The Darkest Promise Read online

  No "peace" could compare with the memory of their first kiss. The little details as much as the big. The sardonic gleam in his dark eyes when he teased her. The huskiness of his voice when she pleased him. The way beads of sweat trickled down the ripples of his muscles.

  Cameo stared into the mirror, desperate. "Show me the future," she whispered. "Please."

  To her surprise, the glass liquefied, waves rippling from top to bottom. Eventually those waves split and two images appeared, one on the right, one on the left. In the first, Lazarus stabbed Hera with a miniature version of the Paring Rod. The shaft had been cut in two, the bulbous tip pushed to the center to make room for a retractable dagger. In the vision, Cameo watched the murder with an air of relief. He'd done it. Gotten vengeance and survived.

  The scene morphed, revealing the consequences of his victory. Cameo's motionless body burned atop a pyre. Her friends surrounded her, their heads bowed with sorrow and grief--funny, the terrible emotions were still courtesy of her.

  "If Lazarus kills Hera, I die?" she asked the glass.

  Trembling, she focused on the other half of the mirror and blinked in shock as she watched her image act out the second scene. In it, she stepped in front of Hera, saving the former queen's life--and causing the end of her own.

  No hope. Doomed if I do, doomed if I don't. Unless she could somehow changed her future.

  Why would Cameo protect the goddess who'd killed Lazarus's mother?

  The scene changed, revealing the consequences of her choice. This time, Cameo lay in bed, laughing as a kaleidoscope of butterflies danced overhead.

  Whoa. She survived? And laughed? At butterflies?

  Maybe she shouldn't try to change her future, after all. Following the mirror's lead the first time around had worked out very well for her.

  But...butterflies?

  If one leaves her chrysalis too easily, her wings are weakened. She must struggle to exit, or she will never have the strength to fly.

  She remembered Lazarus's words, and twisted to peer at a flurry of butterflies perched outside her window. What if the insects weren't a symbol of doom but instead--she swallowed hard--a portent of success? What if they signaled Lazarus's approach? He'd said they gravitated to him.

  Her heart leaped. Had he forgiven her for Juliette's temporary stay of execution?

  Maybe so, but... She rested her elbows on the vanity and leaned her forehead against the heels of her palms. He would forever despise her for saving Hera. Therefore, saving the goddess could not possibly lead to Cameo's happiness.

  But come on! What if she lost Lazarus either way? The first vision showed his death, and in the second vision, he hadn't been anywhere near her bed.

  And yet I laughed. Why?

  Had he been nearby?

  So many unanswered questions.

  A knock sounded at her door. The glass cleared, revealing her reflection and the disarray of her bedroom. Good, that was good.

  She stood on shaky legs and croaked, "Enter."

  Viola swept inside, her pet nipping playfully at her heels. Today Viola wore a grungy T-shirt that read I'm Dating a Supermodel. Me! The collar was ripped and the hem frayed. Her short shorts were streaked with grass stains. Mud caked her cowgirl boots.

  Fluffy wore a matching outfit.

  The pair had returned to the fortress yesterday. The goddess had refused to talk about what had gone down at the club, and Cameo hadn't pushed for answers.

  "Since I'm your best friend," Viola said, "I've been elected to tell you the bad news."

  Oh, no. "What happened? Did someone die? Who died?"

  Misery snickered.

  "Wow," Viola said. "Your mind immediately goes all worst-case scenario, doesn't it?"

  She forced herself to inhale and exhale with purpose. "What happened?" she repeated as calmly as possible.

  "Gwen and Kaia just got a bead on Juliette." Viola's gaze landed on the mirror and widened, her mouth parting on a dreamy sigh. As if in a trance, she walked forward, her arms extending to touch. "Oh! A pretty!"

  Cameo grabbed a blanket and rushed toward the mirror, intent on intervening before Viola lost herself to her reflection. Mission accomplished.

  "How is finding Juliette bad news for me?" Cameo asked, wiping her hands together in a job well done.

  "Who said anything about it being bad news for you? It's totally bad news for her. Did I forget to mention the silly Harpy has issued you a challenge? She wants to nix pitting family against family and fight you one-on-one. Winner gets to keep Lazarus."

  Cameo's hands balled into fists. "One-on-one? Done. But Lazarus is no one's pawn. He will choose the woman he's with."

  It won't be her, and it won't be you, the demon piped up. That plane has already left the runway.

  "She doesn't care about free will, so you need to prepare. Come." Viola walked away, clearly expecting Cameo to follow.

  Feet as heavy as boulders, she trudged after her friend. They entered the artifact room, where the Paring Rod, Cage of Compulsion, Cloak of Invisibility and paintings created by the All-seeing Eye were stored.

  Power thickened the air. And dust. Lots and lots of dust. Cameo coughed.

  Her gaze fixed on the Paring Rod. It had a long, metal shaft and a bulbous stained-glass tip. One touch, and she would end up in another realm.

  "Why are we here?" she asked. "I don't want to leave the mortal world."

  "Duh." Viola pulled a piece of cloth from her pocket and carefully sheathed the bulb. "As you know, I made it my business to learn more about the Paring Rod while trapped inside the spirit realm--"

  "You weren't trapped. You willingly entered the second time. And you had the ring!" Cameo reminded her.

  "Anyway. The Paring Rod. I have a feeling you're going to need it." As Viola spoke, she bent and twisted the Rod...in natural grooves Cameo had never noticed, shortening the staff, causing a sharper edge to emerge from the tip.

  Her stomach twisted into a tight knot. The Paring Rod had shrunk into a miniature version of itself, becoming the sword she'd seen in the mirror. Which meant the artifact had just become the weapon Lazarus would use to kill Hera...or Cameo.

  Sooo. The mirror had shown two possible futures, and now Cameo had to choose which one she desired to fruition.

  No need to ponder. The second. Of course she picked the second. She'd laughed!

  But what about Lazarus? Would her happiness ruin his?

  21

  "Your kingdom will never experience peace while your enemies still live woman is upset."

  --The Art of Keeping Your Female Happy

  Lazarus strode into the Budapest fortress as if he owned it. In his mind, he did. He'd decided to go all in with Cameo, so she had to go all in with him. No other outcome was acceptable. What belonged to him now belonged to her and vice versa. Therefore, he owned the fortress.

  He paused in the foyer. Maybe close proximity to Cameo strengthened him in some ways while weakening him in others, because his testicle finally finished regenerating. An agonizing process he betrayed by neither word nor deed.

  "Welcome." A disembodied voice spilled over an intercom system. A voice he knew belonged to Torin, puppet of Disease, who had once dated Cameo. The male would live only because he'd never actually touched her.

  With the cameras placed around the perimeter, Torin had known of his arrival the second he'd flashed in front of the door. Lazarus had opened his mind to the occupants before entering and had sensed no desire to attack.

  Maybe because Torin had announced, "We have a guest. Don't kill him."

  Lazarus flipped off one of the cameras as he kicked into motion. Urgency rode him, whipping his flank; he increased his speed as he pounded up a flight of stairs.

  On the second floor, he spotted a woman he'd met long ago. He'd been a young boy and she'd been engaged to Hades. Keeley, the Red Queen. Typhon had dragged Lazarus to the underworld to pay his respects.

  Back then she'd had red hair and brown eyes. Today he
r long locks were pink, her eyes as green as grass. Tomorrow? Who knew what color they'd be. Her features were tied to the calendar and changed with every season.

  He watched as the woman wove in and out of bedrooms, stuffing different items into a bag. "She's going to need this--" a vase "--and this--" she pulled a nail from the wall "and definitely this!" A pair of swimming goggles.

  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 monomania 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.