The Darkest Touch

by Gena Showalter

  As she moved, she...changed. Sapphire hair darkened to a deep, rich red, several thick locks of chocolate woven throughout. Iced skin took on a peaches-and-cream glow, and her eyes...those darkened to a luscious amber-gold.

  He'd thought her beautiful before. But this was...

  Breathtaking.

  "What the hell just happened to you?" he demanded, furious. How was he supposed to resist her now?

  She blanched, and he didn't need a change in the weather to tell him that he once again had the distinct honor of hurting her feelings.

  "Must be fall here," she said coolly.

  He sighed. "I'm sorry I was rude."

  She hmphed and started forward. "Come on. There's a cabin just over the anthill."

  The ends of her red hair reached her waist and curled, and he wondered if they would tickle his stomach when she straddled and rode him, hard and fast, and--

  Torin moaned.

  Disease protested. Loudly.

  Shut up! Torin still found it odd that the demon wanted to escape the girl, and yet the fiend hadn't hesitated to strike her with illness when the opportunity arose. Or maybe not so odd. Like a rabid dog backed into a corner, Disease had attacked.

  Rabid dogs need to be put down.

  A welcome thought. "If this is an anthill," Torin muttered, "I don't want to see the ants."

  "Wise."

  After a few minutes of silence, he said, "How'd you change colors like that? You never told me."

  "Actually, I did. The change happens naturally. I am the season around me."

  Okay. That made sense. He wondered what she would look like in the spring and summer--and hardened.

  A vine stretched out, stopping to hover near her as if sniffing her, preparing to strike. Torin reached for it. Without turning her head, Keeley grabbed it before he could make contact. A high-pitched shriek echoed as the vine withered to ash.

  "Impressive," he said.

  "Obviously."

  Don't smile. It would only encourage her. "You once asked my age. It's my turn to ask yours. How old are you?"

  "Far older than you. I've been growing old disgracefully since the beginning of time. Which means I'm far wiser than you, too. I know things your small mind could not even begin to understand."

  Probably true. "Insulting the beauty of my brain when you haven't even seen it naked? Bad form, princess. Bad form."

  She stiffened, then sighed. "You speak true. My apologies."

  His little stick of dynamite had gotten better at controlling her temper. Before, his statement would have sent her into a tirade about queens never being wrong.

  His mind seized on a thought. As smart as she was, as much as she seemed to know and as long as she'd been around, she might be able to find Cameo and Viola...and Pandora's box.

  Been searching so long. Had almost given up.

  But could he trust this woman with such critical tasks?

  Actually...yes. If she said she'd do something, she'd do it. Her sense of honor would allow nothing less.

  In war, he'd never had any real honor of his own. He'd always fought dirty. Filthy, even. He'd had no qualms about striking a target from behind. No qualms about kicking someone while they were down.

  With her, everything had been flipped upside down and inside out.

  At the top of the mountain, he got his first look at the "cabin," a ginormous log structure capable of housing an entire football team plus the field. Smoke rose from the chimney, and the scent of roasted something delicious fragranced the air, making his mouth water. Torin had been living off twigs, leaves and mushrooms--bugs would never be on the menu--and that just wasn't good enough anymore.

  Did a friend or foe wait inside? "Do you know the owner?"

  "Probably not."

  "Probably? You don't know?"

  "Warrior, my mind is like a corkboard. I have millions of memories pinned to it. Pictures, conversations, plans, battles, hopes, dreams, pains, sorrows, and sometimes information gets lost. Sometimes, there's too much and I have to store certain years in a Time Out box."

  How...adorable.

  Hell. "Whatever. Let me handle this," he said, moving ahead.

  "Are you sure that's wise? This particular realm is filled with a race of giants."

  "Strengths? Weaknesses?"

  "Yes. They have them."

  He rolled his eyes. "What are they?"

  "I just told you. Giants."

  "And you're the smart one of our little duo? Princess, I meant what are the strengths and weaknesses of the giants."

  "Oh. Well, you should have made that more clear. But you didn't, so the mistake is yours. Anyway. Their strength is, of course, in their size. Their weakness is in their joints. They carry so much weight their joints deteriorate quickly."

  Well, all right, then. He knocked on the door. He tightened his hold on his dagger, ready to go for the giant's knees. There was no reason to use his guns and draw unwanted attention from anyone who happened to be nearby.

  Hammering footsteps. Screaming hinges as the door opened. Torin had to look up, up, up. A Mack Truck of a man stood in front of him--a giant to other giants.

  "You must not have gotten the memo, human. I enjoy hunting my food." Mack Truck's voice boomed like thunder. "I don't like my meals to show up on my doorstep. Takes all the fun out of it."

  "I don't know about my companion," Keeley said, toying with a lock of her hair, "but I'm so sweet I'm just certain I'd make a great dessert."

  Mack Truck looked at her and squealed like a frightened little girl. "You!"

  "I'd say he knows you," Torin muttered.

  "Probable victim of the Time Out box," she allowed.

  "I refused to spy for you, so you ripped out one of my kidneys and made me eat it," Mack Truck said through chattering teeth.

  "And I'm sure you loved it. As for today, I'm here to--"

  "Make me eat the other one, just like you vowed," he blurted. "I know!" He didn't wait for her reply, but barreled outside and ran. Just ran.

  Torin pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have a feeling this is going to be a common occurrence with you."

  "Thank you."

  "Yes, because I totally meant it as a compliment. Wait here while I check for any other occupants."

  "Wait here? You do know I'm the creature the boogeyman hides from, right?"

  "And you know the boogeyman is a douche, right?" Dude liked to ring doorbells and hide in bushes.

  "Right. But nevertheless."

  Oh, this girl. "I do know you are one scary-ass female, but your particular skill set will be a last resort." If she had to fight, she would destroy the house and everything in it, and he was looking forward to three things: a decent meal, a soft bed and, in his fantasies, a willing woman. "Just pretend I'm your humble servant and seeing to your every comfort."

  "Ha! It's not like we entered Impossible is Finally Possible Realm."

  Dude. He wasn't that bad.

  Torin stalked through the massive living room, even more massive kitchen, and are-you-kidding-me-with-this bedroom. Animal heads hung from the walls, their beady eyes surveying his every move. Most were creatures he'd never before seen--and never wanted to see again. At least no one living waited in the shadows.

  On his way back to the foyer, he discovered Keeley had not only entered the house but had also made herself at home in the kitchen, the backpack resting at her feet.

  "Did you misunderstand the meaning of wait here?" he asked, filling two bowls with the soup simmering on the stove. A clear broth with what looked to be a variety of vegetables. No meat had been added--yet. Next to the pot rested a giant slab of something; it was as black as tar and must have come from a diseased animal.

  Or the humans Mack Truck liked to hunt.

  Torin threw it out the window and washed his gloves before stalking to the table. He caught the scent of autumn leaves and cinnamon, and tensed. The sweet fragrance came from Keeley, as if she'd just sprayed herself with Obsession by Mo
ther Nature; it was as different and tantalizing as her new appearance, filling his head and his lungs, bringing with it a fog of dizzying arousal.

  Have to get my hands on her. Soon.

  Never.

  He set her bowl in front of her, then plopped into his seat with a hard thud.

  Disease banged against his skull.

  "I didn't misunderstand," Keeley finally said. "You, however, are under the laughable misconception that you can give me orders." She played with the food, never actually taking a bite. "By the way, I'll let you...but only in bed. A girl has to draw a line somewhere."

  He gripped the arms of his chair with deadly force, the effort to remain in place, away from her, gut-wrenching. Sweat trickled down his temples. His heart nearly burst free of his chest. "Eat. And we will never end up in bed, Keys. That's a promise. Trust me, it's for your own good."

  "I know," she grumbled, swirling her spoon around the broth, "but that doesn't make abstinence any easier."

  Pouting because she couldn't sleep with him? Every. Man's. Dream.

  My dream.

  Deep breath in...out. Have to change the subject. "Do you ever hire out your services?"

  "My superb sexual skills?"

  "No!" The arms of the chair broke off in his hands.

  She scowled at him. "You act as though I had no reason to go there, and yet it was a logical conclusion considering what you said before you asked."

  "You're right." Killing me. He dropped the splintered wood pieces to the floor. "I meant your superior Curator abilities."

  "Why? Do you have an enemy you'd like me to whack?"

  "I need help finding my missing friends. I love them the way you loved Mari."

  "Well, well. Look at you. Proving demons are expert manipulators. Good job."

  "I'm just stating a fact. I will do anything to find them."

  She arched a brow, suddenly intrigued. "Anything?"

  The low tone of her voice...now husky with arousal...shot a lance of pleasure straight to his groin.

  How many of those lances would he feel before this conversation ended?

  "Anything except put your life at risk," he said.

  *

  CARING FOR HER. Protecting her again. How was a girl supposed to maintain any kind of emotional distance with him?

  Better question: how was a girl supposed to maintain any kind of physical distance?

  Keeley had just watched him hack through a forest, his muscles straining and rippling, and all she'd wanted to do was throw herself at him. Then she'd had to watch him prowl through this house, determined to ferret out an enemy and, what? Protect her. Was she just supposed to overlook her wildest fantasies coming to life right before her eyes?

  Need him so badly. Every delicious inch of him.

  The consequences were beginning to matter less and less. Sick shmick. It was the deprivation that would kill her.

  And, really, he could be wrong. What if they could be together, and she wouldn't sicken a second time? She'd fought the effects of his demon and won, hadn't she? That had to mean something.

  Have to shatter his resistance the way he shattered mine.

  Besides, he owes me.

  Actually, no. He didn't. At the moment, he didn't owe her anything at all.

  The truth will set you free.

  What she'd blamed him for? She shouldn't have. Mari would have found a way to touch Torin even if he'd told her no--even if he'd taken measures to stop her. Mari, for all her goodness, had been stubborn and hardheaded.

  Keeley finally accepted her friend's culpability for what had happened. The girl had agreed to Cronus's terms.

  Any lingering resentment she'd harbored toward Torin completely withered, his ledger wiped as white as snow. Problem was she'd just lost her only defense against his appeal. There would be no stopping a bond from forming.

  He would flip out--hate her.

  Can't let that happen.

  Her head tilted to the side as she considered her next move. "I don't understand you," she admitted.

  His gaze dropped to her lips, lingered and heated. "That's good, because I don't understand you, either." He pushed the bowl of soup he'd given her closer. "Eat. Please."

  The "please" almost convinced her.

  Enjoy the moment. Seize the day. Take what I can, while I can.

  "You want to know what it'll take to get me to help you find your friends?" she asked. "Fine. For each one I find, you'll touch me. Pleasure me. When I say, how I say." He hadn't owed her--but he would.

  He was determined to resist her, and that, at least, was something she understood...but wouldn't stand for. He needed a push, and she was going to give it to him.

  *

  PUT MY HANDS on Keeley? Yes, please.

  Pleasure her? A thousand times yes.

  Torin would have gladly paid for the privilege, yet here she was willing to pay him. Did life get any better? Or worse?

  Proceed with caution--or else. "You want me?"

  A slow nod from her.

  "Why me?" he asked. He had to know.

  "Why not?"

  Why not, indeed. He worked his jaw. "Do you want the top ten reasons--most of which we've already rehashed--or will one or two suffice?"

  She leaned back, drummed her fingers against the arms of her chair. He could practically hear the wheels turning in her head as she pondered the proper response.

  "Are you irritating and even defective?" she said. "Yes. But you're also hot. And yes, I'm just a little shallow. I'm also desperate."

  The word defective was a poison in his mind, infecting everything it encountered. "You're desperate, are you?" Knew that already. Why so upset by it? "Wow. I'm flattered."

  Looking like a little kid who'd just turned in an art project, unsure whether she'd created trash or a masterpiece, she said, "Should I not have admitted that?"

  "No! A guy likes to think he's special." Torin scrubbed a hand down his face. Had those words seriously just come out of his mouth?

  "You misunderstood me. You are special," she said, earnest. "Did I mention I like to look at you?"

  He scoffed. "Is physical appearance all you think about?"

  "Did I mention I'm shallow?" she said. A teasing note had entered her voice, cooling the worst of his anger.

  "But what I was trying to tell you," she added, every word measured as if she didn't want to reveal too much, "is that, while you are all of those things, you are also strong and fierce, even bloodthirsty. And while you are as tough as nails, you're also sweet. You are a walking contradiction, and I find myself fascinated. Sometimes I'm certain you're attracted to me, sometimes I'm not so sure, but because of your demon, I'm certain you'll never do anything about it even if you are. That places the responsibility in my hands. I want pleasure. You're here. You can give it to me."

  The first part of her speech heated him. The second part chilled him. He was a convenience, nothing more. "Tell me," he gritted. "Why would I want to give pleasure to a woman who is aggravating and also defective?"

  She gasped and said, "I'm not defective."

  "Princess, your temper tantrums make you as defective as an open-ended condom." He couldn't help but add, "But you are fun and witty, fragile and yet amazingly stalwart. You are dangerous to every rule I've ever set for myself. And you are also smoking hot. I like looking at you, too."

  Her jaw dropped.

  "What? If you tell me no one's ever waxed poetic about how beautiful you are, I will personally hunt down everyone you've ever met and call them an idiot."

  "Smoking hot?" Her hand fluttered to the pulse now hammering in her neck. "Really?"

  Get this runaway train back on the track. "But I have to refuse your oh, so generous offer. Make-out sessions, no matter how tame, will put your life at risk." As if he could be tame with her. "I shouldn't have to remind you that you barely recovered from the first sickness."

  "But--"

  "No buts. I hated watching you writhe in pain. Hated hearing yo
u cry out for mercy you'd never receive. You're better now, but who knows if you'd recover a second time."

  She shifted in her chair, her gaze locked on him and chilling. "Are you trying to politely tell me you didn't enjoy touching me?"

  The demon banged against his skull, shouting obscenities, still determined to leave her.

  "No. I'm not politely trying to tell you anything. I don't do polite. Haven't you noticed?" The situation would have been a hell of a lot easier if he could have stripped away his conscience and lied to her, but nooo. To anyone else, sure. But not to her.

  A ray of sunlight filtered in through the window.

  "Do you ever think about touching me?" she asked, hesitant.

  All. The. Damned. Time. "Princess, I burn for you." Let there be no misunderstanding between them on that score.

  She inched down her chair until her knees brushed against his, and he had to swallow a nearly animalistic roar. Had to grip the table to keep from reaching for her...but the edge of it snapped off, too.

  Another gasp left her...one of surprise, maybe even of arousal.

  "But you need to think about the ramifications before we travel this route." Damn it! From a definite no to this? "Accidents could happen, even if my gloves are in place and we both remain fully dressed. Also, your expectations might be too high."

  She frowned. "What do you mean? Too high?"

  He wasn't going to explain, had too much pride, and waved his hand through the air. "Yes or no. Are you willing to take a chance?"

  What the hell am I doing?

  There wasn't a single beat of hesitation from her. "Yes," she said with a nod. "I am."

  He subdued the urge to yank her into his lap. He needed to plan the best way to proceed...to see to her needs without harming her.

  "Now that the payment plan has been established..." She straightened, suddenly all business, and asked, "How many friends are missing?"

  "Two. Three if you know how to track spirits of the dead." Torin had been searching for the former keeper of Distrust ever since he'd learned Baden's spirit was still out there, trapped in another realm. "He was killed several centuries ago."

  "I track spirits the same way I track everyone else. Easily." She hooked a lock of hair behind her ear, so inherently feminine Torin's deepest masculine instincts responded. As usual. "I will expect the same payment."

  He would pay her. He would pay her so hard.

  No, gently. Have to proceed gently with her. He would rather die than scare her, hurt her, or make her regret her desire for him. "You'll get it."

  Gaze intent, she said, "That's it? Only three tasks?"