The Darkest Promise--A Dark, Demonic Paranormal Romance

by Gena Showalter

  Time wasn’t his friend, not anymore. In the spirit realm, he’d had decades, centuries and even millennia to fortify the defenses of his palace, to grow his army and train his men to be the best of the best. Here in the mortal world, where Juliette and Hera lived, he had less than four weeks to get his shit together before becoming a cog in Hades’s war. A war that would require his full attention.

  “Plus,” Cameo added, “I’ll be busy. I have to find Pandora’s box. It’s now in play. Torin says someone found it.”

  Annnd his guilt used him as a punching bag, beating him black-and-blue. However, his resolve remained firm. He would never give this woman the box. If ever Misery overwhelmed her, she could use it to facilitate a swift—and certain—end.

  “Any ideas about the culprit?” he asked.

  “Not yet.”

  Not ever. He would take precautions. “What about finding your pleasure?” He leaned down to draw her nipple through his teeth. “Shouldn’t you take this opportunity to use and abuse me? By the way, I’m naming your nipples. This one is Naughty.”

  Moaning, she slid her hands in his hair. “What’s the other one’s name?”

  He turned his attention to the little beauty in question. “She’s Nice. And you will remember our time together...every second. Vow it.”

  “Just because you decree it, doesn’t make it so.”

  “The demon needs your permission to wipe your mind.”

  Cameo jolted upright, dislodging Lazarus. “What? No way.” She pushed him, widening the distance between them. “I would never agree to part with my memories.” She opened her mouth to say more, only to bite her lower lip. “I wouldn’t,” she reiterated with a lot less force. “And how could you even know something like that?”

  “How do you think?” He seized her shoulders, pushed her back and rolled on top of her, pinning her to the mattress. “Misery makes you so sad that you beg for a fresh start.” Which meant she had willingly parted with her memory of Lazarus.

  The knowledge settled, but poorly.

  He nudged her legs apart, his lower half settling more comfortably against hers. Hardness to softness, need to need. Then he pinched her chin, staring at her with enough force that her gaze met his.

  “Whenever the demon inundates you with sadness, think of this.”

  She licked her luscious red lips, leaving a glimmer of undisguised intent behind. “You on top of me?”

  “No, sunshine. Think of the things I make you feel.” He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers before shifting to nuzzle her cheek with his own and then bite the lobe of her ear.

  Going boneless, she said, “Give me another orgasm?”

  “Are you asking or telling?”

  “Asking.” Though her eyelids were heavy and hooded with desire, he could see her eyes glowed with wicked challenge. “The first time could have been a fluke.”

  “A fluke? A fluke!” He rubbed his erection against her core. “Sunshine, I’ll be giving you three orgasms today.”

  She gasped with mock horror. “No, please. Anything but that. Absolutely anything, oh great and mighty king of Grimm and Fantica.”

  Funny girl. “Keep talking. Dare you. You’re about to earn yourself a fourth.”

  “I owe you a special kiss, remember?”

  “As if I could forget.”

  She opened her mouth to reply. He swallowed the words, pressing his lips against hers and thrusting his tongue deep.

  “Lazario.” Moaning, she softened against him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  He nearly howled in triumph. He loved when she clung to him, her treasure of femininity his to plunder. “Going to explore every inch of you,” he told her. “Will leave no part of you untouched. Then you can give me that special kiss.”

  A hard knock sounded at the door. “You’ll want to get dressed now.” Thane’s voice blasted through the room. “Juliette the Eradicator has returned—with her entire clan.”

  19

  “Never allow your bark to be worse than your bite. The two should be equally terrible.”

  —The Art of Keeping Your Female Happy

  —Becoming the Monster You Were Born to Be

  Cameo jumped from the bed, her mind racing with a million different thoughts but also tingling, as if Misery were still kicking at her skull. No, not kicking—she felt no pain—but dancing over her cerebral cortex. An odd sensation, and one she’d never experienced until earlier today when Lazarus arrived at the club.

  Heightened sensual awareness? Simple, wanton desire?

  Fury? Juliette’s arrival had interrupted Cameo’s second orgasm.

  Juliette would pay.

  Trembling, Cameo pulled on her shirt. As Lazarus donned his, his motions were sharpened by a dark rage she’d only ever glimpsed inside the griffin’s cave. He should be overjoyed. One of his dreams was about to come true.

  She sheathed one of his daggers and checked the magazine of a small semiautomatic he’d stored in his boot. Excellent. Fully loaded.

  “Hope you don’t mind, but I’m borrowing these,” she told him.

  He glowered at her. “Keep them. They are yours. But stay here.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Please.”

  As the only female in a group of strong, burly males, she’d heard a variation of that very command—stay here—so many times she’d lost count.

  “Screw you, darkpit.” She had to work harder than her male friends simply to be regarded as an equal. While doing so, she had to endure ridicule. What men considered strength in other men, they considered malicious in her. She had to fight to be heard after listening to repeated mansplaining. “Your former consort needs to learn I’m a formidable enemy. Apparently, so do you. Also, she needs to know your ass belongs to me.”

  “Cameo—”

  “No. No excuses about the big strong man protecting the weak little female. If you want me in your bed, you’ll have to accept me at your side. No other outcome is tolerable.” Okay, she’d just taken a huge gamble. Before, Lazarus had only requested a night with her. He’d just agreed to more, but not because he liked her or couldn’t go on without her. Because he feared for her safety.

  Oh, she knew he still desired her. He had a fully loaded AK-47 under his straining fly every time he glanced in her direction. Was desire enough to herald her happiness—and sustain it?

  He’d been clear from the beginning that he wanted to wed a queen, not for love. That he wanted an alliance, an army. He didn’t consider her marriage material.

  The reminder stung, and Misery gloated.

  His eyes narrowed as he palmed a dagger. “Your heart is too sweet.”

  “Are you talking about my heart, or one of the hearts I keep in a jar at home?”

  He blew her a kiss. “I know what you’re doing. Extolling violent escapades so I’ll see you as a warrior rather than a passionate woman, but it’s not going to—”

  She grabbed his balls and twisted. “I am a warrior.”

  “Work,” he finished on a high note. When she released him, he rubbed his precious. “Very well. You can come with me.”

  “Gee whiz. You’re letting me come with you? You’re swell. Just the best!”

  He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “If you get hurt, even a single scratch—”

  “You’ll rage, and people will die, blah, blah, blah. We can’t have your one-night stand unable to perform her duties, now, can we?”

  “Oh, you’ll perform your duties, all right, or people won’t just die, sunshine. They’ll beg to die.”

  How could he be so sexy and so infuriating at the same time? “Let’s stop chatting and go get exhibit one of two in ‘Lazarus’s Quest for Vengeance.’”

  His dark gaze held her captive for a blissful eternity, those ebony irises
deepening and swirling, almost hypnotizing her. Then he stalked out the door. She raced after him. The hallway had been emptied of guards. Inside the club itself, Sent Ones pushed the remaining guests outside. Guests who were more than happy to leave. No one wanted to be in the path of an enraged Harpy, much less an entire clan.

  There would be carnage.

  Cameo moved to one of the windows in back. A beautiful garden bloomed with night roses, the macabre petals bloodred. At the edge stood the Harpies. They were well-armed, and they surrounded the building, perfectly backlit by glittering stars and the glow of a vibrant moon.

  Juliette claimed the helm, the wind lifting her dark tresses and the hem of her short leather skirt.

  Lazarus is going to be enslaved. Misery pretended to choke on a sob. He’s going to blame you, hate you.

  “There are more than a hundred Harpies out there and only two of us,” Cameo said, doing her best to ignore the demon.

  “I know. Poor Harpies.” Lazarus stopped directly behind her and rested a hand on her hip.

  The strange tingling started up again, but as the warmth of his breath caressed the top of her head, she shivered with delight.

  Misery hissed and even lapsed into silence.

  “If I unleash the demon,” she said, refusing to claim him with the word my, “he can incapacitate the Harpy forces with sorrow. We can pick them off one by one without risking injury.”

  “And incapacitate you in the process, I’m sure.”

  “Yes,” she admitted. Terribly so. Ceding the reins of control allowed Misery to fill her with so much despair she longed for death. Only with time and a miracle would she break free from his clutches.

  “No.” Lazarus shook his head, determined. “We fight.”

  Wasn’t willing to achieve his vengeance the easy way? A shock!

  More sexy than infuriating...

  “The club has been cleared.” Thane approached, the tips of his wings brushing against the floor. “The Harpies gave me an ultimatum. Kill Cameo, or start a war. I do not appreciate ultimatums, so I’ve decided to start a war. We’ll stand with you in this battle.”

  Beside him stood Bjorn and a seven-foot-tall Berserker—the master of the club’s guard. Bjorn nodded, and the Berserker stepped forward, saying, “As will I.” Where was Xerxes?

  She expected Lazarus to protest. His vengeance, his battle. He added to her shock by nodding his thanks.

  Wait. Had he agreed to their help as a means of protecting her?

  More infuriating than sexy.

  She wasn’t weak. And she would prove it!

  There was no sign of Viola or the bartender who’d absconded with her. Too bad. Would have been nice to fight beside the goddess and her furry sidekick. My new best friends.

  Who are you kidding? You have no friends. What could you possibly bring to the table?

  Misery wanted to depress her before the big battle so she would be felled quickly and easily. A tactic he’d used many times before.

  What do I bring to the table? she asked the demon. Easy. The table. I built it.

  “By the way, you chose the right side,” Lazarus told the others. “I’ve summoned my sky serpents.”

  He had? When?

  He said, “They should arrive—”

  High-pitched screeches echoed through the club.

  Over a dozen sky serpents hovered in the sky, their membranous wings gliding up and down. Their huge, jewel-toned bodies radiated tension while their tails were coiled, ready to lash. Accelerant dripped from their fangs. With every exhalation, brilliant blue flames crackled inside their nostrils.

  Lazarus offered a cold grin. “Now.”

  “You will, of course, be liable for any damage the building sustains,” Thane said.

  “Of course.” Lazarus pointed to Juliette. “Feel free to send the bill to her next of kin.”

  Half of the Harpy army turned to face the sky serpents while the other half remained focused on the club. So. They were dividing their forces. A dangerous choice, placing the Harpies at a severe disadvantage right from the start. But then, it wasn’t as if Lazarus had left them much choice.

  Cameo liked that about him.

  Xerxes appeared at Thane’s side, stepping from an invisible doorway. He stretched out his arm in Cameo’s direction, a dagger resting in his palm.

  Lazarus caught him by the wrist, preventing him from ever making contact with her. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

  “My blade!” She sheathed the gun she’d “borrowed” from Lazarus and claimed the dagger.

  Xerxes arched a white brow, and Lazarus released him with a huff.

  Movement outside the window drew her attention. She groaned. Griffins had joined the party. Living griffins. They’d lined up across from the sky serpents, ready to fight for Team Harpy.

  “How did she summon griffins?” Cameo demanded.

  “Word of my exploits has traveled fast.” Lazarus hiked his shoulders in a shrug. Reading the Harpy’s mind? “The griffins found her.”

  Juliette smiled. “Lazarus!” Her voice echoed through the club. “I can’t tell you the depths of my happiness, knowing my consort lives. Join me, my love. There’s no need for a clash. We were meant to be together.”

  If the Harpy hadn’t already signed her own death warrant, well, she would have done so then. Lazarus shouted the most obscene curse Cameo had ever heard.

  “Juliette the Eradicator is mine to kill,” he snapped at the Sent Ones. His gaze locked on Cameo. “And you...”

  “Hey, don’t worry about me.” In battle, distraction killed as brutally as any sword. “I’ll leave her to you. And before you command otherwise, I will put myself in danger, unnecessary or otherwise. But I’ll also win.”

  A muscle jumped beneath his eye. “Have you ever fought a Harpy? Before today?”

  “Hasn’t everyone?”

  “And you?” he asked the others.

  The rainbow-eyed Bjorn released a tell me you’re joking snort. “We’ve lived for thousands of years, and Harpies have no filter or boundaries. What do you think?”

  “Right.” Lazarus nodded. “Then you know you have to break their wings to slow or weaken them.”

  Harpy wings were small and usually fluttered too swiftly to grab. Cameo had never managed that particular feat, but there was a first time for everything.

  “Stop worrying,” she said. “We’ve got this in the bag.”

  Lazarus pressed a swift kiss into her lips. “Be careful. Or else.” Then he focused on the others, his obsidian eyes crackling like the flames emitted by his sky serpents. The rest of him looked as cold as ice. “Be prepared. The second we step outside, the Harpies will fire off their arrows. Concentrate on them. My sky serpents will handle the griffins.”

  In union, the Sent Ones stretched out their hands. Swords of fire appeared.

  “Will your sky serpents handle me?” Cameo muttered.

  “They know of your feud with the ones in my realm, if that’s what you are asking,” Lazarus replied. “Shall I protect you from their wrath, or would you like to assert your independence once again?”

  Jerk. “I’d like to assert my independence right up your—”

  “Kill!” With that, Lazarus smashed through the door, sharp splinters flinging in every direction. The move was as unexpected to the Harpies as it was to Cameo.

  She followed him, remaining close to his heels, and the Sent Ones poured out behind her. As Lazarus predicted, arrows were launched.

  You can’t win, Misery whispered, unwilling to give up. You will lose, one way or another. Maybe you’ll win the fight, but you’ll definitely lose Lazarus. If not today, tomorrow. Like everyone else, he’ll grow tired of unsuccessful attempts to cheer you.

  Cameo tuned him out. Distrac
tion killed, and sorrow debilitated. She focused on battle. The very thing she’d been created to do. The world around her slowed to a crawl, but her pace remained swift as she waved her arms and angled her wrists. The arrows pinged off her daggers, useless.

  Sky serpents unleashed a storm of fire, cranking up the heat. Smoke formed a cloud of gloom as beads of sweat ran down Cameo’s temples and spine.

  A fierce war cry sounded. Harpies darted forward, three eager beavers meeting Cameo halfway. She braced for impact and—

  Lazarus slammed into the females, a bowling ball to their pins.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Other Harpies sprang over their fallen comrades, their gazes locked on Cameo. Thankfully Lazarus was preoccupied with... She frowned. Why was he moving so slowly, allowing the women to claw him to shreds? A battle strategy? Hoping to give the Harpies a false sense of victory?

  Yes or no, she couldn’t help him right now. The new group reached her. She blocked a bite and then a slash. Surprise darkened their eyes.

  What, they expected to take her down easily?

  She wouldn’t go for their wings, she decided. No doubt the move was expected. Instead, she spun, dropping into a crouch and kicking out her leg. One Harpy tripped, then another. As they toppled, she stabbed her daggers into their midsections.

  At first, the women didn’t realize they’d been injured. Adrenaline pumped through their systems, probably numbing the pain. But Cameo remained crouched. When the females attempted to stand, probably thinking they’d punt at her while she was down, their intestines spilled out at her feet. Howls of agony rent the air.

  My cue. Determined to finish off her opponents, Cameo jumped up. With quick jabs, she stabbed one in the heart and the other in the neck. Unfortunately, they had a friend. The girl raked her claws across Cameo’s cheek.

  Her flesh tore, burning as if it had been doused in acid. Her knees gave out and smacked into the ground. Maddened by rage, the Harpy followed her down.

  Ignoring the influx of pain, Cameo sank her dagger into her attacker’s trachea. The girl jerked before slumping over.