The Darkest King

by Gena Showalter

  Only a second later, he jerked as if she’d punched him, his smile vanishing. He tossed back the remains of his drink, his movements powerful, aggressive and seductive. The quivering worsened. What is he doing to me?

  As he slammed down the glass, a blank mask covered his features. “You may go.” He’d blanked his tone, too. “We’ll chat later, when it’s your turn.”

  Her turn for what? Interrogation? Maybe he suspected every female codebreaker of being the one hunting his family. And leave him? Hardly. Now that she’d breathed in his magnificent scent, experienced the caress of his voice and the lethal seduction of his gaze, she wanted him dead sooner rather than later. More dangerous than I realized.

  There had to be a way to override his desire to wait. Oh! Oh! “Your loss, baby. I’m super horny.” Horny to end his life! “I’m probably dying and only an orgasm will save me. I’d planned to invite you to my room for a couple hours of...you know...thought and reflection.” She traced a finger between her breasts and purred, “I heard you say you do your best thinking naked.”

  His pupils enlarged, spilling over all that pale blue. A sign of sexual yearning. But he didn’t null and void his demand.

  Daisy! She had one last ace to play. If he still turned her down, she’d hide out, then follow him to his hotel room. “Fine, I’ll go. Thankfully, you aren’t the only slice of beefcake on the menu. Enjoy the rest of your evening. I know I will.” She blew him a kiss and pivoted, revealing her best feature: a rounded aster. Argh! A rounded ass-ter. Freesia! Stupid magic filter. She had a freaking rounded butt, okay?

  He sucked in a breath. “Or stay for a few minutes,” he croaked.

  Relief washed over her, cool and soothing. As hoped, her butt had succeeded where her wit had failed. One step closer.

  Tremors plagued Sunny as she eased into the chair across from him. He watched her, intent and intense, absentmindedly tracing a finger over the rim of his glass.

  Ignore the tingle of awareness. Ignore the crackle of need. Ignore the sizzle of want.

  Without looking away from her, he raised an arm and snapped his fingers. A waitress came running, offering him a fresh glass of whiskey. One he polished off in seconds.

  Sunny planted her elbows on the table. “So. What should we—”

  He slammed the glass onto the table, silencing her. Then he stood and extended a helping hand. “I’ve already selected the night’s entertainment, and I never rearrange my plans. On the other hand, I’m a giver, incredibly generous, and your life hangs in the balance. So, I will do this for you. I will give you an orgasm.” He waved his fingers at her. “Come. Let’s go to my room.”

  “No. Let’s go to my room,” she insisted, smiling a real smile this time. She’d done it! She’d won him over!

  He jerked again, but he also gave a stiff nod. “Very well. We’ll go to your room, and I’ll ensure you survive the night.”

  3

  “Go ahead. Call me Sexy. Everyone does.”

  William ushered his “super horny” temptress through the hotel lobby, her sweet, earthy scent keeping him at the razor’s edge of desire. Like a bouquet of freshly cut flowers dipped in vanilla and sprinkled with lust.

  Outwardly, he exuded casual confidence, with zero cares. Inwardly, he frothed with irritation as much as arousal. Until five minutes ago, Sunday “Sunny” Lane had occupied the second to last spot on his list of potential codebreakers/lifemates. The moment he’d spotted her, his entire body had reacted, muscles knotting and blood warming. He’d moved her to the number two. On paper, there was another woman with more experience with complicated codes. Then, Sunny had smiled at him, genuinely smiled, and he’d move her to number one. No one else had roused any kind of physical reaction.

  If his codebreaker did, in fact, double as his lifemate, his body would continue to react to her. To Sunny.

  Is she my mate? She had beauty, brains, a wry sense of humor and a jaded air that challenged him in a thousand different ways. William loved a good challenge.

  But, he didn’t think she desired him in turn. Women came on to him all the time, sure, but the little temptress had only projected a bit of desire. Mostly, she’d radiated pure, undiluted rage. Why? Had he slept with her and forgotten?

  Whatever the reason, there was no way she planned to have sex with him tonight. Which meant...what? She intended to attack him?

  Survival instincts screamed, Destroy a threat, any threat. Even one with such exquisite packaging. Common sense shouted, Do nothing...yet. If she was his codebreaker and lifemate, he would find out, one way or another.

  He had fourteen days before he could act. Fourteen days. Two weeks. A blip of time, there and gone.

  Then, if she was the one, she died.

  The thought stopped him in his tracks. Could he do it?

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, probably trying to hide her annoyance and failing.

  Hoping to soothe the hottest flames of her fury, he brought out the big guns: charm. As they moved forward once again, he asked, “Have you ever considered changing the spelling of your name from S-U-N-D-A-Y to S-U-N-D-A-E?”

  Her head whipped to the side, her gaze zooming to his and narrowing, her rage blazing at full force. At the moment, he couldn’t make himself care. The way she moved, all grace and eroticism. Sex on legs. Lovely beyond compare. When she recalled her role of femme fatale, however, she pasted on a cheery smile, and he had to swallow a laugh.

  “How do you know the spelling of my name?” she asked, batting her lashes in what she must assume was a flirty manner. “How do you know my name at all? I only told you my nickname.”

  “Maybe I came here to meet you.” He flicked a fingertip over the name tag glued to her shirt. “Or maybe I read this.”

  “Oh. Right.” The eyelash batting stopped as she huffed out a breath. “Do you want to call me ‘sundae’ because you’re interested in licking me up like an ice-cream cone?”

  Her voice flowed over him, as warm and rich as fresh honey. Although, fresh honey had never reminded him of unadulterated sex.

  Sex, with Sunny. His muscles knotted with more force, and his shaft hardened in seconds. “I’ll tell you everything I want to do to you as soon as we get to your room.”

  Shivers—shudders?—brushed her body against his, sparking a heat wave in his veins. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. A first. Irritated, he swiped a hand over his mouth and yanked his attention straight ahead. To his consternation, his mind refused to think of anything else and immediately conjured her image.

  She was on the short side—to him—no more than five-eight. A total pocket rocket with lickable brown skin, vibrant amber eyes and a waterfall of azure waves. Her features possessed a doll-like delicacy he found enthralling. A smattering of freckles dotted her nose. Freckles. A new must-have for him. And her body...shit! The body on this woman. Fine-boned yet gloriously curvy, with plump breasts and widish hips.

  Want her. Want her now.

  Resist!

  As they entered the lobby, brighter light chased away the bar’s shadows, she pushed her fall of bangs to the side, and he noticed faded scar tissue that formed a quarter-size ring in the center of her forehead.

  He frowned. First, when had he looked at her again? And second, what had caused such a perfectly rounded wound? Third, why did faint, half-moon bruises mar the flesh beneath bloodshot eyes? Signs of fatigue, perhaps?

  “You’re staring,” she snapped, then pasted on another fake-happy smile. “Please continue.”

  He bit his tongue to silence a laugh. “I’d planned on it, pet, but thanks for permission.” To be honest, he hadn’t noticed her beauty at first glance. Or second. Or even third. But something about her had repeatedly drawn his gaze, each new glance captivating him further. In less than a minute, she’d gone from plain, to pretty, to exquisite, to utterly mesmerizing. A truly remarkable feat. A magical
feat? Maybe she wore a type of glamour?

  No, she wasn’t a witch. They had a different energy. He thought she might be a shifter of some sort. But which kind? Wolf, the best known? Or one of the rarer breeds, like dragons, selkies or sirens? No, she didn’t smell like a sea creature or fire-breather.

  Enough! Only one detail mattered: Is she my codebreaker?

  If not, he might seduce her out of those clothes. Could he seduce her, despite her rage?

  Anticipation went straight to his head, intoxicating him. Challenge accepted.

  When they reached the bank of elevators, he guided Sunny to a stop behind a family of four. Two dads, and two young daughters. Lest Sunny change her mind and decide to bolt, he looped an arm around her waist, resting his hand on her hip.

  To his delight, she melted against him. Such a perfect fit. Questioning her would be as easy as—

  Nope. Celebrated too soon. She stiffened and straightened, tension pulsing from her.

  The young girls noticed Sunny and gaped.

  “Your hair is so pretty,” the older sister said, her eyes as wide as saucers.

  “The most beautifulest I’ve ever seen!” the younger one piped up.

  “Thank you.” Beaming, Sunny gave her hair a fluff. “Want to feel how soft it is?”

  In unison, they cried, “Yes, yes, yes!”

  As Sunny bent down to let the girls sift their fingers through her azure locks, the fathers donned indulgent grins.

  William’s chest tightened. He didn’t think this was part of her act.

  He’d created a mental file for every woman that graced his list; he added a new detail to Sunny’s. Plain. Pretty. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Exquisite. Turned-on but fighting it. Witty. Confident. A bit immature. Kind to children.

  What did she think about him? That he was exquisite, too, no doubt. And also witty and confident. Probably stunningly mature-ish. Definitely indifferent to other people’s kids. Well, most people’s. His friends Maddox and Ashlyn had twins—Urban and Ever—and William loved the little shits more than life.

  Oh, you’ll be having kids, all right. Enough to create a base...foot...sports team.

  He scowled and shook his head, doing his best to dislodge Keeley’s prediction. He would be choosing a different life path, thank you very much.

  Ding. The elevator doors opened, the family of four striding inside. William gave Sunny a gentle nudge, urging her to the back of the car.

  The little girls stood at the panel of numbers, eager to push a button.

  “Seventeenth floor, please,” she told them.

  Oh, oh, oh. What was that? Had he detected a hint of nervousness in her voice?

  The car jostled as it began to ascend. William maintained complete awareness of every occupant, lest anyone launch a sneak attack. Some immortals had the power to shape-shift into anyone or anything, including children.

  On the third floor, the girls exited, waving goodbye. The doors closed, sealing William and Sunny inside. Alone. Her incredible scent saturated the air, making his head swim. All that sweetness melded with earthiness... His skin pulled tight, his blood a river of molten lava.

  He turned and faced her, unable to stop himself. He needed...wanted... Damn it, he didn’t know!

  Why the hell didn’t he know?

  He gnashed his molars. She’d broken his brain, so she must be his lifemate. Yes? If so, she was his codebreaker, and the next victim to fall by his sword.

  I shouldn’t bed a woman I plan to murder...right?

  Nah. It’s fine. A moral compass wasn’t something William liked to carry; they got in the way. And he might be wrong about Sunny. She might not be the one he sought.

  So why is a primal urge to protect her welling?

  He had to remind himself of an important fact. I can protect her and endanger myself, or endanger her and protect myself.

  I choose me. Always.

  With ragged growls rumbling deep inside him, he told her, “If you’re wearing perfume, never stop.” Damn it! He’d meant to tell her to toss the bottle.

  She turned toward him, her cheeks a lovely shade of rose. Passion-fever? The growls grew louder.

  “I’m not wearing perfume,” she croaked.

  Oh, yes. Passion-fever. The air around them thickened as they breathed harder, faster. Neither of them looked away.

  He took a step closer.

  She took a step closer, too.

  With her next inhalation, her nipples rubbed against his shirt. Delicious friction. He fought to contain a groan, his shaft throbbing.

  Do not lose focus with a potential threat.

  Right. He would kiss her, distracting her enough to wipe her mind of fury and remove the bullets from her gun-ring, all while remaining detached. Then, he would question her. If he liked her answers, they could spend a few hours in bed. If not...

  They could still spend a few hours in bed.

  Excellent plan. No flaws.

  Now he backed her against the wall. Her breath hitched, but she offered no protests. He pinned her arms overhead. Still no protests. Emboldened, he shoved a leg between hers, keeping them spread.

  There was no stopping his next groan.

  Flecks of green, blue and pink appeared in her eyes as she asked, “Am I about to experience elevator foreplay?”

  “You are. It’s my specialty.” What was she, damn it? Holding her gaze, he ground his erection into her core...

  “You’re very good at humblebrags.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m great at them.”

  To his delight, she whipped her hips forward, meeting him. Oh, shit! Pleasure seized him. He began to pant.

  Inner shake. Concentrate! What had he planned to do? Oh, yes. As stealthily as possible, he removed the bullets from her gun-ring.

  “The other girls must have really primed your pump,” she said, breathless.

  “What other girls?” he asked with a wink.

  The corners of her mouth twitched with genuine amusement. “Oh, you’re very, very good at this.”

  “This?”

  “Flirting.”

  William dropped his gaze to her breasts, watching as her nipples pearled for him. A mistake. He couldn’t stop himself from grinding against her again. Again. “Soon, I’m going to lavish your little nipples with kisses. How they must ache.”

  With a groan, she curled her fingers around his hand, the one binding her wrists. She dug her nails into his flesh, and he jolted with a realization. I’m getting to her, and I haven’t even kissed her yet.

  Masculine pride threw kindling on the fires of his lust.

  What the hell are you doing? Forgetting your purpose? He shook his head—a negation for her as well as himself. “You’re wrong, sundae.”

  Eyes glazed, seemingly entranced, she breathed, “Wrong?”

  “About me and flirting. I’m not good at it. I’m amazing.”

  She peered at his lips. Stared, really. “I should warn you. I’m really bad in bed. Like, ice your blue balls for a week bad.”

  An indulgent grin bloomed, the one that usually sent a woman’s pulse on an around-the-world trip. “There’s no such thing as bad in bed, sweetness. Not with me.”

  The roses faded from her cheeks and the sparkles died in her eyes, her fury returning in a flash. “You’ve bedded enough women to know beyond a doubt?” she asked with a deceptively sweet tone. “How many have there been, then? Go ahead. Ballpark it.”

  Honest to a fault, when he wanted to be, William said, “The number is incalculable.” He’d had more lovers than any immortal he knew. A fact that did not guilt or shame him. Nor did it make him proud. It was what it was, and he’d done what he’d done.

  In the back of his mind, he’d been keeping track of the floors they passed. In a matter of seconds, they would reach sixteen. A few seconds
after that, seventeen. Need more time.

  Without moving away from Sunny, he reached out to press sixteen, ensuring they would stop once before reaching their destination, buying him a minute or so.

  The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. No one waited there.

  He dipped his head, letting his lips hover over Sunny’s. “Shall I add one more to the tally?”

  Awaiting her answer...breathing her in...already addicted to her scent?

  A stronger shiver rocked her. “Yes,” she finally whispered.

  He wasted no time, pressing his lips against hers once, twice, then for good, slipping his tongue into her mouth. Fuck! Sweeter than ambrosia. She tasted like power and tranquility, his two favorite things.

  Addicted? Yes. No question now, and zero regrets. Want more. Need it.

  Will have it. With a desperate moan, he deepened the kiss.

  No, no, no. There would be no deepening. Not with her, not yet. Must remain detached until I know who and what I’m dealing with.

  Here and now I’ll give a little to get a lot.

  But...she hadn’t lied or exaggerated. She was a bad kisser. The worst. She sucked his tongue too hard, banged her teeth against his and bit tender spots, drawing blood.

  Somewhat shell-shocked, he lifted his head to peer down at her. He expected to see a return of the sensual flush. Or a smile to indicate she’d played a joke on him. He saw nothing. No hint of emotion. Not even her previous rage.

  Am I losing my touch?

  “Why’d you stop?” she asked, not out of breath. “You’re as bad at this as I am, so we’re kind of perfect for each other.”

  He...what? “I am not bad at this, and I’ll prove it,” he bellowed. Back down he went.

  William kissed her with every bit of skill he’d acquired in his multimillennia-long life of he-whoring, feeding her passion straight from the tap. Again, she kissed him back, but she remained stiff and wooden, as if distracted.

  Even still, he felt... No, impossible. But maybe? Lightning flashed in his veins, something he’d only ever experienced when enraged. Here, now, his temper remained at bay. So, what had caused it? Sunny? Because she was his lifemate?