Well, well. Looked like her luck was finally turning.
“How did Lazarus acquire the mirror?” William asked.
Hades tensed, his spine snapping ramrod straight. “I’ll find out.”
“She’s our ally. We can’t steal from her without jeopardizing her allegiance and the allegiance of the other Lords.”
Hades rubbed two fingers against his clean-shaven jawline. “Perhaps we’ll offer a trade.”
Yes, please do. Did he know how much Siobhan hated him? Did he suspect she would only ever plot his downfall?
A sudden commotion in the hallway jolted both males. The pitter-patter of running children and the pounding footsteps of chasing parents.
“Do not stick another toy soldier in the toilet, Urban,” a woman shouted. “I mean it!”
Hades and William shared a look of determination before flashing away, leaving Siobhan alone...but she didn’t have to be the goddess of Many Futures to know she would see the father-son duo again...and very, very soon.
18
“To ensure your skills remain honed, make a new kill pleasure your woman every day.”
—Eternal Truths for Men Without Women
—The Art of Keeping Your Female Happy
World. Rocked.
Lazarus reeled as he cleaned Cameo, then himself. He righted his pants before hooking the clasp of her bra, covering her beautiful breasts. A necessary travesty. One glance at her feminine perfection, and he would be on her again...and again...
He fastened her pants, but left both their shirts on the floor, intending to enjoy a little skin-to-skin contact.
He should leave. He’d gotten off, and he’d gotten her off. A miracle, she would say. His mind should be clear of the passion-fog, vengeance against Juliette his number two priority.
His number one priority? Stopping new crystal formations. Lava flowed through his veins, scorching him, and his muscles ached. Telltale signs of impending growth.
Even still, he crawled into bed with Cameo and tugged her close. Her smile had unmanned him. He would never be the same. Her entire face had lit up, and happiness had glowed through her pores. There was no sight more beautiful in any realm.
He was addicted, already wanted another one.
First, he had questions for her. Later, he would explore every inch of her beautiful body, would see and touch her butterfly tattoo...would see and touch all of her. Nothing held back. Then she would bless him with another smile.
In both his life and death, he’d been with a lot of women, but no one had ever meant more than his μονομανία. He shared something with her that he’d never shared with another. An emotional bond.
“I don’t know how,” she said, her voice raspy and tragic, her warm breath fanning his chest, “but you, Cuddles, make everything better.”
“Of course I do.” For you, only ever you.
“Correction. You make most things better.”
“Sorry, but there are no take backs.”
In his arms, she’d been Cameo, a woman without a demon. Happy and content. Never had he beheld a more magnificent sight. Her skin had flushed and glowed with health, vitality—and pleasure, so much pleasure. Her eyes had sparkled like freshly polished diamonds in a setting of platinum. Her kiss-swollen lips had glistened with his essence.
I’ll be forever haunted.
“I’m surprised you were willing to lower your guard in an unfamiliar environment,” she said.
“How dare you.” He gave a mock growl. “I never once lowered my guard.”
She arched a single black brow. “So you didn’t give my body your full attention?”
He barked out a laugh, awed by her wit. “This is a first. You’ve backed me into a corner. If I say yes, you’ll call me a liar. If I say no, you’ll call me a horrible lover. Either way, I’ll be in a whole lot of man-trouble.”
“Well, I can’t exactly accuse you of being a bad lover while I’m still twitching from my very first orgasm.” As she rubbed her soft cheek against his bare chest, he wrapped an arm around her waist. “I actually climaxed. A real one, not a fake.”
“Trust me, sunshine. I noticed. Also, I had no plans to stop my expert seduction until you erupted.”
“Well, thank you.” She kissed the hollow of his neck, where his pulse had yet to slow, her lips soft, sweet and giving. “But also no thank you! How am I supposed to live without at least one orgasm a day?”
He nearly choked on another laugh. “You’re not?”
“Exactly!”
Something dark twisted in his chest, his good humor evaporating. What if, when Lazarus parted with her, she turned to another man?
“Hey. You stiffened.” She frowned at him. “Why?”
“Maybe I’m missing your smile.”
“Please. You’ve never even seen my smile.”
Had she already forgotten? “Sunshine, you smiled after you came.”
“What? Me?” The ends of her hair tickled his skin as she shook her head. “I can’t smile.”
“You can. You did.” She had forgotten. Poor Cameo. Poor Lazarus. How soon would she forget him? And how would he react when she did?
Self-preservation said, You’ll rejoice. No μονομανία, no weakness.
The rest of him bellowed, Kill the demon!
Lazarus had known the outcome of his dalliance with Cameo from the beginning. One way or another, he would lose her. He’d thought he’d accepted their end. Now, with her cuddled against him, he only wanted to rage. Never again touch her softness? Or glide against the liquid heat only he could draw forth? Never again hear her voice change from tragic to breathy as she moaned in pleasure? Never again watch her unravel as satisfaction burned centuries of hopelessness to ash? Never again see her smile?
There would be no chance he could make her laugh.
Desperate to discover if the memory of him had already begun to fray at the edges, he opened his mind to hers...and brushed against her shield.
“You stop that right now before I remove something you don’t want to lose.” She traced a fingertip around his nipple and as he shuddered—in a very manly way. “What is it you want to know?”
“If the demon has begun to erode your memory of me.”
“No.” She sighed. “I wish I had the ability to read minds. I could read yours after Misery does his thing.” Her chin trembled. “I could remember through your eyes.”
The guilt he’d experienced earlier returned, only sharper. He now had the means to free her of the demon. He also had the means to kill her.
Can’t risk it. Lazarus did everything in his power to turn his own heart to stone. Why bring up Pandora’s box, anyway? He and Cameo would part soon enough, and he would never use the thing against her. He would keep it safe, never allowing anyone to use it against her. Including Cameo herself.
What if she had imprisoned Juliette and Hera, but never told him?
The question was a poison injected straight into his mind. Inescapable and without an antidote.
This—his silence about the box—was the same. If Cameo discovered his deceit, she would be hurt; she would rage and seek vengeance, and rightfully so. If she discovered how close she’d come to achieving a lifelong goal, and discovered Lazarus was the one who’d betrayed her...
No. Absolutely not! His silence wasn’t a betrayal but a kindness. He protected Cameo.
Ask questions, receive answers, give her another orgasm, leave. That was the way his second chance at life had to go. He had to build a new army and attack clan Eagleshield from every side. A new army took time. “You said you were afraid sex with me would be bad. Have I alleviated your concerns?”
She traced one of the crystalized veins in his biceps. “First answer a question for me. Are these...wounds the reas
on you refused to strip?”
Share his secret? His shame? His fear that he would end up like his father, defeated, trapped and hidden from the rest of the world?
He trusted Cameo, but he didn’t trust her family. If she were to tell a friend—whether wittingly or unwittingly—and that friend told another, so on and so forth, soon the entire immortal community would know about his weakness.
While the crystals remained dormant without contact with Cameo, given life only in her presence, the damage she caused was permanent.
He would become a target for every vampire, shifter or witch hoping to earn a moniker. Look at me. Look, look. I’m the one who took down the only son of the Monster.
Juliette could use his weakness against him. Hera, too.
“Perhaps I think I’m fat,” he finally muttered. “Do these pants make my ass look big?”
The corners of her mouth twitched, giving him hope he would see...nope, her frown returned. “Be serious. You’re hiding a bad tattoo, aren’t you? Maybe a former girlfriend’s name scripted inside a heart? Oh! I know. A man’s face on your thigh. Or a rocket that resembles a penis?”
“I’m making a mental note to get each of those tattoos. They sound world-class.”
“Yeah, but what name will go inside the heart?”
“My own. I’ve always loved myself best.”
She batted her lashes at him. “We have so much in common. I’ve always loved myself best, too.”
Her attempt at flirting was a-dor-able. “Such a naughty little liar. I’m your favorite. Admit it.”
“Darkpit, you barely crack the top ten.”
Lazarus was a selfish bastard, greedy in the extreme, and so possessive he wanted to lay siege to every aspect of his woman’s life—even if they wouldn’t be together. “Give me names. By morning I’ll be the only one left.” Half tease, half unadorned promise. “You’ll have to award me the number one spot.”
She snorted. Then she fell silent. Then she stiffened. Her defenses lowered, her mind suddenly open to his, the shield gone. Her relationship with Alex and the heartache the male had caused consumed her thoughts. So had the torment the Hunters had dished.
She’d been confined to a dank, dark cell that reeked of sweat, urine and other things Lazarus couldn’t bear to contemplate. She’d been chained to a wall except for the times she’d been chained to a rack, each of her limbs pulled out of its socket. Hot pokers had been pressed into her filth-caked skin, appendages removed while she screamed in pain. While her demon laughed. Laughed.
The bastard had no right!
Lazarus struggled to control a surge of black rage. Calm. Steady.
Galen, leader of the Hunters, had swooped in, demanding to know more about the other demon-possessed warriors. Information Cameo had refused to give him, no matter how many of her bones the male had broken, or how many times he’d sliced into her already injured flesh...or when he’d removed her tongue.
Don’t want to talk? Fine. Now you can’t talk.
Galen was a demon-possessed warrior himself. The keeper of Jealousy and False Hope. According to word on the street, the Lords had recently welcomed him back into their fold.
Lazarus’s rage only worsened. He was not so forgiving and added the name “Galen” to his vengeance list. The male would become the star attraction in the next Garden of Perpetual Horror.
As for Misery, Lazarus yearned to use the box, to laugh as the demon was ripped out of Cameo.
He continued digging through her memories, a strange detail seizing his attention. Blurred at the edges. Why? He followed the thread and landed square in the middle of Misery’s memory.
Lazarus began to dig through the demon’s thoughts and sucked in a breath. The evil creature couldn’t wipe Cameo’s mind without her permission. And when that permission was granted? He could do more than wipe it. He could distort it, causing her to view the past through a sorrow-tinted lens.
Lazarus had uncovered a fact Misery tried desperately to hide.
Cameo hadn’t loved Alex, not in the deep and romantic way she believed. She’d loved her ability to speak with him without causing an influx of tears. My darling Cami. For centuries she’d craved companionship, understanding and adoration.
The truth was, Alexander had been a tiny bandage placed over a massive wound in her soul. The human hadn’t helped her, but he hadn’t hurt her, either. At the time, she’d never experienced anything better.
And how sad was that?
Alexander had been a troubled man, searching for someone, anyone, to blame for his own wounds. Cameo had offered comfort and at first, the human had felt grateful, even indebted to her. Lazarus could see the gratitude in his eyes. As the days, weeks and months had passed, Cameo’s personal misery had fed the human’s. He’d continued to hurt, and eventually he’d come to consider her the perfect outlet for his pain.
The day Hunters approached him with tales of demons released from Pandora’s box, Alex had been ripe for plucking.
“Lazarus. Stop!” Wave after wave of sadness poured from her, sweeping them up in an ocean of grief. Then her mind blanked, her shield back in place. She bolted upright, dark hair a cascading waterfall around her strong but delicate shoulders. “My head isn’t your personal playground.”
When she threw her legs over the side of the bed, he clasped her by the waist to hold her prisoner. “I won’t apologize. I know you better now. Like you better. And you have nothing to be ashamed of. Alexander’s actions reveal his weakness, not yours.”
Tremors rattled her in the cage of his arms, stoking the need that always simmered in his blood. “My past is off-limits unless I choose to share it. Or maybe you’d be fine with me exploring yours without permission?”
His guilt resurfaced, an anchor dropped in the middle of her ocean. Denying her so much already. “You’ve made a valid point. I’m sorry, sunshine.”
Bit by bit, she relaxed against him. “I told you a handful of people committed suicide after spending time with me, right?”
“Right.” You also told me you tried to kill yourself, he silently added, nauseated by the thought. What if she’d succeeded?
“By the time I met Alex, I had the worst of the sorrow contained, except when I spoke. I allowed myself to hope, but I should have stayed away from him. I should have stayed away from you, too.”
“No!” The denial rushed from him with more force than he’d intended. Calm! He might have been better off without his μονομανία, but he was certainly happier having her at his side. “You’re allowing Misery to speak for you now.”
Lazarus had lived for a long time, had fought many different opponents. Demons were evil, detestable and spiteful, no exceptions; they possessed not a single shred of goodness. They enjoyed corruption and destruction, feeding on the carcasses of those they successfully corrupted and destroyed. They couldn’t be tamed or redeemed because they didn’t want to be tamed or redeemed.
“How can I not?” Cameo said. “We are one.”
Lazarus combed his fingers through her hair, soothing her the way his mother once soothed him, the few times they were allowed to be together. “No, you are separate. I’m attracted to you, not Misery. Him, I hate. He takes what belongs to me.” Her memories of Lazarus. Her smile still haunted him. Need another. Soon. “To me, you are Snow White, and he is an amalgamation of all seven dwarfs, operating independently of your commands.”
Some of the tension drained from her, her beautiful curves melting into him, melding to him. “Funny. I have thought about Snow White, as well. Your apple...”
He stiffened and she shook her head, adding, “But I’m not gentle and soft-spoken like she was created to be. In fact, while I was in your realm I was more comfortable comparing myself to a villain like the evil queen. And in case you haven’t realized, Misery isn’t Happy, Sne
ezy, Dopey, Sleepy, Bashful or medically inclined. He’s only grumpy. So he can’t be an amalgamation of the dwarfs.”
“I didn’t say which dwarfs, now, did I? He’s Angst, Woe, Grief, Depression, Heartache, Despair and Forlorn.”
As she coyly batted her lashes at him, she wickedly scraped her nail around his nipple. “Be honest. You’re really trying to convince me that you are Prince Charming.”
“Your lips may call me by any name, sunshine, and I’ll answer with a kiss.”
Cameo’s mouth twitched and, beneath his fly, his shaft hardened and ached.
She rolled closer and kissed his sternum—lower than he’d hoped for and yet not low enough. “I want so badly to be free of Misery. Now that I’ve tasted pleasure? Darkpit, I can’t live with the demon much longer. I just can’t.”
Panic seared and branded him, overshadowing his arousal. “You will not harm yourself, Cameo. You will not allow harm to come to you.” Must remove the demon. He’s the danger.
How?
“The order of a king?” she asked, and he thought he felt a hot tear slide down the ridges of muscle in his stomach. A fucking tear.
The order had been issued from a man. Her man. But he found himself saying, “I will find a way to help you destroy the demon. A way you will remain safe.” Shut your mouth. Offer no more. You can’t—But something inside him had broken. His resistance? That tear... “Until then, I’ll stay with you, guard you. Even from yourself if I must.”
Her gaze snapped up, meeting his—and yes, there were tears caught in her lashes. His guts twisted.
“I’m a one-night stand, remember?” She glared at him. “I don’t want you hanging around me just because you’re afraid I’ll put the final punch in my Lifetime Achievement card.”
She’d just given him an easy out. A way to say goodbye now...or in an hour...perhaps in the morning. Maybe in a day. No more than two. He should take the out and run, never looking back. The longer he stayed with her, the faster his health would decline, the more mobility he would lose. He had to be at his best if he hoped to defeat Juliette and Hera.
The Darkest Promise--A Dark, Demonic Paranormal Romance Page 21