The Darkest Captive Read online

  She didn’t bolt. A good sign. “You may call me Legion,” she whispered. “It’s fine.”

  No, it wasn’t. Her name, her choice. He’d been an ass to insist otherwise. “How about I call you…Leila,” he said, and nodded, enamored of the syllables as they rolled from his tongue.

  She frowned. “Leila?”

  “L-E from Legion, paired with I-L-A.”

  “Ila. Dark beauty in the old language.” The corners of her mouth twitched, the sight nearly his undoing. “Yes! I love, love, love it.”

  Could a male spontaneously orgasm? That almost smile really lit the fuse on his rocket.

  “Why did you save me?” he asked, his head tilting to the side. And what did her letters say?

  The letters! Some of the papers had gotten soaked with blood. Surely a few remained legible. Where had Fox left them? Next time he rolled solo, he would go hunting.

  Slowly, hands wringing together, Legion said, “I saved you because…I owed you.”

  Duty, then. Disappointment blistered him with the heat of a thousand suns, but not by word or deed did he reveal it. In fact, pride glued on a couldn’t-care-less expression. Unfortunately, pride used weak glue.

  “And because you intrigue me,” she added, her voice soft. “And because I remembered how good it felt to be with you. And because I’m tired of being afraid every second of every day. And because I don’t know how to change, or how to protect myself. Maybe you could…I don’t know…teach me? Maybe,” she reiterated.

  As his heart raced, False Hope whispered poison. The more time you spend with her, the more she’ll learn about you, and the more she’ll hate you.

  The opposite of hope? Fear. Once again, the demon’s greatest weapon.

  Galen bit his tongue until he tasted blood. “Yes,” he said. “I will teach you.”

  Oblivious to his inner turmoil, Legion—Leila—said, “You told Fox that Sienna will protect you. I’m assuming you spoke of Sienna Blackstone, keeper of Wrath, wife to Paris, and current queen of the Titans.”

  “The very one.”

  “How?”

  He understood the question—how had he garnered such a promise. “A while back, she and the Lords were desperate to find Pandora’s box.” After they’d opened it all those centuries ago, it had vanished. No big deal, except the box supposedly had the power to kill every demon-possessed immortal in the world. “Four artifacts were needed to find it. I had one, and we traded. The artifact for two years of protection.”

  The Lords had gotten the better end of the bargain, no doubt about it. They’d eventually found the box. So far, Sienna had done shit for Galen.

  Legion—damn it, Leila—surprised him by asking, “Since we’re talking about the infamous box, why did you betray your friends and tell Zeus they planned to steal it?”

  “Many reasons,” he grated, hating this subject. “Why are you so curious?” Already looking for a reason to ditch him and his lessons?

  She ignored his question. “Name three reasons for doing what you did.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  “I’m, well…” She hiked her shoulders in a shrug, doing her best to appear casual. “I’m interviewing you for the position of my helper.”

  Considering how much he wanted the job, he opted for honesty yet again. “One, Lucien and Sabin were leaders of Zeus’s Elite Guard and I hoped they’d get fired. Two, I liked Pandora, and I didn’t want her executed if the steal-and-open plan succeeded. Three, I tried to talk to the guys about my reservations, but they ignored me, so I decided they deserved to fail.”

  “So…out of spite?”

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  Silence stretched between them, tense and oppressive, her thoughts clearly spinning. He opened his mouth to give her the hard sell, thought better of it, and said nothing. He wanted Leila to crave the real Galen, not some fake veneer.

  Besides, if he said anything more, he might push her away rather than urge her closer. His fragile flower had to be handled with care. But waiting had never been easy for Galen. When he wanted something, he wanted it. And Leila…he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone else.

  “What will we do if Cronus or Lucifer finds us?” she asked.

  “They won’t. You’re safe here. No one knows I own this realm, and no one can enter without portaling in. Few immortals wield the magic needed to portal, and neither bastard has a Gatekeeper on staff.” Not even Hades had one, though rumors suggested Hades’s son William possessed the ability to a limited degree.

  Finally, Leila nodded. “I hate to bargain, but I know of no other way to do this. You will protect me, and help me overcome my fears, all my fears, moving at a pace I find comfortable, and I will…” She nibbled on her bottom lip, an obvious habit. “What do you want from me in return?”

  No need to ponder. “You. I will devour every inch of you, if ever you give me permission,” he said, his voice husky with longing. “For now, we’ll start with a dinner date.”

  Chapter Six

  After Leila returned to her bedroom, Galen texted Fox a set of instructions. Then he found and read the letters Leila had written but never sent. As he’d hoped, some had remained legible.

  Her replies ran the gamut, everything from “leave me alone” to “never stop wanting me” to “I’d never known true satisfaction until our interlude in the bar. In hell, I was a piece of property, passed from one abuser to another. I meant nothing. I WAS nothing. To you, I think I mattered.”

  The words blurred at that point. Because he’d gotten dust in his eyes.

  He felt the same way about her. He might not matter to her—yet—but the moment he’d come inside her was the one and only time he’d experienced true satisfaction. For the first time in his life, something other than a ravenous hunger for power had controlled him. Actually, even that hunger had been momentarily assuaged. She’d consumed his thoughts and enslaved his body.

  In her letters, Leila also mentioned that she wished she’d stayed with him after they’d had sex, and wondered what her life would have been like if she’d chosen a different path.

  He couldn’t change the past for her, but he could do everything possible to ensure he left her in better condition than he’d found her…and no other man ever had a chance to compare.

  Another man…touching my woman…

  I’ll kill him.

  Galen showered, brushed his teeth about a thousand times, and dressed for the coming dinner date with great care. All the while, he trembled with eagerness. Not nervousness. Nope. Not him. He didn’t do nervous.

  He checked his reflection in the full-length mirror to search for flaws. Not a single one. The dark pin-striped suit made from the finest silk money could buy had cutouts for his wings, and the white button-up molded to his significant muscle mass. Dayum. He looked so good he had a crush on himself. His pale hair appeared wind-blown, but also perfect. Dare he mention the sparkle in his electric blues?

  Leila’s reservations would melt like ice cream on a hot summer’s day. And so would her panties.

  Unless she’s using you as a substitute for Aeron.

  He stiffened. Clearly, False Hope and Jealousy planned to ruin his evening. Well, too bad, so sad. Nothing could ruin this. Except for a long list of emotional landmines, of course. His past. His present. His future. His attitude. Going too fast. Going too slow. Basically—everything about him.

  The trembling worsened. Because he was even more eager, not even more nervous.

  He would be meeting Leila in the kitchen in T-minus fifty-nine minutes, twenty-eight seconds, and he would romance the hell out of her.

  So he hadn’t been on a date in…ever. So what? He excelled at everything.

  Yes, you do, False Hope said. Most of all, you excel at failure.

  Inhale. Exhale. Ignore the fiend. In the past, if Galen had wanted a woman he’d either A) paid for a few hours of her time or B) flirted, had sex, then blazed a path to the nearest exit. He’d never had mo
re than a one-night stand. Why build a life the demons would one day destroy?

  Besides, Galen had trust issues. And rightly so. Welcoming a lover into his home would only end one of three ways. An attack while he was distracted by pleasure—a ploy he’d often used against his foes. An ambush at a later date. His personal information leaked to others. No, thanks.

  Going to a female’s place had been out of the question, too. He had too many enemies willing to use women as bait.

  Distraction killed as surely as a blade.

  But again, Leila proved to be an exception to his every rule.

  “I finally got to speak with Sienna.” Fox’s voice sounded behind him.

  He turned on the heels of his expensive Italian loafers, one brow quirked. “And?”

  She stood in front of the door, Sips at her feet. The trash panda had taken a liking to her. “She told me you’re alive today only because she’s handled some of the contracts on your life. She asked that you lay low, and mentioned she’ll help Aeron skin you alive if you harm Legion.”

  What if Aeron decides he wants Leila as his sidepiece? Will she go running back to him?

  You can’t win her affections. Why try?

  Jealousy, attempting to shift his focus. False Hope, attempting to stop him before he even started.

  He stiffened. Ignore. Them. “Did you do as I requested and—”

  “Google the best questions to ask on a first date? Yes,” she interjected, waving a handful of notecards.

  “And did you—”

  “Kidnap a chef who specializes in Legion’s preferred cuisine? Yes, again.”

  “And—”

  “Buy Legion a cell phone?” She tossed the device his way. “Yes.”

  Excellent. Like him, Leila had never really been on a date. Galen wanted to set the bar high with her favorite foods and gifts.

  Fox crossed the distance, stopping in front of him to straighten his tie. “The meal is ready. I took the chef home and ensured he forever doubts what he saw and heard.”

  One of Distrust’s only perks—instilling self-doubt in others. Few people knew how to recognize the fiend’s whispers.

  Sips followed Fox and wound around her ankles. Something about the creature set off alarms in Galen’s head. His gaze, maybe. Far too direct.

  “Is your new pet a shifter?” he asked.

  “No. He’s a spy. Hades can link with him at any time. But Sips tells me whenever the king is at the wheel.”

  “Oh, so you speak raccoon now?”

  “Like it’s hard?” She smirked and fluffed her hair. “Be glad I learned. Sips is the one who told me all of your girlfriend’s beloved culinary delights.”

  Girlfriend. A word he would never tire of hearing. “Thank you for aiding me.”

  “I have a feeling you won’t be so grateful when you taste the gourmet circus cuisine.” She shuddered. “At first, Sips told me she liked fried squirrel on a stick. After I threatened to neuter him, he fessed up to the truth, which is just as horrifying.”

  Were they talking about circus peanuts and popcorn? His palate wept.

  “Just…hurry up and nail the girl so your obsession with her will fade, and we can get back to our world domination agenda.” She opened her mouth to say more, frowned, then shook her head.

  Did the demon of Distrust attempt to poison her thoughts against Leila? Or Galen?

  He’d known the possibility existed before he’d captured the fiend, but he’d considered the risk worth the reward.

  Galen cupped one side of her face and pressed a soft kiss into the other. “We have an eternity to advance our world domination agenda. For the next week—month—maybe the next year, let’s focus on our personal shit.” Was a year long enough, though? “Go, get lost for a while. Enjoy an evening of debauchery anywhere but here.”

  “I love you, too,” she grumbled.

  “I love you, yes. With all my heart. But you are a cock-block. You always cramp my style.”

  “You mean your slay now, question later style?”

  “Close. Lay now, question later.”

  She pretended to gag. “You might not want me nearby, but you need me. Legion’s bite is still venomous. If she attacks—”

  “Let me stop you there. Whatever happens, you aren’t to harm Leila—Legion. Tell me you understand this.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t care if you come back and find my severed limbs roasting on a spit. She’s off limits to you. Say it.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she grated, “Legion is off limits to me.”

  “Good girl.” He patted Fox’s cheek in approval, accepted the notecards, and strode out of the room, ready to begin Leila’s seduction…

  * * * *

  Shocked to the bone, Legion performed a slow-mo 360. Galen’s kitchen had been transformed into an Arabian Nights paradise. Flickering candles filled the entire room. Multi-colored scarves cascaded from the ceiling, intermixing with strings of beads. A coffee table had replaced the kitchen table, jewel-toned pillows acting as chairs. Covered platters dominated the table’s surface, a gem-encrusted genie lamp the centerpiece.

  Your wish is my command…

  The scent of corn dogs, chili cheese fries, and cotton candy saturated the air, and her mouth watered.

  As Galen stepped past a sheer purple curtain, electric pulses awakened every nerve in her body.

  He looked her over. “You are stunning, Leila.”

  His husky timbre sent shivers rushing down her spine. And when he looked her over a second time, taking in the frilly dress with a cinched-in waist and mid-thigh tulle skirt paired with ballet flats, his irises heated—and so did her blood.

  Galen wore a dark, perfectly tailored suit, the polished veneer only enhancing the savagery of his soul. Awareness of him eclipsed her fears, and it was nice. Better than nice. Wonderful! For a moment, she felt like the old Legion again.

  “I’m guessing I am stunning, too?” he prompted.

  Did she detect a thrum of uncertainty? How adorable. The saucy, ultra-confident Galen cared about her opinion. Meaning she had power over him. How delicious.

  “You are,” she admitted. “I think you’ve hijacked my thoughts.” And she was glad for it. Once, she’d made a deal with the devil because she’d dreamed of falling in love, being loved in return, and discovering why humans were so obsessed with getting naked and rolling around in bed. Here, now, she realized a part of her still yearned for those things, despite everything that had happened.

  Fear had put her life on pause long enough. She deserved pleasure.

  If she wanted better, she had to fight for it. Had she picked the right man for the job, though? Someone who would be patient with her, who would ease her back to life, and give as much as he took?

  Time would reveal the truth, one way or another, but her hopes were high. Galen was strong. He would cross any line to get what he wanted, and for some reason, what he wanted most was a chance to keep her safe.

  Unless he decided to bed her, even if she said no.

  Sickness churned in her stomach. She would never be able to fight him off. Her body might appeal to males, but it was too frail, too weak.

  “Whatever you’re thinking,” Galen grated, “stop. Please. False Hope is gleeful.” He clasped her hand, stopping her from continuing to stroke the diamond choker around her neck.

  “I don’t understand. My thoughts aren’t hopeful. They’re dark.”

  He kissed her wrist, his lips brushing the spot where her pulse hammered. The action surprised her and caused her brain to short-circuit. “Dark, as in fearful?” When she nodded, he added, “Fear is a type of hope. An expectation of the worst possible outcome.”

  Yes, of course. Should have realized. Having grown up in hell, she had firsthand experience with demon trickery. The best way to combat False Hope? Truth.

  If Galen had wanted to hurt her, he’d had multiple opportunities. In return for saving her life, he could have asked for anything, even sex
. When he’d woken up and realized she’d driven a blade through his heart, he hadn’t jumped to conclusions and punished her. He’d thought things through.

  Fear? Suddenly, she had none, the truth freeing her from its shackles.

  Galen must have sensed the change in her. He grinned, seduction incarnate, and waved to the table. “Sit. Please.”

  Helpless to resist, she eased onto a pillow at one side of the coffee table. He selected a pillow directly across from her, his body heat and scent quickly enveloping her, more intense than usual.

  He filled a plate with food, handed it to her, then filled another, only cringing twice.

  “You aren’t a fan of corndogs, I take it,” she said. “Are you too sophisticated?”

  “You mean am I someone who prefers his food not to go in one end and spew out the other? One hundred percent yes.”

  “Did you just reference…you did, you really did.” She laughed with abandon.

  Fascination lit his eyes, and she quieted. Her cheeks heated.

  “Well,” she said, and cleared her throat. “We have nothing in common taste-wise.”

  He slanted his head to the side. “And things in common is important to you?”

  “According to the self-help books I’ve read, similar likes and dislikes are touted as ‘important,’ yes, but only if you want to make your relationship work.”

  I’m thinking in terms of a relationship? Already?

  Well, why not? Galen was the only person who excited her, in addition to terrifying her.

  The likelihood that he would betray her at some point, in some way? High. Once, he’d been friends with the Lords. Then he’d ensured they got caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Or rather, Pandora’s box. For centuries, he’d warred with his former friends, had even murdered one. Baden, former Keeper of Distrust.