The Darkest Seduction lotu-10

by Gena Showalter

  Sienna twitched. Twitched again. Relief consumed Paris. Almost there, almost… Slowly she rose, shook her head and took stock of the scene playing out in front of her, clearly still consumed by Wrath’s influence after all. Cronus had his back to her. Galen was in front of Cronus, but paid her no heed.

  The crystal dagger she held glinted in the light. And it elongated as his had just done, thickened, the end becoming a hook. Becoming a scythe. Becoming the only weapon capable of killing the man who ruled from the Titan throne. Paris realized what was about to happen and froze.

  Oh, damn. Anyone looking from behind Galen, which was the view from Danika’s painting of this moment, would see only Cronus. They wouldn’t see the slight female behind him. The female who would change the world with her next action.

  “I will never bow to you,” Galen snarled. “And I will get my woman on my own.”

  “You’ll get her after I kill her, then.”

  Galen roared, his weapon shaking in his grip.

  “Actually,” Sienna said, even as Galen swung, “you’ll be the one dying.” She, too, swung.

  Her weapon was longer, stronger, and far more powerful, and she beat Galen to the punch.

  Cronus never knew what hit him.

  His head detached, flew, and his body collapsed. Rhea screamed, but for a split second, she looked nearly triumphant. “Worth…it,” she whispered, and then she, too, went silent, suddenly motionless.

  My woman. Pride joined Paris’s relief. My woman did this. Won this.

  As the throngs began to shout in revelation, a dark, screeching form rose from the king’s body, its crimson eyes glowing, its fangs long and sharp, and a tail swishing behind it. A similar form rose from Rhea, only hers had a stooped back with horns and claws so long they could have been sabers.

  Their demons were escaping.

  Crazed, Greed and Strife shot high into the air, disappearing into the night. Two of Pandora’s demons would once more be unleashed upon the world.

  “Someone should go after them,” Paris tried to say, but then Sienna screamed, hitting her knees, and he no longer cared about anything else. Her arms spread wide, her back arched, contorting her. Her head fell back, and she released another scream, then another and another.

  At last Paris reached her. At last she quieted, her voice box razed. She remained in that position, shaking, shaking so badly. He wanted to gather her into his arms, to offer comfort, but he put himself in front of her. He was her shield. Now, always.

  Galen stood there, panting, and maybe he would have attacked, but the battle had ended as suddenly as it had begun. The few remaining Hunters realized they were outnumbered and took off in a dead sprint, though where they thought they could escape to up here, he had no clue. Bloody gods and bedraggled goddesses sank to their knees. Some bowed their heads; others simply looked stunned.

  The angels came up to flank Sienna, daring the keeper of Hope to make a move.

  “All hail the new queen,” a goddess suddenly said.

  The rest of the Titans repeated the phrase, their voices rising in fervor, as one by one, they kneeled in front of Paris. He wasn’t sure what was happening; surely they would not refer to him as the new queen. He had his moments, sure, but maybe it was a Titan thing, like how Viola called her male pet “princess.”

  “They speak to the girl behind you,” Zacharel said, moving to stand beside him.

  Sienna? Sienna was queen? Of the Titans? Still crouched, he swung around to check on her. The dizziness increased, and he realized his line of sight was completely blown.

  The angel added roughly, “Choices decide our fate. And though I was not made aware until now, she was to be the king’s greatest asset—or his only downfall, depending on the choice she made.”

  “But he would…have known. His Eyes…would have…told him.” Every word scraped his throat, burning. Every word weakened him further.

  “I am sure they did,” Zacharel said. “In their own way. Perhaps he did not look closely enough, or perhaps they did not show him everything. And now Sienna has taken the godly throne. This is why we wanted her on our side, why everyone wanted her on their side. The powers Cronus stole from so many others over the centuries have now become hers.”

  Do I know how to pick ’em or what? This was one more hat for her to wear, he thought with a faint laugh that caused blood to bubble up his throat, spilling out of his mouth.

  A fog drifted through his mind, but it couldn’t hide the revelation that he was dying. Already he’d lost too much blood, and with every second that passed, breathing became more difficult. But Sienna would be safe, always safe, and that was all that mattered. He couldn’t ask for more than that. Except for a future with her. He would have liked that.

  The rest of his strength draining, he allowed himself to fall backward, his head landing in her lap.

  “Paris?”

  Darkness that had nothing to do with his anger closed in. “I…love…you,” he croaked out.

  “Paris!”

  “Save…friends…don’t let…die.” The darkness consumed him, and he knew nothing more.

  Except…

  “Paris!”

  Her voice jerked him back. A flash of white. Darkness. A flash of white, lasting several seconds longer. Another flash, lasting…lasting…his body and demon seeming to stretch apart, disconnect…until he heard Sienna’s voice and everything snapped back together.

  “—not leaving me! I won’t let you. Remember when we talked about having someone to die for? Well, you’re mine. You’re my someone. If you pass, I’ll follow. Somehow, I’ll follow.” Oh, was she pissed. That temper of hers was coming out to play. “Do you hear me?”

  The ground rumbled beneath him.

  He smiled, because in that moment he realized something wondrous. Everything was going to be okay. Sienna was stubborn to her core. She had defeated Cronus, outwitted Galen. This was nothing.

  They would be together, one way or another. She would make sure of it.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  SIENNA HATED TO LEAVE PARIS in bed, and didn’t want him to wake up without her by his side. His body was in the process of healing from the massive wounds he’d sustained during battle, and when he opened his eyes, he would want answers. Answers she would happily give, just as soon as she learned them.

  So, after brushing her knuckles over his beautiful face—though he turned toward her, he gave no other reaction—she hurriedly left the chamber they shared in the Realm of Blood and Shadows. Then she stopped. Wait, wait, wait. She could flash now, couldn’t she?

  In fact, that’s how she’d gotten Paris and all of his friends back here. She’d entertained a simple thought: I wish we were home, and boom, she’d blinked and every single one of them had materialized at the castle. Shock had drilled her to her knees, and her mind had gone into a tailspin. For hours after that, her mind had reeled with the possibilities—Hawaii, Russia, Ireland, Key West, plus everywhere else she’d ever wanted to visit—and she’d ended up flashing all over the world by accident.

  That had been, what? Two days ago. Two days that seemed like an eternity, but she’d finally gotten control of that particular ability. She didn’t think she would ever get used to some of the others.

  Power swirled inside her, so much power her skin felt too tight for her body and her pores felt stretched, as if at any moment she could shatter into a thousand pieces. Apparently, taking Cronus’s head meant she was entitled to nearly all of his powers, and definitely all that he’d owned. Like, say, his home in the heavens and even his harem—from which she’d promptly freed everyone.

  One of the females inside—Arca—had asked her if Paris had sent her. In exchange for Arca’s aid, he’d vowed to free her after saving Sienna. She’d said yes, and now that debt was paid.

  On top of everything else, Cronus’s allies were hers—as were his enemies. But she wasn’t worried.

  She could also feel the darkness inside her now, the darkness Zacharel
had told her about, the darkness Paris had given her—a darkness Wrath loved to devour. He’d never fed from her, but had begun to feed from Paris, taking that part of him and lessening its hold on him. Zacharel would have to approve.

  With a sigh, she flashed into Lucien’s room, ready to begin her daily checkup on all of Paris’s friends. He and Anya were in bed, sleeping peacefully. His injuries were less severe than Paris’s, and he had finally crawled out of bed this morning, only to stalk into the entertainment room, toss Anya over his shoulder, and vanish them both.

  Maddox and Ashlyn were also in bed, but they were cooing to their babies, who kicked and gurgled in their adoring parents’ arms. Maddox was bandaged pretty heavily, was pale and bruised, but he was smiling. The little boy, Urban, met Sienna’s gaze and winked.

  Winked? Surely not.

  Strider and Kaia were—having sex. Oh, oh, ick! My eyes. Sienna moved to the next room.

  Sabin and Gwen—someone save me. They were also going at it. What was with the people in this castle? Had Paris’s demon somehow rubbed off on all of them?

  Gideon and Scarlet were snuggled together, talking. And a stranger conversation Sienna had never heard.

  “I hate you.”

  “I hate you more.”

  “I hate you most.”

  Moving on.

  Amun and Haidee were in the kitchen, baking cookies. Haidee had flour streaked on her cheeks, prints on her breasts and butt, all courtesy of Amun and his wandering hands.

  Reyes and Danika were in their bedroom. Like Paris, Reyes was sleeping off his injuries. Danika was painting.

  Sienna knew Danika was the current All-Seeing Eye, and purposely didn’t look at the colorful scene being created. She didn’t want to end up like Cronus, obsessed with what was to happen and doing everything in her power to prevent it, all while forgetting to truly live in the present.

  All she’d been willing to listen to was Danika’s claim that the Lords’ fortress in Budapest would soon be too dangerous to occupy, though she didn’t know why, and that the whole crew needed to stay here for the time being. Sienna had, of course, given her blessing.

  Cameo was in the entertainment room, polishing her daggers while the TV played an episode of 1000 Ways to Die. Yes, the warriors had found a way to rig the immortal realm to receive a satellite signal.

  Aeron and Olivia— Not again! Seriously. The castle was more like a zoo with monkeys. Wrath gave his customary heaven/hell coos, and there was still a hint of yearning in his tone, but no more of the whimpers.

  Happy to be with me? Sienna asked the demon. At least a little?

  You aren’t so terrible.

  She laughed. Wrath talked to her more and more now, real conversations rather than a spew of single-minded words. He’d helped her on that battlefield, guiding her actions but not overtaking her completely, just as he’d done with Fox, allowing her to work with him and do what was needed. She suspected he felt that this way, he helped protect his Aeron and Olivia.

  Legion was in the room they’d chosen for her, as well, but one of her wrists had been chained to the wall. A long link allowed her to move freely about, but the cuff itself kept her from flashing to Galen to keep her vow to him.

  I’ll have to fix that, Sienna thought.

  Hope will fight to the death to win her back, Wrath said.

  Yeah. Probably. But that was a worry for later in the day.

  Viola and her princess dog thing were in there with Legion, and Viola was regaling the chained girl with stories about herself. A captive audience. Seemed about right. Poor Legion, though. The princess was licking her feet.

  Torin was in his room, sitting in front of a bank of computers. There was a faraway expression on his face, and she wondered what he was thinking about.

  In a snap, she knew. Could actually hear what he was thinking.

  —supposed to do with the All-Key now? Cronus won’t be asking for it back, he’s dead, and crap, what’s up with Paris’s woman being queen of the Titans? Are you kidding me with that? She’s a former human and dead besides. Not to mention a former Hunter. And we already know how whacked it is to be ruled by those with demons inside them. Do we bow to her now? Damn, this is weird and I have no clue—

  Enough! she thought, and the volume on his mind was completely shut off. Much as she didn’t want to know the future, she didn’t want to know more than her fair share about the present, either. Invading people’s thoughts was so uncool. Mrs. Manners would not approve.

  Sienna hadn’t spoken much to the Lords in the past two days, too busy tending Paris and adjusting to her new position, but now she knew most of them were still uneasy about her. Fine, whatever. That would take time. Time she was willing to give them. Anything to be with Paris.

  Next, she appeared in front of the three rooms occupied by Cronus’s immortal prisoners. Cameron, Winter and Irish. Unlike all the times before, she saw no flashes of their crimes inside her mind. During the battle in the heavens, Wrath had fed to the point of sickness and currently had no appetite.

  Cameron spotted her first, and alerted the others. She wasn’t surprised that they could see her now. Everyone else could, too. They strode to those air-shielded doorways.

  Cameron sniffed, caught her scent and growled. “Ambrosia. Again. I know you. You’re that bastard’s invisible spy.”

  “Well, good news,” she replied. “That bastard is dead, and clearly I’m no longer invisible.”

  All three blinked at her. Irish gave no reaction, but the other two laughed without humor.

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I’m going to set you free,” she said, and that shut them up fast. They stared over at her, suddenly serious. She hadn’t done this earlier because she hadn’t been sure it was the safest course of action. How would they react to her as queen? Try to kill her? But then she’d decided, so what if they did? My powers are greater than theirs. “If you harm the Lords of the Underworld, your brothers by circumstance,” she stressed, “you will regret it. They are mine, and I protect what’s mine. Do you understand?”

  Stiff, disbelieving nods.

  “Ask around,” she said. “You’ll discover that I can hurt you in ways that will haunt you for eternity.”

  She stepped forward, touched Winter’s door. The shield fell away, and Winter gasped. A second later, the girl was gone. She repeated the process with the men, and they, too, left in a snap.

  So easy, when only a few days ago, such a thing had been impossible. Go figure.

  Sadly, she still was not done with her chores.

  William was not in his room, but a human girl—Gilly, she recalled—was sleeping soundly in his bed, her dark hair spilled out over his pillow. The scent of sex was not in the air, but fear was, with an overlay of comfort. Gilly had come here, afraid for William, who had also been injured during the battle. He had soothed her until she’d fallen asleep beside him, then he’d left.

  Now he was perched on the rooftop of the castle, popping gummy bears into his mouth and talking to another man in hushed tones. Hades. Instantly both males sensed she was there, as proven when they glanced in her direction.

  “Hello, girl I helped time and time again,” William said, his sly humor evidently intact despite his battle wounds.

  “Hello, girl who owes me many favors,” Hades added. Black mist enveloped him, veins of fire running through what appeared to be wings.

  Maybe her new powers had improved her vision, because suddenly she could see things she hadn’t noticed before. He had long jet-black hair, eyes of pure black, no pupils evident, and a face even more handsome than Paris’s. Well, a face that other women might consider more handsome than Paris’s. She didn’t.

  His muscles were huge, and there appeared to be tiny stars tattooed all over his chest.

  I like him, Wrath said.

  That kinda scares me, just so you know.

  “If two equals many in your world, yeah,” she replied dryly. “H
ave you decided what you want me to do yet?” What left her uneasy was the fact that he could ask for the world and she would have to give it to him, as long as it didn’t harm Paris or his friends.

  Hades shook his shadowed head, his grin serial-killer wicked. “Soon,” he promised.

  “Great,” she said, and left them to their secret conversation. A blink, and she was up in the heavens, standing inside Zacharel’s cloud.

  It amazed her that the angels lived in the clouds, and those clouds were actually like homes. Furniture, hallways, gardens. Whatever the owner desired. Zacharel’s had the requisite bed, but it had a man with pink hair and blood-inked tears chained to it. A blindfold was wrapped around his eyes, a gag stuffed in his mouth, and a sheet draped over his waist. The rest of him was naked.

  Don’t look. Not my business. On that nightstand was an hourglass-shaped jar with some kind of gooey substance in it. She did not want to think about what he did with the stuff.

  “Zacharel,” she called, gaze already returning to the pink-haired man. Her eyes narrowed. This was Paris’s assailant from the cavern…and, she saw with her new and improved vision, he was no man at all, but a fallen angel. Since when were his kind held hostage in the very place they’d chosen to escape from? She watched as he struggled for freedom.

  Zacharel walked through the far doorway, and he was naked and wet, and oh, sweet Lord, he was gorgeous. Just…wow. A muscle mass to rival Paris’s, and he must be smuggling tube socks in his stomach, because damn. He had muscled roll after muscled roll. Small brown nipples, and some serious man business, and no body hair.

  Only flaw that he possessed was a black spot as big as her fist on his chest, just above his heart. The spot bled out in a few places, as if ink had been smudged. Wait. Nope. Not the only flaw. Whip marks seemed to wrap around his ribs, red and raw. And could she really call the snow still falling from his wings a sign of perfection?

  He stopped when he spotted her. A second later, a white robe draped him. Also, his bed—and its prisoner—had vanished. “I had a do-not-disturb barrier outside.” His emotionless tone had returned. “How did you get in?”