The Darkest Promise--A Dark, Demonic Paranormal Romance

by Gena Showalter

  Her fathomless gaze landed on him, and she offered a distracted smile. “Hey, Lazy. I’ve been meaning to tell you...something? Need to search the old corkboard. If you’re looking for my girl, she’s in her room, preparing for the challenge. Good news! She accepted.”

  What corkboard? What challenge? And accepted what, exactly?

  Lazarus didn’t wait around to ask. Instead, he took off at a swift pace down the hall, passing an open doorway where Sabin, keeper of Doubt, stood in the center of the frame, sipping a cup of coffee and staring him down. Or up. The male topped out at only six-seven. Shirtless, the huge butterfly tattoo on his right side couldn’t be missed. The mark of his demon.

  Soon I will see—and lick—my sunshine’s mark.

  “You hurt Cameo,” Sabin said, “and I’ll remove both of your heads.”

  Under any other circumstances, Lazarus would have attacked without warning. Threaten me, die. But he said, “Fair enough.” If he hurt Cameo, he deserved whatever pain the warrior dished.

  Frowning, Sabin rubbed his arms. “There’s something different about you. You’re making me...tingle.”

  Lazarus ran his tongue over his teeth. The warrior sensed Pandora’s box, despite the leather sheath and chain mail. With Hera hot on his trail, he’d had to bring the pendant with him. “What you’re feeling is probably sexual attraction. Sorry, but you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

  Sabin’s consort, Gwen, sidled up to him and flashed her fangs at Lazarus. “I don’t feel any different, but I’ll definitely use your skull as a toilet.”

  Gwen was a Harpy from Clan Skyhawk, but he bore her no ill will. He knew better than to hate an entire race for one person’s sins.

  Every other open door had another warrior in place, waiting to terrorize him. This was a Walk of Promised Pain, wasn’t it? Whatever. He was dating Cameo. This had to happen sooner or later.

  “I tingle, too, and it’s definitely not sexual attraction.” Maddox, keeper of Violence, had black hair and violet eyes, a male as lethal as he was pretty. “Might be rage, though. Upset Cameo, and I’ll play Go Fish with your internal organs.”

  “I don’t feel your new mojo, but I do want to jump your bones.” Gideon, keeper of Lies, had a punk rock vibe, with multiple piercings and blue hair that was a perfect match to his eyes. He couldn’t utter a single truth without suffering debilitating pain. He added, “And FYI, Cameo isn’t like a sister to me. I won’t give a shit if you use and abuse her, and I certainly won’t use your severed skull as a masturbatory aid.”

  A pregnant dark-haired woman wound her arm around Gideon’s waist. She offered Lazarus a soft, sweet smile. “What my husband means is, he will fuck your skull to hell and back.” That sweet smile never wavered.

  Damn, but Lazarus liked these people.

  Amun, former keeper of Secrets, stood beside his woman, the heavily tattooed Haidee. “Hurt Cam? I’ll slit your throat while you’re sleeping and dance in your blood.”

  Nice.

  Aeron, former keeper of Wrath, kissed his woman, a dark-haired Sent One, before meeting Lazarus’s gaze. “However you came back from the dead...you won’t be doing it again when I finish with you if you screw over Cameo.”

  “Great chatting with you boys.” Lazarus reached Cameo’s room and entered without knocking. He shut the door with a soft snick, nearly overcome by an oppressive taint of sorrow.

  Not yet noticing him, his μονομανία hurried here and there. For the first time since they’d parted, he felt like he could breathe. Despite her dark mood. He was finally home. Tension evaporated, arousal taking its place.

  “I want more than a night with you,” he announced.

  She spun, jet-black hair dancing with the movement. Her delicate cheeks flushed prettily, but her thick lashes were spiked and damp, her silver eyes rimmed with red. She’d been crying?

  A growl rumbled deep in his chest.

  “Lazarus. You’re here.” The sorrow in her voice contained a sharp edge and utterly ripped him up inside. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”

  Remaining in place proved a Herculean feat. If he touched her, the conversation would end. “Tell me what’s wrong, sunshine, and I’ll fix it.”

  A fresh round of tears welled, and her chin began to tremble. “I’m so sorry I ruined everything for you. I missed you...going to lose you soon...our time together is limited, even tainted, and...and...”

  Misery had used their separation to strike at her, he realized. Teeth gnashing, Lazarus reached up and wrapped his hand over the apple, still hidden under his shirt. More and more he longed to kill the demon, to teach him the error of his ways.

  Can’t risk Cameo.

  “If you kill Hera,” she said, and sniffled, “I die.”

  His brow furrowed. “How do you know?”

  “The mirror showed me.”

  “Remember, the mirror shows possible futures.” But he could not tolerate the thought of her death in any capacity. “Now that I know, I can take measures to ensure you remain safe.” And he would. “I have always refused to ask anyone for help. I believed needing help meant I was weak. But I’m asking you. Help me find Juliette. We’ll kill her together. The faster the better. I’m sure there’s a study out there that will confirm couples that slay together, stay together. Besides, if she knew where to find Pandora’s box, she would have used it to kill you already. When Juliette is rotting in a grave, we can focus on Hera. Lock her away, if necessary. And once she’s defeated, we can find and kill my father.”

  Hope flared in her eyes, only to be snuffed out. Tears streamed down her cheeks, wrecking him. “You want your father dead? That’s so sad. I mean, I knew he was a brute, but surely you have some fond memories.”

  If she weren’t so upset, he would have been amused. Such a soft heart for such a hardened warrior. “Typhon enslaved and raped my mother. I will celebrate his demise.”

  “Oh, Lazarus. I’m so sorry. No wonder you want to wed a queen for an army. An army I can’t give you.” Sniffle, sniffle. “And thanks to me, you’re missing a testicle—”

  “You, sunshine, are an army of one,” he interjected. “I’ll lead you. And your friends.”

  She snorted now. “You’ll lead me? Lead us? Wow. What an honor. Everyone will be...pleased. I foresee zero problems with your plan.”

  He feigned shock. “Did the Mother of Melancholy just crack a joke?”

  “She most certainly did, and her joke even has a punch line. Guess what? It’s you. Because the first time you issue an order to my friends, they’ll take turns punching you. A few might even kick you in your ball.”

  His gaze slid over her, lingering on his favorite places. “You’ll be pleased to know my testicle has regrown. Perhaps you should give it a welcome back kiss?”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle, suddenly swept away by a new tide of sorrow. “You shouldn’t let my lips anywhere near your jewels. Did I mention I ruin everything?”

  Cursed demon. Time to pry his claws out of her emotions.

  Lazarus sighed. “You’re right. You ruined my well-ordered life, my plan to wed a queen I wouldn’t love and probably wouldn’t even like, and you destroyed any chance I had for a peaceful existence. You’re terrible. You have zero positive qualities.”

  Her jaw dropped. “I must have a few positive qualities.”

  “Please. You’re only kidding yourself. You’re hopelessly irredeemable. Go on, admit it.” He put enough sneer in his voice to aggravate a saint. “Admit it so I can pity-kiss the hell out of you.”

  “I’ll do no such thing. Go pity-kiss yourself!”

  Unable to stay away—and unsure how much longer he could hide his smile—he closed the distance and hauled her against the solid length of his body. “Accept my offer, and I’ll give you a panty-melting kiss.
”

  Shivers caused her nipples to rub against his chest. He stilled, his every cell catching fire and burning his control. She stilled, though the pulse at the base of her neck raced.

  “I suspect you’ll give me the panty-melting kiss, anyway,” she whispered.

  He loved when she was right.

  Lazarus claimed her lips with fierce demand. She welcomed the hard thrust of his tongue but she didn’t return his volatile passion. Unacceptable. When he opened his mind to hers, he heard the demon wail.

  Vengeance will be mine.

  He lifted Cameo into his arms and carried her to the bed—where he tossed her onto the mattress.

  “Right now, we’re the only two people in existence.” Reaching overhead, he pulled off his shirt. After removing the apple pendant, he placed it in the top drawer of her nightstand.

  Later, he would create an illusion to better hide it. And he would not feel guilty.

  She stared at the drawer, the wheels in her head clearly spinning. “You still haven’t told me—” she began.

  “Concentrate on your man. Or rather, my smorgasbord of masculine delights.”

  Her gaze stroked over him, black pupils spilling over silver irises. She licked her lips, and the sight of her little pink tongue nearly unmanned him. “The biggest thing about you...is your ego. Which is why I shouldn’t admit this, but what the hell. You are so beautiful.”

  “You are the beautiful one.” His tattoos failed to hide the onslaught of crystal.

  Desperate for any contact she would allow, he crawled on top of her. She traced the human heart etched into the center in his chest, and the daggers piercing each of the chambers. Then her fingertip circled his navel, and his gut clenched with desire.

  “You want another orgasm, sunshine?” The question was nothing more than a croak. He wanted to give her orgasms. Plural. As in, thousands.

  Breath hitched in her throat. “I do. I really, really do. But first I want to see those testicles you mentioned. A girl’s gotta inspect her merchandise.”

  The struggle to hide his smile intensified. “What will you give me in exchange for my cooperation?”

  As he’d hoped, the rest of her sorrow gave way to determination. “How about the opportunity to survive this encounter?”

  “What’s my other option? Dying of pleasure?”

  “Yes. No!” She shook a fist at him.

  Laughing, he rose to his knees. Their eyes locked, liquid silver against black. Slowly, he unfastened his pants, letting the anticipation build. As need overtook her exquisite features, his amusement drained. Even more slowly, he drew down his zipper.

  She gulped. “No underwear?”

  “Why bother? I suspect my woman prefers me bare.” He pushed the material apart, his erection springing free. He gave his testicles a tug before wrapping his fingers around the base of his shaft. “See. Your merchandise is perfect. Happy now?”

  “I think I’m getting there.” The husky rasp in her voice drew a bead of moisture from his erection. “I know you’re all healed up, but I’m going to write you a prescription for a little Cameo, and I’m ordering you to take me twice a day.”

  His grip flexed of its own accord. Bloody hell. With a fierce growl, he swooped down and fed her another fiery kiss. He devoured her, and she devoured him right back, the kiss quickly spiraling out of control. His insides turned molten, and his shaft ached. Cameo was more addictive than any drug.

  He couldn’t get enough of her, this woman who’d enchanted him past all reason. She was passion and pleasure, suddenly his sole reason for breathing.

  Fighting tremors, he stripped her. His mind almost couldn’t compute the majesty of her beauty. The alabaster skin. Those dusky nipples already hard and ready for him. How delicate her bone structure appeared...a deception. There was no woman stronger.

  Between her legs, a small thatch of damp curls begged for his attention. Helpless to obey... He sat back on his haunches and placed her legs outside his. The woman who claimed she couldn’t come was pink and wet and so very eager.

  He ran his finger down her center before slipping it inside her. Her hips arched, and she cried out. When he pulled that finger out of her, she moaned in disappointment.

  “Going to give you more. In a bit.” He flipped her over and received his first full view of her butterfly. Its antennae rested between her shoulder blades, its thorax perfectly aligned with her spine and its abdomen ended at the crack of her ass. Forewings wrapped around her hips while hindwings wrapped around her thighs. The colors...a thousand colors glittered within a jagged black outline: a feminine blend of purple and pink, with flecks of silver to match her eyes.

  Entranced, he traced the butterfly with his tongue and slid his finger back inside Cameo. Wet heat greeted him, and he grunted with satisfaction. She gasped, her inner walls squeezing him, creating a prison he adored.

  He worked in a second finger, and she whispered his name. “Lazario.” The wonder in her voice puffed up his chest with pride. “Don’t stop. Please.”

  “Never.” In... He angled his wrist. Out...

  Now she shouted. A curse or a request, he wasn’t sure. He quickened his pace. In and out, in and out. Her hips rolled as his fingers slid back in. Her head thrashed over the pillow, ribbons of black silk tangling. She gripped the sheet and chewed on her bottom lip, her nails slicing through the cotton. She was the picture of passion and bliss.

  In, out. In, out. In, out. Faster and faster. He brushed his thumb over the scorching heart of her, and she quivered. So he did it again...and again.

  “Lazario!” She climaxed, her inner walls clenching and unclenching.

  “My Cami.”

  When she went limp, he rolled her over. Satisfaction radiated from her as she smiled up at him, wanton and languid.

  That smile...the stuff of dreams.

  Savage need pulsed within him, his own orgasm almost shooting from him. He gripped his erection, roughly commanding, “Touch me, sunshine. Please.”

  She drew a fingertip along her red, kiss-swollen lips. “With my hands or my mouth? I owe you a reward, after all.”

  “Hands. Mouth.” Give me. “Both.” He would take anything she wanted to give. He would take everything.

  “I’m going to eat you up,” she promised, and he tensed, ready, so damned ready. “But only after you remove your leathers.”

  A flicker of panic cooled his ardor. “I want you now. Just like this.”

  “Off,” she said with a shake her head. Gaze locked on him, she sat up. Her perfect breasts jiggled, and for a moment, he forgot his own name. “Or I keep my lips to myself, and you wish your testicle never grew back.”

  “Why do you want the leathers off?” he demanded.

  “I want to see all of you.” Luminous silver eyes beseeched him, her lashes so long they cast shadows over her cheeks. “The way you’ve seen all of me.”

  Yes, but he had seen her beauty and strength. She would see in him both his shame and weakness. He would have to explain what had happened to his father, what would one day happen to Lazarus. She might insist they part. On some level, she cared for him. Why else would she trust him with her pleasure? She would want him healthy and whole. She would hate how thoroughly his sense of self-preservation eroded every time he neared her.

  Fear of losing her consumed him.

  Calm. Steady. She was here, in his arms. Alive and well. He needed her in a way he’d never needed anyone or anything. And he owed her. He had Pandora’s box. He couldn’t risk telling her about the artifact, but he could risk this. His secret shame. If she thought to break up with him, as humans liked to say, he would find a way to change her mind.

  “Very well.” He stood, embarrassed by his tremors. He kicked off his boots and—do it, just do it—removed his leathers, leaving his legs
bare.

  For several agonizing seconds, she looked her fill. The crystals had spread, branching from his hips to his ankles, every glistening river a burning reminder of his hated fate.

  “You are...magnificent,” she said, her voice heavy with...awe? “These lines. They’re like the ones in your arms. The ones you called wounds. Will I hurt you if I touch them?”

  “You’ll hurt me if you don’t.”

  “Why hide them, then?”

  “The lines...they signify a change I cannot stop.” Unwilling to meet her gaze, he returned to the bed to settle against a mound of pillows. “A change that overtook my father and ultimately led to his destruction.”

  “You mean the day Hera attacked him?” Her head tilted to the side. “I don’t understand.”

  And he wasn’t going to help her do so. Not here, not now. The demon would use the information against her.

  “Later.” Lazarus waved an imperial hand at his swollen shaft. “I did my part. Time to do yours.”

  “Very well.” She settled between his legs, remaining on her knees, and pressed her hand over her heart. “Give me a moment to recover from the onslaught of romance.”

  Her dry tone earned a glower.

  Her eyes glittered with a hint of amusement, and his panic receded. His irritation, too, until only arousal remained. Down, down she leaned and flicked her tongue over one of his nipples. Pure, raw sensation blazed through him, and he sucked in a breath.

  Her lips left a trail of fire down the ropes of muscle lining his stomach. “You say you are like your father. He’s known as the Monster. Is it because of the size of his penis?”

  Lazarus nearly choked on his tongue. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because yours could qualify as a monster, too. Tell me the truth. You thought I’d be afraid of it, didn’t you?”

  “No. I feared your reaction to the marks in my legs. They are—”

  “Lethal to my inhibitions? Exactly right.”

  “I...don’t know what to say right now.” She baffled him.