The Darkest Touch Page 18

"No." He whirled on her, eyes glittering with menace. "Princess, I'm trying to protect you from a war with my friends. That's all."

  No, he was trying to save himself from having to pick sides.

  Like I did?

  Hardly the same! "I thought you said they'd go crazy for me."

  He ran a hand through his hair. "They will. They should. But..."

  But. Always but.

  "Forget the Lords. I want more than protection from you." Once, she had welcomed his willingness to act as her shield, had even viewed it as a sign of his affection. Today? She saw it for what it might actually be. A way to safeguard his investment.

  He softened, but only slightly. "Believe me. I know. You've made that abundantly clear."

  Oh, no, he didn't. "Did you just reprimand me for doing what you secretly wanted but didn't have the courage to ask for? If so, I will gut you."

  His shoulders drooped with defeat. "It wasn't a reprimand. It's the reason I've had a hard-on for four damn days."

  Oh.

  Oh!

  Oh? Seriously? That's all I've got?

  "Contrary to what you might think," he continued, the menace returning, "I don't enjoy making you sick and wondering whether or not you're going to pull through."

  "Do you think I enjoy burning up with fever, coughing up my lungs and vomiting out my insides?" Her anger returned just as swiftly, racing to a higher level. Once again, the ground began to shake. Calm. Steady. Innocents around. "Unlike you, I consider the chance to be with you worth the price."

  "No, you consider your pleasure more important than my guilt."

  Harsh words.

  But also fair. Because they were true. She'd never thought in those terms before--her wants versus his emotions. But maybe she should have.

  She tried to tell herself: at least he cares about my well-being. But it wasn't much of a consolation prize.

  "Fine," she said. "You can't handle it. Noted. Our deal is off."

  "Now hold on," he barked.

  "I'll still help you," she spat, and his relief was palpable. Cared for her well-being? Please. The truth was suddenly abundantly clear. To him she was--and would always be--a workhorse. Nothing more. "You'll owe me favors. Nonsexual. To be named at a later date."

  His inhalations came faster, shallower. "Fine," he snapped.

  "Fine," she snapped back. "Now go call your friend before I forget that we're partners and lose my temper."

  "We wouldn't want that, would we?" A sneer in his tone. "Princess has to get her way or everyone suffers."

  Before she'd complained about his calm in the face of her temper. How foolish. "You know I struggle with control issues. Temper is my default."

  "What I know is that you use your emotions as an excuse. You could control yourself, you simply choose not to. And how the hell can you stand there and chastise me for calling you out about your temper when it's currently reaching dangerous levels?"

  Stupid men with excellent points were a nuisance. "Well, I also choose not to be around you a second longer. How about that?"

  Before she did something she couldn't undo, she flashed to an underground home she'd procured secretly after moving in with Hades. Every girl needed a sanctuary. And I need one now more than ever. Despite everything Torin had said about still wanting to work with her, the entire argument had felt like a brush-off, and she had lived through one too many of those already.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CAMEO CURSED, punched a wall, kicked a nightstand, overturned a dresser, tossed the drawers across the room...but, no, her temper didn't lessen. She and Lazarus had fought their way free of the alligator-zombie hybrids--or whatever they were--and made it to a doorway without sustaining any injuries, only to end up in a suckier dimension. Or realm. Whatever!

  It was a place where the buying and selling of sex slaves was an expected way of life.

  They were surrounded by an army of gun-toting warriors two steps in and knocked out before a battle could be waged. While unconscious, they were disarmed, bathed, dressed in the most ridiculous clothing--or lack of clothing--and locked here...a lavish bedroom with furnishings so fine there was no way they had been crafted by human hands.

  Lavish and lovely, yes, but a prison all the same. Unfortunately, the door was impenetrable and there were no windows.

  Lazarus reclined on the bed as though he were a sultan awaiting the attentions of his favorite concubine. He was dressed like a sultan, too. Shirtless, though a dark velvet robe was draped over the wide expanse of his shoulders. His pants were skintight and white, with diamonds sewn into the seams.

  A bowl of fruit was perched next to him. He popped a grape into his mouth and grinned silkily at her. "Why can't you simply enjoy our newest situation, sunshine?"

  How she loathed when he used that stupid nickname. He grew more condescending every day they spent together. "Our captors are going to put us on the auction block. Do you not understand that?"

  In went another grape. "Are you afraid no one will want you? You do have that tragic voice, after all."

  He just had to go there, didn't he? He always had to go there. Why? It wasn't like she needed a reminder.

  "We'll be separated," she pointed out.

  Bored, he stretched his arms over his head. He looked lazy. Languid. Sexual. "And?"

  "And I need you. You're my only ticket home." He knew how to find the doorways between realms; she didn't. He could see every monster in every world, his eyes opened to a spiritual plane she just couldn't perceive. And when he applied himself, he could fight his way free of any situation; she wasn't always so lucky.

  Right now he was invaluable to her.

  "Here's the thing, sunshine." He set the bowl of fruit on the only nightstand she hadn't damaged. "I don't need you." His dark gaze slid down the length of her with calculated purpose. "Not yet anyway."

  She stiffened, saying, "What are you implying?"

  He arched a brow, amused. Always freaking amused. "What do you think I'm implying?"

  "If I don't have sex with you, you'll be more than happy to be separated from me."

  "Oh, good. I thought I'd confused you."

  She closed the distance and swung at him, but he ducked.

  A soft, husky chuckle escaped him. "Were your other men so bad you refuse to give any others a chance?"

  "I'll give someone a chance--but I have to like him first."

  He shrugged. "Your loss."

  "Why do you even want this? You don't like me," she said.

  He thought for a moment, gave another shrug. "Maybe I like that you're available."

  Oh, the romance. Her voice as dry as dirt, she said, "How am I not throwing myself at you right this very second?"

  "It's a definite mystery."

  Argh! He had an answer for everything. "Here's the thing, darkpit. If you allow yourself to be sold without protest, I'm sure other women will be available to you. Maybe even a few men, too." She smirked at him. "Have fun with that."

  The threat didn't faze him. "Exactly my point. And while I'm fine with that turn of events, we both know you are not. I'll survive. You won't."

  She was not helpless! No matter what she'd thought a moment ago. "You've seen me fight. You know I'm good."

  "Yes, but you're not good enough," he replied easily. "Those men we encountered? They are assassins. Clearly trained by the best of the best. So, here are my terms. Strip, climb into this bed and give yourself to me, and I won't allow you to be sold to anyone."

  A shiver danced through her. The thought of kissing him...touching him...being with him delighted her body in the most primal way. He was strength, and he was beauty. He was power in its purest form, and she would love nothing more than to have a taste. And, deep down, no matter how desperately she tried to deny it, she did want him. She wanted to be held, and comforted, and yes, pleasured. An attempt made, at least. It had been so long....

  But she raised her chin and said derisively, "So, basically, you want me to prostitute myself
."

  Finally, a reaction other than amusement. His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. "Are you saying you feel no desire for me?"

  She could have lied. She desperately wanted to lie. It was difficult for her to trust the opposite sex.

  As soon as Alexander had learned about the demon inside her, he'd turned her over to her enemy.

  The terrible things they'd done to her...

  And yet still she hadn't blamed Alex for his actions. She'd blamed fear. When she escaped, she went to him, thinking he would love her again if only she explained her situation. He merely lured her into another trap.

  As she fought her way free, the people he worked for, the Hunters, had been willing to kill him to get to her.

  Come with us willingly or watch him die.

  She'd watched him die.

  Lazarus isn't Alex. He knew about the demon. And if she was evil, he was evil times ten. What a pair they made.

  Besides, she wasn't a coward, too afraid of the consequences to speak her mind. "No," she admitted, "that's not what I'm saying. But force is force. Also, unlike thirty-eight percent of the population, I refuse to be with a man who thinks of me only as a convenience."

  "That's a pretty specific number."

  "I like statistics." She tended to spout them whenever her nerves kicked up. Torin used to tease her about it.

  Oh, Torin. I miss you so much.

  He would never have treated her this way.

  Lazarus sat up and crooked his finger at her. "Come here."

  Her heart skipped a treacherous beat. Gulping, she said, "Why?"

  "So suspicious." He tsked. "Are you afraid of what I'll do--or of what I'll make you feel?"

  "I'm not afraid of anything." She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and, though she dragged her feet, put herself between his thighs. Goose bumps broke out over her skin. He looked at her, dark hair falling over his forehead, brushing against his lashes. His eyes were as black as night, and she couldn't distinguish pupil from iris, but then, it didn't matter. Both glittered with a heat that burned her to the bone.

  He flattened his palms on her waist, and she gasped.

  "So pretty," he praised, gaze raking over her.

  She wore a pink bra made of lace and a matching pair of panties, allowing him to watch as her nipples beaded.

  "So sensitive."

  She gulped, fought a shiver. "What are you doing?"

  His grip tightened. "Your availability is only one of the reasons I want you. Ask me about the others." A harsh command.

  One she refused to obey. She shook her head. She didn't want to know.

  He told her anyway. "Since the moment I opened my eyes and found myself trapped in a realm with you, I've wanted to replace your sadness with pleasure. And, Cameo?" he asked huskily. "I'm going to do it." He picked her up and twisted, tossing her on top of the mattress. His muscled weight pinned her before she finished bouncing, and she gasped again.

  "I won't buy your help," she forced herself to say.

  For once, his eyes were bleak, without any hint of amusement or disdain. "Maybe I'm trying to buy yours."

  "But you said you didn't need--"

  His lips smashed into hers, his tongue thrusting deep, cutting off her words, the sweetness of his taste invading her senses.

  I feel...good. And it was good. So good. Good, good, good. The word echoed through her mind. Never felt this good.

  All the reasons she should resist him ceased to matter. He was using her...fine, she would use him, too. He would probably cast her aside seconds after they finished. Not if I cast him away first. He didn't respect her.

  "Oh, I respect you," he said, and something about the response bothered her, but caught up in pleasure as she was, she couldn't quite puzzle it out. He ripped the pins out of her hair. "Never met a woman quite like you. Have to have you. Will die if I don't. And I like you more with every second that passes...value the exquisite feel of you."

  Resistance fishtailed as he dove back down for another smoldering kiss, harder this time, harsher. She loved it, loved that pleasure stripped away his calm facade and left him babbling, even as his words continued to prick sharply at the back of her mind.

  Should be bothered by what he said rather than enraptured.

  But why? Actually, who cared? He ripped her bra in the center, the material gaping open. Then his hands were on her breasts, kneading the aching flesh, grazing his thumbs across her throbbing nipples.

  More and more misery seeped out of her and it...was...glorious.

  "You like this. Will like my mouth even more." He replaced his thumbs with his mouth, his tongue flicking, creating a dizzying friction. Then he began to suck, hard, causing her back to arch up off the bed, pleasure to shoot through her, and his name to part her lips.

  "Going to take you hard and fast this time," he said, giving her panties the same treatment her bra had received. He sat up long enough to cast his robe aside and tear away his pants. Leaving him naked. Gloriously, amazingly naked. "Second time will be slow and sweet."

  She shivered. Having spent her life with warriors, she was used to men who had been honed on the battlefield, but Lazarus was something else entirely.

  He fisted his iron-hard erection as she studied him. "This is for you. All for you. Never forget." His knees caged her thighs, keeping her legs locked tightly together as he once again raked his gaze over her.

  Unlike before, when he'd looked her up and down with such calculated purpose, the action made her quiver and ache. He radiated savage intensity, hiding nothing, as if he'd lost his humanity and found the brutal animal lurking inside. As if he would kill to have her. As if he truly couldn't live without sinking inside her.

  "Let me show you what's for you," she said softly.

  "Yes." He slid his palms under her knees and spread her legs outside his own. He stared at her, his eyes glowing hotly. "Prettier." Slowly he leaned down, every second without his weight agony. But then, finally, he was on top of her, and she was winding her legs around his waist, ready, so ready.

  As he positioned himself for penetration, she thought she heard a knock at the door. "Lazarus," she said on a moan, trying to warn him. But all she could do was plead for more. "Please. It's so good."

  Sweat trickled down his temple. "Whoever it is will go away." But a second passed and then another, and he didn't enter her. He waited, and the knocking grew louder, coming faster, until Lazarus jerked upright and cursed. "What!"

  The interlude gave her a chance to think. "Our captors," she gasped, her desire draining as she realized a fight was about to go down. They were about to burst into the room and drag her away to the auction block. Well, there was no way she would allow anyone to sell her. She would rather die.

  The door swung open, and two armed guards marched inside.

  A scowling Lazarus threw a blanket over her, covering her nakedness. She clutched the material to her chest and scrambled for her clothing.

  "Your Great and Awesome Highness," one of the guards said.

  Both men bowed.

  Wait. Cameo stilled, her forehead furrowing with confusion.

  Lazarus was as stiff as a board, silent. "You have two seconds, and then you die."

  Both paled.

  One said, "I know you told us not to interrupt, but you have a guest. A minion who says the Red Queen is in play. We know you've been searching for her, sire."

  She puzzled over the Red Queen until realization slammed into her, making her gasp. But the realization had nothing to do with the royal. Lazarus was...he was...

  Looking at her with something akin to regret. He waved the men away.

  They obeyed. Because they were his men.

  His.

  He wasn't a prisoner, after all.

  He stood and tugged on his pants. Then he looked at her again, and this time the humor was back. "Welcome to my kingdom, sunshine."

  *

  BADEN HELD PANDORA up by the neck, her legs dangling above the floor and ki
cking at him. He merely tightened his hold, choking her so forcefully her eyes bugged and her lips turned blue. He did this calmly. Had his emotions been involved, his hair would have already caught fire. It was an ability he'd had since before his possession, and one he'd kept after. He wasn't sure why when none of the other Lords reacted to dark emotion that way,

  Pandora had dared to sneak up on him while he slept and plant a dagger in his heart. And his stomach. And his thigh. A quick jab, jab, jab job.

  Had they lived in another realm, the action would have killed him. Again. But they didn't. They lived here, separate from other dead souls, not good enough for any level of the heavens but not yet ready for hell.

  He'd experienced the pain of the cuts but not the ultimate consequence. He'd healed--and then he'd gone after her.

  "Do you have anything to say to me?" he asked, just as calm. She would apologize, or she would continue to suffer.

  When she tried to nod, he loosened his hold.

  "Knew you'd...react...this way," she gasped. "Hoped you...would. Planned for it."

  He frowned--and then he released her. A sword sliced through his back and came out of his chest. He looked down, confused, before his knees gave out. Pandora thumped to the ground, her pained gasp blending with his.

  Instinctively, he threw himself in front of her, protecting her from whichever enemy lurked behind him. It was either Cronus or Rhea, and judging by the scent of lilies in the air, he was guessing Rhea. Pandora was his to hurt--no one else's.

  Only, Pandora kicked him away and, with Rhea's help, lumbered to her feet.

  The former queen of the Titans grinned down at him, as smug as could be. She was a beautiful woman, with hair as black as Pandora's and skin as creamy white. But while the ex-queen had blue eyes, Pandora's were as dark as her evil heart.

  The two were working together, were they? A sense of betrayal hit him.

  Maybe Pandora sensed it. She spat, "What did you expect? You're planning to leave me behind when you're rescued."

  "No," Rhea said, sounding assured. "He's not leaving either of us behind. And do you want to know why, Baden?"

  Glaring at her, he gripped the sword by the blade, the metal cutting all the way to bone. Drops of energy dripped out rather than blood as he yanked the weapon out of his chest, the hilt dragging through him, breaking his ribs and emerging with bits of his just-healed heart.

  He stayed on the ground, panting but silent.

  Irritated by his nonchalance, Rhea planted her hands on her hips. "I'll tell you why. Because you know the Red Queen will use the Morning Star for her own gain. She won't give you a second thought. Or, if she does, she'll make you pay for her aid. And what do you have to give her? Nothing."