The Darkest King Read online

  To become a king of the underworld at long last, William must resist an irresistible beauty—or a curse will ensure his end...

  A merciless prince feared by all...

  Cursed by a vengeful witch, William of the Dark will die if he ever falls in love—murdered by the woman who steals his heart. His lone shot at redemption is a book filled with indecipherable code. Break the code, break the curse. Now, centuries later, he’s condemned to a string of one-night stands...until he finds the only woman in the worlds able to set him free.

  A rare creature of myth and power...

  One of the last living unicorn shifters, Sunday “Sunny” Lane works from the shadows as a cryptanalyst, on the run from assassins and poachers. Then the darkly seductive William abducts her, holding her captive in Hell. The closer they get, the more she hungers for his touch...and the stronger a mystical desire to kill him becomes...

  Both forever doomed?

  At war with his brother, Lucifer, and determined to become a king of the underworld at long last, William must resist the irreverent beauty who threatens his future. But every day Sunny tempts him more, his hunger for her unmatched. Will he risk his heart—and his life—or will the curse ensure his end?

  But which desire will prove stronger—lust or death? And who will give in first?

  Praise for Gena Showalter

  “One of the premier authors of paranormal romance. Gena Showalter delivers an utterly spellbinding story!”

  —Kresley Cole, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  “I love this world and these alpha males—this is Gena Showalter at her best!”

  —J.R. Ward, #1 New York Times bestselling author, on Shadow and Ice

  “Gena Showalter never fails to dazzle.”

  —Jeaniene Frost, New York Times bestselling author

  “Showalter...rocks me every time!”

  —Sylvia Day, #1 New York Times bestselling author

  “Showalter writes fun, sexy characters you fall in love with!”

  —Lori Foster, New York Times bestselling author

  “Showalter makes romance sizzle on every page!”

  —Jill Shalvis, New York Times bestselling author

  “A fascinating premise, a sexy hero and non-stop action, The Darkest Night is Showalter at her finest.”

  —Karen Marie Moning, New York Times bestselling author

  “Sexy paranormal romance at its hottest! The Gods of War series is my new obsession.”

  —Christine Feehan, #1 New York Times bestselling author, on Shadow and Ice

  Also available from Gena Showalter and HQN

  Frost and Flame

  Shadow and Ice

  The Darkest Warrior

  Can’t Let Go

  Can’t Hardly Breathe

  The Darkest Promise

  The Darkest Torment

  The Harder You Fall

  The Hotter You Burn

  The Closer You Come

  All For You (anthology featuring “The One You Want”)

  The Darkest Touch

  Burning Dawn

  After Dark (duology featuring “The Darkest Angel”)

  The Darkest Craving

  Beauty Awakened

  After Moonrise (duology with P. C. Cast)

  Wicked Nights

  The Darkest Seduction

  The Darkest Surrender

  The Darkest Secret

  The Darkest Lie

  The Darkest Passion

  Into the Dark

  The Darkest Whisper

  The Darkest Pleasure

  The Darkest Kiss

  The Darkest Night

  The Vampire’s Bride

  The Nymph King

  Jewel of Atlantis

  Heart of the Dragon

  Twice as Hot

  Playing with Fire

  Catch a Mate

  Animal Instincts

  Prince of Forever

  Prince of Stone

  From Harlequin Nonfiction

  Dating the Undead (with Jill Monroe)

  From Inkyard Press

  The Evil Queen

  Everlife

  Lifeblood

  Firstlife

  A Mad Zombie Party

  The Queen of Zombie Hearts

  Through the Zombie Glass

  Alice in Zombieland

  Twisted

  Unraveled

  Intertwined

  And look for the next captivating story in Gena Showalter’s Forest of Good and Evil series, The Glass Queen, coming soon from Inkyard Press!

  Gena Showalter

  The Darkest King

  To my own personal William—Max.

  You always brighten my day. You feed me, love my menagerie of dogs and cats, and make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, even when I look like butt. Well, that one time I looked like butt. I mean, that one time I thought I looked like butt but didn’t, because I can’t. Wait. Am I saying the word butt too much? (Trick question—you can’t say the word butt too much. Naomi at French ’n’ Bookish doesn’t call me the magnificent Buttwalter for nothing!) I love you, babe!

  Speaking of Naomi, the best social media manager in the world, I concede. Book William is yours! You are an amazing woman and I’m blessed to know you.

  And to my work spouse, the incredibly beautiful and talented Jill Monroe, one of the most amazing people on the planet! You pick me up when I’m down. You’ve spent countless hours plotting, critiquing and helping me torture or save my characters (depending on the day). Bottom line (I almost typed “butt line” lol)—you make my world a better place!

  Dear Reader,

  The first time William the Ever Randy stepped onto the pages of my novel, he took over. He became a number one draft pick for my readers. Good thing, because I fell in love with this powerful, irreverent playboy prince, too. He has zero fears, a warped sense of humor and the strength to take whatever he wants. Throughout the series, this mysterious man has kept a boatload of secrets from us. He’s infuriated us and driven us wild with lust. (Or just me?) I could not wait to tell his story. What does his coded book say? Where does he come from? How did he bond with Hades? The time has come to finally find out...

  Love,

  Gena Showalter

  Contents

  Prologue (Part One)

  Prologue (Part Two)

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue
/>   Prologue

  Part One

  The Realm of Lleh

  Many millennia ago

  A brutal punch broke the boy’s jaw. He wheeled to the rocky, soot-covered ground, spitting blood and teeth. Searing pain snatched the air from his lungs as stars flashed before his eyes and acid filled his stomach. He healed faster than most, his bones quickly fusing back together, but the pain continued to radiate.

  Claw, the male responsible for his current torment, kicked him in the ribs. “When we give you food, you eat it.” Kick, kick. The overgrown brute had horns, tusks and muscle stacked upon muscle. Like everyone else in the realm, he wore a stained loincloth for “easy access,” shin guards and boots made of stone. “Do you understand?”

  Between wheezing breaths, the boy sneered, “Oh, I understand.” Even as blood trickled from his ears and mouth, he remained aware of his surroundings. A hilly wasteland completely devoid of vegetation, overcrowded with immortal cannibals, rapists and murderers who’d been exiled from their homeworlds. Night had fallen, the camp illuminated by firepits...where prisoners roasted on a spit, their melting flesh dripping into the hissing flames.

  Acrid wind blustered, stinging Scum’s wounds, and whisking his mind back to Claw. “By food you mean another captive’s thigh. You can take your food and—”

  Kick. “Months ago, you fell from the sky and we welcomed you with open arms. You had no name, so we gave you one. You had no home, so we took you in. Your mind was a blank slate, so we gave you memories. This is how you repay our kindnesses?”

  Kindnesses? He gave a bitter laugh, only to choke on blood as—he assumed—a broken piece of rib punctured and deflated his lung. “You call me Scum. And your precious shelter? A too-small mud hut bursting with captives, all chained.”

  As for his memories, he shuddered. The terrible acts these awful males had committed against him and others... Part of him would do anything to scour his mind. The other part preferred horrors to near blankness. How sad was that? He just... He wanted to know his truths.

  Who am I? How did I get here? Why am I here? Do I have a family desperate to save me?

  A pang of longing nearly rent Scum in two. There are so many people here, yet I feel as if I’m alone, always alone.

  “You dare complain?” Claw kicked the back of Scum’s head.

  Tears stung his eyes, and panic set in. The moment you revealed a weakness, you taught your enemy how to defeat you. As quickly as possible, he blinked those tears away. If anyone spotted a glistening drop—

  “Tears?” Claw laughed with glee. The growing crowd of onlookers laughed, too, and Scum ducked his head, ashamed.

  Hoping to distract Claw, Scum said, “You were wrong. I wasn’t memory-less.” Anytime he closed his eyes, he saw a single moment on repeat. An echo of a life before this one.

  “Tell me you remember your mother, and I’ll go get her for you.” Another brutal punch, this one to the temple.

  A rush of dizziness, of agony, and the laughter reignited.

  Vision blurring, Scum reached out a hand, praying someone, anyone, would help him. Someone stomped on his wrist, breaking the bones. The pain! More than any one person could bear, surely. Yet, the beating still did not compare to his sense of isolation.

  Punch, punch. His brain rattled against his skull, his body going blessedly numb. Punch, punch. His eyes swelled shut. The beating faded from his awareness, the memory overtaking him.

  I stand beside a boy I do not know. I’m not sure why we’re together, or how we ended up in the clouds. I only know his nearness comforts me.

  A beautiful woman with curly black hair and flawless black skin descends from a haze of fog. She wears a flowing ivory gown, her white-and-gold wings gliding up and down. Up and down. I am awed by her. Is she an angel or Sent One? Maybe a Harpy or bird-shifter? The possibilities are endless, for every myth and legend is steeped in truth.

  I feel a connection to her. What if she is...my mother?

  My heart leaps at the idea, but I’m not sure I’m joyous or fearful. She lands, tears glinting in her baby blue eyes. She’s definitely not a Harpy, then. Not a shifter, either. Somehow, I know those species believe as I do: tears are a weakness, and weaknesses must be eliminated.

  With a sniffle, she crouches before us. The other boy has bronze skin, black hair and those same baby blues. He also has white-and-gold wings. Are the two related? Are we all related? What do I look like?

  “I love you both so much,” she says. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to save us, not—” A sob escapes. “If there were any other way...we just... We never should have birthed you. He found out, and now he wants you dead.”

  My stomach turns over. How can she love us, but also wish we were never born? Who is “he,” and why does he want us dead?

  Trembling, she places a clammy hand on me, and one on the winged boy. “I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe but—”

  A man cloaked in shadows appears behind her. He is tall—a giant—and has the biggest muscles I’ve ever seen. An agonized gasp leaves her as the tip of his onyx spear sinks into her back and comes out of her chest. The color drains from her cheeks as blood rushes from the wound, soaking her robe. Crimson streams gurgle from the corners of her mouth.

  I know I should be frightened, furious or both, but I feel nothing. I look beyond the female once again, curious about the male who stabbed her. Shadows distort his visage, hiding his identity.

  The other boy grabs my hand and drags me backward, pulling me toward a wall of portals—doorways to other worlds, realms and dimensions. Fear contorts his features. He opens his mouth to speak and—

  The memory ended as it always had: abruptly and unfinished.

  A lump grew in Scum’s throat, silencing his scream of denial. Why couldn’t he recall anything more about the boy, the woman or the one who’d murdered her? Must find out!

  His chest tightened. Why should I never have been birthed?

  With Claw’s next punch, reality overshadowed fantasy, that blessed numbness wearing off. Punch. His lungs emptied, deflating again. Punch. His nerve endings wailed in protest. Kick. He vomited blood and bile as the crowd cheered.

  Do not scream. Ignore the pain.

  Claw kicked the backs of his thighs, bellowing, “Meat is better when it’s tenderized, yeah?”

  Scum fought to draw in air as snickers and shouts of agreement rang out. Breathe. Just need to breathe. No, no. Need to stand. Need to slay!

  The urge surged through him. He felt as if he was born to murder these males. As if he lived for no other purpose. I will chop off Claw’s hands and feet, so he cannot fight back or run. Then I’ll yank out his teeth one by one, rip off his cock and shove the tiny appendage down his throat. Finally...

  I’ll kill the rest of them. Slowly.

  A slow smile bloomed. Hatred singed his veins. Bitterness iced his thoughts. Vengeance lived and breathed in Scum.

  Claw scowled. “You find this funny?”

  “I do.” The words emerged slurred, as insubstantial as mist, but he didn’t care. “Dead man kicking.”

  Growling, Claw kicked him between the legs.

  As the crowd went wild, Scum vomited more blood. Black dots wove through his vision, but he forced himself to laugh. “That the best...you can do?”

  Claw’s eyes widened, the unexpected taunt shredding his pride. He dove down, pinned Scum’s shoulders with his knees and whaled, punching, punching, punching.

  Blistering pain. For one beat, two, Scum’s heart stilled. He didn’t...he couldn’t...

  “Beg me for mercy, Scum, and this will stop.”

  Never! I would rather die than break. And I refuse to die! He would...

  He must have blacked out. The next thing he knew, Claw was on his feet, his bloody arms raised as he stalked around Scum. The crowd shouted praises.
>
  Scum’s drive to kill—gone. Hopelessness engulfed him, an insidious force more devastating than any physical pain. He tried to crawl away, to lose himself in the crowd, but someone clubbed his calves, stopping him. He threw back his head and screamed; there was no stopping it.

  The crowd jeered and tightened the circle around him.

  Someone else pressed a cattle prod against his skull, volts of electricity charging through every inch of him. His skin pulled taut, and his muscles knotted, his blood boiling in an instant. Scum could only pant, sweat and blink, willing himself to survive, whatever the cost.

  You can’t kill your enemies if you’re dead. Hold on, just hold on. The beating would end soon enough—Scum was too valuable to kill. In spite of his youth, he could regrow limbs and organs. Meaning, he was the only never-ending buffet.

  Claw pushed the mob back, then shackled chains around Scum’s wrists. “Tonight, you’ll be our dessert in every sense of the word.”

  New cheers abounded, and he bit his tongue to silence a second scream. Maybe...maybe he would beg for mercy. To be their sustenance, then their plaything...

  Tears welled once again, a whimper escaping. They’ve done it? They’ve broken me?

  Suddenly Claw straightened, frowned. “Be silent! Something strange approaches.”

  The others obeyed, going quiet. Aggression charged the atmosphere.

  Scum’s ears twitched, different sounds registering. A whoosh. A whistle. A husky chuckle. Though he struggled, nearly vomiting twice, he managed to sit up. A whirlwind of jet-black smoke approached the camp.

  Every instinct shouted, Danger! Run. Run now!

  Fear drove Scum to his hands and knees. But his weakened body shook, unhealed bones and muscle throbbing, and he remained immobile.

  Warriors readied their weapons: swords, crossbows and machetes. Too little, too late. The tornado picked up speed, soon swallowing one...two...three of the brutes.

  As the tornado moved on, it spat out headless bodies.

  Other brutes cursed and ran, but they, too, soon got swallowed up and ejected, minus a head.

  Excitement bloomed, eclipsing the fear as the brutes continued to drop. If this kept up, they’d be slaughtered in a matter of minutes. Scum, too. His grin returned. With the brutes dead, he could die happy, his suffering over, done.