The Darkest King

by Gena Showalter

  As she entered an empty elevator, a sense of isolation engulfed her. Of course, she felt isolated every second of every day, even when surrounded by hundreds of people. Except...

  Standing here, she thought she detected a lingering hint of William’s scent, causing the memory of his kiss to surface, eclipsing the sense of isolation. Her tremors started up again. The man had focused every bit of his intense masculinity on her. When he’d thrust his thigh between her legs, taking her on one hellebore of a carnival ride, his blue, blue eyes had lit with sizzling arousal.

  Her blood heated and her belly quivered, just as before.

  What are you doing? Stop! Why torture herself with feelings she could never explore? Not with William, not with anyone. Her trust issues wouldn’t let her. Too many beings hoped to steal her horn, a conduit and siphon for mystical power. Aka a magic wand.

  The elevators doors closed, and she realized she hadn’t pressed a button. Thinking to start her search at the bottom and work her way up, she selected the first-floor.

  A jostle. A ride. Then a ding. The elevator doors opened, and Sunny rushed out as fast as her feet could carry her, eager to escape the site of her undoing. She hurried through the lobby, the bar, her gaze constantly darting. Before coming to the convention, she’d studied a map of the hotel and memorized every exit and possible escape route. She’d check each one. If Sable had been chased, she would have left a warning for Sunny. Surely!

  In the distance, a man shouted her name. He sprinted over, and she moaned. Harry, the one who’d requested a demonstration of her abilities earlier.

  Lest he draw more attention her way, she stopped in her tracks, awaiting him. He halted a few feet away, his lips pulled back in a toothy, goofy grin. Close to her age—appearance-wise—he was handsome, with dark brown hair, darker eyes and tan skin.

  “Hi,” he said, only to add, “I’m not creepy or anything, I promise.”

  The words pinged her inner lie detector, a vibration speeding along her spine. Okay, yeah, he absolutely considered himself a creep. Since she hadn’t reloaded the gun-ring, she slid her hand in her pocket to grip the hilt of the dagger hidden there.

  He continued, saying, “I’m Anomaly. No, sorry. That’s my screen name. I don’t know if you remember, but I’m Harry Shorts. I just, I know you’re Sunny Lane, and I’m totally starstruck right now. You’re, like, my hero, and I’d love to buy you a drink.”

  “No, thank you.” She tried to go around him, but he moved with her, blocking her path. “I’m busy.”

  “Just one drink.” He pushed his palms together, creating a steeple. “Pretty please. I’ll make sure you have a good time.”

  He was too eager. Could he be a poacher? He was human, yes, and he wasn’t on her list of suspects, but the longer they stood together, the more reddish gray his aura became, tendrils of evil spilled from his heart.

  He was a bad man, who liked to do bad things.

  Self-preservation instincts demanded she take him out now, now, now. Sunny resisted—for the moment. Tomorrow, she would shadow him and maybe he’d incriminate himself. But here, now? Precious time ticked away.

  “Have you seen my friend?” she asked, watching his face for any hint of his emotions. “Female. Six feet tall. Black. Gorgeous.”

  “No, sorry. So about that drink...”

  No change in his emotions or aura. He hadn’t seen Sable. “No, thank you,” she repeated, then faked left and spun right, darting away.

  Harry got the hint and didn’t bother chasing after her, saving his life.

  Guard up, she scanned the area. No sign of Sable.

  No sign of Sable on the first eight...ten...seventeen floors, either.

  Dread coiled around her throat and squeezed. By the time she reached her room, perspiration dampened her skin. Still, no policemen, thank goodness.

  Shaking now, she keyed inside and kicked the door shut. The scent of roses greeted her. Roses? Had Sable returned with flowers, maybe? She inhaled deeply, just to be sure she’d scented what she’d scented. Yep. Roses. Curious, she tripped forward and—

  No flowers. And no body. Her heart and stomach traded places, her head spinning. William and the pool of blood were gone. He—or whoever had carried him away and cleaned the room—had left a note on the mirror. In still-dripping blood.

  What. The. Hellebore? Her tremors amplified as she read, You were wrong. If I were a pizza topping, I’d be a double order of smoked sausage. I’ll see you soon, duna. Very soon...

  Duna, meaning “little dark one”? Eyes wide, she tore through the room, but found no trace of William. If he were alive...

  No, no. He was dead. Had to be. No one could survive the magic bullet. But...

  If he wasn’t dead, he would return for vengeance.

  She gulped. She needed to be ready.

  5

  “Fate is a bitch, but she favors the bold. If ever she closes a door, kick it down.”

  The next morning, William stood outside a hotel ballroom. One of his sons stood at his left, and Hades’s newest adoptee stood at his right. The pair remained impassive, while William vibrated with a tantalizing mix of fury, satisfaction and anticipation.

  Sunny had entered the ballroom ten minutes and twenty-nine...thirty...thirty-one seconds ago to attend a workshop called “The Voynich Manuscript: Too Difficult to Crack, or a Hoax?” Now only a set of double doors separated him from his prey.

  Funny how fate worked. Of all the codes in all the worlds, William considered the Voynich manuscript most like his book. Two hundred and forty-six calfskin pages, written in an unknown script. The author had used a twenty-eight-character alphabet, with zero punctuation. As the workshop name suggested, the code had yet to be solved.

  Popping the bones in his neck, he asked his companions, “You remember your job?”

  “Yep. Thanks to Hades, I’ve now done dozens of these. Got the process memorized.” Pandora rubbed her hands together, a bit gleeful. “This is a basic snatch and go. So, enough chitchat, yeah? Let’s get it done.”

  So impatient, his new sister. A dark-haired, pale-skinned beauty, and, yes, the woman behind the infamous legend. The one Zeus, former king of the Greeks, had once commanded to guard a mysterious box. According to legend, curiosity had driven her to open it, unleashing all the world’s evil, or demons.

  Truth was, fourteen others had been jealous of her military success. Thirteen men, and one woman. Hoping to prove Pandora unworthy of her special assignment, they stole and opened the box. As punishment, they were each forced to house one of the demons—inside their bodies.

  Within minutes of their possession, one newly possessed warrior had murdered Pandora. Then, last year, Hades brought her back from the dead—resurrection was a specialty of his.

  Those fourteen soldiers had gone on to become William’s closest friends. They were irreverent assholes, sure, but they were his irreverent assholes. He trusted them with his life.

  Green, William’s son, happened to be a horseman of the apocalypse. One of one set of four, anyway. Green was an ambassador of Death. He possessed dark hair, dark skin and eyes like an abyss; he loved poker, cigars and women, in that order. Loyal only to his brothers and William, Green had little tolerance for anyone else.

  Red and Black, William’s only other sons, were the same. At the moment, they were out spying for him. White, his only daughter, had been murdered a few years back, her loss a thorn in his heart and a white-hot poker in his soul.

  He curled his hands into fists. One day, I’ll have her back. Not through traditional means. No, oh, no. His children had no mother. William had made them all on his own. Well, not on his own exactly. Magic had helped.

  The first magic he’d ever absorbed had mated with the vengeance, greed, envy and wickedness in his soul. He hadn’t known until months later, when black mist had seeped from his pores, four adults s
tanding in its midst.

  “And you?” he demanded of Green. “What aren’t you to do?”

  His son rolled his eyes. “I’m not to kill the attendees, even if they try to kill us.”

  “And?” William prompted.

  Pandora heaved a sigh. “We do not touch the blue-haired one. She’s yours, only yours, and if we dare make a move on her, you’ll shove a metal hook down our throats, and fish out our organs.”

  “Exactly right.” After Sunny had bolted, he’d cleaned the hotel room with magic, written her a message in blood and opened a portal to his home in Hell. He’d had to use magic to see, too, his eyes decimated by the bullet, along with his nose, mouth and parts of his brain. Good times. Payback would be fun—for him.

  Eager and impatient to get started, he waved, placing a magical barrier around the room, ensuring no one outside it would hear what happened inside.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “Let’s get this done.”

  Instinct whispered, If she leaves this room without you, you will never see her again. Impatience welled.

  “Now,” he insisted when his companions failed to act.

  Pandora flipped him off. “I need a minute. I’m pondering why a man known as the Ever Randy is going batshit crazy over a woman who pureed his face.”

  Green cracked a grin; no doubt he enjoyed seeing his unflappable father so...flapped. Over a female no less.

  “Ponder on your own time,” William snapped. Ready to see Sunny, he kicked open the double doors and prowled into the ballroom. His companions flanked his sides.

  The speakers sat atop a makeshift dais; in the middle of a speech, they went quiet. Clothes rustled, and chairs skidded, every set of eyes sliding his way. Gasps resounded. What a fearsome sight they must make, the amazingly fierce warlord and his mediocre assistants.

  In one hand, William held an ordinary knife. In the other, a special dagger with a curved blade and the barrel of a gun fused against it.

  “M-may we help you?” one of the speakers asked. William had met her last night. Her name was Cash, and before his encounter with Sunny, she’d been number one on his list.

  “Someone can help, yes,” he said. “The rest of you are collateral damage. For now, anyway. Do what I say, when I say, and you’ll walk away...at some point. Or roll the dice and disobey me. See what happens.” Sunny, Sunny, where was Sunny? He dragged his gaze over the sea of faces... There she was, the prize at the bottom of his cereal box.

  His heart pumped harder as their eyes met. Surprise, surprise. Lust punched him, his breath heaving. Every muscle in his body tense, his blood heating to a boil. The woman looked good enough to eat.

  Go ahead. Take a bite. Earn a jaw-cracking yawn in response.

  No! Unacceptable. He was a god among men. He could make anyone come, at any time, even the seemingly arousal-less Sunny Lane. And he would—

  Not. He absolutely would not touch her again. That primal urge to protect her had just resurged, only stronger. A major inconvenience requiring eradication, not encouragement.

  But, he couldn’t force his gaze away from her. Today, a faint but noticeable sheen of glitter illuminated her skin. Anyone else would assume it came from a bottle. Not William. He knew better now. Unicorn-shifters glittered with strong emotion. A type of camouflage. Who would suspect a walking glitter bomb of being one of the most powerful and devious species in any world?

  A thick azure braid hung over one delicate shoulder. A braid that hung over her breast, and the pink handmade cashmere sweater molded there. Sloppy threadwork provided a glimpse of the plain tank top beneath.

  She’d knitted the garment herself, hadn’t she?

  Damn it! He refused—utterly refused!—to desire a granny panty–wearing knitter who dabbled in murder. And yet, I would give anything to rip away that sweater, drag those panties off with my teeth and feast on the curves underneath.

  Her only makeup? A smear of gloss over her cupid’s-bow lips. Lips he wanted wrapped around his cock. What? Truth was truth. He craved raw, filthy sex. The kind he hadn’t gotten to have last night, thanks to a bullet to the face.

  He waited for a fresh dose of fury...

  Still waiting...

  Mostly he felt excruciating awareness of the one woman he shouldn’t want and couldn’t let himself have.

  “You truly survived,” she gasped out.

  “Disappointed, duna?”

  “Yes!” Color drained from her cheeks as she jumped to her feet. “You survived. You survived and you’re breathing,” she babbled. “You’re alive.”

  The action bounced her breasts, which accelerated his breathing. He scoured a hand over his mouth, then looked the rest of her over. A mistake. Had she grown curvier overnight? Skinny jeans hugged her toned legs and dog-shaped house slippers adorned her feet. Sexy and adorable.

  Voice filled with mocking indulgence, he asked, “Dressing for the job you want? Good news. You’re hired! I’m certain you’ll make a wonderful house pet.”

  “House pet? Please!” She wagged a finger in his direction. “You’re here to pick up where we left off, and we both know it.”

  “So what if I am? We both know your granny panties are already soaked.” Know...dream. Semantics.

  Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “Accept the fact that your match doesn’t light my wick, and move on before I put another bullet in your face.”

  “Oh, my match will light your wick, all right.” It will? “I’m not a quitter. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging me for more.” He hurled the words like daggers, his decision to remain hands-off in shreds.

  Two weeks. They had two weeks together. Like Keeley had said, he wouldn’t be falling for his lifemate in such a limited time. Therefore, he could afford to indulge her sexually, as long as he rid himself of the urge to protect her. And he should indulge her, he realized now. He should treat her like every other woman he’d ever desired: seduced and forgotten.

  Sex meant nothing. An itch to be scratched.

  As for sleeping with a female he planned to kill...he would not feel guilty, since she had tried to kill him. But. He would admit the truth before he ever touched her. That way, the ultimate decision—to welcome him into her bed despite his plans—would be hers.

  She’ll say yes. No one resists for long.

  “There’s only one thing I’ll beg for, and that’s your absence!” she bellowed.

  Or not.

  How nice of her shrewy side to come out to play again. “Shall I prove to you, to everyone, I’ve already lit your wick, duna?” Had he? Could he do it again?

  More color drained from her cheeks, leaving her pale and waxen, a sight those primal instincts found disturbing. She opened her mouth, closed it. Opened, closed. Only choking sounds emerged.

  Yeah, that’s what I thought.

  “Go ahead,” Sunny said, calling his bluff. “Try. I could use a good laugh.”

  As Pandora climbed the dais to stand behind the speakers, she smashed her hands over her mouth, smothering a grin. Green hung back to guard the door, a pillar of muscle; he let his grin loose.

  How had William forgotten his audience? The codebreakers had begun to freak out, muttering among themselves, eyeing the doors.

  He called, “Attention, ladies and genitalmen. I’m abducting everyone in this room. If you resist...don’t resist.”

  Protests sounded, one after the other. A man stood and ran for the door.

  Staring at his unicorn once more, William lifted the dagger-gun and aimed at the male. A tap of the trigger. A bit of a recoil. A slight pop. The observers whimpered. The victim grunted; with a brand-new hole between his eyes—this season’s top fashion accessory—he dropped.

  A savage action on William’s part, yes. Merciless. Heinous. Yes, those, too. All necessary.

  Someone screamed. Several someon
es, actually, everyone but Sunny peering at him with horror. She regarded the dead body with satisfaction. Another shock.

  Though he’d seen everything the world had to offer, good and bad, she continued to surprise him.

  “Quiet,” he shouted, and the screaming ceased. Excellent. “I have a book written in code. One of you will break the code, or all of you will die.” The only way to truly pinpoint his lifemate? The book.

  An-n-nd the screams were replaced by whimpers.

  Why had he planned to kill his codebreaker? What if she managed to break the curse within the two-week time frame? His great problem would be solved, and he’d have no reason to kill her. He could then have the unicorn as much or as little as he desired, thereby ridding himself of this attraction.

  Yes! Want her so bad my balls ache. Need her.

  No! I need no one. But the want...

  Oh, the wicked things I’ll do to her.

  Excitement lashed his control, until anger usurped the excitement. Manage your expectations. She might fail.

  He figured they had fifty-fifty odds. Hope for the best, plan for the worst.

  “In the meantime,” he continued, “you’ll be my prisoners. The rules are simple. Try to escape, and you’ll be punished. Resist my demands, and I’ll do to your loved ones what I did to your friend. Cause harm to another prisoner, and I’ll cause even worse harm to you. I’ll cross any line to get my way. Understand?”

  A chorus of protests, sobs and shrieks assailed his ears, every face evincing extreme terror—Sunny remained the exception. His luscious unicorn displayed more of that fury.

  Am I about to receive another visit from Killer Unicorn Barbie?

  From the corner of his eye, he noticed one of the speakers slipping to the floor and attempting to crawl to the back door. Pandora noticed, too, and performed a badass tackle, knocking the woman out with a single punch.

  Fear turned humans into idiots. William spread his arms, the last sane man in the universe. “Anyone else want to ignore my warning? No? Excellent.” Now, to open a portal. A process as easy as breathing, thanks to the runes Hades had branded into his flesh—swirling golden designs set in a Fibonacci sequence, as subtly raised as scars. Those runes turned his body into a mystical conduit.