine to his six-three, slender, but leanly muscled. She had refused the clothes he’d offered her, so she wore the T-shirt and jeans Aeron had found her in.

Gideon inhaled deeply again, but this time there was no guilt. She smelled of floral-scented soap, and it consumed him. What had she smelled like all those years ago, when they’d supposedly been married? Flowers, like now? Or something else? Something more exotic? Something as dark and sensual as she was? Something he would have enjoyed sucking into his mouth as he tongued her from head to toe?

Head out of gutter. Now wasn’t the time to indulge such thoughts.

He turned with her clutched tightly to his chest, a treasure he would protect while they were outside the fortress walls. Even from his friends. He knew he was contradicting himself, thinking of her in such romantic terms and so ferociously, when his intentions were neither pure nor honorable, but he couldn’t help himself. Stupid lust.

Strider’s expression was wary, but accepting, silently telling him no defensive moves would be necessary. “Go. And be careful.”

Gods, he loved his friends. They supported him no matter what. They always had.

“By the way. You look like you’re a cat, and you just found a bowl of cream,” Strider said with a shake of his head. “That’s not comforting. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, do you?”

Maybe not. Because he hadn’t looked forward to something this intensely in a long time, and he probably should’ve been wary. Having his idiocy pointed out, though…“I’m not showing you a finger in my mind. Do you know that?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s your index finger and you’re telling me I’m number one.”

He laughed. Something like that.

“Four days,” his friend reminded him. “Or I come find you.”

Gideon blew him a kiss.

Strider rolled his eyes. “You wish. But listen. I’ll be praying for you to return to us alive. And with the girl. And that she’s alive, too. Oh, and that you’re satisfied with what you learn. And that she satisfied you in other ways, so you’ll forget about her like you’ve done all the other women in your life.”

Okay. That was a lot of prayers. “Thanks. A lot. I really mean that. So when didn’t you become a priest? And when did the gods decide they liked answering us?” Strider had never wasted his time on prayers before, and the gods actually adored ignoring their requests.

No, not true, he corrected himself. Cronus, the newly crowned Titan king, now liked to visit the fortress without an invite and make all kinds of shitty demands Gideon and the others were forced to obey.

Like killing innocent humans. Like choosing to save either your woman or your friend. Like begging to be told where your friend’s spirit had been sent when the friend in question had had his head cleaved from his body. Yeah, that had happened. Aeron had lost his head to a warrior angel and at Cronus’s behest, Gideon had begged (in his way) to know where the man’s spirit resided, tears streaming down his face. Actually, all of them had begged and sobbed like babies.

But in the end, Cronus had still refused to tell them. Because they’d needed a lesson in humility, the bastard had said.

Then, of course, Aeron had returned on his own. Or rather, with his sweet Olivia’s help. He’d been restored to his body, minus his demon, and once again lived here in the fortress. But Gideon had yet to forgive Cronus for his disregard, so prayers weren’t something he would be offering anytime soon.

“Priest.” Strider’s head slanted thoughtfully. Of course, he ignored Gideon’s questions. Him, though, Gideon easily forgave. “I like it. I mean, it’s practically true. I have sent many women through the gates of heaven.”

Hadn’t they all?

And Scarlet would be no different, he assured himself.

Grinning now, Gideon carried his woman away.

Chapter Two

SCARLET AWOKE with a jolt. But then, she always did. The moment her demon’s required time in dreamland ended, awareness would slam into her brain, as if she’d been hooked to a generator and the switch had been flipped.

Panting, sweating, she sat up, wild gaze roving though not really seeing. Yet. The screams she and her demon had garnered from their victims were already fading, but the images they’d projected into those sleeping minds remained in hers. Crackling flames, melting flesh, black ash wafting and dancing in the breeze.

The night’s terror du jour had been fire.

She couldn’t control the demon while she slept, as he searched out anyone he could find, wreaking what havoc he could. She could, however, make suggestions, urging him to attack certain people in certain ways. And he usually rushed to do so. Not that she’d made any suggestions lately.

Ever since the Lords of the Underworld had captured her, she’d been operating on autopilot, her thoughts consumed with one warrior in particular. The blue-haired, gorgeous, utterly frustrating Gideon.

Why didn’t he remember her?

As always, recalling his selective amnesia had every muscle in her body tensing on bone. Her hands fisted; her teeth gnashed together, little pains shooting through her jaw. But most of all, a savage need to kill someone, anyone, consumed her.

Anger isn’t good for those around you. Calm down. Think of something else.

She forced her mind to return to her demon; sadly, death and chaos were a much safer topic than that of her husband. During their hours awake—which amounted to twelve each and every day, though not always the same twelve—she pulled the strings. She could summon the darkness, and she could garner the screams. The demon could urge her, and she often heeded those urgings. Turnabout was fair play, after all. And usually, Nightmares liked to urge. Scare him…Make her scream…

But right now, her demon was strangely content.

We’re out of the dungeon, Nightmares said, seeing their surroundings before she could.

Aw. No wonder.

The flames finally died, and Scarlet scanned the area. She frowned. Okay. So. Where the hell was she now?

She’d been locked in that dungeon for several weeks, enclosed in crumbling stone and iron bars. Pained moans had constantly drifted from the other cells, and all kinds of pungent, acrid scents had taken up permanent residence inside her nose.

Now…decadence. Floral paper decorated the walls, and dark velvet curtains hung over the bay windows. There was a glistening, violet chandelier over the bed, the lights shaped like bundles of grapes. And the bed, well, her gaze slid along every inch of it. Large, with soft blue sheets and four hand-carved posters.

Best of all, the air smelled sweet, like those hanging grapes mixed with apples and vanilla. She breathed deeply, savoring. How had she gotten here? Without her knowledge?

Clearly, she’d been carried while she’d slept like the dead. Something she usually despised but couldn’t this time because it meant she’d been set free, just as she’d hoped. Yes, hoped. She hadn’t wanted to remain in that fortress, just to be near Gideon. Really.

Still. While she was lost to the dreams of others—and yeah, no matter what time she slipped into that realm of darkness and turmoil, someone, somewhere was sleeping, the demon feeding off their terror—anyone could attack her, and she would be unable to defend herself. Anyone could do anything to her, and she would be powerless to stop them.

Being moved while she was helpless irked.

Usually she protected herself from just such a situation with shadows. She had only to crook a mental finger just before she drifted and they would envelop her the entire time she slept, making it impossible for anyone to see her. But once she’d realized she was inside Gideon’s home, she’d stopped summoning those shadows.

Perhaps she’d wished, on some level, that watching her while she slept would revive his memory of her. Perhaps she’d wished he would grow to desire her again and beg to be a part of her new life. Which was stupid. The bastard had left her to rot inside Tartarus; she shouldn’t want his desire.

She should want his ruin.

“Well, well. I’m so upset you’re finally awake.”

At the sound of his voice, deep and rumbling, Scarlet stiffened, gaze once again roving. Then, she spotted him, and her heart stopped abruptly. He stood in the bedroom’s doorway, muscled arms hanging loosely. He was a warrior whose wicked face promised incomparable nights of sinful pleasures, his eyes bright with anticipation and contradicting his casual pose.

Gideon. Once her beloved husband, but now a man who deserved only her scorn.

Her heart kicked back into gear, quickly gaining speed, and her blood heated with tendrils of awareness. The same reaction she’d experienced the first time she’d seen him, thousands of years ago.

Not my fault, then or now. There was no man more beautiful, part angel, part devil, and all the more masculine for it. No man who tempted even as he repelled, someplace deep inside a woman warning her of the dangers that awaited her should she succumb to his allure. Dangers she couldn’t help but crave.

He wore a black T-shirt that read “You Know You Want Me,” black pants that bagged just a little and a silver chain belt. There were three piercings in his right eyebrow, and now one in his lip. A hoop. Silver. To match his belt, she thought snidely.

He’d always cared about his appearance, and hadn’t liked being teased about it. Something that had once amused her, for it had showed a softer side of him. A hint of vulnerability.

Today, however, she couldn’t summon any joviality. While he stood there looking as edible as a chocolate truffle dipped in caramel, she probably resembled a gutter rat dipped in sewage. She’d only been able to scrub herself with the water the Lords brought her each evening, so her clothes were wrinkled and dirty and her hair a mass of tangles.

“Got lots to say, huh?” he muttered. “We’re on the right track, then.”

She knew he could only speak lies, so she knew exactly what he meant. He wanted her talking. Keep it cas. Don’t let him know how he affects you. She arched a brow, donning what she hoped was an unconcerned expression. “Remember me yet?” Good. There hadn’t been a single spark of hurt in her tone.

His eyes drained of emotion, making those crystalline orbs look as hard as diamonds. “Of course I do.”

So, no. He didn’t. Bastard. She didn’t allow her expression to change, wouldn’t let him know how much he upset her. “Then why did you take me out of the fortress?” Slowly, purposefully, she traced a finger down the column of her neck, between her breasts, wondering if—yep. His gaze followed the entire way. Did some part of him still find her attractive? “I’m a very dangerous woman.”

“Haven’t been warned about that already.” The words were broken, emerging on a rasp of breath. “And I didn’t remove you to talk comfortably, that’s for sure.”

Not because he’d wanted her, then, but just to appease his curiosity. Her hand fell to her lap. She was not disappointed. This was more of the same, and she’d steeled herself against the mental anguish countless times already. One more time should hardly make a difference.

“You’re a fool if you thought a change of scenery would loosen my tongue.”

Though he remained silent, a muscle ticked in his jaw. He was clearly perturbed.

She offered him a sugar-sweet smile, determined to enjoy the moment. And there was something satisfying about leaving him in the dark, keeping him guessing the way he’d kept her guessing about his whereabouts for thousands of worry-filled years.

Reminded of her worry, that soul-deep, ever-present worry, she couldn’t stop her smile, fake as it was, from vanishing. She even had to press her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop herself from chomping on it in fury.

“I’ll come back for you,” he’d told her one night. “I’ll set you free, I swear it.”

“No. Don’t go. Don’t leave me here.” Gods, she’d been so whiny back then. But she’d been a prisoner, and he’d been her only bright light.

“I love you too much to be without you for long, sweetheart. You know that. But I have to do this. For both of us.”

Of course, she hadn’t seen or heard from him after that. Not until the Titans escaped Tartarus, a prison for immortals, and wrested control of the heavens from the Greeks. Not until she’d come here to Earth and searched…only to find him carousing for tail at some skanky nightclub.

The fury expanded, dotted her line of vision with red. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Slowly the dots dissipated.

“We’re done here,” she said, though she remained still, gauging his reaction. “You’re not getting what you want, and you’re certainly not keeping me here.”

“Feel free to run from me.” He crossed his arms over his massive chest, pulling the fabric of his shirt tight across his pecs. “You won’t regret it.”

Again, she knew what he meant. Run, and he would ensure she suffered. But she said, “Soon as I stretch, I’ll take you up on that offer and run. Thanks for the suggestion, by the way. I never would have thought of it on my own.”

He growled with frustration and anger, all hint of casualness gone. “I was cruel to bring you here. You don’t owe me a favor in return, so you had better not stay put.”

“We’re in agreement. You’re cruel, and I don’t owe you anything, so I won’t feel obligated to remain.”

Another growl. She tried not to laugh. Damnation, he was still fun to tease.

Fun? Her grin faded a second time. She should hate that he could only speak in lies, not enjoy it. That deceitful tongue of his had once shattered her already fragile heart.

“That’s so not enough from you,” he sniped.

“Wow. Already begging for more.” Once, she’d thought him special. But he’d proven himself exactly like the others. Her mother, her king, her supposed friends. They should have cared about her, but they had betrayed her, each and every one of them.

They’d been criminals, sure, but even criminals could love. Right? Right. So why couldn’t they love me?

She’d spent her entire life locked inside Tartarus because her mother, Rhea, wife to Cronus, had had an affair with a mortal just before the queen’s imprisonment and had eventually given birth to Scarlet inside her cell. A cell she’d shared with several other gods and goddesses.

Scarlet had been raised among them, and at first, they’d liked her. As she’d aged, however, jealousy had sprouted in some. Lust in others.

Captivity, hatred and bitterness had soon become her only trusted companions.

Until Gideon.

He’d once been an elite guard to Zeus and every time he’d brought in a new prisoner, their gazes had met. She’d waited for those moments, desperate for them. He’d enjoyed them, too, because he’d begun to visit Tartarus regularly. Not to lock up another criminal but simply to see her, to talk to her.

Don’t think about your time with him. You’ll soften toward him. And you can’t soften, you idiot.

After gaining her freedom, she should have stayed in Olympus, which was now renamed Titania, thanks to Cronus, and found a nice god to settle down with. But nooo. She’d had to see Gideon one last time. Then, having seen him, she’d had to remain near him. Then, having decided to remain, she’d just had to convince herself to warn the Lords away from her, since she’d heard that they were tracking every immortal paired with a demon from Pandora’s box, with the intention of recruiting them…or killing them.

Bastard, she thought about Gideon again. Excellent. That’s more like it. He’s a filthy liar, a cold-blooded killer, and you hate him. He still planned to kill her after he got his answers; she knew he did. Because she would never aid him, and that made her a liability.

“This silence is awesome,” he remarked.

“Glad you like it,” she replied. Annoyance bloomed over his expression, and she had to fight another grin. “’Cause I’m willing to give you a lot more of it.”

Another growl.

“Oh, and for your peace of mind, you should know that I’m not going to run.” Yet. She wanted to talk, too, though not to satisfy his curiosity.

For too long, she’d wondered if he’d found someone new. Someone permanent. And it was past time she knew. Of course, if he had, Scarlet would have to kill the bitch. Not because she still cared about Gideon—she didn’t, she reminded herself—but because he didn’t deserve such happiness.

That wasn’t vengeful of her. As his scorned ex, that was simply her right.

“No thanks for staying put,” he said with a relieved sigh.

Thanks, he was saying. “You’re not welcome.” Fuck you, she was saying.

Eyes narrowing, and making him look as if he wanted to stomp his foot in vexation like a child, he traced his tongue over his teeth. Score one for Scarlet. “How is it possible that we didn’t marry, yet my friends know everything about it?”

How had they married without anyone knowing? Easy. “We married in secret, dumbass.”

This time, he didn’t react to her taunt. “Was I not ashamed of you?”

Oh, she could slap him for that. Of course he thought he’d been ashamed of her rather than the other way around. She’d been the prisoner, after all, and he the free man. Not that he remembered even that slight detail, but clearly he still thought very highly of himself.

Bastard was too kind a word for him.

“You weren’t ashamed of me, but you would have been killed if you’d been caught associating with me,” she gritted out.

He nodded, as if he now understood she was a Titan who had been locked in Tartarus by the Greeks, rather than an actual criminal. As if he now understood that those Greeks, the very ones who had created him, would have punished him in the worst possible way for “dating” one of their reviled enemies.

“So. If we haven’t been married all this time, what name have you not been using?”

Uh, what? He’d already forgotten her damned name when she’d told him the first time he’d visited her in the dungeon? Only a few weeks had passed since then. “My name is Scarlet.” You ass! “But I already told you that.” Ass, ass, ass. Her hands fisted the cotton beneath her.

He waved in dismissal. “Didn’t know that already. What I don’t want to know now is your last name.”

That failed to calm her. Her grip tightened, and her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. Clearly, this was part of his excavation for information, not intimate curiosity, and he considered her dumb enough to fall for it.

He wasn’t sure if she was a god or one of their servants. As a god, she wouldn’t have a last name. As a servant, she would, for last names lowered status, as if you couldn’t be distinguished by your first name alone. Like a human. Gideon was doing the process of elimination thing. Not that it would do him any good, for she was neither god nor servant. Nor human, for that matter. She was something in between them all.

“My last name changes pretty much every time I watch a movie and find new man candy,” she said in a sugar-sweet tone that matched her earlier grin.

Now he popped his jaw, lip ring glistening in the lavender light. Irritated by that, was he? Didn’t like the thought of his supposed wife eating up other men with her eyes, huh?

“Man candy? Like something you’d buy from a bakery?” His tone was sneering, intent on shaming her.

“Hell, no.” And he clearly didn’t think so, either, because he hadn’t passed out from his words. He was irritated, then. Good. Finally. True satisfaction. Score two. “You know. Man candy. Men to lust after, men you want to lick, men you want to suck on and take a bite out of. Well, not you, but me.” No way did she want Gideon thinking she’d pined for him all these years. That she’d lain awake, wishing for him, desperate for him.

No matter how true that was.

Those eyes narrowed farther, his lashes fusing together and obscuring the bright blue of his irises. “You’re not a Lord. Not like me. You shouldn’t call yourself Scarlet Lord.”

“You call yourself Gideon Lord?” she asked. She hadn’t known that.

“No.”

Yes. “Well, then, I will never call myself Scarlet Lord.” She wouldn’t travel down that road with him again. She would not proclaim to this world and the heavens that she belonged to him.

If she shared anything with this man, it would be the tip of her dagger. Right through his black, forgetting, abandoning heart.

He bared his pearly whites in a fearsome scowl. “I’m not warning you to tread carefully. I’m not dangerous when I’m riled.”

“Hey, stop me if you’ve heard this one. But…wait for it…go fuck yourself.”

For some reason, the anger drained right out of him and his lips quirked into the semblance of a smile. “No spirit. I can’t see why I would have chosen you.”

Do. Not. Soften.

“I don’t want to know who you’ve named yourself after.” He straightened from the door frame, though his arms remained crossed over his chest. “Please don’t tell me. Please.”

Casually asked, with that hint of amusement, yet there was now a sharp gleam in his eyes, as if he would close the distance between them, if necessary, and shake the answer out of her.

If he touched her, if those strong fingers closed around her arms…No, no, no. She couldn’t allow it.

She shrugged as if the information didn’t matter. “Well, I’ve been calling myself Scarlet Pattinson for several weeks. Have you seen Robert Pattinson? Hottest. Man. Ever. And no, I don’t care if that makes me a cougar. He sings with the voice of an angel. Gods, I love when a man sings to me. You never did because your voice is terrible.” She shuddered in distaste. “I swear, it’s like a demon running its claws over brimstone.”

His fingers were digging into his biceps so savagely, bruises were already branching from under them. “And now you’re not going to tell me who you were before that.”

He’d dropped the “please.” Excellent. She was getting to him again. But how far could she push him on this point? How much could his stupid male pride take before he did stomp over to her? Before he did shake her? And not for answers, but for an apology.

Once, she’d known the answer to those questions. He would never touch her in anger. But he wasn’t the same tender man she’d fallen in love with. A man who had shown her that first taste of kindness. He couldn’t be. She and all the other prisoners had heard stories about the Lords of the Underworld and their exploits. The innocents they’d killed, the cities they’d destroyed.

Besides, she knew what her own demon had done to her upon their pairing. The darkness, the terror, the absolute loss of control. She’d been consumed, no longer human in any way. And that had lasted for centuries, she’d been told, though there were gaps in her memory, the time seeming to have passed in a matter of days. Still. She was no longer the same person, either.

“I was Pitt for a while,” she said. “Then Gosling. Then Jackman. Then Reynolds. I always go back to Reynolds. He’s my fave. That blond hair, those muscles…” She shivered. “Let’s see, who else? Oh. I’ve been Bana, Pine, Efron and DiCaprio, as well. DiCaprio is another fave. And another blond, for that matter. Maybe I have a thing for blonds.”

Hopefully the barb cut its mark. Gideon had black hair underneath all that blue.

“Oh, and I’m not into girls,” she continued, “but Jessica Biel could change my mind. Have you seen her lips? So yes, I’ve even been Scarlet Biel.”

Gideon did that jaw-popping thing again. And if she wasn’t mistaken, the anger had returned full force, burning away the last vestiges of amusement. “So very few pieces of candy,” he remarked.

Apparently, she could push him pretty far. How had she thought him merely angry before? That was suppressed rage she was hearing in his voice…as well as deep thrums of arousal.

The latter was a sound she’d once known well and never thought to hear again.

Do not smile. “I like variety, what can I say? Maybe one day it’ll even be my mission to bag and tag each and every one of them.”

Steam practically curled from his nostrils. Yep, rage. He straightened, stepped forward, stopped himself, and retreated back into the doorway. “We aren’t done with that topic for now,” he snapped. He turned as if to leave.

“Wait.” She wasn’t ready to end the exchange. Not yet. “What about you?” she asked, shifting the focus off herself. Careful. “Any girlfriends I should know about? Or better yet, another wife? If so, I’ll have to have you incarcerated for polygamy.” There. No way he could guess at her desperation. At her clawing need to know.

Slowly he spun back around. “Yes,” he said through clenched teeth, the word barely scraping its way free. Meaning no, he had none. “I have a girlfriend, and I’m married to someone else.”

Scarlet released a searing breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Gideon was single. A male whore who tapped any ass he could get his hands on, yes, but he was still unattached. She began shaking. Not in relief, she was sure, but in disappointment that she wouldn’t get to murder someone he loved right in front of him.

So…we’re done here.

She now had the info she’d wanted; she could ditch him. Except, she threw her legs over the side of the mattress and stood. Without knocking him down and running away. Idiot. “I’m taking a shower and you’re getting me food. Don’t even think about arguing or I swear to the gods I’ll fill your next dreams with countless spiders.” At least, she thought she would.

For some reason, Nightmares didn’t like to torment him. She’d had to beg to get the demon to do so the first and only time, and the stupid beast had protested and whined every single moment. That had never happenedbefore. Her demon was an equal opportunity tormentor.

Why did Nightmares like him? Him, of all people. Her demon didn’t even know him, since she’d become possessed after Gideon had abandoned her. But her demon had endured her constant complaints about him, so she would have placed good money on Nightmares wishing Gideon was dead, just so Scarlet’s complaining would stop.

“Well?” she demanded. “Why are you just standing there? Get moving.”

Gideon’s lips did that adorable twitching thing again. Trying not to grin? Odd man. Anyone else would have stomped away in irritation. Or threatened to stab her for such a haughty, commanding tone.

“Whatever you desire, my sweet.”

Which meant he’d be doing nothing. She’d figured. He’d always been stubborn and had never taken orders well, and that was something she used to like about him. Still. She couldn’t leave him feeling satisfied with the conversation.

Satisfaction belonged only to her.

Which meant it was time to throw him for another loop.

As she strolled to the bathroom, stripping along the way, she said over her shoulder, “Oh, and, Gid. I’ve been lying to you all along. We were never married.”

DAMN IT, damn it, damn it! Gideon still couldn’t detect when Scarlet lied, and that was really starting to annoy him. For some reason, every word out of her lovely lips still caressed his ears, and worse, that audible stroke was spreading to his entire body. How?

Fact: truth usually made his demon hiss. Fact: lies usually made the demon purr. With Scarlet Pattinson—he nearly punched a hole in the wall of the hotel room as Strider had done at the fortress as his annoyance escalated—it picked up only on her raspy voice, too lost in pleasure to care about truth or lie.

He was going to have to stop that. Otherwise, he might never get his answers.

Leave her, Lies demanded.

Go get her? Hardly. I like my balls where they are, thanks. The kind of woman who would punch you for trying to kiss her awake would knee your testicles into your throat for peeking at her naked curves while she washed.

Naked…curves…Hello, hard-on.

The bathroom door clicked shut, blocking every last inch of her from his sight. Bad, uh, good thing, too. She’d been down to her bra and panties. Black, both of them. With lace. The bra had clasped in the front, just asking to be separated. That testicle ascension might be worth it, he thought, already striding forward.

His mouth watered, a lick of flame dancing over his body, heating his blood to scalding. Somehow, he stopped himself before hitting the door. Show some restraint, for gods’ sake. It was just, holy hell, she was beautiful. Like a portrait come to life, all pale, rose-dusted skin and a fall of silky black hair. All dangerous curves and lean muscle, two things that didn’t normally go well together. On her, however, they did. And exquisitely so.