The Darkest Promise--A Dark, Demonic Paranormal Romance

by Gena Showalter

  Acting on instinct, he yanked her against him. “Don’t think about me while you’re out there. Keep your mind on the task at hand and only the task at hand—winning. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  While part of him would have enjoyed watching Juliette suffer for hours, the other part of him would rather have Cameo safe...and back in his arms. “Also, if you kill her in under five minutes,” he added, “I’ll reward you.”

  Her eyelids grew heavy, her gaze sultry. “With your hands or your mouth?”

  “Don’t be silly. My cock.”

  As she mewled her approval, he bent his head to press a hard kiss into her lips, giving her the air from his lungs. He would never get enough of her. She softened against him, thrusting her tongue against his and—

  She wrenched from his embrace. Panting, she said, “Juliette will be dead in under five minutes, you have my word. Make sure your zipper is down and your monster is ready.” Head high, she stalked from the tent.

  He palmed two daggers and followed her out, cold air slapping at his cheeks. The entire Eagleshield clan had arrived, hundreds of Harpies congesting the area.

  Cameo’s friends stepped from the shadows to lead the way. Their group stalked forward, menace in every step, and he’d never been prouder. My woman has this.

  Up ahead, an even larger crowd of Harpies formed a circle—a booing circle.

  “Out of our way,” Keeley commanded. “I’m not called the Red Queen for nothing. Bodies explode in my presence.”

  “Or they could stay in our way, and I could use their severed skulls to create designer hag-bags,” Viola said.

  Kaia and Gwen didn’t say a word, just pushed and shoved anyone foolish enough to remain in place. Cameo reached the center of the circle, where Juliette waited.

  The sight of his former tormentor gave new life to the fury he’d lived with since their first meeting.

  As in the days of old, she wore a bronzed breastplate, leather wristbands with a matching loincloth, and bronzed thigh and shin guards. How many times had he dressed and undressed her?

  Cameo wore black leather with chain-mail inserts to cover her most vulnerable areas: heart, stomach, biceps, thighs and calves. The inserts were lighter than Juliette’s bulky armor. Even better, Cameo had made every piece herself, the craftsmanship remarkable.

  As she walked, she anchored her hair in a braid. A braid he would later unwind. He would fist the strands as he kissed and licked her from head to toe. She would shout his name, her nails digging into his back. She would demand he take her—fully, nothing held back.

  An Eagleshield stepped between the combatants to say, “All right. Let’s get this party started. There are no rules. The fight will last as long as it needs to last, and only one woman will walk away. The winner reclaims ownership of Lazarus the Cruel and Unusual.”

  As Harpies cheered, he flared with indignation.

  “Enjoy your thoughts about reclaiming him—they’re all you’ll have. Not that you ever had him. But I do. I have him. He chose me of his own free will. No Pairing Rod or compulsion necessary.” Cameo unsheathed her sword, the metal whistling.

  While most of the crowd flinched or cried, he smiled and blew his woman a kiss. She’d just claimed him publicly.

  Juliette screeched as she unsheathed her own sword. “The Mother of Melancholy dies today!”

  Cheers resounded once again.

  “What are you waiting for?” Grinning, the announcer rushed backward. “Go!”

  The starting bell. The crowd whistled and called out advice as Cameo and Juliette circled each other, two hungry predators with a meal in sight. Cameo slipped but managed to remain upright, the tread on her boots offering little protection against the slick ice covering the ground.

  Damn it! Why hadn’t he considered her shoes?

  “Curious about Pandora’s box?” Juliette asked her. Her boots possessed small metal spikes, making her gait smooth and graceful.

  “Where is it?” Cameo demanded, and Juliette cringed. “Do you know?”

  Lazarus stiffened. She’d asked. Why had she asked? She’d said she wouldn’t trust the Harpy.

  “You should question my consort,” Juliette said, smug now. “According to Hera, he stole it.”

  He cursed. Cameo jolted and lost her footing. Of course, Juliette chose that moment to strike, lunging at Cameo and swinging her sword.

  “No!” he shouted.

  At the last second, Cameo spun out of the way and blocked. Impact caused her to slip, and this time she couldn’t stop her fall.

  Juliette thrust her sword with deadly precision, but Cameo rolled the second she hit the ground and the sharpened tip hit the ice.

  With a push of her legs, Cameo slid between Juliette’s legs and jumped up behind the Harpy, a semiautomatic palmed and aimed. Boom! Boom! Damn. Even at close range, the bullets pinged off Juliette’s armor without causing her any bodily harm.

  Scowling, the Harpy turned and tossed a dagger. The weapon sliced into Cameo’s wrist. She dropped the gun, and a smug Juliette picked it up.

  Lazarus settled his weight into his heels. Do not move. Do. Not. Move. Cameo has this.

  Juliette fired at Cameo, emptying the magazine. Miracle of miracles, Cameo managed to dodge every bullet.

  Dropping the empty gun, the Harpy stalked closer to her target...closer still. Cameo wrenched out the dagger and blocked Juliette’s next sword thrust. She parried, spun and delivered an attack of her own. Clang, clang, clang.

  The females began a brutal dance, moving almost too quickly to track. Almost. Still he looked away, lest he step between the two combatants and snap Juliette’s neck like a twig. His gaze landed on a woman gliding on the ice just outside the circle, and he stiffened.

  Hera.

  She watched him with steady intent as she traced a fingertip down her biceps, letting him know she had noticed the crystals on his arm.

  The red dots returned to his vision. Remain in place. Do not move. A command from the depths of his soul. If he distracted Cameo, heralding her harm, he would forever regret it.

  Was that Hera’s hope? Propel him into action, make him become the catalyst to Cameo’s doom?

  Bitch. He tightened his grip on his daggers but did nothing else. A task easier than it should have been, considering the wrath that lived inside him. But then, he remembered the vision of Cameo’s future. Kill Hera, kill Cameo.

  One enslavement, coming up. He would defeat the queen and save the girl.

  When Cameo grunted in pain, his attention returned to the fight, though he kept Hera in his periphery. If she made a play for his woman, he would be ready.

  Juliette had landed a blow, slicing into Cameo’s vulnerable neck. Blood poured from the wound, crimson splatters decorating the ice. He inhaled sharply, unsure how deep the wound reached. She collapsed to her knees, the next collision knocking the dagger from her hand.

  Her motions slowed, but still she managed to flip backward, avoiding another wound. When she straightened, she was covered in ice shavings, her body stripped of weapons. The diamond knuckles and few daggers she’d had left had been stolen by Eagleshields.

  Kaia and Keeley managed to retrieve the diamond knuckles, and tossed them to Cameo. She caught them as a smiling Juliette dived for her.

  Just before impact, Cameo crouched. The Harpy soared over her head, and Cameo latched onto the edge of her breastplate, jerking her to a stop and flipping her midair. Juliette lost her grip on her sword as she landed and gasped for breath.

  Cameo straddled her shoulders and whaled, the diamond knuckles shredding the Harpy’s once-pretty face. Blood sprayed the ice. A tooth soared through the air. Finally, though, Juliette bucked free, tossing Cameo to her back.

  In unison, they stood and faced each other.

  The Eag
leshields offered suggestions to Juliette. “Rip out her still-beating heart!”

  “Kick her in the baby maker!”

  “Take her eyeballs as trophies!”

  Juliette raised an arm, and cheers rang out.

  Cameo looked around, a look of resignation darkening her features. She raised her chin...and hummed a soft, haunting melody.

  Curses sounded. Harpies covered their ears. Hera flinched.

  Cameo continued to hum. Some of the Harpies dropped to their knees. Others sobbed and raced from the clearing. Even Kaia, Gwen and Keeley cried. Viola paled.

  Lazarus began to tremble. In seconds, sorrow washed through him, filling and nearly drowning him. And when it finally drained, it left a sticky film behind. Cameo’s voice had never hit him so hard or so deep. He’d only ever wanted to take her into his arms and protect her from the travesties she’d had to live with every day, every hour, every minute.

  This time was different.

  He had no defense against a sudden onslaught of memories. Every action he’d ever regretted. Flashes of everyone he’d ever loved and lost. Dark thoughts followed: I will never have what I crave most. Will only be strong enough to defeat Hera without Cameo at my side. I’m weakened already...but I don’t think I can survive without Cameo. This is an impossible situation. There’s no hope. No hope.

  “Stop,” Juliette commanded, pressing her palms against her ears. “You have to stop this!”

  Cameo sang her response, the words sharper than any weapon she’d wielded. “There are no rules, remember?” She picked up the Harpy’s fallen sword and slowly approached.

  Juliette hunched over and sobbed. Cameo’s voice contained a thousand disappointments and regrets, each bleeding into Lazarus’s own...offering an invitation to at last end his suffering. Here and now. The world would be a better place without him. So much better.

  The eerie melody had a life of its own, a dark life, bleak. And so powerful it cast a terrible shadow over the land. Already cold air became frigid. Birds squawked and flew from the trees. No, not from the trees but into the trees. Trying to kill themselves? Anything to escape the brutal spiral of hopelessness and despair!

  Lazarus trembled harder when he realized he’d pressed the tip of a dagger into his chest, ready to plunge the blade into his heart.

  Death...the only way to experience peace...

  He couldn’t stop himself. Stop, had to stop...

  At the last second, he lifted the dagger and stabbed one of his ears. He repeated the motion with the other ear. Sharp pain exploded inside his head and warm liquid trickled down his neck; at least the sense of hopelessness faded.

  He ground his teeth, knowing soul deep he’d just experienced a taste of what Cameo experienced on a daily basis. How had she managed to survive as long as she had?

  His poor, darling female.

  Words had power to build up or tear down, and she’d certainly proved it this day. She’d torn down his every defense, leaving only raw vulnerability. For Juliette, too.

  The Harpy dropped to her knees as tears streamed down her cheeks. She crawled to a fallen dagger, though she stopped midway to dry-heave. With a quick jab, jab, she stabbed herself in the ears. But she was too late.

  Cameo struck once, twice, and both of Juliette’s hands thumped to the ground. The Harpy screamed in agony, clutching the gushing stumps to her chest.

  With a cold smile lacking any hint of amusement, Cameo dropped the sword and caught the odd little weapon Viola tossed at her. She removed the cloth over the end, and Lazarus stilled, not even daring to breathe as recognition slammed into him. The Paring Rod.

  “No,” Juliette cried. He couldn’t hear her voice, but he could read her lips.

  In a desperate bid to escape Cameo and the Rod, she scrambled toward the crowd. When no one stepped forward to help her, she climbed to unsteady legs, swayed.

  “This is for Lazarus.” Cameo stabbed the Harpy in the throat. “You enslaved him in the Harpy camp. Now I enslave you in the spirit realms.”

  Again he had to read lips.

  With another push, Cameo caused the bulbous tip to come out Juliette’s other side. Blood gurgled from her mouth. A second later, she vanished, the tip of the Rod glowing bright blue, charged by the passing of a new life force.

  All that remained of Juliette was the pool of crimson she’d left behind.

  And it was done. Just like that. One of his greatest enemies had been slain. He expected to feel pleasure and contentment, or barring that, disappointment and resentment. As he stalked forward, he experienced only relief. Cameo remained unharmed.

  After carefully sheathing the Paring Rod in leather, he pried the weapon from Cameo’s grip and drew her into his arms. He refused to contemplate what this meant for him. What this meant for their relationship.

  Over Cameo’s head, he met Hera’s gaze, and he smiled. Tears glimmered in her eyes. Because she’d just lost a friend, or because Misery had filled her with sorrow, too?

  The goddess vanished. Weakened? There must be a chink in her armor...

  There might not be a better chance to strike. He should give chase. But as he prepared to flash away, he realized Cameo hadn’t returned his embrace. He frowned and pulled back to look her over.

  Misery pulsed from her. Her silver eyes were dull, her expression contorted with pain.

  The demon had taken over.

  Her gaze met his, tears trapped in her lashes. “Kill me,” she whispered. “Please.”

  23

  “You cannot take a strong man’s castle without first weakening him. Once you’ve taken it, give it to your woman for safe-keeping.”

  —The Art of Keeping Your Female Happy

  Misery consumed Cameo. In every sense of the word. The demon reminded her of a family of termites; she was the crumbling house, her foundation already riddled with holes. Every hour—every minute—he reminded her of every torture she’d ever endured. Of Alex’s death and Lazarus’s doom.

  My fault. All my fault.

  One hundred percent of the population feels they would be better off without you...

  During the fight with Juliette, Cameo had done the unthinkable. She’d allowed Misery to fill her with the worst of his sorrows, pricking the worst of her regrets. The overflow had spilled out, vanquishing her opponent. But victory had come at a terrible price. Dark thoughts now mired Cameo’s mind, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape them.

  No hope, no hope. She no longer believed she could live a better life. Lazarus was dying, crystals growing inside his veins, and she had no idea how to save him.

  Her mind hurt. Her soul hurt. Who was she kidding? Every part of her hurt. Misery used her fear and grief for Lazarus, playing her heart like a violin.

  “A terrible melody haunts her,” she’d heard Lazarus explain to her friends. He was right. She’d never felt so alone or helpless.

  Logically she knew the feelings were a lie. Of course she knew. Her friends loved her and would do anything in their power to aid her. Lazarus had said he planned to stay with her for the remainder of his days. But truth and logic meant nothing right now.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks and tremors rocked her. She lay in bed with no idea how Lazarus had gotten her home. Not because the demon had wiped her memory, but because she had retreated mentally. One day bled into another, the agony inside her never easing.

  Through it all, she had no desire to eat or drink—just let me die—but Lazarus the Cruel and Unusual forced food and water down her throat. She would have fought him, but she lacked the energy.

  She had no desire to shower, either, but more than once he’d carried her to the bathroom stall, stripped her and soaped her off. Again, she’d lacked the energy to fight him. Not that it mattered. He’d never made a pass at her and she...
hadn’t cared. Didn’t care. Really.

  He often paced through the room with swords strapped to his back and daggers in hand, as if he expected Hera or his father to pop in. His last two enemies, not counting Misery, who he’d threatened a time or twenty.

  Cameo dozed fitfully, her dreams turbulent. The demon loved to show her ways she could be hurt. For the past few nights she’d seen Lazarus’s funeral on constant repeat.

  When she awoke, Maddox sat in a chair beside her bed and glared at her. “Want me to throw your visitor out the window?”

  “You may try,” Lazarus responded on her behalf. “Also, I’m not the visitor here. You are. What’s hers is mine.”

  “You speak like a husband,” Maddox snapped. “I don’t recall attending a wedding.”

  “I speak like her man. Exactly what I am.”

  “Then do a better job of taking care of her!”

  Lazarus unleashed a string of curses, and Maddox responded in kind. Both males were vicious beasts clearly vying for the title of king of the jungle.

  As keeper of Violence, Maddox had a temper more volatile than most. The big brute stomped toward Lazarus, menace radiating from him. Cameo watched, detached from the situation...but also enraptured by it.

  Lazarus met him halfway, completely unfazed. As soon as they were within reach, he used Maddox’s thigh as a step stool, wrapping a leg around the warrior’s neck, shifting his weight and pushing the warrior to the floor. Upon landing, he rolled, tossing Maddox onto his back and standing to loom over her friend.

  With a roar, Maddox kicked him in the chest, sending him flinging backward. In seconds, both males were on their feet and throwing punches. A spectacular display of masculine aggression, yes, but one she should stop.

  To do so, she would have to speak. If she spoke, she would only make things worse.

  Can’t win. Destined to hurt everyone around me.

  Besides, if Lazarus wanted to kill Maddox, the male would be dead. Ripped to ribbons like the griffin. His skill awed her.

  The guys continued fighting, razing her room, destroying every piece of furniture, including the bed. One of the posters toppled and the footboard cracked, jamming the mattress at an odd angle. If Lazarus hadn’t locked her mirror in her closet earlier, she would have lost it, too.