The Darkest Seduction lotu-10

by Gena Showalter

  Deciding not to wait for Lucien’s reply, Viola snuck out of the room. No one noticed, and that once again pricked at Narci.

  Be a good girl, she told her other half, and I’ll show you how pretty you are.

  The demon bounced up and down inside her head. When?

  Soon.

  Now. A whine.

  Soon.

  Now. A demand.

  Never.

  Soon? Another whine.

  Soon. You drive a hard bargain. Viola followed Legion’s spiritual trail—Lucien wasn’t the only one with such a talent—flashing herself into the bedroom. The girl was pacing, her hair flying wildly behind her. She hadn’t abandoned the blanket, but clutched the material ever closer.

  “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. I can’t leave. I can’t go to him.”

  “Legion,” Viola said gently. Yes, she was uncomfortable with other people’s feelings, but she’d peered at this broken doll’s soul and wanted to help.

  How odd. Once, Viola had fed on souls, on their energy. She had drained them, ended them. One day, though, she’d taken the wrong soul at the wrong time—the only terrible memory she’d managed to retain—and found herself imprisoned in Tartarus. Then, of course, she was paired with Narci and the only soul she’d been able to feed on was her own.

  Like an immortal’s limb, her soul kept growing back and she kept feeding on it, but it never grew back in its entirety because she never actually stopped eating. For lack of a better word. So, basically, she was half of a person, as well as a spiritual cannibal, and she never ever concerned herself with others.

  Why had she come here again? She should leave.

  Those dark eyes found her, tears catching in equally dark lashes, and Viola’s feet rooted in place. “I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t do it. He’ll want to touch me. Hurt me. I…can’t.”

  Legion raced to her bathroom, hunched over the toilet and vomited. Viola’s feet tugged free, but still she didn’t leave. She walked into the bathroom and held back the girl’s hair, only to realize she hadn’t actually vomited. She had dry heaved. Poor thing. She probably hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks.

  Hours seemed to tick by in endless misery. Between each of her heaves, the girl sobbed. And when she wasn’t sobbing, she was shaking so violently her teeth chattered. No one ever came to the door, and Viola decided the Lords had opted not to trade the girl for Ashlyn’s safe return.

  Finally, blessedly, Legion’s outburst drained her. She slumped over the toilet, her tear ducts tapped out.

  Viola stepped away, and those red, swollen eyes followed her.

  I really must leave now, she thought. She’d stayed far too long, the sense of unease returning. “I’ll tell the warriors you’re a no-go, okay?” Maddox might try and slay her for her efforts, but Narci would dig the attention, so whatever.

  “I can’t go, I can’t go,” Legion whispered. “He was here, I smelled him, knew he was here, but I couldn’t make my voice work, haven’t spoken since I got here, couldn’t even scream, even though I wanted to scream and scream and scream. I hid under the bed. I should have screamed, I should have screamed.”

  Her words were heavy on the guilt, an emotion Viola refused to tangle with. “Yeah, so, uh, good luck with that. It was nice meeting you and everything.” One step, two, she backed her way out. She didn’t do the friendship thing. Ever. With anyone. Especially not broken china dolls that would require way too much time and effort.

  Legion’s tear ducts clearly hadn’t dried, because a new waterfall began. “I can’t leave Ashlyn with him, either.” She sniffled, gulped. “Ashlyn is so nice, and the babies, she let me feel them kick once. She’s due any day. She needs to be home. Maddox needs her to be home. What should I do?”

  So badly Viola wanted to reach for her phone, Screech the question and follow the ensuing flood of advice, but much as she yearned to leave this room, she wanted to stay in the fortress.

  For all their faults, the Lords hadn’t tried to take advantage of her. Hadn’t tricked her into looking into a mirror, and they utterly adored her. And okay, maybe that last one wasn’t the truth and merely came courtesy of her demon, but nothing was a lie if you believed it. Therefore, the Lords did, in fact, adore her.

  “I think you should, uh, follow your heart?” Oh, ick. That sucked. Like, majorly. The girl didn’t know what her heart wanted, which was why she was asking for guidance.

  “What would you do?” Legion asked.

  She could weave a pretty speech about always being willing to help others, Viola supposed. The guys downstairs would probably prefer that. Only problem was, lying to anyone but herself created messes. Viola hated messes.

  “I would save myself, no matter the cost to those around me. But then, I’ve only ever cared about myself, so…” She shrugged. “It’s up to you. Who do you love more? Yourself, or the ones who took you in?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  STRIPPED AND PINNED to a boulder, Kane gritted his teeth at the humiliation. Hadn’t taken the minions long to catch him after he’d bolted. His innocent little chosen had been the worst of the lot, ripping out his Achilles tendons, hobbling him.

  Now everyone in the crowd took turns attempting to steal what he’d refused to give.

  He wouldn’t give them what they wanted. He wouldn’t. But how much longer could he survive the torment? The pressure was building, so intense it was painful.

  You’ve survived this kind of thing before. He could survive this. Breathe, just breathe. His lids were squeezed together, his blood molten in his veins. All the while, his demon laughed inside his head. Laughed. Enjoying the disaster as it happened.

  Maybe surviving wasn’t the right path, he thought, the humiliation morphing into rage. Kane had never liked his demon, but now, now he hated the creature with every fiber of his being. He wanted to be free of it, and that meant dying. He wanted to punish Disaster for taking pleasure in his misery, regardless of the fate that would befall him.

  And he would. Yeah. He would do some punishing. No matter what he had to do achieve the desired end, he would do.

  PARIS CROWDED SIENNA into the wall, leaned down and got in her face. Her breath emerged choppily, her eyes were wild and her pupils dilated with panic. Sex enjoyed the contact, was already begging for more. Paris tuned him out and kept things as nonsexual as possible. Sienna was too upset for more.

  “You have to hide,” she said, the words emerging brokenly. “I’ll try to draw them to me, away from everyone else. Okay? Yes? But you really, really have to hide.”

  He cupped her jaw, forcing her to peer up at him rather than scanning her surroundings for a hiding place. As if he would ever hide from an enemy and leave a female to fight for him. “What’s coming? Talk to me, baby.” He knew she wasn’t too keen on endearments from him—at least, she hadn’t been before—but then, he’d never called another woman his baby. Only sweetheart and honey, meaningless words like that, and never with such a note of affection.

  Those lush lips parted on a gasp, and she blinked in bafflement. “Baby,” she whispered, and he decided she liked it. There’d been a note of reverence in her tone. Calm suddenly smoothed out the panic. “The shadows. They dart through the walls, and they feed on us. All of us. Even the gargoyles hide. There are so many of them. They’ll cover you, they’ll be all you see, all you know, and they’ll eat at you.”

  Corporal shadows with a hunger for flesh. He thought he’d traveled every corner of the heavens, but he’d never heard of such a creature.

  William had, though, because he muttered, “Oh, shit on a brick. This is bad. Exactly what I feared.”

  Paris met his troubled gaze. “What do I need to do?”

  “Just stay where you are.” The grim-faced warrior reached up and unsheathed a knife from behind his shoulder blades, then sliced his arm open from elbow to palm. Instantly crimson flowed. He closed the distance, bent down to the floor, and smeared a bloody circle around Paris and Sienna. “Don’t step out o
f this, do you hear me? Both of you, stay there. Disobey me, and you’ll regret it.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply, but sprinted to the entrance of the female immortal’s room and dashed his wound across the clear shield separating them. The female was too busy clawing at her walls to notice. Before William reached the second room, his wound closed and he had to make another incision. He painted a line of blood over that shield, as well.

  He didn’t make it to the third room.

  Just as Sienna had predicted, shadows burst through the walls. In a snap, it was lights-out, the black so thick oil could have been saturating the air.

  The entire castle rattled and shook. Screams echoed, fervent songs of pain and anguish. The darkness inside Paris responded, practically purring with approval the way Sex always purred for physical contact, enjoying every terrible note. Wanting out, wanting loose. Wanting to cause everyone around him to hurt, too.

  Paris was on the path to giving in, to stepping out of the circle William had drawn and fighting with the shadows, hell, fighting with William, when Sienna trembled against him. He pressed against her more firmly. Must protect, he thought. That’s why he was here. For her. To be with her. To ensure her safety.

  She trembled again, this one worrisome in its intensity. He wasn’t sure what was happening behind him or around him or even how long this would last, but she knew, and it terrified her. And yet still she had thought to protect him, he realized. Still she had wanted to hide him. Him, not herself. His warrior core had been offended by that, true, but just then he could only thrill over her concern. She cared about his well-being.

  I want her, Sex said. Of course, the purring started up again.

  So do I. And he would have a taste of her. Finally, here and now, the circumstances be damned. She was too worried for sexual contact? Hardly. She needed a distraction, and there was nothing better than desire.

  Paris felt his way to her jaw, cupping her to hold her steady while luxuriating in the silky warmth of her skin, the delicacy of her bones. “Concentrate on my voice, baby. Can you do that?”

  A jerky nod.

  He wished he could see her and discover whether or not color was returning to those delicate cheeks. At her ear, he whispered, “You’re so soft. I’ve never felt anything softer. And your scent intoxicates me. I can’t help but think you’ll be even sweeter between your legs.”

  Her breath hitched, her hands finding his chest and flattening over his pectorals.

  “When I drive my fingers deep inside you, you’ll be so wet for me, won’t you, baby? I’ll eat you up, drink down every drop of your honey, and you’ll scream for more.”

  Yesss, Sex said on a moan. Pleassse.

  “Paris,” Sienna breathed.

  A needy plea for more? That’s what his demon heard in her tremulous tone. Paris found himself leaning down, the rest of the world forgotten, his nose in her hair as he sniffed the heavy waves. He scented the wildflowers and the coconut, now mixed with something rare, a bloom found only at night.

  Oh, hell, yes. That was her arousal.

  Sex liked it, too, tossing out his own special fragrance. The two combined, the most wondrous bouquet enveloping Paris. Wondrous—and torturous. Instantly he was revved up, more than primed, more than ready, desperate to sink inside this woman and thrust his way to orgasm. All he had to do was rip open both their pants and kick her legs apart. He’d drill her deep and sure. She would be hot, dripping and so tight around him.

  Sharp little nails burrowed past his shirt and into his skin, as if to hold him in place. He could feel the heat of her, pulsing, seeping into him, blending with his own and lancing straight to his cock. He ached unbearably. Before he even registered that he’d moved, he’d edged her legs apart with his foot and arched into her, fitting his erection against her feminine core.

  Hello, sweet damnation. Either he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life, or the best. They fit together like matching puzzle pieces. He rubbed against her, slowly at first, just enough to tease and tantalize them both. The pleasure built, right alongside the pressure. Yeah, he definitely should have taken her earlier. His demon was ready to burst free of his skin.

  Paris couldn’t gauge Sienna’s reaction through sound because of the surrounding screams, so he moved one of his hands to her throat, keeping his touch gentle. Nothing could stop him from feeling her moans, and the vibrations were so damn gorgeous.

  “Paris.” Her lips pressed against his ear. Definitely not a plea this time, but not a warning, either. “You can’t want me.”

  He circled his hips, pressing, retreating, pressing. “What is this, then?”

  “A treat for the only available woman in the room.”

  The words were like a slap across the face, and his volatile inner darkness responded poorly, rampaging through him and demanding he hurt the one who’d harmed him. He bit back the urge and snapped, “So a guy like me can only want what’s available?”

  “You didn’t want me before, in the room. So maybe this is punishment.” Anger threaded her tone.

  Punishment? His hands clenched in reflex, his own anger becoming an echo of hers.

  Sadly, she wasn’t done. “Believe me, I understand the concept far better than I ever did. Maybe you didn’t come here to save me, after all, but to wound me the same way I once wounded you.”

  He hadn’t trusted her, couldn’t, no matter how badly he’d wanted to, and even told himself he did, and now he saw that she couldn’t, wouldn’t, trust him, either. Not really. He’d suspected this would happen. That hadn’t bothered him (much) before, but it bothered him now. He hated that there were so many barriers between them. Clothes, reservations, doubts and worries.

  “I’m nothing like the women you’re used to,” she went on. “I know that. I know that I’m not pretty.”

  “You’re right. You’re beyond gorgeous.”

  A gasp. “A-and my lips are ridiculous.”

  “If ridiculous is the new word for a wet dream.”

  Her little fists hammered at his chest. “Stop! Just stop. You need sex and you’re trying to make a sale. I did the same to you earlier, wanting to be with you one last time. I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you like that.”

  His back straightened. She had offered herself to him, not because she had felt guilty, but because she had wanted him. She should not have admitted that. There would be no stopping him now. He would have her, one way or another.

  He licked at her lips, saying, “Baby, I’ve never had to try. I breathe, and the women offer.”

  The abuse stopped, a mewling sound leaving her. “You’re—you’re trying to put me in my place, then. Trying to tease me with what I can never fully have.”

  Oh, you can have it, all right. “You know that’s not true. Not because you trust me, but because of your demon.” Wrath would have been all over any deception on Paris’s part.

  A pause the agonizing length of three heartbeats. “You’re…right. How odd,” she said, both awed and hopeful. Her nails once again found purchase in his chest. “I hated the fact that a demon was placed inside me, wanted to be free of him, ranted and railed and even planned to give him back, and yet I’ve begun to count on his ability to read other people’s intentions.”

  Once possessed, always possessed. For the most part, anyway. So give Wrath back to Aeron? That would be a big fat hell, no. That would kill her. Again. “You can believe me when I say that I do want you, Sienna. You’re all I’ve thought about for months. Resisting you in that room was one of the toughest things I’ve ever done.”

  A vibration in her throat signaled her moan. “You’re really attracted to me, despite everything?” Wonder saturated her voice, dripping over him like warm honey.

  He had a thing for warm honey.

  “Yes.” Backward, forward he arched, renewing the decadent contact. He wanted to push for more still, but didn’t. Not yet. He wanted her focused only on the pleasure, all her fears about ulterior motives assuaged. “Let ther
e be no doubt on that score.”

  Another vibration, this one reaching a deeper part of him. “Why me?” Her nails plucked free of his chest, her hands smoothing over him. “I mean, you could have anyone.”

  “Exactly. I could, and I chose you. For so many reasons. You’re smart.”

  “Debatable.”

  “You’re witty.”

  “No more than a thousand others.”

  “You’re argumentative and can’t accept a compliment.”

  “Hey!” She reached up and tugged at his hair.

  Despite the grimness of their surroundings and circumstances, he found himself grinning. “You’re beautiful.”

  Her fingers slid to his scalp, massaging. “Not just beyond gorgeous?” she asked dryly.

  “You’re exquisite, and I don’t want to hear you put yourself down again. Do you understand?” He had killed others for doing so. Her, he would simply spank. “You may or may not be happy with the results.”

  “Why? Are you thinking paddling? Because I’m getting a few images in my head.”

  “Well, well. There’s something else to like about you. You understand me.”

  A snort. One he relished, because he had caused the humor behind it. “You must be blinded by horny demon-colored glasses,” she said.

  And she thought there were thousands of others just as stubborn as she was. He’d just issued an order alongside a threat, yet she had ignored both and continued on her merry way.

  “Has your demon ever let you be with the same woman twice?” she asked, the words layered with a husky edge of arousal, as well as a note of nervousness. “I’d heard you— Never mind.”

  She had gotten a lot of her info from the Hunters. He stiffened, hating the reminder of her past, but that didn’t stop him from admitting, “No one but you.”