The Darkest Torment

by Gena Showalter

  No, no. Not ready to drift away just yet. She wanted more time with him before they were separated forever...

  Panic. Don’t think about dying. What if her thoughts opened the door to Death?

  “You’re not sleeping,” William said.

  Sweet William. From the first moment she’d met him, she’d been drawn to him in a way that both scared and excited her. He was just so wonderfully mesmerizing. And powerful. And wicked and smart and sexy and kind—to her. Always to her. His friends, too, but only sometimes.

  His enemies, well, they died badly.

  Men feared him, and women craved him like a drug. When he smiled, panties dropped. Or melted off. She wasn’t sure which, only knew he worked the situation to his advantage. The guy slept around, though he never stuck around. Because he always came back to Gillian.

  As much as she hated the thought of him getting naked with another woman, she never ever never ever wanted to have sex again. She despised everything about the act. The smells, the sounds, the sensations. The pain...the humiliation...the helplessness...

  The thought of joining her body with another person’s made her break out in hives, not shiver with desire.

  “—friends are looking for you,” an unfamiliar voice said, breaking into her awareness. It belonged to a male. Was deep and raspy, with the same cocky and perpetually amused timbre as William. “I think they want your head on a platter.”

  “Thanks to you, Baden brought trouble to Buda,” William replied, utterly unconcerned by the threat. “Gillian needs peace and quiet right now.”

  “I told you not to befriend her. She’s human.”

  “And I told you to go fuck yourself. More than once!”

  “Is that any way to speak to your dear father?”

  “Adopted father,” William grumbled. “And I’m tempted to say worse. Let’s take this conversation outside.”

  So. He was speaking with Hades, she realized, sweat beading on her brow. The bad boy of the underworld. And that was saying something!

  William didn’t know it, but Hades had appeared to her one night. He’d warned her: Stay away from my son. You aren’t the one for him. Don’t make me prove it.

  He’d scared her, but she hadn’t heeded him. William was too important to her.

  “Not being blood related to me is an embarrassing secret you’d do well to hide,” Hades remarked now.

  Gillian cracked open her eyes...caught sight of two towering shadows on the balcony. I have a balcony? The sound of cascading waves caressed her ears, the scent of salt teasing her nose. An ocean!

  “She’s deathly ill. She’s going to die if you fail to make her immortal,” William snapped. “So, make her immortal.”

  “I have the power to change her, yes. But in her condition, she’ll die before she’s turned.”

  “Then you’re useless to me. Leave.”

  “Tsk-tsk. So rude. You might want to be nice to me, my son. I’m the only thing standing between you and scores of angry husbands you’ve cuckolded over the centuries.”

  “As if a legion of them would be any match for me.”

  “True. I trained you well. But the girl...they’d hurt her without a qualm.”

  William unleashed a storm of curses. “Anyone touches her, and I’ll spend the rest of eternity ensuring they and everyone they love suffer unending torments.”

  “Your dedication to her is baffling. She’s so...ordinary.”

  Ordinary, huh? Well. She’d been called worse.

  “Eyes on me,” William barked.

  “What’s so special about her?” Hades asked.

  Yes, Liam. What’s so special about me? She’d always wondered.

  “I’m not discussing her with you.”

  “I’m discussing her with you, then. You can’t be with her. You can’t be with anyone. You know as well as I that your happiness walks hand-in-hand with your doom.”

  Gillian had heard a little about William’s doom. Aka, his curse. The woman he loved was destined to destroy him.

  Did Gillian believe in curses? Yes and no. She’d lived with demon-possessed immortals for three years now. She’d seen things. Supernatural things. Wild things. Impossible things. But curses...good luck versus bad luck? No. Bad things happened because bad decisions were made. End of story.

  If William expected the worst, he would only ever see the worst. He would act accordingly, and turn the supposed curse into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

  Seek and you shall find.

  “I’m searching for a way to break—” William began.

  “You’ve been searching,” Hades interjected. “For centuries.”

  “My book—”

  “Is nonsense. A trick to make you hope for what can never be so that your demise will be that much sweeter. If the book could be decoded, it would have been decoded by now.”

  Another tense pause. Then William spat, “Did you come here to piss me off?”

  “Pissing you off is a bonus. I came to warn you.”

  “Well, you’ve done both.”

  “No, son, I haven’t.” Hades’s voice hardened. “The warning is this: if I think you’re falling for the girl, I’ll kill her myself.”

  “You’ll try.”

  A rustle of clothing. The crash of toppling furniture. The pop of breaking bones. Grunts of pain and satisfaction. Panting. A whoosh as the shadows fell over the balcony railing—a thud.

  Of course, she didn’t have the strength to scream.

  “Answer me this,” Hades said, and she could hear him just as clearly, despite the greater distance between them. How was that possible? “Are you thinking about bonding with her?”

  Her heart, the treacherous organ, dropped into her stomach.

  “No,” William replied after a centuries-long pause. “I will never bond with anyone. Especially a human.”

  Ouch. But really, his refusal mirrored her own. She would never bond with a man—would never marry. She was too screwed up.

  As a little girl, she’d had a very good life...until her biological dad died in a motorcycle accident and her mom remarried a few short months later. Her stepdad had two teenage sons—and all three males had turned her life into a living nightmare.

  Take off your clothes, Gilly. The boys need to learn how to touch a woman.

  The terrible things they’d done to her...

  Even now, years later, nausea struck whenever she remembered. Those boys...they’d broken her, spirit, soul and body, and by the age of fifteen, she’d had only two options: kill herself and finally end her suffering, or run away. Though she’d leaned heavily toward option one, she’d still gone with option two, hoping, praying, her life could actually end on a high note.

  After hitchhiking to LA, she’d gotten a job at a trashy diner. A few months later, Danika—who’d run from Reyes, whom she’d later married—had showed up. They’d bonded. And after Danika and Reyes worked out their problems, the pretty blonde invited Gillian to Budapest.

  If she hadn’t been dealing with a creepy super, spending every night watching her door with a baseball bat in hand, expecting the guy to sneak inside, she would have said no. All those muscled warriors...all that testosterone and evil...well, scared crapless didn’t even scratch the surface of her reaction. But the guys had maintained their distance, giving her space and time to cope.

  Except for William, who’d walked into the entertainment room one day, plopped beside her on the couch and said, “Tell me you’re skilled with a game station. Anya sucks.”

  They’d played video games every day for months, and she’d felt like a kid for the first time since her father had died.

  The side of the bed suddenly dipped, and her mind returned to the present. William sat beside her once again, and as a bit of the fog c
leared from her vision, she got an up-close-and-personal view of his cut and bruised face.

  “I told you to sleep,” he said gently. He was always gentle with her.

  She loved it, but she also kinda hated it. And she had no idea why!

  She opened her mouth to respond—When have I ever obeyed you?—and noticed the dryness of her tongue. “Water. Please.”

  A strong hand slid under her head and lifted. A straw pressed against the center of her lips. She sucked, the cool liquid soothing her raw throat.

  As William eased her onto the pillow, she asked, “Am I going to die?” She knew nothing about supernatural illnesses, but figured they were worse than natural ones.

  “No!” he shouted. He breathed in, out. “No,” he repeated softly. “I’ll find a cure.”

  What if there isn’t a cure?

  Okay. Time for a distraction. “How did Hades adopt you?”

  William smoothed the damp hair from her brow. “He says he found me. An infant left to die.”

  A twinge of sorrow. A boy rejected by his parents? Been there! Her mother hadn’t believed her—hadn’t wanted to believe her—when she told on her stepdad. Had picked the male over Gillian. “Found you where?”

  “The underworld.”

  Even worse! “You have no idea who your real family is?”

  “I have an idea, but I’m not interested in a reunion. I have you, and I have Anya and those fools she refuses to let me kill. That’s enough.”

  He considers me family. Tears burned her eyes, and her chin trembled. “Why do you like me?” He hadn’t answered Hades, but maybe he would answer her.

  “Don’t be silly, poppet. What’s not to like about you?”

  Where to start? She was scared of the dark, she was damaged mentally and she would never have any interest in sex.

  Your tits are too small. You need a boob job.

  I shouldn’t have to lube you up to make you wet.

  Nausea struck...

  “You’re immortal,” she said. “You’ve had experiences I can’t even fathom. You’re worldly and sophisticated and I’m—”

  “You are wonderful, and I don’t want to hear another negative word come out of your mouth. Sleep. For real this time, or I’ll punish you.”

  She snorted. As if he’d ever hurt her.

  He ruffled her hair and stood. “There’s a bell on the nightstand. If you need anything, anything at all, ring it. I’ll be here in seconds.”

  Where was he going? What would he be doing?

  She swallowed both questions. Won’t cling!

  Footsteps...the lights switched off, and she gasped with fear. The lights switched back on, and she sighed. Hinges squeaked as the door opened and closed.

  Silence reigned. Ugh. She was alone with her thoughts. Which was never a good thing.

  Drawing on every bit of strength she possessed, she rolled to her side. Dizziness swam laps in her head and oh, crap, when had the ceiling and floor traded places? She wanted to reach for the bell—William would make everything better—but moving again proved impossible. Breathing was barely possible. She had zero juice left in her system, her limbs suddenly a thousand pounds each.

  The tears returned to her eyes and through the haze, a pair of furry boots appeared. William had returned? In snow boots?

  A soft sigh drifted to her ears as he crouched down. She frowned. He smelled different. He smelled like peat smoke and lavender, and it was nice, very nice, but still different. The heat he exuded was wonderful, but also wrong.

  This wasn’t William.

  She tried to scream, but only managed to moan.

  “There’ll be none of that, now.” The intruder had an Irish accent, his voice rough, and yet it held no note of viciousness. No note of any emotion, really. “I’m not here to hurt ye.”

  A lie to keep her calm?

  Again she tried to scream. Again she failed.

  Have to warn William. He would never allow a man in her bedroom. Not even a friend.

  One of those jealous husbands Hades had mentioned?

  Couldn’t be. No one comes or goes without my knowledge, he’d said.

  As the newcomer tucked the covers around her, her panic...ebbed? He gently wiped away her newest flood of tears and suddenly she had a clear—well, clearer—view of him. He was...what was he? He had the top half of a man and the bottom half of an animal. A goat, maybe? His legs were furred, a loincloth draped between them. He had hoofs.

  “Eyes up here, lass.”

  Cheeks heating, she looked up—and gasped. He had the most mesmerizing face, a rival to William. He had dark skin and dark eyes, an aquiline nose and blade-thin lips. His hair was long and black with razors woven through the strands. And he had horns! Small and curved, but definitely there. They rose from the crown of his head. Wide shoulders led to strong arms and clawed hands.

  Claws... Monster!

  Can’t be real, can’t be real. A hallucination?

  “I was told I could aid you,” he said. “That we could aid each other. I wasn’t told you belonged to William of the Dark, or that you were sick. And human.” He sneered the last, as if there was something wrong with her race. “What are you doing with a male of his...reputation?”

  “Wh-who are you?” she asked.

  He frowned and reached for a lock of her hair. She cringed, and his frown deepened. Still, no emotion touched his eyes as he dropped his arm to his side.

  “I’m Pukinn.”

  Puck-en. Never heard of him.

  “You may call me Puck. I’m the keeper of Indifference.”

  So. He was one of the demon-possessed warriors, but not one of the ones she’d met. He hadn’t stolen and opened Pandora’s box. He’d... She racked her brain and dug up a vague memory about the leftover demons being given to the prisoners of Tartarus, a prison for immortals.

  Her mind played a little word-association game: prison...criminal...dangerous...no moral compass—and the panic kicked into high gear.

  The man sighed again, as if disappointed with her. “I’m not sure you can aid me, but I think I’ll allow you to try. I’ll return after you’ve gotten used to the idea.” With that, he stalked to the balcony, climbed the rail and jumped.

  Gillian sagged against the mattress, a fine sheen of sweat covering her skin. Gradually, though, her heartbeat slowed and the sweat cooled.

  By the time William returned to check on her, she felt normal again. Well, as normal as could be, considering she was dying. He paused halfway to the bed, sniffed the air and frowned, then looked her over.

  She opened her mouth to tell him all about her visitor, only to change her mind. The guy—Puck—hadn’t hurt her and if she mentioned him, William would hunt him down. Maybe kill him. Definitely torture him. She’d heard stories about William’s expert torture techniques and absolute love for the task.

  Which made her comfortableness with him even stranger.

  “You up for seeing another doctor, poppet?”

  “My lord...sir,” an unfamiliar voice said. Only then did Gilly notice a short, rounded man with scales instead of skin standing beside him. “I’ve spoken to my colleagues, and we agree. She has morte ad vitam and as you know, there’s no cure.”

  * * *

  “Remember. Come on! Remember.” Cameo, keeper of Misery, pulled at her hair, banged her fists into her temples and when that failed, banged her forehead into the wall. No matter what she did, her mind remained a blank slate.

  Frustration ate at what little control she had left. Ever since her possession, she’d experienced memory loss whenever she stumbled upon a road that would lead to her happiness. A few weeks ago, ancient artifacts had sucked her into a different realm. Apparently. She couldn’t remember, which meant someone she’d met or something there
had the power to change her life for the better.

  The guys told her she’d mentioned a name upon her return home. Lazarus.

  Lazarus, Lazarus, Lazarus.

  Still no memory, only a vague craving for chocolate...

  Were the two linked?

  Of course, the answer eluded her.

  With a screech, she picked up the biggest vase on her dresser and threw the stupid thing across her bedroom. Glass shattered, pieces tinkling to the floor. One taste of happiness she could stroke like a lover deep into the night, that’s all she wanted. But noooo. It wasn’t even possible in her imagination.

  There had to be a way to remember Lazarus. Whoever he was. Was he the road to her happiness?

  Her bedroom door burst open, the hinges shattering just as surely as the vase. Maddox stalked inside, a dagger palmed and at the ready. His violet gaze scanned every shadow in the room in a single second, and she knew he’d already cataloged every bit of damage.

  “I’m fine,” she said, and he cringed. Everyone always cringed.

  Had Lazarus?

  Don’t think about him.

  Rather than saying anything else, she shooed Maddox away with her hands.

  He stood his ground. “You don’t look like you’re fine.”

  She arched a brow, giving him an I’m Misery, asshole, what do you expect look.

  He shrugged, his shoulders brushing against the ends of his shaggy black hair. “So there’s no one I need to kill for upsetting you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Very well.” He backed out of the room, only to pause to tap the shredded doorframe. “You should probably have someone fix this.”

  Little shit. Laughter bubbled up...and died a painful death in her throat.

  Laughter wasn’t allowed. If even a chuckle managed to escape, she would suffer.

  Wow. What a life. And, even better, this was what she had to look forward to forever.

  Long ago, she used to wonder why Baden allowed himself to be killed. And she’d always suspected he’d allowed it. He’d been too strong a fighter for anyone to get the drop on him. So, why? Even as miserable as she was, she’d never contemplated such a fate.