The Darkest Touch

by Gena Showalter

  Like every time before, he was struck by the sudden urge to get to her, take her, his blood flashing white-hot.

  He gave himself a pep talk. My will is like iron. I'm strong enough to resist temptation--even Hurricane Keeley temptation.

  "Are you sure living together is wise?" He placed the tray on the new nightstand, a wooden piece with the phrase "One-Night Stand" etched into the top, then eased beside her.

  "We'll find a way," she said.

  They had better find it fast. "How are you feeling?"

  "One hundred percent."

  "But...?"

  She studied his face, inhaled deeply, held it...then stood and sauntered into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind her. She fiddled with the knobs in the shower, figured everything out, and soon water was spewing from the spout. She undressed, nearly killing him, and stepped inside, then washed with Torin's favorite products, the scent of sandalwood softly coating the air.

  The glass separating the tub from the rest of the room did not fog, allowing him to watch her nipples harden...her belly quiver. Thinking of him? Wishing his hands were on her? His body pressed behind hers?

  Strung as tight as a bow.

  In a trance, he made his way into the bathroom and perched on the lid of the toilet. His erection was as hard as a steel pipe but had to be ignored. "But," he insisted.

  "I can guess what you're going to do next, and I don't like it."

  "And that is?"

  "Something cruel to try to get rid of me."

  "I'm not."

  She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I'm more than the most powerful immortal on earth, you know. I'm a person. With feelings and everything! I'm worth more than a barrel of whiskey."

  "You're worth more than anything," he said quietly.

  "I have a heart and it's quite capable of being br--Wait. What?" she asked.

  The only fantasy he would ever have stepped out of the shower, droplets of water slicking down her delectable form. Don't stare. He stared, his blood burning hotter and hotter. Oh, to lick every droplet away.

  "I don't want to part with you." He stood and, ignoring the tug to go to her, to touch and to please, moved into the room, creating distance. "But I can't keep hurting you. Living in the same room will increase our chances of contact."

  "When we were careful, you didn't hurt me."

  "What if I'm not careful next time?"

  "What if sucks. It's my life, my decision."

  "The guilt..."

  She raised her chin. "Screw the guilt. You can do that for me...can't you?"

  Her uncertainty cut through his heart like a knife. "It's a miracle you've survived my touches in the past. Very few manage such a feat even once, but you've done it three times. What will happen the fourth time? The fifth? One day, if things keep speeding down the same track, you're not going to recover. I would rather die than let that happen, Keys."

  Her lips parted as she struggled to form a reply.

  Why not tell her the rest? Just put it all out there? "You are special to me. I care for you. You could have murdered me time and again. You didn't. You should have feared me. You never have. You should hate me. You can't seem to manage it. You should avoid me, yet you only ever draw me closer. I want the best for you. But the best isn't me."

  "Oh, Torin." Slowly she walked toward him, her motions as fluid as the water still dripping from her. "You are the best."

  He backed away from her. His legs hit the edge of the bed, and he fell onto the mattress, bounced. She just kept coming until she was standing right in front of him. Naked. So gloriously naked.

  "You are special to me," she said. "I've told you that. But what you don't know is that I care for you, too, and I want the best for you. And Torin? I am the best. You've seen me fight, yes? And the extent of my power? I could do more, show you more, if not for the brimstone. You would be so impressed."

  Her desperation to make him believe her claims was another knife in the heart.

  He wanted to promise to remove the brimstone immediately. But that would have been a lie. Forget the need to have a weapon against her. It no longer had anything to do with that. As wild as her temper could be, someone had to be able to negate her abilities at a moment's notice. And since he couldn't tolerate the thought of anyone else putting their hands on her, the burden fell to him.

  "I want so badly to belong to you," she continued. "Not just in word but in deed. I ache for you, all the time."

  "Keys--" Could she hear his desperation?

  "No. Princess is still talking. You told me to bond with you, and I did. But, Torin, I have to admit the truth. I did it before you told me. And I'm not sorry! Not anymore. I didn't mean for it to happen and tried to stop it, but you, my sweet warrior, are irresistible. You don't have to worry, though. I'm not a parasite. I don't just take, I give. Have you realized you're stronger already, and so am I? One day I'll stop getting sick. Surely. The demon will run out of diseases. I'll outlast him. Just you wait and see."

  A thousand emotions battered through him. At the forefront? Arousal. They were bonded. Him and her. Connected in a way he'd never imagined possible--not for him.

  Running a few steps behind the arousal were hope, fear, elation. Possessiveness--she's truly mine. And dread. Then even more arousal.

  So much arousal...

  She was begging him for a chance to be together. Begging with the hooded, heavy look of her eyes. With the softness of her voice. With the tremors sweeping through her lovely little figure. His Sugar Plum Fairy shouldn't have to beg for anything.

  I'm undone.

  And she...she was raw seduction, carnality made flesh. And what exquisite flesh it was, dusted with rose and so deliciously damp. He'd told himself he was strong, but he was actually weak. With her, he'd always been weak.

  "What if--"

  "What if we enjoy ourselves and nothing bad happens?" she finished for him.

  Not what he'd planned to say, but the words were accompanied by a hope he'd never quite been able to vanquish. What if she was right?

  "If we do this," he said, "we do it without skin-to-skin contact. Agree." Not a question, but a demand, and one he'd unintentionally uttered with all the ragged need locked inside him.

  "No. If the only way to become fully immune to your demon is to endure each of his illnesses, then I have to--"

  "No," he interjected. "Not after everything you've been through. There will be no more illnesses for you. And, Keys? I wasn't looking to have a conversation about this. Agree."

  She licked her lips. Waiting for her to nod, even reluctantly, proved to be one of the greatest tortures of his life.

  But when she did it, he wasted no time. He picked her up, and settled her atop his lap. She gasped at the moment of contact. He hissed, electrified, and twisted to press her against the mattress. Her lush breasts swayed, and her nipples, as pink as raspberries, mesmerized him.

  She rolled her hips upward, seeking him, as much of him as she could get. The sight of her...the smell of her...the best of summer--freshly bloomed flowers, cottonwood and the musk of arousal--mixed with the darker notes of his scent. The sounds she made...moans and groans and sweet little purrs.

  He couldn't get enough. Trapped in a desert most of my life, finally found an oasis. "The things I want to do to you..."

  Her morning-sky gaze beseeched him. "Do them." A demand as ragged as his own. "All of them."

  He curled his fingers under her knees, and she sucked in a breath. Like before, he could feel the heat of her skin through the fabric of the gloves as he placed her legs outside his hips, opening her up to his perusal. Pretty, pink and wet with a honey meant for him. Only for him. So badly he wanted to taste her, and cursed his demon.

  Laughter sounded in the back of his mind.

  Maybe there was a way. He just had to think. But his mind and body cared about only one thing: getting inside her.

  He let his hands wander up...up, and brush her between her legs, stroking
her, teasing her. Her gasp was a caress to his ears. He continued his upward slide...finally cupping her breasts, her nipples beading right before his eyes. Luscious.

  The laughter stopped.

  Or maybe as focused as he was on the woman spread out for his pleasure, he just couldn't hear it anymore.

  As he stroked the pad of his thumbs over each rosy crest, she arched up and down, chasing sensation, as if his teasing was already too much for her. Unwilling to relinquish his hold on her, he crawled all the way onto the bed and worked his thighs under her ass, drawing her closer, pressing her most intimate need against the fly of his pants, where his erection strained for freedom. Rotating his hips again and again allowed him to move against her, with her, tormenting them both.

  "Torin," she rasped. "I'm so close already."

  Want her closer. He lifted up, holding her legs against his sides so that only her head and shoulders remained on the mattress, he increased the intensity and speed of his circling thrusts. Pressure built at the base of his spine, such glorious pressure.

  "Wish I was inside you," he croaked. He'd never experienced a rush quite like this one, but knew instinctively the next step would far surpass it.

  "Yes." She gave a wild shiver. "Yes. Inside me. Please."

  It was the first time he'd heard the word please from her lips, not issued as a threat or a taunt, and oh, it affected him. His control bucked against the reins. Can't. Won't. But he thrust. And thrust. And thrust against her. Hard. Harder. So hard her head banged against the bed's headboard.

  She put her weight on her elbows and lifted her hips even higher. The friction...the bliss...

  Somehow she managed to take over, riding him up and down. Even harder. Even faster. Control, nearly gone.

  Lips pulled tight over his teeth, he released her legs and gripped her hips to help her more easily glide. Their gazes met. Did his eyes gleam as wildly as hers?

  "Kiss," she said.

  Yes. Her mouth was lush and wet, imploring his own. "No."

  "Please," she said again.

  He knew she'd reached the point where nothing mattered but the next wave of pleasure. The future had ceased to exist for her.

  "No," he said again. He watched as she sucked in her bottom lip, ran her teeth over it, and he very nearly spilled. "Don't... We can't... We decided." This would have to be enough.

  "Can. Must. Forgive me," she said, sitting up.

  He leaned back, preventing her breasts from smashing into his chest, her lips from meeting his. But deep down he willed her to keep coming, and she did--and then it happened. Her breasts...her lips...

  A scream of denial blended with a groan of surrender. It was done. Contact had been made. Hating himself, his weakness, he pushed his tongue past her teeth and claimed her with a kiss hot enough to brand. Her sweet taste carried a hint of grapes just plucked from the vine, and the contrast, sweet versus wicked, attacked what remained of his control...until he had none left.

  He tangled his hands in her hair and tugged, slanting her the way he'd wanted her. He took her mouth deep, rough, an endless sense of possession in the kiss, as if he sought to steal her soul. Mine. All mine. He would own every inch of her. Now. Always.

  He thrust his erection between the apex of her legs, wishing he could thrust inside her. And he would have if he'd had a condom. But he'd never needed one before and didn't keep them around. Can't risk pregnancy.

  He thrust again, harder, so damn hard, and if she'd been human, he probably would have broken her in half. As it was, she cried out incoherently with sublime, rapturous pleasure. Still. He gentled his motions.

  "What are you doing? No." She bit down on his lip until he tasted blood.

  The action sent him into a maddened frenzy of lust, and he thrust, thrust, thrust again. On the final slide, she convulsed against him, shouting, "Yes!"

  My woman is climaxing. Loving what I'm doing to her.

  The knowledge broke him. Pleasure roared through him, parting his lips, his hoarse bellow echoing through the room. His muscles locked down on bone, squeezing as he plunged against her again and again before coming in his freaking pants...coming...and coming...until he had nothing left to give and collapsed.

  "Don't be mad," she rushed out. "Please, don't be mad. I couldn't help myself."

  And he couldn't blame her. He'd wanted this, too.

  He was panting and couldn't quite catch his breath, his heart running some kind of race inside his chest. "Can't quite manage a good mad right now." That would come later, he was sure, when he would curse them both. "Would it be wrong to pound my chest like a gorilla?"

  "Wrong? No. Entertaining? Yes."

  He kissed her brow. "I need to clean up."

  She clung to him. "But I don't want you to go."

  Determined to have an afterglow? What my princess desires... He got comfortable beside her, despite the humiliating condition of his pants, saying, "Tell me about the bond."

  She traced her fingers over his chest. "I'm really, really not a parasite."

  "I know you're not a parasite, princess." He'd thought it would make him weaker, deplete him, but she was right; he actually felt stronger. Fiercer. "What triggers the bond?"

  Slowly she relaxed against him, their bodies practically fusing. "Many things. Continued close proximity. Need. Love. Even hate."

  His mind snagged on the word love. Did he want her to love him?

  He didn't know. Love complicated things.

  But one thing was clear: he wanted her in his life forever. If there came a day when his touch wouldn't sicken her, both of their worlds would change. She would be his. Utterly. Completely. No reservations, nothing held back. His chest constricted with longing. If not, they would just have to deal.

  He was a bad, bad man. She deserved better, just like he'd told her, but she wasn't going to get it.

  "Go," she whispered, giving him a little push. "Get cleaned up."

  He'd gone stiff, and he knew she'd mistaken the reason. But he padded into the bathroom anyway, thinking he needed a moment to process everything that had happened. He washed up, changed his gloves and pants...and then crawled back into bed with her without actually processing. There was no need, he decided. They were together. They would make it work.

  He rolled to his side, keeping her locked in his arms. "I don't know what thoughts were rolling through your mind a moment ago, but I'm right where I want to be." Enjoying her while he could. "With you."

  She placed a kiss just above his heart, then nipped at his nipple, drawing a hiss from him. "Do you want to hear one of my secrets?" she asked.

  "More than anything. But tell me while you bite me."

  Nibble, nibble. "Sometimes, when the loneliness of cell life got to be too much, I would imagine I was dating a nice, normal man who never made me angry." Nibble.

  "That's not what you got," he said, and twisted to his back, placing her on top of him.

  Her hair spilled around him, creating a curtain. Only the two of them existed. "I know. I've since realized I like being challenged. Gives me a chance to be...me."

  "Good, because I happen to like you." Liked being with her, too. She might be his greatest torment, but she was also his greatest source of joy. She amused him, challenged him, played with him. Let him be the kid he'd never had a chance to be.

  "Do you like what I do to you?" she asked with a throaty purr.

  "You know I do."

  "Good," she said, mimicking him, nibbling, nibbling away, "because I'm about to do a lot more...."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  A FACT OF Baden's afterlife: alliances were a pendulum that swung one way then the other. A man had to keep his head on a swivel or a so-called friend could nail him in the back.

  First Baden had been alone. Then he had ventured to Pandora's side. Then Pandora had decided to sign up for Team Rhea, opposite of him. And now...now Baden had agreed to work with Cronus, a male he despised.

  Soon after the girls had turned on Baden, he'd
recruited the former king to his side. And, considering Baden had an in with Torin, and thereby the Red Queen, Cronus had been more than happy with the pairing.

  As they worked alongside each other, Baden tried not to remember how many times Cronus had threatened his friends--and when threatening hadn't been enough, moved on to torturing his friends.

  What had the Red Queen once called the bastard? A Nephilim, descended from fallen angels. Baden had watched this Nephilim defeat the Greek rulers who'd once defeated him, and claim ownership of the lower level of the skies, then watched him lose his head to a demon-possessed girl.

  And now he's my only ally.

  Wasn't afterlife grand?

  "We should have servants for this," Cronus grumbled as he shoveled another scoop of dirt aside.

  Sweat rolled down Baden's back as the pain he'd been dealing with all day amplified. Worth it. "Well, we don't. Deal with it."

  "Deal with it? You deal with it! I was born to give orders, not obey them. For that matter, I was born to lead, not to do manual labor."

  "Your station doesn't matter after death, so shut up and shovel faster," Baden commanded, anchoring a thick tree limb in the hole Cronus had created.

  They'd been at this for hours...maybe days. Time wasn't really time here. The past and future had long since collided with the present.

  One by one, they'd sharpened countless limbs into spears, wrapped each one with a portion of the blood vine Baden had died eight times procuring, and placed the weapons around the perimeter of the vision-fog.

  He shuddered with the memory of his deaths. The blood vines grew along the farthest edge of the realm, protected by poisonous foliage no one in their right mind would ever dare approach. He and Pandora had made the mistake only once, and it had been accidental. The pain the poison had caused...like nothing he'd ever experienced, in this life or the other. And it had lasted. A steady throb that had tormented for years.

  Going back had been stupid--and wise. He'd had to endure another poisoning...was still enduring it.

  Worth it, he reminded himself.

  He had a plan. He--

  The increase of the pain caused the sweat to begin pouring and his muscles to squeeze on bone, even breaking some. His lungs constricted, cutting off his airways. His vision blackened. But just as quickly as the throb had begun, it faded.