The Darkest Touch

  Another one would come, and soon.

  "Hurry," he snapped. They were almost done, but almost wasn't good enough.

  "You hurry," Cronus snapped back.

  "The girls will be here any moment." Early this morning, he'd managed to push them both into a pit. But they'd get out soon enough. They always did. And then they'd come here. They'd want to know where Baden was so that they could exact revenge. "And since you're a piss-poor fighter, I need all the help I can get."

  Cronus shook a spear at him. "Speak to me like that again and you'll lose your tongue."

  "Oh, no. Not that. Anything but that." Baden rolled his eyes. "You do know I'd just grow another one, right? And that's assuming you'd manage to overpower me. Which you wouldn't. While you were locked away in prison, I watched the world's greatest warriors live and die. I learned from their mistakes. Then, after you escaped, I watched you. I know your strengths and weaknesses better than you do."

  "I have no weaknesses," the former king snapped, moving out of the way so Baden could place the second-to-last spear in one of the holes.

  Baden shoved the weapon into Cronus's chest cavity instead. The male gaped at him, mouth opening and closing as he tried to speak. Screw alliances. He would do this on his own.

  "Do you know where you went wrong?" Baden asked casually. He placed the other end of the spear into the ground, lifting Cronus off his feet and leaving him to dangle. "You allowed yourself to be distracted."

  "I could say the same about you."

  The voice had come from behind him. And the speaker had been unaware of the fact that Baden had been reaching for another spear the whole time he'd taunted Cronus. Baden twisted and hurled the pole at the woman, cutting her off midsentence.

  He had not been distracted for a single second.

  Impact tossed her back...back...until the spear embedded in a tree trunk, pinning her in place.

  Like Cronus, Rhea had trouble articulating her shock.

  Baden was grinning coldly as Pandora moved out of the shadows to stand beside the former queen.

  "Impressive," she said.

  He knew the compliment was genuine and inclined his head in response. Tried not to let his chest puff with pride.

  "I still have to hurt you for doing it," she added.

  "Of course. You may try. I expected no less."

  Stride steady, sure, she approached him. Daggers she'd carved from rocks and tree limbs were clutched in both of her hands. "You aren't the same person I knew in the skies. The one beloved by his friends. You've changed. Do you think they'll like the man you've become?"

  It was a question he'd asked himself every day since the Red Queen had been found.

  He liked to think they would. As hard, harsh and jaded as he'd become, so had they. But he'd once been the peacemaker. The one everyone went to for help with a problem.

  A twig snapped, and he blinked to attention. His eyes narrowed. Pandora was closer than she should have been and he realized she'd done to him what he'd done to Cronus--distracted him.

  He withdrew one of his handmade daggers and sliced into his own palm. Blood welled--blood he then dripped over each of the vines. They came to instant life, rising like snakes--or vampires--who'd just encountered prey.

  Pandora ground to a halt, her eyes widening.

  "Bring her to me," he commanded.

  The vines, drunk on his blood, became an extension of his arms shooting forward. Pandora turned on her heel to run, but the vines caught her after she'd taken only three steps. They wound around her ankles and yanked. She performed a comical little face-plant, then clawed at the ground as she was dragged backward, toward Baden.

  When she was within his reach, the vines released her and curled around his arms to await his next order. This. This was why the poisoning had been worth it. He planted his booted foot into the small of Pandora's back. He opened his mouth to gloat but went quiet when he spotted a black fog rolling in from the forest. It was the blackest fog he'd ever seen. There was no way it was natural. It couldn't be.

  Bodies seemed to writhe inside it.

  Screams echoed.

  "What is that?" Pandora gasped. She wasn't fighting him, he realized. She was still on the ground, watching the fog as he was.

  Should they run? Or should they fight it?

  Could they fight it?

  Throb, throb, throb. When that pain faded, he realized his next move had been decided for him. It was too late to run. He had to fight.

  Except, as the fog reached him...enveloped him...it gripped him as surely as a thousand fists, choking him, holding him immobile...dragging him away.

  *

  LIKE A PETULANT CHILD, Cameo shoved her plate of delicious food to the floor.

  At the head of the table, Lazarus set down his fork and arched a brow at her. "Not hungry, sunshine?"

  "Not for food," she barked. She wanted vengeance.

  He dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin before placing it beside the fork. "For what I can give you, then. Such a naughty girl. I approve."

  "For your blood!" She jumped to her feet, planted her palms on the tabletop, and leaned toward him. "You lied to me. You let me think I was going to be sold as a sex slave. You tricked me into crawling into bed with you."

  He tsked. "Don't pretend you didn't enjoy yourself."

  She scooped up a handful of what looked to be mashed potatoes and threw it at him. The white glop splattered over his chest, a few specks even making it up to his face.

  "Why am I here? How am I here?" she demanded.

  He didn't bother cleaning himself up, just left the mess in place. "Once upon a time, half of my spirit was ripped out of my body and sucked inside the Paring Rod. Whoever wielded the Rod controlled me. As you know, that was Juliette. Then Strider beheaded me, and the other half of my spirit, as well as my body, was also sucked into the Rod. The two halves of my spirit were able to weave back together and return to my body, healing it. No, decapitation doesn't mean the end, not for a creature like me. I was spit into this realm, and though I was stronger than ever, I was still unable to travel outside a certain grid of realms. So I picked my favorite one and took over. All of that to tell you...I've named this place the Realm of Lazarus."

  "Original," she said, while inside, her mind whirled. So that's part of what the Rod did? Opened a doorway between one realm and another. "How did you find me? What about all the other realms we traveled through?"

  "I sense every time a new soul uses the Rod and enters my grid, and I go hunting. When I saw you, I remembered you. A friend of Strider's, the male who killed me."

  "So you sought revenge?" Bastard!

  He shook his dark head. "Why would I? He freed me from Juliette's hold. She owned the Paring Rod and used it against me. I owe him a debt of gratitude."

  Okay. Wait. "I don't understand." Her tone softened. "Why trick me, then? Why not bring me straight here?"

  His expression turned infinitely tender--and she didn't understand that, either. "Because you were not sent here. You were sent elsewhere, to the inside of the painting you were holding when you touched the Rod. To get to you, I had to leave here. To return, I had to go through other realms. And trick you? Darling, you must not know how entertaining you are."

  No one had ever accused her of that before. "Where's Viola? She used the Rod right before me."

  "I found her the same way I found you, but I let her go. She wasn't nearly as interesting."

  Interesting? Me? Concentrate! "So you don't know where she ended up?"

  "No. Not here, if that's what you're asking. I don't have her hidden in one of the rooms, there to service me every time the desire strikes me. I have plenty of others for that task."

  Thrums of jealousy.

  Which she snubbed. No reason to be jealous--he wouldn't be having any of those women ever again because he wouldn't be living much longer. She was going to kill him!

  She gave the warrior her back, as if she couldn't bear the sight of
him a moment longer, while stealthily palming a knife. She kept the blade pressed against her forearm. Ready. "If this is the way you repay your debts..."

  "You're alive, aren't you?" There was the slightest bit of irritation in his tone.

  Finally. A display of honest emotion.

  "Yes. And I'm going to leave," she said.

  "No," he said softly, menacingly. "You aren't. You're staying."

  "Why?"

  Silence.

  Such oppressive silence.

  "Try to stop me and I'll fight you," she said just as softly, just as menacingly.

  "You're only whetting my appetite, sunshine."

  Liar! He wasn't attracted to her. He couldn't be. She was an amusement, like he'd said, but nothing more.

  Well, she was about to be a mistake!

  She swung around. He stood, the motion lightning-fast. Before she could make a move, he grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her against him. His erection ground against the apex of her thighs.

  Any woman would do, she thought, even as heat invaded her veins.

  "I want you, and you want me. Let's put ourselves out of our misery," he said, dark gaze fierce.

  "How about I put myself out of mine?" She jerked her arm up and thrust the blade deep into his neck.

  A pained gasp left him, but his hold on her never wavered. "Well played, sunshine. Well played."

  With the weapon still embedded in his neck, he picked her up and placed her on the table, uncaring about the food or the dishes. He forcibly spread her legs and moved between them, his gaze never leaving hers. The heat in her veins intensified, and she shivered.

  He planted his hands beside her thighs and leaned toward her, his nose brushing against hers. "Here's how the rest of this game is going to be played," he said, only to look past her and frown.

  When he said nothing more, she licked her lips. "Tell me." I'm excited? Oh, what a foolish, foolish girl.

  He didn't tell her anything. He straightened, though his head tilted to the side. "Something's wrong."

  The last word had barely left his mouth when she heard someone scream.

  Lazarus jerked the knife out of his neck, the wound healing instantly, just as the doors to the kitchen burst open and a black fog rolled into the room.

  "What the hell is that?" she asked, jumping to her feet. The screaming intensified, but she wasn't sure whether it came from his people, or the fog. Or both.

  "I don't know." Lazarus pulled her behind him, acting as a shield.

  The action baffled her...delighted her. The first time anything like it had ever happened. She latched on to his wrist and tugged him toward the back door, which led to the living room.

  The fog pursued them...and quickly reached them.

  Suddenly Cameo was surrounded, unable to see...and only able to hear more of those screams. She couldn't breathe, couldn't even move.

  "Lazarus," she tried to cry. And then her mind went blank.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  DON'T GET SICK, don't get sick. Please, please, don't get sick.

  The mantra played through Keeley's mind, a broken record as Torin rose from the bed. She knew he feared what was to come. Knew he expected her to fall prey to his demon's infection. Deep down, she did, too.

  Behind his back, she snatched a lamp from the nightstand, squeezed until the base shattered and flashed away the pieces before they could fall. He looked back at her, and she blinked innocently.

  If she did sicken, she would have a terrible time convincing him to stay with her. He might be calm but there was no doubt in her mind he'd reached the end of his tolerance.

  "I wish I could tell you I'm sorry," she said, "but I'm not. I like what we do to each other."

  "I like it, too, but I should be man enough to deny us both."

  "Can you really blame yourself? I'm irresistible."

  He offered no reply.

  She quietly dressed in a clean gown made entirely from strips of black leather. Though an hour had passed since he'd last had his fingers inside her, tremors of satisfaction still lingered. The sweet scent of freshly bloomed flowers wasn't helping. Her potted plants had sprouted the moment she'd climaxed and served as a constant reminder of what Torin had done to her...and what she had done to him, how he'd looked and he'd felt and he'd tasted. How he'd blissed her out without even making love to her.

  What would happen when finally he got inside her?

  "I don't know whether I should thank you or curse you," he said.

  Don't think I'd mind a thank-you this time. "Maybe both?" she offered helpfully.

  "How are you feeling?"

  "Fine. Honest."

  A knock at the door. "Yo, Tor Tor," Strider called. "Your girl has a visitor. Also, someone sent her prezzies."

  "Prezzies?" A buzz of happiness. "For me? But no one knows I'm here."

  Torin frowned. "Who's the visitor?" he called.

  "William...and all three of his boys."

  "William's here?" She squealed, clapping with abandon.

  Torin gave her the stink eye. "You know him?"

  He made it sound like a horrible crime. "I do?" She pursed her lips. What she'd meant as a statement had emerged as a question.

  "How do you know him?"

  "Hades."

  "I see." He inclined his head as if he'd just made a decision. "We'll be right down," he informed Strider. Without taking his gaze from her, he asked in a more tempered tone, "How close were you two?"

  Is my Charming...jealous? "We were friends, nothing more."

  "The William I know doesn't make friends with women. He draws them into his lair and the next morning they wake up in his bed, thoroughly seduced." He stalked to the door and opened it, motioning for her to exit. "Let's go have a chat about his intentions toward you."

  She remained in place. "If I get sick--"

  His curse assaulted her ears and she flinched.

  "If I get sick," she repeated, "I'll heal. I have every time before. It won't have to damage the good thing we've got going."

  "Good thing?" he spat, incredulous. "Keeley, you might be the worst thing that's ever happened to me. You've made me care, and there's a very good chance I'll kill you for it." He walked away without a backward glance.

  Tears welled up with surprising force, stinging as a sudden rain pattered against the window. He was worried. She knew that. And he was drowning in guilt. She knew that, too. A million times he'd asked how he could continue to do this to her, but maybe the real question was: How could she continue to do this to him?

  Every couple has problems. They work through them.

  We're stronger than most.

  Head high, she strolled into the hallway where an array of boxes was stacked against the walls. Each made from something different. Ebony. Ivory. Marble. Gold. Silver. Jade. The prezzies?

  Hands trembling, she opened the one on top--and found a minion's black heart nestled inside a bed of red velvet. Also a note. From Hades.

  As I said. Never again. See you soon. Yours, H

  One of the best presents ever, sure, but anger flourished like the flowers in the pots, sprouting thorns rather than petals, and the fortress shook. Deep breath in...out...she crumpled up the note and let it float to the floor. Another deep breath in...out...

  The shaking stopped.

  Torin returned. "Is that a heart?" He bent down, picked up the paper and stiffened as he read. "Never again what?"

  Keeley flashed a large barrel of whiskey into the hall, removed the lid, and began dumping the hearts--boxes, too--inside.

  "What are you doing?" Torin asked.

  "Can't you guess?" Regifting.

  "What's he doing?"

  "Trying to romance me." An impossible task.

  As still as the most skilled of predators, Torin said, "He's just begging for a war, isn't he?"

  With her, yes. But she didn't like the thought of Torin facing off with Hades.

  "He's the one who gave me this body, you know. The p
revious owner was Persephone, a child of Zeus, but she had died, her spirit moving on. Hades preserved her body because he liked the look of it. And because of my ability to bond, I was the perfect candidate to take it over, but then I became more than he could handle, so he used it to destroy me." She laughed without humor. "And he thinks I'll give him another go?" Whiskey splashed over her arms, wet her gown. In went another heart. "There are only so many mistakes one person can forgive, and he reached his limit long ago."

  She had to flash in two more barrels to get rid of all the boxes.

  When she finished, she flashed in a Polaroid camera, took a selfie with her middle finger extended, and attached the picture to one of the barrel lids. "Return to sender," she muttered, flashing each one to the realm where Hades lived.

  Swiping her hands together in a gesture of a job well done, she faced Torin. He'd gone pale, and his eyes were tormented.

  "I'm not sick," she assured him.

  "That's not what--" He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Never mind."

  He feared something else? She sighed. Will I ever understand him? "William's waiting, yes?" Determined, she plowed ahead, not really knowing where she was going.

  Torin stalked in front of her, changed directions, and led her into a sitting room. As she studied her new surroundings, he strode to the wet bar and poured himself a drink. Four other men, each more beautiful than the last, were positioned in front of her. She recognized William the Ever Randy, aka the Panty Melter, aka the Dark, but not the others.

  William sat in a plush red chair, holding a glass of amber liquid, his black hair disheveled and his electric blues glittering. Had he just come from some married woman's bed?

  Probably. Despite the centuries that had passed since she'd last seen him, he hadn't changed. Sex walking. Or sitting.

  The other males stood behind him, flanking his chair. One was bald. One was a blond, and one was a brunette. All were warriors. Clearly. Their bodies had been chiseled on the battlefield, and in their eyes swirled horrors no person should ever have to see.

  Several of the Lords and their women were also present. They were scattered throughout the room.

  "Keeleycael," William acknowledged, his voice smooth and rich. Even more decadent than before. His wicked gaze traveled over her, stripping away her clothing, she was sure. He was a born seducer, simply couldn't help himself. "You're looking quite luscious this afternoon."

  "As I do every afternoon, evening and morning." Confidence was as much a weapon as a sword. Not that she needed a weapon against William, but a girl had to keep her arsenal freshly polished.