The Darkest Craving lotu-11 Read online

  “You can speak,” Synda was saying to her. “I won’t tell Daddy. Swear.”

  “You had better speak,” Kane reiterated. He wouldn’t be able to endure this little jaunt otherwise. “I’ll make sure no blame is cast your way.”

  The buggy jolted forward, but Tink remained quiet.

  A few minutes later, Synda stood up and said, “Oh, look. There’s the Twenty-fifth,” nearly tumbling out the side of the vehicle. “Hey, Aos Sí Caroline! Look at—hmph.”

  Kane grabbed her hand and forced her back into her seat. “Stay,” he commanded. “Don’t move.”

  The princess crossed her arms over her middle and pouted. “You’re no fun.”

  “I’m devastated you think so. Now, tell me why you called that woman by a number, and what ees-shee means.”

  Upset forgotten, Synda giggled like a schoolgirl. “Twenty-five is her number, silly, and Aos Sí is her title.”

  Vapid does not even begin to describe. He looked to Tink.

  After a lengthy pause, she drew in a deep breath and said, “Every Opulen outside the royal family bears a number. Caroline is twenty-fifth in line for the throne, meaning, she’s the twenty-fifth member of the high court. There are fifty members. All others are part of the lower court, and without a number.”

  Was nothing more important than status to the Fae? “And the title?”

  “The literal translation of Aos Sí is her people. Every female in the upper class bears such a title. The males are referred to as Daoine Sídhe.”

  Good to know. “What’s your number and title?”

  Red stained her cheeks; she clamped her lips shut.

  “She isn’t an Opulen,” Synda said matter-of-factly.

  So...she didn’t have a number or a title. He didn’t like that.

  He spent the rest of the fifteen-minute ride drilling the girls with questions. How often had the throne changed hands? Answer: eight times in the history of the Fae. How had the past kings died? Answer: murdered by their successors. Had the race ever been without a king? Answer: never.

  The exchange ended when the carriage stopped in front of the first shop in a row of shops. The buildings were comprised of dark stone and some kind of glittery material, with crystal roofs and windows surrounded by ivy, reminding him of something out of a fairy tale.

  And...was that William the Panty Melter entering the shop at the end of the street? The...Devil’s Punchbowl, was the name, and it was clearly a tavern.

  Kane popped to his feet. “I’ve spotted our first stop,” he said.

  He helped the women exit the buggy, cringed against the memories Synda’s touch caused, marveled anew at the mental peace Tink’s wrought, and surged forward. When Synda tried to enter a shoe store, he dragged her away.

  “But...” she began.

  “The tavern first,” he said, and Synda stopped fighting.

  “Why didn’t you say so? I’m always up for a good drink or twelve.”

  “You can’t be serious, Kane,” Tink said with a groan. “It’s early morning and you want to get trashed? With the darling of the Fae? I’m going to be blamed for this, I just know it.”

  “You’re not going to be blamed,” Kane said. He wouldn’t allow it. Not ever again.

  He shouldered the doors open, and scanned the area. He spotted a dark-haired warrior sliding into a seat, claiming a handful of cards, and knew beyond any doubt. Yes, that was indeed William the Ever Randy.

  Had he talked to Taliyah and followed Kane here?

  One female and three males formed a circle around William. Kane recognized each. White, the female, and her brothers, Red, Black and Green. In hell, Red and Black had rescued him from Disaster’s minions, but rather than setting him free, they’d bound him, hoping to learn his secrets—whatever those were—then kill him to prevent him from hooking up with their sister. As long as they’d lived in hell, as many horrors as they’d seen, they’d come to hate demons with every fiber of their beings. It was a sentiment Kane shared. But they’d made the mistake of lumping him in the same category as Disaster and that he resented.

  Then, of course, Green and White had found him and walked away, leaving him to his agony until Tink had found him.

  He owed all four a little payback. With knives.

  The five-person gang smoked cigars and drained shots of whiskey as they studied their cards. Synda tugged from Kane’s hold and skipped to the bar, where she ordered “my regular.” Tink remained by his side, unsure.

  “What are you doing here?” Kane demanded.

  “What else? You forced me!” she snapped.

  “Not you, sweetheart.”

  William glanced up, grinned and waved him over, not the least surprised to see him. “Kane, my boy. We’re playing hard. But not as hard as you, it seems. Two women? Really? I’m shocked Kanie the Prude can manage so much estrogen at the same time.”

  White and her brothers looked over at him. In unison, the three guys pushed back their chairs and stood, glaring at him with murderous rage. White went back to studying her cards.

  “Down,” William commanded easily. “Now isn’t the time for a battle royale.”

  “When?” Red insisted.

  “When I say so. I feel like finishing our game first.” Though William wore a T-shirt that read DADD: Dudes Against Daughters Dating, and it was difficult to take him seriously, the three obeyed without protest. But even still, Kane was never taken out of their cross hairs.

  Black cracked his knuckles. “Today, demon, you die.”

  He couldn’t help but grumble, “I wish you had rotted in hell, I really do.”

  “I’m getting the impression he doesn’t like us,” White said, blowing out a puff of smoke. She flipped her cascade of pale hair over her shoulder. “I’m very okay with that.”

  “What are you playing?” Synda asked, closing the distance and, without waiting for an invitation, plopping herself on Red’s lap.

  Uncharacteristically patient, the dark-haired male with eyes of the cruelest blue settled her more comfortably against him and began to explain the game.

  In that moment, Kane knew she couldn’t be the female for him, no matter that she was the keeper of Irresponsibility, and no matter what the Moirai had meant. He felt no sense of jealousy or possession.

  Would there be consequences if she was the one and he blew her off? Maybe.

  Did he care? No.

  The woman in Danika’s painting had been blonde. White was also blonde, but while William’s daughter was lovely and strong, Kane absolutely despised her and that wasn’t going to change.

  Tink, however, continued to interest him greatly. But if she was the one for him, why did he continue to ache when he neared her? And who was the blonde in the painting? What did she mean to him?

  Kane pulled up a chair beside William, and forced Tink to sit in his lap. He wanted her nearby, wanted his hands on her to prevent her from running, and wanted to ensure every man knew to keep his grubby paws off her. The action ensured Kane received all three at once. Screw the pain, he thought. Yeah, it had bothered him less today, but now, he just flat-out didn’t care.

  “How’d they get free of hell?” he asked, even as Disaster screamed a protest about the seating arrangement.

  William shrugged his massive shoulders before tossing his cards on the table. He faced Kane. “I thought you could use a bit of help. You didn’t want your friends knowing what you were up to, so my own brood of vipers was my only option.”

  “That tells me nothing.”

  “Nor was it meant to. I sprang them early, and that’s all you need to know.”

  “Fair enough. But answer me this. Why are you playing cards with them instead of helping me?”

  Another shrug. “We heard about your engagement, and figured all was well.”

  “You could have checked in.”

  “Yeah. I could have, and I even thought about it. And it’s the thought that counts, right?”

  “No. No, it’s not.” />
  William claimed a cigar from White, and took a drag. Smoke puffed around him as he said, “Clearly I have more faith in you than you have in yourself. You’re welcome.”

  Ashes drifted from the cigar and should have fallen to the floor. Disaster ensured they fell on Kane’s arm and leg, burning little holes in his clothing and singeing his skin.

  Tink pressed a hand against her heart. “That’s so sweet of you to say, sir. What a kind man you are.”

  Kane looked at her and did a double take. She was serious, he realized, and she was gazing at William as if he were everything she’d ever wanted but had never really thought she could have. Razors of jealousy cut through Kane and calmed the demon.

  “Did you hear stories about him, too?” he demanded.

  “No. I can just tell you’re lucky to have a friend like him.”

  “William’s not sweet,” he gritted. “I’ve seen the bloody results of his temper tantrums.”

  “And I’ve heard of the bloody results of yours,” she quipped.

  William beamed up at her. “I like you.”

  “I’m glad, because I have a proposition for you,” she said to him.

  “No, she doesn’t.” Kane squeezed her tight, silencing her.

  “Go on. I’m listening,” William prompted.

  “The night I left you in that club, I went looking for a key into Séduire,” Kane said before Tink could decide to talk over him. She was stubborn like that. “All the while, you clearly already had one.”

  “Nah. I would have flashed here, but I had to buy one for my kiddies,” the warrior said.

  “By buy he means steal,” Red said, not even bothering to look over at them. “And by steal I mean kill for.”

  Stated so simply, it was a testament to the hardness of the warrior’s heart. To the savage lengths these men would go to get what they wanted. Bring it.

  “Your kids—” even saying the word in conjunction with the powerful warrior felt odd “—were okay with coming here and helping me?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Grinning all over again, William waved the question away. “You heard the part about the battle royale, right? No, they weren’t okay with helping you. I had to promise they could have a real down and dirty brawl with you, with blood and broken bones and maybe missing body parts. It’s going to be great!”

  Tink melted against Kane, as if trying to use her body as a shield to protect him. The scratchy material of her uniform irritated his exposed skin. How could she stand wearing that thing?

  Every glass on the table shattered, liquid spilling, warriors cursing.

  “When is this fight to take place?” Kane asked, unperturbed.

  “Have you not been listening to anything I’ve said?” William dabbed at the wet stain on his leg. “After the game.”

  He thought for a moment. “I would love nothing more than to engage your spawn in a showdown. Tink—uh, I mean, Josephina—and I will be back by the time your game is through.” He actually wanted to take her shopping more than he wanted his revenge. She wasn’t going to wear rags while everyone around her wore riches.

  Anyone who didn’t know Kane might have thought he planned to run away. But William knew him better than that. “And Tink is what you call her? Really? I would have chosen Ivanna B. Withwilly. What? It’s a good, solid name.”

  Can’t respond to that. Will just encourage him. “Meanwhile,” Kane gritted, “the princess is your responsibility. Don’t let her get into any trouble.”

  William thought for a moment, nodded. “You do remember that I like to sleep with my responsibilities, right?”

  Yeah. He did. “I also know you’ll be tempted to throw her to the wolves once you get to know her, but don’t harm her or let anyone else do so, either.” The king would protest, and Tink would be liable.

  “So...you’re saying you won’t mind if I seduce your future wife?”

  “I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t want you to go that far. She could get in trouble, and they’ll try to make Tink bear the punishment. So, feel free to flirt with her, even make out a little, if she wants, but no more than that.” Synda would be amused, and stay out of trouble.

  Two birds, one kinky stone.

  William placed a hand over his heart. “I think you just moved to the top of my best-friend-forever list.”

  Kane rolled his eyes, stood, and held out his hand. “You got a revolver or semi I can borrow?”

  “Borrow? No. Pay to use for a short time? Yes.” The warrior slapped a .44 in his hand. “I’ll let you know the price tag later.”

  “Thanks.” Kane stashed the weapon at the back of his waist and ushered Tink out of the bar. Chairs scraped the ground, and he knew the three males, and maybe even White, had just stood, intending to come after him.

  He heard William say, “Settle down. He’s coming back, and then he’s yours.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JOSEPHINA HAD NO idea what was going on. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Shopping.”

  “Shopping? Without Synda?”

  “And then the fight,” he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken.

  “But it’ll be three against one,” she squeaked.

  “I know. It’s hardly fair for William’s kids, but they’re insisting so what can I do?”

  They walked away from the black-haired devil with eyes so cold and Fae-like she’d known he would deliver a deathblow to a female without pausing to ask questions. He was the answer to her problems. Now, however, she looked back at him with dismay.

  He winked at her.

  She scowled at him. He was okay with Kane getting hurt, and that made him unacceptable on every level.

  Kane forced her to clear the door of the tavern and enter the daylight. The streets were a little more congested with horse-drawn carriages, and the pathways littered with chattering Opulens and the servants trailing a few feet behind them. The moment a gaze landed on Josephina, any gaze, it darted away. Voices tapered to quiet, and bodies inched out of reach, as if touching her would cause some kind of disease.

  “What is such a magnificent man doing with her?” one of the Opulens said to her friend.

  “Males do like to slum it upon occasion.”

  Josephina tugged against Kane’s grip, a puny motion, really, but one he allowed to slow him nonetheless.

  “Shut your mouths before I do it for you,” Kane snapped.

  They shrieked at his vehemence and ran away.

  Josephina blinked with surprise. “Why are we shopping without Synda?” she asked, trying again.

  Again he ignored the question. “They’re treating you like a whore, and it’s going to get them killed.”

  “To them, I’m a human servant without a mistress in sight. I have no business being in this part of town, alone with a man, unless I’m getting boned by him on a daily basis.”

  One of his brows arched. “Boned. Who taught you to talk like that?”

  “You! I studied you and your friends for years, remember, and picked up on your verbal cues.”

  He massaged the back of his neck, and she wasn’t sure whether he was fighting a smile or a scowl. “I hate the double standard here. Those same women would have stripped for me just last night, and I wouldn’t have had to speak a word.”

  She gaped at him. “Uh, maybe we should get a bag for your ego. That might make it easier for you to carry it around.”

  His lips twitched for several seconds—definitely fighting a smile. “Let’s get you out of sight before I gouge out a few eyes and dangle them from a necklace I’ll be presenting to you as a gift.”

  I would totally wear that.

  They leaped back into motion. He bypassed the shoe shop, the ribbon store, the millinery and stopped in front of one of the dressmakers.

  With his hand on the doorknob, he said, “What do the Fae use as money?”

  “You might find this hard to believe, but...money.”

  Another twitch, before his frown returned. �
�What happens if someone touches the skin on your face or your shoulders?” As he spoke, his gaze traced the areas in question—and glinted with hunger. “The same thing that happens when they touch your hands?”

  Her ability to breathe abandoned her. Was he thinking about touching her here, now? Her blood heated, and her knees almost buckled. “No. My hands are the only problem.”

  Did that needy voice belong to her?

  “And you know this because...”

  “Because I had a mother, and she told me so. Back then, I couldn’t control what happened with my hands—” and still might not be able to “—but nothing ever happened when she helped me dress.”

  He lifted his hand, his fingers closing in on her face. A tremor shook her. Any second now...

  Two giggling girls walked past them.

  Cursing, he dropped his arm to his side. “Okay, then.” He stalked into the small building, tugging her behind him. A bell tinkled overhead. The scent of floral perfume hit her first, the preferred fragrance of the Opulens and one she despised. Kane clearly felt the same. He wrinkled his nose and pursed his lips—and he looked utterly adorable doing it.

  I’ve got to get this...whatever it is under control.

  An older woman with silver hair and typical Fae eyes sauntered out from the back. She wore the current fashion, an elaborate gown of yellow silk, material twisted along the belled skirt to form a bouquet of roses. Her skin was lined from a life of hard work. Like Josephina, she was half Fae, half human, but unlike Josephina, she would age to her death. The human part of her was clearly stronger than the Fae.

  “I’m Rhoda, the owner,” she said, the words slow and precise. Her expression brightened. “And you’re...you’re...you. How may I help you, Lord Kane? Anything you desire is yours.”

  “I want her,” Kane said, dragging Josephina forward and forcing her to stand in front of him. He placed his hands on her shoulders to ensure she wouldn’t bolt, a tremble spilling from him and into her. “Better dressed.”

  Maybe it was irrational, but once the initial shock wore off, she experienced a sudden urge to cry. She wasn’t good enough as she was. Her father had told her. The queen had told her. Now, Kane’s actions told her. The mighty Lord of the Underworld beloved by all didn’t want to be seen with a servant wearing rags.