The Darkest Seduction lotu-10

by Gena Showalter

  Friend. Talk to friend.

  Soon, she promised. Wrath whimpered, and she had to force herself to look away. Paris stood in front of the group, his back to Sienna. His sun-bronzed skin was bare from the waist up, and his muscles were knotted. At his sides, his hands were fisted.

  Anya was reading her letter out loud. “—you’re okay, I guess. I mean, if Lucien says you’re good people, you’re good people. I think you’ve got a really hot body with a lot of delicious brawn and sinew, and even though I wouldn’t do you without having an emergency medical exam afterward, a lot of women with low self-esteem would totally hit that.”

  “Anya,” Lucien said with a truckload of exasperation.

  She glanced up at him, all innocence. “What? You said start the letter with praise before going into the root of the problem. Now zip it so I can finish. You already got to read yours.” She cleared her throat, glanced back down at the paper. “Making out with an invisible woman is a disease. And really creepy. If I see you with your hands squeezing air one more time, I’m going to sandpaper my corneas.”

  “Enough,” Paris said with quiet menace.

  “My turn,” Viola said.

  Ignoring both of them, the lithe goddess of Anarchy continued. “Add in the fact that Inviso-babe is a Hunter, and you’ve got a recipe for oh, shit. Which isn’t good for your health. Or ours. Mainly ours. That is why we humbly request that you enter some sort of treatment program before that woman enters you in a death program with guns, knives and a rack. And by rack I don’t mean boobs.”

  Wow, that hurt. It shouldn’t. Sienna had brought this on herself, deserved it one hundred percent, and had done nothing to earn their trust. Still. Ouch. Her lover’s friends had hosted an intervention to get Sienna out of his life.

  One of Paris’s hands slid back, around his waist, his fingers curling around the hilt of a knife.

  He was going to blow a fuse, she thought, and she didn’t want him at war with his friends because of her. Not now, not ever. So, yeah, she was leaving. Sooner rather than later.

  Her chest constricted, heralding the sharp lances of pain from a breaking heart. Didn’t matter, though. She would take one more day with him. Just one. Then, bye-bye forever. “Paris,” she said, doing her best to mask her hurt.

  He spun, those electric-blues she loved so much crackling with fury, the malicious shadows dancing through their depths.

  Gently she said, “Come up to the roof with me,” and waved him over. “I need to practice my flying.” Truth, and the reason she wasn’t leaving the fortress right this second, was instead allowing herself this extra day with him. She had to be prepared for anything. And, yeah, she wanted to say goodbye properly—in bed. “No need to worry about the vines there. The gargoyles eat the walls clean, and William’s blood is on the outer rail, I checked, so the shadows won’t bother us, either.”

  “My friends are… They need…” He was dragging oxygen through his nose so intensely his nostrils were flaring.

  “No, they don’t. You are not going to be mad at them over this.” A command she had no power to enforce, but one she would see through.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Behind him, Viola relayed the conversation only she and Lucien could hear, clearly thrilled to be the center of attention. Sienna tuned her out. Only Paris mattered right now.

  More forcefully, she said, “Paris, I’m not offended by this.” She was destroyed. “Now come here. I need a cheerleader, and I’m thinking you’ll look great in a skirt, holding poms.”

  He didn’t crack a smile. That unholy, malevolent rage still held him in a tight grip. So, really, there was only one other thing do to.

  “Catch me,” she said, sprinting to him. He would never forgive himself if he fought his loved ones.

  “No, don’t come near me while I’m like…this. Humph.”

  She’d launched herself at him. Those strong arms did indeed catch her, winding around her and clamping on like shackles. Tremors vibrated from him and into her.

  Acting fast, she nipped at his ear. “If you hurt them, you’ll get blood on my castle walls—well, more blood, and I’ll be very upset.” Only once before had she ever tried to use feminine wiles, and that had been the first time they met. Now she lifted her head just enough for him to see her face, and batted her lashes. “Please come to the roof with me. Please.”

  He peered at her for a long while, silent, before finally relaxing. He pressed a kiss straight into her mouth, daring the quickest of tastes, the tease, before striding out with her still clutched in his arms.

  “My eyes,” Anya whined. “Oh, my eyes.”

  “I think we just made a huge mistake,” Lucien said gravely.

  Paris never looked back and neither did Sienna.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  THE MOMENT PARIS STEPPED onto the roof, he sensed the evil waiting to attack. Thanks to William’s blood, the shadows couldn’t get inside the castle or pass the rail, just as Sienna had said, but what waited for him wasn’t exactly a shadow.

  Wanting no part of the coming action, Sex retreated faster than ever.

  Palming his crystal blades—nope, make that blade, he had just the one now—Paris maneuvered Sienna to her feet and behind him. The sky was a strip of black velvet with no pinprick of stars, the moon a crimson hook in the corner, just as before. Moisture clung to the air, hot in spots, cold in others.

  Either Sienna sensed the menace, too, or she knew not to distract him. She remained quiet. His gaze arrowed over, lit on a darker patch of onyx, and shit, another dark patch, then another, gliding together, coalescing, elongating…until a man stood before him, shrouded by the black, the mist like a veil in front of him.

  Sienna gasped. In fascination or horror, he wasn’t sure.

  Guy was handsome, if you liked serial killers, with cold black eyes, more muscles than even Paris sported, and shoulders wide enough to take down the entire first line of defense in a game of touch football.

  Paris crouched, a coiled snake ready to dart and bite. Dude had made a mistake, approaching now. Since Paris had walked into that intervention and realized his friends were still gunning for him to ditch Sienna, fury had been a seething tide inside him.

  He understood their reasons. He did. And he couldn’t blame them. But doing what they’d done out in the open, just to hurt her, was taking things too far.

  He commanded his crystal to become a weapon capable of killing such a creature, and the thing instantly morphed into—a klieg? Someone play whaa whaa whaa for Debbie Downer, because seriously. Kinda felt like he was going to a shootout with, well, a freaking klieg.

  Shadow Man laughed, the sound all creepiness and no joy. “I know what you wonder. I can bypass the blood, yes. And I will if I must. My phantoms feed from the immortals, and that is payment rendered for their stay. Yet now you house the Lord of the Dark, their enemy, and keep my boys from their due. That is unacceptable.”

  “Your phantoms aren’t feeding on my friends.” He recalled the warrior lying in a pool of his own blood, what was left of his insides spilled on the floor. The prisoner’s pain had been unbearable to witness, so Paris could just imagine what the guy had felt.

  “Other arrangements must be made, or I will force you out of my realm. You will not like my methods, I assure you.”

  There was a time for physical confrontation, and a time for bargaining. “What else would they like to eat?”

  “Immortals.” Clipped, angry. “Only immortals.”

  “Then we’ve got a problem.” He inched backward, edging Sienna to the door.

  Shadow Man lurched forward, that dark mist stretching and gliding like wings. Paris swung the flashlight, his thumb flipping the on switch. White light cut through the darkness, but just before reaching his opponent, the man rolled through the air and out of the way.

  When he stilled, they faced off. Paris twirled the thin flashlight in his palm. “That all you got? Huh?” A taunt meant to buy Sienna enough time to blast ins
ide. He hoped she understood that, but he couldn’t hear footsteps, couldn’t hear the door slam.

  “If I showed you what I’ve got, it would be the last thing you ever saw.”

  “Prove it.”

  Like that, they were on each other, a choreographed dance straight from Star Wars. Funny that they both knew the moves. Paris used the klieg like a light saber, twirling the golden stream as he contorted his body left and right to dodge the sashay of those misty wings.

  Finally, contact. When the light sliced through one of Shadow Man’s legs, there was a sizzle, a rise of steam, and the big guy released a firing-squad shout, his anger like little bullets that pelted against Paris’s mind, causing him to stumble.

  That stumble cost him.

  One of those dark wings whipped out and hit his arm with so much force the flashlight flew from his grip. Not mist, after all. Then that big body engulfed him, closing around him. Screams, thousands upon thousands of screams, echoed around him. So loud his eardrums burst and warm blood poured down his lobes.

  Releasing a scream of his own, he covered his ears and fell to his knees. Ants were crawling all over him, surely eating at his flesh, ripping it away, consuming him bite by tasty bite.

  Another firing-squad shout sounded, and the darkness instantly lifted from him. Took him a moment to orient himself, and what he saw made him want to vomit. Shadow Man was a few feet away, and Sienna was holding him off with the flashlight. Their mouths were moving, but Paris couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  Until…boom, his eardrums healed and the volume came back on in an explosion of noise.

  “—how many would you be willing to settle for…consuming?” Sienna was saying, trying not to reveal her disgust.

  “Five. A day.”

  “They never got five before! One,” she snapped. “A week.”

  “Three. A day.”

  “Three. A week.”

  A moment of silence before Shadow Man nodded. “Agreed. First payment must be given today.”

  “Yes, but only if all of us—the Lords, their loved ones, the babies, the immortals, me—are safe, no matter where we go in this realm or what we do.”

  Another moment of silence, another nod. “And so the deal is made. But best you hurry, female. I might change my mind before the first payment is delivered.” With that, the black mist thinned, broke apart and disappeared altogether.

  Sienna rushed to Paris’s side and sank to her knees, patting him down, checking for injuries.

  “Are you okay?”

  He hung his head. He hadn’t saved her, hadn’t helped her. She’d had to save him. She’d had to help him. He’d let her down in so many ways. What kind of warrior was he?

  “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “What? Why?” She handed him the flashlight.

  A quick mental command, and the crystal blade returned. He stashed the thing at his waist. “I let you down. You could have been hurt.” And Zacharel had warned him about that, hadn’t he? That Paris’s temper would get the better of him and he would hurt his woman. He’d thought that meant he would strike at her, which he knew would never happen. But, no. The angel had known better. His temper would cause him to lose focus, to allow others to hurt her.

  Yeah. Well. That was so not happening again. He’d keep himself level no matter what the hell he had to do.

  “Paris, you’ve never let me down,” she said with feeling.

  Yeah, he had, but that stopped now. His thigh muscles burned like a son of a bitch as he stood. He helped her do the same. Inside the castle, he tucked her into a corner, checked the only window in the small alcove to make sure William’s blood was still smeared over the top—it was—then cupped her cheeks.

  “Stay here for me, okay? I’ve got to tell Lucien to find us three acceptable, uh, meals.”

  “They don’t have to be immortal,” she said. “He finally admitted that immortals taste better, but anyone will do.”

  Then Paris knew exactly who to use. Last he’d looked, there were Hunters stashed in their Budapest dungeon.

  “Who are—”

  “Don’t you worry about that.” If she knew the men, well, he wasn’t sure how she’d react. “In fact, why don’t you go to our room instead of staying here? I’ll join you in a bit. Okay?” He kissed her before she could reply, and left her there.

  Didn’t take him long to locate Lucien. The warrior was still in the ballroom, and when he caught sight of Paris he apologized all over himself, his mismatched eyes filled with regret.

  “We’ll talk about the intervention later. Right now I need you to do something.”

  He explained what he needed, and the warrior was Johnny-on-the-spot, disappearing and returning a few minutes later with a Hunter clutched in each hand. Humans were easier to transport than immortals.

  The men, both in their late thirties by the looks of them, were grimy, weak and had no fight left. Paris claimed them, and Lucien went back for a third.

  Maybe this should have settled heavily on his shoulders, but these men had been captured while trying to slaughter his friends and their lovers. They would have cut the throats of the females without a moment’s hesitation.

  They deserved what they got.

  When Lucien returned, they muscled their loads up the stairs and back into that small alcove. Sienna hadn’t moved an inch, and Paris cursed under his breath. But she didn’t say anything when she spotted his burdens, even though her mouth opened as if she had plenty to unleash. She just watched with wide eyes as he and Lucien stepped onto the roof.

  “Stay,” he commanded, shutting the door in her face. He didn’t want her to see what happened next.

  He and Lucien approached the edge and looked down. A whole lot of airtime before reaching the rocky, blood-soaked ground. Whatever. He still wasn’t gonna feel bad. But he did wonder, again, if Sienna knew these guys. If she’d understand why he’d picked them. If she’d understand that he would use the information she’d given him to find more Hunters, to bring them here and use them in the same way, for as long as necessary.

  Drop them, a disembodied voice he now recognized said on a sudden wind.

  Only then did the Hunters begin to struggle. Paris and Lucien shared a moment of oh, shit before shoving them over. Shadows immediately darted from the sky, surrounding the men, catching them, and then devouring them. Screams, more pain-filled than the ones he’d heard while inside Shadow Man, rent the night. Then, silence.

  And so the deal is sealed, another wind proclaimed. You are safe. For now.

  He wasn’t sure he could trust the Shadow Man, but Sienna would have caught a lie, so there you go. “Thanks,” he said to Lucien.

  “Of course.” A pause, a sigh. “Listen. I am sorry about what happened, and I will talk to the others. I’ve never liked what we were doing to you, how we were pushing you, and I’ll make sure your woman is respected. She’s who you want, she’s who you’ll get.”

  His throat tightened up. “Thanks,” he repeated.

  Lucien drilled a hand on his shoulder, a love pat with more strength than he probably realized, before taking off. As he exited, Sienna entered.

  “Hey,” she said, expression blank.

  “Hey,” he replied. Trepidation, foreboding, yeah, he felt them.

  “So the toll’s been paid?”

  He nodded mutely.

  “Good. I saw their sins. Those men were awful, had done terrible things. Wrath wanted a go at them.”

  That was it? That was her response? She wasn’t going to question him, castigate him? Was just going to accept? “I love you,” he said. He couldn’t hold the words back. There was no hiding the truth any longer, not even from himself.

  Her jaw dropped. Those beautiful hazels were once again all about the emerald, the chocolate completely overshadowed. He was more into this woman than he’d ever been into another. So into her that he would die for her. Willingly, happily.

  She just fit him. Made him happy. Relaxed him, excited him,
challenged him.

  “I—I…” Twin pink circles appeared on her cheeks. Arousal, maybe. At least, he hoped.

  “No, don’t say anything.” He motioned her over, said huskily, “Just come here.”

  She stumbled over to him, and he drew her close for a hug. Breathing deeply, he drank in her tropical scent, letting it brand him, remake him. There wasn’t anyone or anything that could keep him from this woman. She was his. Now and always.

  He placed the sweetest of kisses against the wildly hammering pulse at the base of her neck. “Let’s practice your flying, okay?”

  “O-okay.”

  She loved him back; she had to love him back. If she didn’t, he would seduce her, romance her and woo her until she did. Most important battle of my life.

  He set her away from him, and they spent the next few hours working on extending her wings properly and quickly enough, as well as getting her feet off the ground. Having never flown himself, he repeated the things Aeron had told him, the things he’d learned simply from watching the warrior, and he was happy to note Sienna made progress. But shit, he knew there was a lot he didn’t know.

  Eventually Sex came out of hiding, enjoying the contact, pushing Paris to take things to the next level.

  Not yet. This is too important.

  You told me “often.”

  And you’ve been getting often, you stupid shit.

  “She’ll never learn to sustain flight like that.” Familiar male voice. Behind him.

  Paris didn’t bother turning around. “What do you suggest?” He was willing to take suggestions in this, and only this.

  Zacharel sidled up to him, his fingers stroking his stubble-free chin. “I can only teach her the way I was taught. She must stand at the edge of the roof and spread her wings as far as she can get them.”

  “What if I fall?” she gasped. “I won’t be able to catch myself in the air.”

  “You will not fall,” the angel said, and the layer of truth in his voice was as convincing as ever.