The Darkest Captive

by Gena Showalter

  “I need to see you,” he said. When she held up her arms, he yanked off her shirt.

  The ruby necklace she wore resettled in her cleavage. His gaze traveled over her body, then returned to her breasts, sheltered by a scrap of lace. Lace the same red as her jewelry.

  “Exquisite,” he rasped.

  His pupils dilated as he cupped her, then kneaded the giving flesh. Beneath the lace, her nipples puckered for him, seeking his attention. He paid no heed to his bandaged injuries as he lightly pinched those distended crests.

  Air hitched in her throat as she spread apart her legs to welcome him closer. Since he was already shirtless, his muscles and tattoos on magnificent display, they were skin to heated skin. Not close enough. Never close enough.

  He was a killer, dangerous to everyone but her.

  “You are the one for me,” he rasped. “I’ll have you and no other.” Then he was kissing her, scattering the thoughts in her head. Only pleasure mattered.

  * * * *

  Galen divested Leila of her bra…her pants…her panties, leaving her in the necklace, and the necklace alone. Stopping their kiss was torture, but he did it, then stepped back to look his fill. Those glorious, bountiful breasts with their rosy tips. Curves for days and legs for miles. Between those legs resided the center of his entire world.

  Hand and prosthetic resting on her knees, he pushed her legs even farther apart. So pink and pretty. So wet for me, only me. He claimed her mouth in another searing kiss, and plunged two fingers deep into her hot, drenched core.

  Pleasure owned him. Owned her, too. Every time he scissored his fingers, she writhed and scored his back. I’ve made her lose control.

  With pleasure came a new surge of desire—more!—the assault on his senses unparalleled. Necessary. He had her sweetness in his mouth, and her exotic scent fused to his cells. Her essence soaked his fingers, her inner walls clamping tight. Release beckoned, but he fought it, just as he’d fought to protect this precious woman from Cronus.

  What greater cause could a man have than the safeguarding of a treasure?

  The moment Leila had first entered the war room, he’d forgotten his injuries and the audience, losing track of the world. Had even lost track of the demons. He hadn’t been jealous of anyone. There had been—was—no need. With Leila, he had everything he could ever want or need. And, for one of the first times in his life, he hadn’t had to wonder about the legitimacy of his hope. He’d realized true hope wasn’t accompanied by fear or foreboding, but peace. Such beautiful peace, as if light had chased away the darkness in his soul.

  In this, the demons no longer had power over him. He and Leila had a bright future, because they were both willing to put in the work.

  “Remember when I wanted to go down on you in the hall?” he asked, kissing a fiery path down her neck.

  “Doubt I’ll ever forget.” Passion had roughened her voice, every word as potent as a caress.

  “Time to make fantasy a reality.” He dropped to his haunches. Cupping beneath her knees, he pulled her forward until her bottom rested on the edge of the counter. Her legs remained spread, her luscious core mere inches from his waiting mouth.

  Peering at him, adoring him with her eyes, she leaned back, offering herself to him in supplication. “Do it.” Not a request, but a demand. One he relished.

  At the first lick, lust fogged his head and his muscles went taut. He had to stave off a sudden and fierce climax—he would last for his woman, would last as long as she needed.

  “Yes! More, more!” She shook and moaned. “Pleeease, Galen.”

  Those pleas nearly pushed him over the edge, straight into the throes. “I understand the nickname now. Honey.” He nuzzled her inner thigh, goose bumps rising up to greet him. Kiss. Lick. Suck. “I want your honey all over me. My greatest desire is giving you everything you need.”

  He licked again. Then again. He flicked his tongue over her little bundle of nerves before sucking harder. Then, oh, then, he thrust his tongue into her tight sheath, mimicking sex. She sank her nails into his scalp.

  “Will never get enough of you.” He feasted on her, wringing one…two…three orgasms from her body, until her breasts heaved with every breath, and her cries were incoherent.

  Until he could withstand the agony and emptiness no more.

  He jackknifed to his feet. She ripped at the fly of his leathers, freeing his throbbing shaft from its prison. Finally! Delicate hands wrapped around the base, squeezed, and stroked up, dragging a moan from deep in his chest.

  He expected the worst of the throbbing to subside, or dull. Nope. Every sensation intensified.

  “If I don’t get inside you, I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind,” he said between labored breaths. “You ready for me, sugar?”

  “Beyond ready. Need you.”

  “You’re aching for me, then?”

  “Always.”

  A bolt of pride shot through him. Millions of men in the world, yet Leila desired him, and him alone. She trusted him with her body…and her heart? Maybe. She peered up at him, giving him the look, all adoration and hope, and he puffed up his chest. A common occurrence in her presence. But then, he had a woman other men envied. A life other men envied.

  He reached out, opened the top drawer, and fished a condom out of its box.

  “You’re the one who’s been storing condoms in my bedroom. But…they’re flavored. And small!”

  “They were a gift from Torin.” He used his teeth to rip open the foil, then slid the latex down his rock-hard length. “He thought it’d be funny if I stopped to explain the condoms inside the box are actually extra-large. But they are. Extra-large. Probably XXXL.”

  She snickered, then he did the same.

  He used the prosthetic to urge her forward. At the same time, he positioned the tip of his erection at her opening. Just like that, desperate need replaced amusement, and they moaned in unison.

  “You are hot as fire, sweet Leila, and I long to be burned.”

  Their gazes met. Desire hooded her eyes, her irises wild. Passion-fever radiated from her flesh. Red, pouty lips were swollen from his kisses.

  He leaned into her to nip that sweet lower lip—and thrust home. The muscles in his back pulled taut, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

  She uttered breathy moans, enthralling him with her uninhibited abandon. “Galen!”

  No woman had ever responded to him so fervently.

  His legs began to tremble, so he flared his wings, using the feathery appendages to hold himself upright. Then…

  Galen unleashed.

  He pounded in and out of her, the carnality of her reactions fraying his control. Flushing skin. Trembling limbs. Racing pulse. Her breasts bounced, and her nipples grazed his chest. A sensual abrasion, like flint on steel, igniting a fire. Her hoarse cries rang out, a siren’s song.

  It wasn’t pleasure that owned all the good, all the bad, and all the ugly in him, he realized; it was this woman. Whether she was the fiery vixen he’d first met, or the vulnerable beauty he’d rescued in the cabin, she was his, as if tailored to fit his every secret desire. He was her first, and he would be her last.

  Exhilaration flared inside him, rapture. Wonder. He didn’t deserve her, but he would not part with her, ever. Nothing and no one would separate them.

  He ran her earlobe between his teeth, then licked her hammering pulse. Little mewling sounds slipped from her. Ravenous, he bit down on the cord of her neck. She jerked against him and screamed his name, inner walls contracting around his length, demanding their due.

  The pleasure…the pressure building inside him…the rightness of the moment, his partner… Finally, he was home, where he belonged, with the one who owned his heart.

  He made love to her mouth before lifting his head just enough to peer down at her. Light spilled over golden skin, illuminating her flawless beauty. One of his feathers had floated into her hair, the sight breathtaking.

  Every part of me belongs to her. />
  Sweat dampened him as he increased his thrusts. Slam, slam. Heat collected in his testicles, soon shooting up his shaft…

  “Leila!” Galen climaxed with a roar, his head thrown back. Hot lash after hot lash of pleasure jetted into the condom. He shuddered with rapture.

  Finally, when the shudders died down, he sagged against her. She rested her head on his shoulder, trying to catch her breath. His own breaths were ragged, his throat raw from his bellows.

  “That…that was amazing,” she said.

  “One of my favorite memories of all time.” He removed the condom, tied the end, and tossed the latex into the trash bin. Despite his profound satisfaction and contentment, he was already hard again.

  Holding her gaze, he dug through the drawer and withdrew another condom.

  “Again?” she asked, and shivered with excitement.

  “Again.” After he’d rolled the rubber over his length, he framed one side of her face in his ungloved hand, traced his thumb along the rise of her cheekbone, and softly kissed her lips. “The appetizer was delicious, sugar. Now I’m ready for the meal.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eight days of bliss. Galen and Leila stayed in bed, making love, talking, and laughing. But something major was bothering his woman, and he didn’t know what, or how to make it better. He only knew his foreboding had returned and redoubled.

  Many times, he’d caught Leila standing at their bedroom window, gazing out, lost in thought. Lost in fury, her body drawn as tight as a bow, her hands fisted. He’d asked what was wrong, had begged for answers, but she’d merely kissed and fondled him until he’d forgotten his name.

  His Leila loved her pleasure, and he loved giving it to her. Loved when she gave it right back.

  The demons did everything in their power to rile Galen up, but he refused to take the bait. He trusted his woman, not the fiends. Leila would tell him what was wrong when she was ready, and they would find a way to work it out. No other outcome was acceptable. Because, for the first time in his life, a true happily ever after was possible, all thanks to Leila.

  In those eight days, other changes had come over her. Her fear? Gone without a trace. She smiled often, and always welcomed him into her arms, her bed. Sometimes he was the aggressor, sometimes she had the honors; they took turns. She slept deeply, nightmares no longer plaguing her. And now that he knew the joy of holding her as he slept, he couldn’t fall asleep without her nearby. She was his peace. His family. His everything. He belonged with her, and to her.

  Some days, she even joked with him. We should clone you. One Galen to fight wars, one to clean our room, and seven others to see to my sexual satisfaction. I’m not sure you can keep up on your own, lover boy.

  He grinned, remembering, but the amusement didn’t last long. He hadn’t confessed his love yet. Even though he knew she loved him, too. She must. She’d started collecting the feathers he shed. But she’d made no mention of it, either, and he had a feeling the reason revolved around her fury, and whatever had sparked it.

  That fury… he’d tasted it as they’d trained. The one responsible for it was going to die in agony, no doubt about it.

  Leila’s skill amazed him. The more she’d remembered her combat training, the more she’d taken him to the ground. In his defense, he’d been distracted by her breasts. And her legs. And her mouth. And every little noise she made. And the pulse that hammered at the base of her neck. Mostly, the smile she unleashed every time she succeeded.

  Yesterday, Keeley had joined their session and shooed Galen away. He’d left the room, but had stayed nearby, listening to their conversation, telling himself he eavesdropped just in case his woman needed him.

  “You mentioned you have questions for me,” Keeley had said, “and I’m ready to answer.”

  “Cronus,” Leila had begun, a quiver in her voice. “He invaded my mind. How do I protect my thoughts, my memories?”

  Galen’s stomach had twisted.

  Keeley had made a little hmmm, that’s interesting noise. “To invade someone’s mind, you must establish a psychic link. Unless that someone has mental shields. To establish mental shields, you need practice. But I’ll be honest. I’m surprised Cronus did this. A psychic link is the worst possible way to extract info from another person. You don’t just see their memories, you feel the emotions they experienced. Why torture yourself in such a way?”

  Did Leila still harbor fears, and she’d just gotten better at hiding them? Did she expect Cronus to find and harm her again?

  Must find him first. Must stop him.

  If Leila did fear another kidnapping, she didn’t show it. Earlier today, she’d gone shopping with the other ladies, a few of the Lords acting as guards—for the mortals they came across. Gwen, her half-sister Kaia, plus Lucien’s girlfriend Anya, the minor goddess of Anarchy, often acted like the emotional equivalent of children hopped up on caffeine combined with Disney villains.

  Galen had remained behind, a difficult feat, even though he’d known Leila would be well protected. It was just…he wanted her to have normal experiences, like girls’ day out. Fine. She’d told him to keep his ass at home so she could relax with her girls.

  Now he lounged on a lawn chair beside Aeron, drinking ice cold beer on the porch, waiting for their women to return. Living. A ray of sunlight broke through a wall of gray clouds, a gentle breeze scented with pansies.

  “You make her happy,” Aeron said, sounding resigned.

  “I know. But she does the same for me.” He just wished they’d made headway with Cronus. So far, there’d been no more sightings or whispers from spies. Galen had his best people searching. “I will take care of her for all eternity, this I swear to you.”

  A pause. A sigh. Then, “I believe you.”

  His chest clenched. “I don’t deserve your trust, but I thank you for it. And though I can’t regret the past that brought Leila and me together—yes, you uncouth tyrant, that’s how you say it—I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you over the eons.”

  Another sigh. “You are forgiven. We’ve all done things to hurt others.”

  Clench. “Not to complain but…this forgiveness would have been nice days ago.”

  “Days ago my female hadn’t given me an ultimatum. Forgive you for real and for good, or sleep on the couch.”

  Galen winced, as if embarrassed for him. “You are so whipped.”

  An SUV with blackened windows sped up the drive, screeching to a stop in front of a massive marble waterfall. The girls had returned! He leaped to his feet and rushed down the winding stone pathway.

  “Yeah, I’m the whipped one,” Aeron called.

  Without turning, Galen lifted a hand to flip him off. The vehicle’s back door opened. Leila spilled out, bags dangling from her hands. Oh, yes. I’m whipped. She wore a black leather halter top and a very short mini-skirt; he had to wipe away drool.

  As soon as she spotted him, adoration lit her expression. The look he loved and craved. It made him remember the early days of his life, when he’d believed every life mattered and redemption was possible. But even still, his sense of foreboding kicked up a notch. She might be adoring, but tension thrummed from her, stronger than ever.

  Bags jumbling together, she ran over and leaped into his open arms. “Guess what?” she said, making him forget his doubts. “Keeley told me I’m not pregnant, that I won’t have a kid for another couple of years. Only when we’re good and ready.”

  Disappointment and relief mixed, an odd sensation. “Doesn’t mean we should stop practicing.”

  “Agreed.”

  He turned and strode past a wealth of roses growing along wrought-iron trellises, closing in on the fortress, a structure both tall and sprawling, with two side towers and copper steeples. Ivy covered several stone walls. Around the border, amazingly detailed stone statues of men and monsters stood sentry.

  As Galen carried his woman through the front door, Aeron called, “Hello to you, too, Legion.”

  She
winced. “Sorry, Aeron. Didn’t see you out there.”

  Galen sent a mental F-U to Jealousy, and the demon whimpered.

  Leila pressed a swift kiss to his lips. “Wait till I show you what I bought.”

  “Something sexy?” he asked, nearly undone by the thought.

  “Something suuper sexy. Spoiler alert. The G-string is going to drive you wild…when you wear it while dancing for me.”

  * * * *

  I have to do this, and you have to let me.

  The words whispered through Galen’s mind, accompanied by the tick tick tick of a bomb nearing its detonation. Drowsy but alert enough to know his woman wasn’t in his arms, he rolled over and reached for her, intending to pull her close. Cold sheets greeted him. Tick tick.

  He frowned. Blinking open his eyes, he sat up. Bright light streamed through the window, illuminating pink walls, and the framed oil painting she’d hung yesterday. In it, Galen posed like someone named George Costanza. Whoever that was.

  Yesterday, Leila also strung twinkling Christmas bulbs around the four-poster bed, and decorated the mantel with stuffed road kill she’d dressed in doll clothes.

  “They had terrible ends,” she’d said. “Hopefully, this tribute honors them.”

  He’d grinned then, and he grinned now. Her whimsical style appealed to the boy he’d never gotten to be. The boy he’d always wanted to be.

  No sign of her, or even the clothes they’d scattered over the floor last night. Tick, tick.

  “Leila?” he called, refusing to worry.

  No response. Tick, tick, tick. He kicked his legs over the side of the bed. His feet sank into the plush carpet as he stood. Cool air brushed his bare skin. Naked, he rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms over his head. His wounds had healed completely, no longer complaining when he moved.

  Shaking out his wings to leave feathers on the floor, he strode into the bathroom. Tick. The walk-in closet. Tick.

  Was she in the kitchen, eating breakfast, maybe? He’d zapped all of her energy last night.