The Darkest Promise

Nothing happened. Not a single crack appeared. Frustration mixed with anger and helplessness.

  Guess I'm on my own. As always.

  10

  "Cowardice is a disease. Kill it before it kills you."

  --How to Achieve Victory

  Subtitle: Except with Lovers and Their Family

  --Living on Your Own Terms, Damn It

  "Rathbone." Lazarus sat upon his throne, his fingers drumming against the armrests. He should be on the road. Morning had come, and the children had already clogged two sets of pipes. But the presence of his unwanted visitor had kept him home. "Show yourself."

  Buzz, buzz.

  Another fly? Oh, no. Not another. The. In the center of the room, the fly morphed into a fully dressed man. Irritation clawed up Lazarus's spine.

  Should have known.

  A grinning Rathbone spread his arms wide. "You called?"

  Lazarus gnashed his teeth. "Why have you remained here?"

  The warrior's grin widened. "Perhaps I wanted to tell the world I spent a night in bed with Lazarus the Cruel and Unusual."

  "No one will believe you, considering you're still able to walk."

  "An enthusiastic lover, are you?"

  "Very." Lazarus gripped the arms of his throne. "You've been spying on me."

  "Obviously. I am not only the Only. I am the Spy Master." Amusement rather than shame peered at him through those diamond eyes. "Should you really cast stones, mind reader?"

  Until Lazarus declared his allegiance to a king of the underworld, this type of nuisance would be happening over and over again. "Tell me. Will our entire conversation take place in question form?"

  "Would it please you if it did?" Rathbone asked, one brow arched.

  Is this how I come across to Cameo?

  Of course not! I'm charming.

  This had to end. He held Rathbone's gaze as he opened his mind to the other man's--

  Roaring, Lazarus broke the connection.

  Rathbone remained stoic. "I gave you a glimpse of horrors I've suffered in my lifetime. Attempt to read my mind again, and I'll give you full access."

  Before today, Lazarus had thought he understood torture. He'd endured and received his fair share of it. Truth was, he hadn't understood until this moment. What the warrior had experienced... New respect for him bloomed.

  "Take care of the woman," Rathbone said, no longer amused. "She is Hades's ally, and therefore my ally. We want her protected."

  She--is--mine.

  No. No! Denial screamed through his mind. He would not claim the woman who would herald his downfall. "You want her protected. Nothing more?" Did Rathbone desire Cameo in his bed?

  "And help you spit on your one chance for true love?" Rathbone tsk-tsked. "No."

  "True love?" He scoffed. "I mentioned nothing of love, true or otherwise. Love weakens."

  "Fear weakens. Love strengthens." Rathbone held his stare, unblinking. "One day your woman will tire of your rejection and seek the comfort of another man. I hope to be a fly on the wall when you discover the great blessing you've lost, but I'll settle for being the one she accepts into her bed when you're gone."

  He does want my woman in his bed. A growl reverberated in Lazarus's chest, so rough he suspected he was bleeding internally.

  Calm. Control. When "one day" came, Lazarus would have already let Cameo go. No ties, no crystals, no vulnerabilities.

  "We share the same hope, then," he replied. "Flies get swatted."

  Rathbone laughed, but sobered quickly. "Your woman hates Misery, wants so badly to be free of him. You can aid her."

  Bastard couldn't know about the box. "Let's pretend I care," he said. "Tell me, O Great One, how I can aid her."

  "When did I become your life coach? Find the answer on your own." With a wink, Rathbone vanished.

  Lazarus remained atop the throne, certain the bastard had lied. There wasn't a way to remove Cameo's demon and keep her alive. So. He would not change his plan. He would have a night with her.

  One and done. Not by choice, but by necessity.

  Afterward, he would let her go with a warning. Never return.

  And he would not feel guilty. He would move on.

  *

  The first day of the journey passed without incident. No one attacked, and there were no grasping, hungry limbs or swarms of killer insects. Cameo was almost disappointed. She itched for a fight.

  As their ragtag group had ridden away from Lazarus's palace, the Bend-over Babes had given chase. As suspected, they'd once enjoyed quality time in bed with their king, and they'd felt entitled to a goodbye kiss.

  To his credit, Lazarus had appeared flustered by the attention and had sent the Bend-over Babes away without a kiss. Meanwhile, Cameo had wanted to murder the women. She'd thought, Mine! I will not share.

  No doubt the mirror's vision had screwed with her head. She'd seen herself make love to him, screaming with pleasure she'd never known, so of course she'd grown a wee bit possessive of him.

  Also saw him contemplate killing me. Where's my righteous anger over that?

  Well, everyone had flaws. And wanting to kill her was actually a common occurrence among immortals and even humans.

  Viola had spent several hours shamelessly flirting with the soldiers, and Urban had spent those same hours burning the soldiers. Apparently no other man was allowed to speak to, smile at or encourage the goddess. Ever had quickly doused the flames with her ice.

  The few times Urban had remembered to be a little boy rather than a jealous stalker, he'd complained incessantly about the helmet Cameo had made.

  "My hair aches," he said for the thousandth time.

  "I'm sure we'll be setting up camp soon, and you can remove it." The sun had been falling steadily for the past hour.

  Her voice had a ripple effect, shudders sweeping through the crowd.

  During one of their many bathroom breaks, Lazarus had looked over the weapons and armor Cameo had made. "Amazing," he'd said. "Your skill is unsurpassed."

  She'd almost blushed.

  "Where did you learn?" he'd asked.

  "A forge in the Middle Ages." Alex had--

  She'd stopped the thought, unwilling to give Misery an open-door invitation to flood her with sorrow. Or Lazarus a chance to read her mind.

  "There's a story there," he had remarked.

  "Yes, but it's one for another day."

  "Our time together grows short." He'd stared straight ahead, and a pang had cut through her chest.

  When would a man want to keep her?

  "I think you should have made the armor out of magnesium infused with dense silicon carbide nanoparticles," Ever said, breaking into her thoughts. "It's as light as aluminum, but as strong as titanium."

  Cameo gaped at her.

  Viola beamed as Fluffy raced around her horse. "You, little monster, are a girl after my own heart. Magnesium infused with dense silicon carbide nanoparticles has the highest strength-to-weight ratio."

  As the two chatted--intelligently--about metals, Cameo's gaze sought Lazarus. He sat atop his massive winged steed, his head high, his shoulders squared, his spine rigid. What an awe-inspiring sight. Over a hundred soldiers rode with him, creating a shield for the women and children.

  A horde of sky serpents flew overhead. Their numbers were fluid, beasts coming and going as they pleased. One thing remained constant minute by minute--the death glares Cameo received.

  On more than one occasion, a drop of accelerant had splashed onto her face. And not by accident. The burns were too well placed.

  "Ow!" Another droplet hit her, this one burning the end of her nose. "All right. Enough. Do something about your pets. Before I pick up a branch," she shouted to the sky.

  Heart-wrenching sobs rang through the crowd. She pressed her lips together.

  Misery cackled with glee. Wonder how many suicides there'll be tonight...

  Doing her best to ignore him, she smoothed salve on the newest wound.

  Lazarus glared at
the sky as he bellowed a string of words she didn't understand. The sky serpents understood, though. Multiple beasts roared in response, wings frenzied as they flapped.

  His gaze lowered to Cameo. "They want you dead and themselves splattered in your blood."

  "Trust me," she whispered, hoping no one else heard her. If she made one more person cry... "The feeling is mutual."

  Pensive, he rubbed two fingers against the stubble on his jaw. "Perhaps the sky serpents would be satisfied if I...spanked you."

  A spanking? Really? "Don't you--"

  He wrapped an arm around her waist, wringing a gasp from her.

  "What--"

  He lifted her from her horse, his biceps flexing. Such incredible strength...and yet, he began to tremble. Fearing he would drop her, she clung to him. Then he settled her in front of him, his scent and heat enveloping her, and she shivered.

  Misery clawed at her skull, sending sharp pains through her temples. So much for enjoying the ride.

  Or maybe not. Lazarus rubbed his cheek against hers, distracting and delighting her.

  He chuckled softly.

  Shit! Shields up!

  "Well?" she demanded. "Are you going to spank me or not?"

  "Do you want to be spanked?"

  "Do you want to lose a hand?"

  "As if you'd remove one of the only means capable of giving you pleasure."

  Air punched from her lungs. "Let me guess. The others are your other hand, your mouth and...?"

  "And everything else about me. My voice...my scent...hell, even my mind. Face it, sunshine. You crave the total package."

  I do. I really do. "What about your cock...iness?" Oookay. They were headed down a dangerous path. Time to change the subject. "Never mind. What language did you speak to the sky serpents?"

  He allowed the change without protest. "Typhonish, the language used by my father." Warm breath fanned her cheek. "You, sunshine, are exquisite. Resisting the urge to touch you has been hard. Very, very hard."

  A shiver slipped down her spine. "You're touching me now. You didn't resist."

  "And I have yet to hear your thanks."

  Part of her wanted to laugh. Most of her wanted to cry. All of her wanted him.

  Okay, it was time for another subject change. "How'd you acquire the goddess of Many Futures' mirror?"

  Again, he allowed the change without protest. "Inherited it with the palace. Why?"

  Act casual. "Have you seen your futures?"

  His posture grew more rigid. "Have you?"

  Why not tell him? Give and you shall receive. "Yes. Two possibilities. In the first, we returned to the palace and had sex. Congrats! It was good. Then you escorted me to the portal, briefly considered killing me, but ultimately walked away without saying goodbye."

  He flattened his hands on her thighs, and she sucked in a breath. "So we have sex, and it's good," he breathed into her ear. "You're very welcome."

  Anticipation held her at the edge of a cliff, her insides buzzing and heating. What else would he do? "Why would you want to kill me?" she asked, a tremor in her tone. "You aren't like others. You don't react to my voice."

  He stiffened, but said silkily, "I'm sure you gave me reason. But I walked away, yes? Reward me?"

  As he spoke, his fingers played with her knee. The anticipation began to agonize her. But one minute bled into two. He did nothing more, the bastard.

  "No reward for you," she grated.

  "Very well. No reward for you. So what was the second vision?" he asked. "Tell me about it."

  "I returned home the same day as the others."

  "And?"

  "And nothing. The mirror blanked."

  "Little wonder I'm leaning toward vision one. The things I can do to you before you go..." He gently pressed his knees against the flanks of the Pegasus. Those feathered wings lifted, hiding her and Lazarus from the rest of the world as he nuzzled her cheek. "Or maybe we should ignore the mirror and create a new path, spend the entire night together as I've wanted from the beginning. Would you like a taste of the pleasure I'll give you?"

  Yes! No. Maybe? She licked her lips, tempted, so wildly tempted. But why enjoy an appetizer when she couldn't have the full meal? Why forge precious memories the demon would turn around and steal? Or even hold hostage. Life was torturous enough already.

  "Fair warning," she grated. If she couldn't resist Lazarus's appeal, she would do everything in her power to ensure he resisted hers. "Misery told me I could keep my memories of you if I killed you. He hates you."

  The demon hissed. How dare you tattle!

  "He wants me dead dead?" Lazarus shrugged, unconcerned. "He'll have to get in line."

  A flare of hope. "You aren't upset or surprised?"

  "Demons hate people and love destruction. I'd be surprised if he liked me."

  "But he could hurt you," she admitted quietly. "Over the centuries, he's encouraged people to kill themselves. And he's..." She licked her lips. "He convinced me to end my life once. Or six times. Maybe twelve."

  He stiffened, as rigid as steel. "You tried to kill yourself a dozen times?"

  She gulped, nodded. "The sorrow had become too much to bear." Each time, her friends had found her broken and bloody, and their disappointment and hurt had only added to her problems, breaking an already splintered heart.

  Can't ever win.

  Lazarus tightened his hold on her, as if he feared she would float away like a balloon. "I don't need the mirror to tell me what's in your immediate future. You're going to come."

  He traced a path of fire up, up... She stopped breathing, her belly quivering, an ache blooming between her legs, but he merely played with the waist of her shorts.

  "Do you want to come?" he whispered into her ear. "Give me one night."

  Goose bumps broke out over her skin. "You don't want weeks of sexual bliss as predicted by the mirror?"

  He tightened his hold, almost bruising her. "One night is all I can offer. Nothing more, nothing less."

  Had the mirror lied about the different paths her future could take?

  "Why only one night?" she asked softly. "Make me understand."

  His sigh ruffled the hairs on her crown. "You want to remember me, sunshine. I want to remember you well."

  Meaning...what? Misery would taint his thoughts if Cameo stuck around?

  Ouch! The knowledge cut, and yet it shouldn't have been a blip on her radar. Truth was truth. But...shouldn't the man of her dreams consider her worth any hardship?

  "I can walk into a room and ruin a party," she snapped. "You can open your mouth and do the same."

  Not missing a beat--when did he ever?--he traced his white-hot tongue around the shell of her ear. "Speaking of a party... I'm inviting myself to the one in your pants."

  Damn him! The blistering heat of arousal quickly melted her anger. "Stop. There isn't--"

  "But there will be." His hands inched up, up to cup her breasts as her nipples puckered for him. He strummed the crests, sending a stream of fire straight to her core.

  Her hips undulated, and her bottom met the long, hard length of his erection. Oh, mercy, the pleasure was incredible and...it cooled, just as it always cooled, the demon inundating her with sorrow.

  Lazarus kneaded her breasts and, mentally, she knew it still felt good. Really, really good. But physically and emotionally, pleasure remained at bay.

  "You might as well stop," she told him. "I could fake my enjoyment, but I wouldn't be doing either one of us a favor."

  Far from disappointed, he uttered a husky chuckle. "I'm going to need you to promise me something, sunshine."

  That didn't bode well. "What?"

  "You'll be very, very quiet the next time I move my hands. All right?"

  Oh no, no, no. He'd fallen into the alpha-male trap. He believed he could make all women lose their minds with pleasure. Fool! He thought he could bring home the gold despite Cameo's warning.

  Actually, he thought he could bring home the gold because of
her warning. She would have to teach him better.

  Class is in session, and Miss Lord is a bitch.

  "Listen up," she said. "Hear me when I say--"

  "Promise me," he insisted.

  He wasn't going to drop this, was he? He'd have to learn the blue-balls way. With a sigh, she twisted to look him in the eyes. "Very well. I promise."

  Her wry tone continued speaking long after she'd quieted. You're going to regret this.

  She thought...maybe, there was a chance... The corners of his mouth were lifting in a grin. Before she could be sure, he forced her to turn, traced the lobe of her ear with his teeth and slid his hands down...down...once again stopping on the waist of her sarong.

  "You're not fighting a moan, are you?" he asked.

  He sounded amused. "Not even a little," she said.

  "Tsk. Tsk. I told you to be quiet."

  "You asked me a question!"

  "What about now?" He moved a fingertip along the sarong's band, brushing against her navel. "Are you fighting a moan now?"

  She tingled and ached and thought, Yes, this is it, this is actually going to happen... But once again the glorious sensations faded.

  "No," she grated.

  "Still talking," he said on a sigh. "My sunshine is so terribly unresponsive. I'm disheartened." And yet he still sounded amused.

  He truly believed he'd stoked a fire inside her.

  Teeth gnashing, she said, "A few moans and groans mean nothing. I haven't climaxed, darkpit." He compared her to sunshine; she would compare him to an abyss.

  "A few moans and groans? You're adorable."

  "And your little experiment is finished."

  "Temper, temper." He tsk-tsked. "Someone--and I won't mention any names--needs to climax."

  For centuries she'd been desperate to experience something millions of women enjoyed on a daily basis. And now he thought teasing her was a good idea? After he'd failed to deliver what he'd promised?

  A bomb of anger detonated inside her. "Your prowess is far overrated. And so is your opinion of yourself!"

  "There she is, the vixen I've been waiting for," he said, and then he pushed his hand between her legs, under her shorts--and thrust a finger deep inside her.

  A surge of bliss exploded inside her, and she gasped.

  "Your anger weakens the demon," he purred, "giving me an opportunity to act." As he spoke, he moved his thick, beautiful, amazing finger in and out of her. His erection pressed insistently between the cheeks of her ass, adding to the delicious sensations.

  "More." She leaned back, resting her head on his shoulder and offering him easier access. "I want more." Neeeeded more. "Please." Here, now, she wasn't too proud to beg.