The Darkest Promise

  She gulped. "No underwear?"

  "Why bother? I suspect my woman prefers me bare." He pushed the material apart, his erection springing free. He gave his testicles a tug before wrapping his fingers around the base of his shaft. "See. Your merchandise is perfect. Happy now?"

  "I think I'm getting there." The husky rasp in her voice drew a bead of moisture from his erection. "I know you're all healed up, but I'm going to write you a prescription for a little Cameo, and I'm ordering you to take me twice a day."

  His grip flexed of its own accord. Bloody hell. With a fierce growl, he swooped down and fed her another fiery kiss. He devoured her, and she devoured him right back, the kiss quickly spiraling out of control. His insides turned molten, and his shaft ached. Cameo was more addictive than any drug.

  He couldn't get enough of her, this woman who'd enchanted him past all reason. She was passion and pleasure, suddenly his sole reason for breathing.

  Fighting tremors, he stripped her. His mind almost couldn't compute the majesty of her beauty. The alabaster skin. Those dusky nipples already hard and ready for him. How delicate her bone structure appeared...a deception. There was no woman stronger.

  Between her legs, a small thatch of damp curls begged for his attention. Helpless to obey... He sat back on his haunches and placed her legs outside his. The woman who claimed she couldn't come was pink and wet and so very eager.

  He ran his finger down her center before slipping it inside her. Her hips arched, and she cried out. When he pulled that finger out of her, she moaned in disappointment.

  "Going to give you more. In a bit." He flipped her over and received his first full view of her butterfly. Its antennae rested between her shoulder blades, its thorax perfectly aligned with her spine and its abdomen ended at the crack of her ass. Forewings wrapped around her hips while hindwings wrapped around her thighs. The colors...a thousand colors glittered within a jagged black outline: a feminine blend of purple and pink, with flecks of silver to match her eyes.

  Entranced, he traced the butterfly with his tongue and slid his finger back inside Cameo. Wet heat greeted him, and he grunted with satisfaction. She gasped, her inner walls squeezing him, creating a prison he adored.

  He worked in a second finger, and she whispered his name. "Lazario." The wonder in her voice puffed up his chest with pride. "Don't stop. Please."

  "Never." In... He angled his wrist. Out...

  Now she shouted. A curse or a request, he wasn't sure. He quickened his pace. In and out, in and out. Her hips rolled as his fingers slid back in. Her head thrashed over the pillow, ribbons of black silk tangling. She gripped the sheet and chewed on her bottom lip, her nails slicing through the cotton. She was the picture of passion and bliss.

  In, out. In, out. In, out. Faster and faster. He brushed his thumb over the scorching heart of her, and she quivered. So he did it again...and again.

  "Lazario!" She climaxed, her inner walls clenching and unclenching.

  "My Cami."

  When she went limp, he rolled her over. Satisfaction radiated from her as she smiled up at him, wanton and languid.

  That smile...the stuff of dreams.

  Savage need pulsed within him, his own orgasm almost shooting from him. He gripped his erection, roughly commanding, "Touch me, sunshine. Please."

  She drew a fingertip along her red, kiss-swollen lips. "With my hands or my mouth? I owe you a reward, after all."

  "Hands. Mouth." Give me. "Both." He would take anything she wanted to give. He would take everything.

  "I'm going to eat you up," she promised, and he tensed, ready, so damned ready. "But only after you remove your leathers."

  A flicker of panic cooled his ardor. "I want you now. Just like this."

  "Off," she said with a shake her head. Gaze locked on him, she sat up. Her perfect breasts jiggled, and for a moment, he forgot his own name. "Or I keep my lips to myself, and you wish your testicle never grew back."

  "Why do you want the leathers off?" he demanded.

  "I want to see all of you." Luminous silver eyes beseeched him, her lashes so long they cast shadows over her cheeks. "The way you've seen all of me."

  Yes, but he had seen her beauty and strength. She would see in him both his shame and weakness. He would have to explain what had happened to his father, what would one day happen to Lazarus. She might insist they part. On some level, she cared for him. Why else would she trust him with her pleasure? She would want him healthy and whole. She would hate how thoroughly his sense of self-preservation eroded every time he neared her.

  Fear of losing her consumed him.

  Calm. Steady. She was here, in his arms. Alive and well. He needed her in a way he'd never needed anyone or anything. And he owed her. He had Pandora's box. He couldn't risk telling her about the artifact, but he could risk this. His secret shame. If she thought to break up with him, as humans liked to say, he would find a way to change her mind.

  "Very well." He stood, embarrassed by his tremors. He kicked off his boots and--do it, just do it--removed his leathers, leaving his legs bare.

  For several agonizing seconds, she looked her fill. The crystals had spread, branching from his hips to his ankles, every glistening river a burning reminder of his hated fate.

  "You are...magnificent," she said, her voice heavy with...awe? "These lines. They're like the ones in your arms. The ones you called wounds. Will I hurt you if I touch them?"

  "You'll hurt me if you don't."

  "Why hide them, then?"

  "The lines...they signify a change I cannot stop." Unwilling to meet her gaze, he returned to the bed to settle against a mound of pillows. "A change that overtook my father and ultimately led to his destruction."

  "You mean the day Hera attacked him?" Her head tilted to the side. "I don't understand."

  And he wasn't going to help her do so. Not here, not now. The demon would use the information against her.

  "Later." Lazarus waved an imperial hand at his swollen shaft. "I did my part. Time to do yours."

  "Very well." She settled between his legs, remaining on her knees, and pressed her hand over her heart. "Give me a moment to recover from the onslaught of romance."

  Her dry tone earned a glower.

  Her eyes glittered with a hint of amusement, and his panic receded. His irritation, too, until only arousal remained. Down, down she leaned and flicked her tongue over one of his nipples. Pure, raw sensation blazed through him, and he sucked in a breath.

  Her lips left a trail of fire down the ropes of muscle lining his stomach. "You say you are like your father. He's known as the Monster. Is it because of the size of his penis?"

  Lazarus nearly choked on his tongue. "Why do you ask?"

  "Because yours could qualify as a monster, too. Tell me the truth. You thought I'd be afraid of it, didn't you?"

  "No. I feared your reaction to the marks in my legs. They are--"

  "Lethal to my inhibitions? Exactly right."

  "I...don't know what to say right now." She baffled him.

  "Well, that's a first, isn't it?" She turned her attention to his thigh and licked the crystalized vein running from his groin to his knee.

  The contact was a shock to his system. His entire body shuddered with pleasure.

  As she followed another vein, she reached up and wrapped her fingers around the base of his erection. Groaning, he arched into her touch--and at long last her lips closed around him. She sucked him down, down, all the way to the back of her throat. He roared. The fiery heat...the wet, silken depths of her mouth...too much to survive and yet not enough to save him. Drops of sweat trickled down his temples. He fisted the sheets. Inside him, ecstasy and pressure combined, tormenting him.

  My woman. Mine. Never giving her up.

  She sucked on him as if he were a tasty treat. As if she couldn't get enough of him. As if she would never get enough of him.

  She owned him.

  "Yes. Yes!" He wanted to give her the world. Every kingdom. Ev
ery jewel. Wanted to throw her enemies at her feet. Wanted to make love with her every night and awaken with her every morning.

  Her teeth scraped lightly over the head of his shaft. His hips shot up of their own volition, sending him deeper down her throat. As she moaned her acceptance, the sound sending soft vibrations along his erection, satisfaction crept through him, demanding its due.

  Lazarus erupted, climaxing harder than ever before.

  *

  Cameo nestled into Lazarus's side. Anyone who'd ever dated anyone would probably tell her clinging was a deal breaker, but she tightened her hold, refusing to let go.

  I think I'm falling for him.

  Well, why wouldn't she? Each time he'd fought--either the Amazons, bear shifters or Harpies--he'd checked on Cameo first to make sure she was unharmed. When Misery barraged her, he moved heaven and earth to make her happy. He ensured her orgasm before seeking his own.

  In many ways, she came before his vengeance, and the realization thrilled her. Maybe they had a chance to go the distance, after all.

  What about the visions?

  The demon beat at her skull, and a familiar but still strange tingle resonated below the surface of her skin. A tingle she'd experienced since Lazarus's arrival. A tingle she didn't understand--just like she didn't understand his fear of the glistening rivers that ran through his legs.

  "Tell me about the change that overtook your father," she said. "What led to his destruction?"

  He tensed, but admitted, "The lines you see in my limbs...they are crystals, and they are slowly killing me."

  She jackknifed into a sitting position. He tugged her back to his side before she could leap from the bed. "But...you can't be killed. Not for long. Your resurrection is proof."

  "Destruction doesn't have to mean death. How do you think Hera was able to capture my father, the strongest man in existence? Because he, too, had begun to crystalize."

  Horror turned her blood to icy sludge. "What causes it? Is there a way to stop it?"

  "Doesn't matter." He combed his fingers through her hair, petting her. "I've accepted my end. You will, too."

  She gave a violent shake of her head. "I will never accept your end."

  He kissed her temple, sighed. "You must."

  "The way you accepted mine when I told you about the vision?" she snapped.

  "That's different. Yours can be prevented by a change of action. The crystals are spreading, limiting my range of motion. One day they'll cover me."

  Lose him, after she'd only just found him? No! "There must be an antidote."

  "Trust me. I exhausted my resources during my search. There's not. And now, I'm turning my efforts to something else. Before my last breath, I will see to the destruction of our enemies."

  Not my. Not your. But our. "Lazarus." I don't want to go on without him. "We can talk to Torin and Keeley. They can help you--"

  "No. I will accept help from no one but you. To do so would reveal my weakness. I will risk being abducted like my father, doomed to live out an existence in paralyzed awareness, unable to change my fate in any way. And you will not break up with me over this," he said. A command, not a question.

  "Of course I won't." Why would he think such an awful thing? And was he serious about accepting no help? His pride was that great? The reward--more time with her--not enough? "But I will find a way to save you."

  Already an idea took root. Pandora's box...the Morning Star supposedly still trapped inside. What if the being could remove the crystals?

  To free the Morning Star, Cameo would have to find and open the box. She would end up killing herself and her friends in the process. Damn it! There had to be another way.

  "Hope you don't mind," he said, "but I've already planned our week. First, we'll hunt and kill Juliette. Second, we hunt and imprison Hera. See? A change of action, a new outcome. You will live. Third, we'll spend every spare minute in bed, making memories to last a thousand lifetimes."

  She had to convince him to talk to Keeley, the oldest woman in creation, and Torin, the best researcher on the planet. "Actually, I'll be attacking Juliette. I tried to tell you earlier, but you distracted me. She challenged me to a duel and claims the winner gets to keep you."

  Tension radiated from him. "There will be no duel. The deathblow is mine to mete."

  At least he hadn't assumed Juliette would win. Hardly a silver lining, but hey, silver linings of any sort were new to her, so she wasn't going to complain. "I thought you said we'll be working together."

  "We will. I will give orders, and you will obey them."

  "Dream on, Neanderthal Man. I've been managing my calendar without a Secretary of War for centuries, thanks."

  "Too bad. I've dreamed of killing the Harpy for centuries."

  Cameo fluffed her pillow. "Before, you were alone. Now you have me. Therefore, your dreams need an overhaul."

  "I do have you." He nuzzled her cheek. "And I like you like this. Openly admitting you're mine."

  Trying to distract her? "You're going to give me your blessing. You're going to watch me fight your enemy on your behalf. You're going to cheer me on while I kick her ass. Consider it your gift to me...since I've given you the gift of my presence."

  He gritted his teeth. "Someone's been hanging out with Viola, I see."

  Another silver lining: he hadn't contradicted her!

  "I have. I like her," she admitted. "I might want to be her when I grow up."

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You do realize what you're asking of me goes against every fiber of my being, yes?"

  "Yes."

  "And yet still you ask."

  "Wrong," she said. "I don't remember asking, only telling. I mean, what else am I getting out of our deal? Your to-do list benefits only you. What about my list? Talk to Juliette, find Pandora's box. Find a way to free the Morning Star. Maybe, just maybe, save you in the process." Because I don't want to remember you only to live without you.

  "You can't trust anything the Harpy says." As rigid as steel, he released a sound that was part growl, part sigh. She noticed he had no questions about the Morning Star. He must have heard the rumors. "I did mention we would spend our free time in bed, yes? Orgasms should be numbers one through ten on your list."

  "Orgasms are two through ten."

  "At least they rate." He scrubbed a hand down his face. "I probably should have hooked up with a weaker woman."

  "You have hooked up with weaker women. Everyone you dated before me." Cameo rolled on top of him, something odd happening to her face. The corners of her lips were...lifting? A smile was about to bloom! A miracle only Lazarus could perform.

  Misery seemed to reach through her mind to petrify the muscles around her mouth, and the urge to smile faded.

  "So," she said, and sighed. "Give me your blessing."

  He framed her jaw with his big, strong, callused hands. "You will not trust her?"

  "Of course not." But even still, Cameo would be checking out any leads about the box.

  Lazarus looked up at the ceiling, as if praying for patience. "When you look at me like that, sunshine, I can deny you nothing. You have my blessing."

  22

  "If you are truly king of your castle, your woman is queen. Treat her like one."

  --The Art of Keeping Your Female Happy

  Lazarus kept Cameo in bed until the last possible second. When he could postpone the inevitable no longer, he flashed her to a remote part of Alaska. A forest surrounded by ice-mountains and supposedly neutral territory for Harpies. They were the first to arrive.

  The duel would kick off in an hour. Just enough time to study the terrain, check for traps and ensure Cameo had every advantage.

  He erected two tents side by side, since four of Cameo's friends had insisted on coming to force the Eagleshields to play by the rules. Kaia and Gwen, Keeley and Viola. He felt...indebted.

  A strange sensation. Especially since he still believed killing Juliette was his job. His privilege.

>   His hands curled into fists. Has to be this way. He understood the Harpy way of life better than most. The clans were predatory; when they sensed weakness, they pounced. One way or another, Cameo was going to have to prove her strength, or the Eagelshields would forever view her as easy pickings. And then they would pick, pick, pick at her, even if Lazarus beheaded Juliette before the fight.

  "Do you have a pre-battle ritual?" he asked Cameo.

  "Doesn't everyone?"

  "Do it." He kissed her, lingering as long as possible before his body began to insist he do more. "I want to do another sweep for traps."

  "Sir, yes, sir."

  He tweaked her nose before taking off and hiking a one-mile radius around the campsite. Mist danced in front of his face every time he exhaled. Perhaps the territory was neutral. There were no land mines, no hidden pits or armies lying in wait, ready to attack.

  Satisfied, he returned to the tents to find a handful of Eagleshields had arrived at last. They were drinking beer and climbing trees, and they waved when they spotted him.

  "Juliette brought a saddle," someone called. "She's planning on riding you hard tonight."

  Red winked through his vision. Keep walking. If he killed a Harpy now, the clan could cry foul later.

  He entered the relative warmth of the tent and took stock.

  The box--once again hanging around his neck.

  The ring he'd gotten from Viola--hanging right beside it.

  The jewels he'd procured for Cameo--still burning a hole in his pocket.

  More and more, the first item filled him with sizzling guilt he couldn't escape. If ever Cameo discovered he had the box, she would despise him. She would never forgive him.

  I'll be frozen in my crystal form. What will it matter?

  He could deal with her hate, but not her death.

  Problem: in a frozen state, he would be unable to protect her or the box. If someone stole the relic and used it against Cameo...

  He cursed. Maybe he would give the box to one of the Lords on the condition Cameo never know about it, see it or touch it. Amun, former keeper of Secrets, had perfected the art of staying quiet. During his possession, he couldn't utter a single word without spilling countless confidences, so he'd said nothing.

  Could Lazarus trust him?

  Maybe. Probably. Unless Amun's own guilt drove him to confide in his friends. Word would reach Cameo.