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The Darkest Lie
Gena Showalter


Forced to his knees in agony whenever he speaks the truth, Gideon can recognize any lie—until he captures Scarlet, a demon-possessed immortal who claims to be his long-lost wife.He doesn't remember the beautiful female, much less wedding—or bedding—her. But he wants to. . . almost as much as he wants her. But Scarlet is keeper of Nightmares, too dangerous to roam free. A future with her might mean ultimate ruin. Especially as Gideon's enemies draw closer—and the truth threatens to destroy all he's come to love. . . .










Praise for New York Times and USA Today

bestselling author

Gena Showalter’s




LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD






The Darkest Night




“A fascinating premise, a sexy hero and non-stop action,

The Darkest Night is Showalter at her finest, and a fabulous start to an imaginative new series.”

—New York Times bestselling author Karen Marie Moning

“Dark and tormented doesn’t begin to describe

these cursed warriors called the Lords of the Underworld.

Showalter has created characters desperately

fighting to retain a semblance of humanity, which

means the heroines are in for a rough ride. This is

darkly satisfying and passionately thrilling stuff.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews, 4 stars

“Amazing! Stupendous! Extraordinary!

Gena Showalter has done it again.

The Darkest Night is the fabulous start of an edgy, thrilling series…”

—Fallen Angels reviews

“Not to be missed…the hottest new

paranormal series.”

—Night Owl Romance




The Darkest Kiss


“In this new chapter the Lords of the Underworld

engage in a deadly dance. Anya is a fascinating blend

of spunk, arrogance and vulnerability – a perfect

match for the tormented Lucien.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews, 4½ stars

“Talk about one dark read…If there is one book

you must read this year, pick up The Darkest Kiss… a Gena Showalter book is the best of the best.”

—Romance Junkies




The Darkest Pleasure


“Showalter’s darkly dangerous Lords of the

Underworld trilogy, with its tortured characters,

comes to a very satisfactory conclusion…[her]

compelling universe contains the possibility

of more stories to be told.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews, 4 stars

“Of all the books in this series, this is the most

moving and compelling. The concluding chapters

will simply stun you with the drama of them…You

will not be sorry if you add this to your collection.”

—Mists and Stars




The Darkest Whisper


“If you like your paranormal dark and passionately

flavoured, this is the series for you.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews, 4 stars




Lords of the Underworld


In a remote fortress in Budapest, six immortal

warriors–each more dangerously seductive than

the last–are bound by an ancient curse none has

been able to break. When a powerful enemy returns,

they will travel the world in search of a sacred relic

of the gods–one that threatens to destroy them all.




Gena Showalter’s

paranormal series

LORDS OF THE UNDERWORLD



continues with

THE DARKEST LIE



Also available in this series

THE DARKEST NIGHT

THE DARKEST KISS

THE DARKEST PLEASURE

THE DARKEST WHISPER

DARK BEGINNINGS

THE DARKEST PASSION




The

Darkest

Lie

Gena Showalter











www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)


New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Gena Showalter has been praised for her “sizzling page-turners” and “utterly spellbinding stories”. She is the author of more than seventeen novels and anthologies, including breathtaking paranormal and contemporary romances, cutting-edge young adult novels and stunning urban fantasy. Readers can’t get enough of her trademark wit and singular imagination.

To learn more about Gena and her books, please visit www.genashowalter.com and www.genashowalter blogspot.com.


In honour of the keeper of Lies, I thought I’d write

this dedication in Gideon Speak.



To someone who didn’t (and doesn’t) help me

every step of the way: Margo Lipschultz



To the five men I absolutely despise:

Jill Monroe, Kresley Cole and PC Cast



To my hated wife: Max



And firstly, to Gideon herself. To my complete

delight, you made my job so easy, the words flowing

like smooth, rich wine. You never once proved

stubborn, drove me to the edge of insanity or put

yourself in impossible positions that I then had to

scramble to find ways out of. Thank you.




Prologue


GIDEON STARED down at the woman sleeping atop the bed of cloud-soft cerulean cotton.

His wife.

Maybe.

Inky hair tangled around an innately sensual face, long lashes casting shadows over graceful cheeks. One of her hands rested at her temple, her fingers curling inward, her azure-painted nails gleaming in the golden glow of the lamp. Her nose was perfect in shape and size, her chin stubborn, and her lips the plumpest—and reddest—he’d ever seen.

And her body…gods. Perhaps those made-for-sin curves were the reason she bore the name Scarlet. Her wickedly rounded breasts…the slender dip of her waist…the feminine flare of her hips…the lean length of her legs…every part of her was meant to lure, to ensnare.

Without a doubt, she was the most hauntingly lovely female he’d ever beheld. A genuine sleeping beauty. Only, this beauty would come up swinging if he tried to kiss her awake.

The thought had him grinning in pure male satisfaction.

One look, and a man knew she was passion and fire underneath that snow-white skin. What most men didn’t know, however, was that, like Gideon, she was possessed by a demon.

Difference is, I earned mine. She didn’t.

For-freaking-ever ago, he’d helped his friends steal and open Pandora’s box, unleashing the evil inside. Yeah, yeah. A mistake. Hardly worth a second’s thought, if you asked him, but the gods hadn’t, so, as punishment, each warrior responsible was cursed to host a demon inside his own body. Baddies like Death, Disaster, Violence, Disease, yada yada.

There’d been more demons than warriors, though, so the remaining fiends had been placed inside the immortal prisoners of Tartarus. Where Scarlet had resided her entire life.

Gideon was paired with Lies, Scarlet with Nightmares.

Clearly, he’d gotten the short end of that demon-stick. She merely slept like the dead and invaded people’s dreams. He couldn’t utter a single truth without suffering. To tell a pretty woman that she was pretty was to fall to his knees, agony unlike any other exploding through him, cutting at his organs, acid spilling through his blood, draining his strength, even eroding his desire to live.

“You’re ugly,” he’d have to say instead. Most females would burst into tears and run the hell away. So, yeah, he was immune to tears.

But what would Scarlet do? he found himself wondering. And would her tears bother him?

He reached out and traced a fingertip along the curve of her jaw. Such silky, warm skin. Would she laugh at him, unconcerned? Would she try and slice his throat? Believe him? Call him a liar?

Or would she haul ass like the others?

The thought of hurting her, angering her and ultimately losing her didn’t sit well with him.

His arm fell to his side, hand fisting. Maybe I’ll tell her the truth. Maybe I’ll praise her. But he knew he wouldn’t. Make that mistake once, fine. You were stupid. Make it twice, and you were proving Darwin’s theory.

He’d already made it once.

Gideon’s greatest enemy, the Hunters, had captured him and told him that they’d killed Sabin, keeper of the demon of Doubt. Now, Gideon loved that man like a brother—boy could bitch-slap like no one else—so he’d erupted, screaming how much he hated them, how he was going to kill them all, and it had been the gods’ honest truth, every word of it. Though it might take him years, centuries, to see the promise through, that didn’t matter. He’d meant it and had been penalized for it, the anguish instantaneous.

After that, curled on the floor and writhing, he’d been an easy target for torture. And torture him the Hunters had. Repeatedly.

After beating him so severely his eyes had swollen shut and several teeth had flown the coop, after shoving sharp pins under his nails, electrocuting him and carving the mark of infinity—their mark—into his back, they’d removed his hands. He’d seriously thought he’d reached the end. Until a very much alive Sabin had found him, rescued him and carried him home (after doing some of that aforementioned bitch-slapping).

Thankfully, both of his hands had finally regenerated. Something he’d been waiting for. Very…patiently. So he could seek revenge, yes. Or rather, that had been the case at first. But then his friends had jailed this woman, this Scarlet, and she had claimed they were husband and wife.

His priorities had kinda switched at that point.

He didn’t remember her, much less wedding her. But he had seen flashes of her face all these thousands of years. Mostly every time he collapsed atop a woman, sweaty but not truly replete because he was too filled with longing for something, or someone, he hadn’t been able to name. Therefore, he couldn’t outright deny her claim. And he needed to deny her. To prove her wrong.

Otherwise, he would have to live with the knowledge that he’d abandoned a woman he’d promised to protect. He’d have to live with the knowledge that he’d slept with other women while his wife suffered.

He’d have to live with the knowledge that someone had fucked with his memory.

Yeah, he’d demanded an explanation from Scarlet, but she was stubborn to her core and had refused to tell him anything more. Like how they’d met, when they’d met, if they’d been in love, happy. How they’d split.

To be honest, he couldn’t blame her for keeping the details a secret. How could he? She had been as much a prisoner to the Lords as he’d recently been to the Hunters, and he hadn’t talked to his captors, either. Even during that oh, so pleasant hand extraction.

So, he’d come up with a plan. For Scarlet to open up to him, he would have to take her somewhere else. Just for a little while. Just until he had answers. Then, this morning, he’d done it. While his supposed wife slept, oblivious to the world around her, he’d kidnapped her from his home and carted her fireman-style to this hotel in central Budapest.

Finally, he would have everything he wanted.

All she had to do was wake up…




Chapter One


A few hours earlier…

LET’S GET THE PARTY STARTED, Gideon thought with unparalleled determination as he stomped through the renovated hallways of his Budapest fortress.

The demon of Lies hummed inside his head, heartily in agreement. Both of them liked Scarlet, their alleged wife, but for different reasons. Gideon liked the look of her and the saucy, forked-tongued comments she made. Lies liked…Gideon wasn’t sure. He only knew that the beast purred in approval every time she opened her beautiful, I-can-do-things-you’ve-only-dreamed-about mouth.

It was a reaction usually reserved for pathological liars. Except, the demon couldn’t actually tell if she fibbed or not. Which meant beneath all that affection for Scarlet, Lies was frustrated, sensitive to every word that left Gideon’s mouth. And that made Gideon’s life frustrating as hell. He couldn’t even call his friends by their own names anymore.

Was she or wasn’t she a filthy freaking liar? And yeah, he was well aware of the irony. He, a man who couldn’t utter a single truth, was complaining about someone who might be feeding him a big, heaping bowl of shit. But were they or weren’t they? Had they or hadn’t they? He had to know before he drove himself insane, puzzling over everything she’d ever said and everything he’d ever done and thought.

His request that she just lay out the facts, black and white, boom, done, over had been ignored for the last time.

He was finally taking action.

Hopefully, pretending to rescue her from his own dungeon would cause her to trust him. Hopefully, trusting him would cause her to open the hell up and answer his godsdamn questions.

Oops. His frustration was showing again.

“You can’t do this, Gid,” Strider, keeper of the demon of Defeat, said, suddenly keeping pace beside him.

Fuck. Anyone but him.

Strider couldn’t lose a challenge, any challenge, without suffering as Gideon suffered when he spoke true. Including Xbox, and that was seriously screwing with Gideon’s “Assassin’s Creed” mojo, because yeah, Gideon had challenged him, trying to distract himself and work out the stiffness in his new fingers.

Anyway. Always, without question, he and Strider guarded each other’s backs (video games aside). So, he shouldn’t have been surprised that his friend was here, resolved to save him from himself. Didn’t mean he’d roll over and play dead.

“She’s dangerous,” Strider added. “A walking blade through the heart, dude.”

Yes, she was. She invaded dreams, presented sleepers with their worst fears and fed off the ensuing terror. Hell, a few weeks ago, she’d done it to him. With spiders. He shuddered, momentarily sick to his stomach as he pictured the hairy little bastards crawling all over him.

Pussy. Suck it up. He’d faced countless swinging swords without flinching—as well as the monsters wielding them. What were a few spiders? Another shudder. Revolting, that’s what. He knew what they were thinking every time their beady eyes landed on him: tasty.

But why hadn’t Scarlet invaded anyone else’s dreams? He’d wondered about that almost as much as he’d wondered about their “marriage.” The other warriors, their female companions, she’d left alone. Despite the fact that she’d threatened to slaughter every single one of them. Something she truly could do.

“Damn it. Stop ignoring me,” Strider growled, punching a hole in the silver-stone wall seconds after they passed a closed bedroom door. “You know my demon doesn’t like it.”

Dust and debris plumed the air, a loud crack echoing. Great. Soon, other warriors would be up and running to find out what had just happened. Or maybe not. As temperamental as members of this household were (cough too much testosterone cough), they had to be used to unexpected, violent noises.

“Look. I’m not sorry.” Gideon flicked his friend a glance, taking in the blond hair, the blue eyes and the deceptively innocent features that were somehow perfect for his he-man build. More than one woman had called him “beautifully all-American,” whatever that meant. Those same women usually avoided looking at Gideon, as if even roving their gazes over his tattoos and piercings would blacken their souls. For all he knew, they were right. “But you’re correct. I can’t do this.”

Which meant that Strider was wrong and, yes, Gideon damn well could do this. So suck it!

Everyone who lived in this fortress—and godsdamn, there were a lot of people, the number seemingly growing by the day as his friends each hooked up with their “one and only” (gag)—was fluent in Gideon Speak and knew to believe the opposite of whatever he said.

“Fine,” Strider said tightly. “You can. But you won’t. Because you know that if you take the woman out of this home, I’ll go gray from worry. And you like my hair the way it is.”

“Stridey-man. Are you hitting on me? Trying to get me to run my fingers through those mangy locks?”

“Shithead,” Strider muttered, but his anger was clearly defused.

Gideon chuckled. “Sweetie pie.”

Strider’s lips even twitched into a grin. “You know I hate when you get mushy like that.”

Boy loved it. No question.

They snaked a corner, bypassing one of the many sitting rooms the fortress possessed. This one was empty. As early in the morning as it was, most of the warriors were still in bed with their women. If they weren’t weaponing-up at that exact moment, of course.

Out of habit, he scanned the area. In this particular room, portraits of naked men littered the walls, courtesy of the goddess of Anarchy whose warped sense of humor rivaled Gideon’s own. There were red leather chairs (Reyes, the keeper of Pain, sometimes had to cut himself to quiet his demon, so red came in handy), gleaming bookshelves (Paris, keeper of Promiscuity, enjoyed romance novels), and weird silver lamps that twisted and curved over the chairs; he had no idea who those were for. Fresh flowers bloomed from vases, sweetly scenting the air. Again, he had no idea. Fine. He’d requested those. That shit smelled good.

Gideon breathed deeply of that fresh, delicious air. Except he ended up inhaling a nose full of guilt. Sadly, that happened all the time lately. While he luxuriated in this, his would-be wife rotted below in the dungeons. Before this, she’d spent thousands of years in Tartarus, so that made him doubly cruel for leaving her down there.

Really, what kind of man allowed such a thing? An asshole, that’s who, and he was certainly king of them. After all, he was going to return Scarlet to the dungeon once his questions were answered. For, like, ever. Even if she was—or rather, had been—his wife.

Yes. He was a bad, bad man.

She was simply too dangerous to be permanently freed, her ability to invade dreams too destructive. Because when you died in one of Scarlet’s nightmares, you died for real. That was it. The end. And if she ever decided to aid the Hunters, which could happen, scorned women and all that, the Lords would never be able to sleep soundly again. And they needed their beauty rest or they became snarling beasts.

Case in point: Gideon. He hadn’t slept in weeks.

Slow down, his demon suddenly instructed. Moving too fast.

Usually Lies was merely a presence in the back of his mind. There, but silent. Only when the demon’s need was great did he speak up. But even then, he had to say the opposite of what he wanted. And now he wanted Gideon to hurry up and reach Scarlet.

Give me wings and it’s done, Gideon replied dryly, but damn if he didn’t quicken his step. He could and did think what he meant. Always. He never lied to himself or the demon during these private moments. Maybe because he’d had to fight savagely and without mercy for such moments.

Upon possession, he’d been lost to darkness and chaos, a slave to his soul-companion and his evil cravings. He’d tormented humans just to hear them scream. He’d burned homes to the ground, as well as the families inside them. He’d killed indiscriminately, and taunted while doing so.

It had taken a few hundred years, but Gideon had finally clawed his way to the light. He was in control now, and had even managed to tame the beast. For the most part.

Strider heaved a sigh, regaining his attention. “Gideon, man, listen to me. I said it once, but I’ll say it again. You can’t take the female outside these walls. She’ll run from you, you know she will. Hunters are in the city, we know that, too, and they could catch her. Recruit her. Use her. Or, if she refuses them, even hurt her like they hurt you.”

One, Strider was speaking as if Gideon couldn’t hold on to the wily temptress for a few days. And he could. He knew how to kick ass and take names with the best. Two, Strider was speaking as if Gideon would be unable to find her if he did indeed lose her. And three, Strider was probably speaking correctly, but that didn’t soothe Gideon’s sudden burst of anger. He may not be the smooth operator that Strider was, but he had some skills with the ladies, damn it.

More than that, Scarlet herself was a warrior. An immortal. She could surround herself with darkness. A darkness so thick no human light, and no immortal eyes, could penetrate it. Losing her wouldn’t be as disgraceful as losing, say, an untrained human.

Not that he’d lose her, he told himself again, and not that she would want to run. He was going to seduce her. Was going to pleasure the energy right out of her and make her desperate to stay with him. Which shouldn’t be too difficult. She’d liked him enough to marry him, right? Maybe.

Damn it!

“I know what you’re thinking,” Strider said after another sigh. “If she escapes you, so what? You’ll find her.”

“Wrong.” He had thought that, yeah, but he’d soon discarded the idea. So there. What are you? A girl?

“Well, what happens to her while you’re looking for her? During the day she needs protection, and if you’re not with her, who’s going to protect her?”

Fuck. Good point. Scarlet couldn’t function during daylight hours. Because of her demon, she slept too deeply. So deeply that nothing and no one could wake her until sunset, a fact he’d discovered after nearly giving her a brain aneurysm while trying and failing to shake her into consciousness.

He had been shocked when, a few hours later, her eyes had popped open and she’d sat up as if she’d just taken a ten-minute power nap.

Which had raised other questions. Why did her demon sleep during the day, when the people around her were awake? Didn’t that defeat the purpose of creating nightmares? And what happened when she traveled and the time zone changed?

“We’re lucky we found her when we did,” Strider continued. “If we hadn’t had Aeron’s angel on our side, we would’ve died trying to secure her. Setting her free, no matter the reason, is stupid and danger—”

“You haven’t said that before.” Over and over again. “Besides, Olive’s no longer on our team.” Meaning, she was. “She can’t help us again if needed.” Meaning she could. “Now, I hate you, man, but please keep talking.” I love you, but shut the hell up! Seriously.

Strider growled his renewed frustration as they pounded down the steps that led into the dungeon, stained-glass windows giving way to crumbling, bloodstained walls. The air became musty, tainted with sweat, urine and blood. None of it was Scarlet’s, thank the gods. His guilt couldn’t have handled that. Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on whom you asked—she wasn’t the only being locked away. They had several Hunters awaiting payback, aka interrogation, aka torture.

“What if she was lying to you?” his friend asked. The man didn’t know when to quit, and yeah, Gideon knew Strider couldn’t quit. Which was why he didn’t simply punch his friend in the face and beat feet. “What if she’s not really your wife?”

Gideon snorted. “Forgot to tell you. Sifting through truth and lies is difficult for me.” Except with her, but he wasn’t going to issue that reminder just then.

“Yeah, but you also told me you don’t know with her.”

One of them had a perfect memory. Excellent. “There’s no way she can be my wife.” The chances were slim, but yeah, they were there. “I don’t have to do this.”

When Scarlet had first invaded his dreams and demanded he visit her in this dungeon, he’d been helpless to do otherwise, filled with a need to see her, some part of him recognizing her on a level he still didn’t understand. When she’d alleged they’d kissed, had sex, even wed each other, that same part of him had hummed in agreement.

Even though he didn’t fucking remember her.

Why couldn’t he remember her? he wondered for the thousandth time.

He’d been playing with several theories. The first: the gods had erased his memory. But that raised the question of why. Why would they not want him to recall his own wife? Why had they not erased Scarlet’s memory, as well?

The second theory: he’d suppressed the memory himself. But again, why would he have done so? How would he have done so? There were a million other things he’d actually like to forget.

The third: his demon had somehow erased the memory when they were paired. But if that were true, why did he recall his life in the heavens, when he’d been a servant to Zeus, tasked with guarding the former god king at every moment of every day?

He and Strider stopped at the first cell, where Scarlet had resided the past few weeks. She was asleep on her cot, as he’d known she would be. And as he’d done each time he’d seen her, he sucked in a breath. Lovely. But…

Mine? Did he want her to be?

No, of course not. That would complicate the hell out of everything. Not that he’d let it matter. He couldn’t. His friends came first. That’s the way things were, and the way they would always be.

At least she was clean; he’d made sure she had enough water to drink and to bathe. And she was well fed; he’d made sure food was delivered three times a night. He would do the same when he ultimately returned her. That would have to be enough.

Don’t hurry, Lies cried, practically jumping from one corner of his skull to the other. Don’t hurry!

Cram it, buddy. I’ll handle this. But he couldn’t force himself to move just yet. He’d been waiting for this moment forever, it seemed, and wanted to bask in it.

Bask? He really was becoming a woman.

Look away before you get an erection, he told himself. All right, now that was more manly. He purposefully shifted his gaze. The walls around her were composed of thick, impenetrable stone. Therefore, she could never see the Hunters imprisoned beside her. Actually, Gideon didn’t care about that. He didn’t want the Hunters seeing her.

Yeah. He wanted mine. At least for now.

Speaking of the Hunters, they spotted the warriors through their own bars and shrank into the shadows, their murmurs tapering to quiet. They might have stopped breathing as well, so afraid were they of being singled out. Good. He liked that his enemy feared him.

They had every reason to do so.

These men had imprisoned and raped innocent, immortal women in hopes of creating half-breed children they could raise to hate and fight Gideon and his friends. Children who would’ve been able to help the Hunters find Pandora’s box before the Lords could, all in hopes of using the artifact to separate each demon from its host. An act the warriors wouldn’t survive, as man was now bound irrevocably to beast.

That, too, was part of their punishment for opening that stupid box.

Gideon withdrew the key to Scarlet’s cell, his new fingers stiff and shaky from disuse, and reached out.

“Wait.” Strider placed a hard hand on his shoulder, trying to hold him in place. Gideon could have shaken free, but he allowed his friend the illusion of winning this small battle of wills. “You can talk to her here. Get your answers here.”

But they had an audience, which meant she couldn’t relax. And if she couldn’t relax, she wouldn’t allow him to touch her. Degenerate that he was, he wanted to touch her. Besides, how else was he going to seduce information from her? By telling her how ugly she was? By telling her what he didn’t want to do to her?

“Don’t ease off, man. Like I haven’t told you countless times, I have no plans to bring her back when I find out what I don’t want to know. Okay?”

“If you can bring her back. We discussed that little problem already, too. Remember?”

Kinda hard to forget. Unfortunately. “I won’t be careful. You don’t have my word. But I don’t need to do this. It’s not important to me.”

That hard hand never left him. “Now isn’t the time to leave us. We have three artifacts, and Galen’s pissed as hell. He’s gonna want revenge for the one we took from him.”

Galen was leader of the Hunters, as well as a demon-possessed warrior. Only, he looked angelic and was paired with the demon of Hope, so all of his human followers thought he was, indeed, an angel. Because of him, they blamed each of the Lords for the world’s evil. Because of him, they expected a future free of that evil, and fought to the death to achieve it.

Aeron’s new woman, Olivia, who actually was an honest-to-her-God angel, had stolen that third artifact from the bastard. The Cloak of Invisibility. As there were four artifacts needed to lead the way to Pandora’s box—the All-Seeing Eye (check), the Cage of Compulsion (check), the Cloak of Invisibility (as stated, check) and the Paring Rod (check coming soon)—Galen was desperate to win back the Cloak, as well as confiscate all the others.

Which meant their war was really heating up.

Didn’t matter, though. Nothing was going to deter Gideon from his present course of action. Mainly because part of him felt like his very life depended on this.

“Gid. Dude.”

He flicked his friend a narrowed glance, lips pulling back in a snarl. “You’re begging to be kissed.” Beaten to hell.

A moment passed in heavy silence.

“Fine,” Strider finally muttered, raising his arms, palms out. “Take her.”

Jeez. “Wasn’t planning on it, but many thanks for the approval.” But why wasn’t Strider collapsed on the ground, out for the count? He’d just lost a challenge, hadn’t he?

“When will you return?”

Gideon shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking…a week?” Surely seven days was plenty of time to soften Scarlet toward him and get her to open up about their past. Right now, she seemed to hate his guts. He didn’t know why, but he would. It was a vow. But still. She clearly preferred dangerous men. Why else would she have supposedly married him? So he fit the bill.

“Three days,” Strider said.

Ah. Negotiation time. That was why Strider hadn’t fallen to his demon. He wasn’t defeated, merely trying another strategy. Gideon could dig. He felt just as guilty about leaving his boys behind as he did about leaving Scarlet in this cell. They needed him, and if they were hurt while he was gone, he would completely flip his lid.

“I’m not thinking five now,” he compromised.

“Four.”

“No deal.”

Grinning, Strider nodded. “Good.”

So. He had four days to soften Scarlet. He’d fought more difficult battles in less time, he was sure. Funny that he couldn’t recall them at the moment, though.

Hell, maybe he just suffered from selective memory loss. Maybe fights and Scarlet—whom he’d probably fought with a lot, since she was opinionated, bossy and mouthy as shit—were the biggest casualties of that loss.

He would’ve liked to remember the sex, though. Mind-blowing. He just knew it.

“I’ll inform the others,” Strider said. “But in the meantime, I’ll drive you to wherever you want to take her.”

“Sure thing.” Gideon finally inserted the key and unlocked Scarlet’s cell, the door swinging open with a whine. “I’m not gonna drive her myself. I want everyone to know where we’re going.”

Strider gave another growl, this one just as frustrated but now laced with anger. “Stubborn jackass. I have to know you made it safely to wherever you’re going or I won’t be able to concentrate enough to kill anyone. And you know I’m on a strict, at-least-one-Hunter-a-day diet.”

“That’s why you won’t be getting a phone call from me.” Gideon approached Scarlet’s still-sleeping form. She no longer surrounded herself in that impermeable darkness while she slept. As if she wanted Gideon to always be able to see her. As if she trusted him not to hurt her.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Gods. I can’t believe you talked me into this. Did I tell you already that you’re a shithead?”

“Nope.” Gently he scooped Scarlet into his arms.

Sighing, she rubbed her cheek against his heart. A heart that was now beating against his ribs like a sledgehammer. She must have liked the erratic rhythm, because she cuddled closer. Nice.

She was five-nine to his six-three, slender, but leanly muscled. She had refused the clothes he’d offered her, so she wore the T-shirt and jeans Aeron had found her in.

Gideon inhaled deeply again, but this time there was no guilt. She smelled of floral-scented soap, and it consumed him. What had she smelled like all those years ago, when they’d supposedly been married? Flowers, like now? Or something else? Something more exotic? Something as dark and sensual as she was? Something he would have enjoyed sucking into his mouth as he tongued her from head to toe?

Head out of gutter. Now wasn’t the time to indulge such thoughts.

He turned with her clutched tightly to his chest, a treasure he would protect while they were outside the fortress walls. Even from his friends. He knew he was contradicting himself, thinking of her in such romantic terms and so ferociously, when his intentions were neither pure nor honorable, but he couldn’t help himself. Stupid lust.

Strider’s expression was wary, but accepting, silently telling him no defensive moves would be necessary. “Go. And be careful.”

Gods, he loved his friends. They supported him no matter what. They always had.

“By the way. You look like you’re a cat, and you just found a bowl of cream,” Strider said with a shake of his head. “That’s not comforting. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, do you?”

Maybe not. Because he hadn’t looked forward to something this intensely in a long time, and he probably should’ve been wary. Having his idiocy pointed out, though…“I’m not showing you a finger in my mind. Do you know that?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s your index finger and you’re telling me I’m number one.”

He laughed. Something like that.

“Four days,” his friend reminded him. “Or I come find you.”

Gideon blew him a kiss.

Strider rolled his eyes. “You wish. But listen. I’ll be praying for you to return to us alive. And with the girl. And that she’s alive, too. Oh, and that you’re satisfied with what you learn. And that she satisfied you in other ways, so you’ll forget about her like you’ve done all the other women in your life.”

Okay. That was a lot of prayers. “Thanks. A lot. I really mean that. So when didn’t you become a priest? And when did the gods decide they liked answering us?” Strider had never wasted his time on prayers before, and the gods actually adored ignoring their requests.

No, not true, he corrected himself. Cronus, the newly crowned Titan king, now liked to visit the fortress without an invite and make all kinds of shitty demands Gideon and the others were forced to obey.

Like killing innocent humans. Like choosing to save either your woman or your friend. Like begging to be told where your friend’s spirit had been sent when the friend in question had had his head cleaved from his body. Yeah, that had happened. Aeron had lost his head to a warrior angel and at Cronus’s behest, Gideon had begged (in his way) to know where the man’s spirit resided, tears streaming down his face. Actually, all of them had begged and sobbed like babies.

But in the end, Cronus had still refused to tell them. Because they’d needed a lesson in humility, the bastard had said.

Then, of course, Aeron had returned on his own. Or rather, with his sweet Olivia’s help. He’d been restored to his body, minus his demon, and once again lived here in the fortress. But Gideon had yet to forgive Cronus for his disregard, so prayers weren’t something he would be offering anytime soon.

“Priest.” Strider’s head slanted thoughtfully. Of course, he ignored Gideon’s questions. Him, though, Gideon easily forgave. “I like it. I mean, it’s practically true. I have sent many women through the gates of heaven.”

Hadn’t they all?

And Scarlet would be no different, he assured himself.

Grinning now, Gideon carried his woman away.




Chapter Two


SCARLET AWOKE with a jolt. But then, she always did. The moment her demon’s required time in dreamland ended, awareness would slam into her brain, as if she’d been hooked to a generator and the switch had been flipped.

Panting, sweating, she sat up, wild gaze roving though not really seeing. Yet. The screams she and her demon had garnered from their victims were already fading, but the images they’d projected into those sleeping minds remained in hers. Crackling flames, melting flesh, black ash wafting and dancing in the breeze.

The night’s terror du jour had been fire.

She couldn’t control the demon while she slept, as he searched out anyone he could find, wreaking what havoc he could. She could, however, make suggestions, urging him to attack certain people in certain ways. And he usually rushed to do so. Not that she’d made any suggestions lately.

Ever since the Lords of the Underworld had captured her, she’d been operating on autopilot, her thoughts consumed with one warrior in particular. The blue-haired, gorgeous, utterly frustrating Gideon.

Why didn’t he remember her?

As always, recalling his selective amnesia had every muscle in her body tensing on bone. Her hands fisted; her teeth gnashed together, little pains shooting through her jaw. But most of all, a savage need to kill someone, anyone, consumed her.

Anger isn’t good for those around you. Calm down. Think of something else.

She forced her mind to return to her demon; sadly, death and chaos were a much safer topic than that of her husband. During their hours awake—which amounted to twelve each and every day, though not always the same twelve—she pulled the strings. She could summon the darkness, and she could garner the screams. The demon could urge her, and she often heeded those urgings. Turnabout was fair play, after all. And usually, Nightmares liked to urge. Scare him…Make her scream…

But right now, her demon was strangely content.

We’re out of the dungeon, Nightmares said, seeing their surroundings before she could.

Aw. No wonder.

The flames finally died, and Scarlet scanned the area. She frowned. Okay. So. Where the hell was she now?

She’d been locked in that dungeon for several weeks, enclosed in crumbling stone and iron bars. Pained moans had constantly drifted from the other cells, and all kinds of pungent, acrid scents had taken up permanent residence inside her nose.

Now…decadence. Floral paper decorated the walls, and dark velvet curtains hung over the bay windows. There was a glistening, violet chandelier over the bed, the lights shaped like bundles of grapes. And the bed, well, her gaze slid along every inch of it. Large, with soft blue sheets and four hand-carved posters.

Best of all, the air smelled sweet, like those hanging grapes mixed with apples and vanilla. She breathed deeply, savoring. How had she gotten here? Without her knowledge?

Clearly, she’d been carried while she’d slept like the dead. Something she usually despised but couldn’t this time because it meant she’d been set free, just as she’d hoped. Yes, hoped. She hadn’t wanted to remain in that fortress, just to be near Gideon. Really.

Still. While she was lost to the dreams of others—and yeah, no matter what time she slipped into that realm of darkness and turmoil, someone, somewhere was sleeping, the demon feeding off their terror—anyone could attack her, and she would be unable to defend herself. Anyone could do anything to her, and she would be powerless to stop them.

Being moved while she was helpless irked.

Usually she protected herself from just such a situation with shadows. She had only to crook a mental finger just before she drifted and they would envelop her the entire time she slept, making it impossible for anyone to see her. But once she’d realized she was inside Gideon’s home, she’d stopped summoning those shadows.

Perhaps she’d wished, on some level, that watching her while she slept would revive his memory of her. Perhaps she’d wished he would grow to desire her again and beg to be a part of her new life. Which was stupid. The bastard had left her to rot inside Tartarus; she shouldn’t want his desire.

She should want his ruin.

“Well, well. I’m so upset you’re finally awake.”

At the sound of his voice, deep and rumbling, Scarlet stiffened, gaze once again roving. Then, she spotted him, and her heart stopped abruptly. He stood in the bedroom’s doorway, muscled arms hanging loosely. He was a warrior whose wicked face promised incomparable nights of sinful pleasures, his eyes bright with anticipation and contradicting his casual pose.

Gideon. Once her beloved husband, but now a man who deserved only her scorn.

Her heart kicked back into gear, quickly gaining speed, and her blood heated with tendrils of awareness. The same reaction she’d experienced the first time she’d seen him, thousands of years ago.

Not my fault, then or now. There was no man more beautiful, part angel, part devil, and all the more masculine for it. No man who tempted even as he repelled, someplace deep inside a woman warning her of the dangers that awaited her should she succumb to his allure. Dangers she couldn’t help but crave.

He wore a black T-shirt that read “You Know You Want Me,” black pants that bagged just a little and a silver chain belt. There were three piercings in his right eyebrow, and now one in his lip. A hoop. Silver. To match his belt, she thought snidely.

He’d always cared about his appearance, and hadn’t liked being teased about it. Something that had once amused her, for it had showed a softer side of him. A hint of vulnerability.

Today, however, she couldn’t summon any joviality. While he stood there looking as edible as a chocolate truffle dipped in caramel, she probably resembled a gutter rat dipped in sewage. She’d only been able to scrub herself with the water the Lords brought her each evening, so her clothes were wrinkled and dirty and her hair a mass of tangles.

“Got lots to say, huh?” he muttered. “We’re on the right track, then.”

She knew he could only speak lies, so she knew exactly what he meant. He wanted her talking. Keep it cas. Don’t let him know how he affects you. She arched a brow, donning what she hoped was an unconcerned expression. “Remember me yet?” Good. There hadn’t been a single spark of hurt in her tone.

His eyes drained of emotion, making those crystalline orbs look as hard as diamonds. “Of course I do.”

So, no. He didn’t. Bastard. She didn’t allow her expression to change, wouldn’t let him know how much he upset her. “Then why did you take me out of the fortress?” Slowly, purposefully, she traced a finger down the column of her neck, between her breasts, wondering if—yep. His gaze followed the entire way. Did some part of him still find her attractive? “I’m a very dangerous woman.”

“Haven’t been warned about that already.” The words were broken, emerging on a rasp of breath. “And I didn’t remove you to talk comfortably, that’s for sure.”

Not because he’d wanted her, then, but just to appease his curiosity. Her hand fell to her lap. She was not disappointed. This was more of the same, and she’d steeled herself against the mental anguish countless times already. One more time should hardly make a difference.

“You’re a fool if you thought a change of scenery would loosen my tongue.”

Though he remained silent, a muscle ticked in his jaw. He was clearly perturbed.

She offered him a sugar-sweet smile, determined to enjoy the moment. And there was something satisfying about leaving him in the dark, keeping him guessing the way he’d kept her guessing about his whereabouts for thousands of worry-filled years.

Reminded of her worry, that soul-deep, ever-present worry, she couldn’t stop her smile, fake as it was, from vanishing. She even had to press her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stop herself from chomping on it in fury.

“I’ll come back for you,” he’d told her one night. “I’ll set you free, I swear it.”

“No. Don’t go. Don’t leave me here.” Gods, she’d been so whiny back then. But she’d been a prisoner, and he’d been her only bright light.

“I love you too much to be without you for long, sweetheart. You know that. But I have to do this. For both of us.”

Of course, she hadn’t seen or heard from him after that. Not until the Titans escaped Tartarus, a prison for immortals, and wrested control of the heavens from the Greeks. Not until she’d come here to Earth and searched…only to find him carousing for tail at some skanky nightclub.

The fury expanded, dotted her line of vision with red. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Slowly the dots dissipated.

“We’re done here,” she said, though she remained still, gauging his reaction. “You’re not getting what you want, and you’re certainly not keeping me here.”

“Feel free to run from me.” He crossed his arms over his massive chest, pulling the fabric of his shirt tight across his pecs. “You won’t regret it.”

Again, she knew what he meant. Run, and he would ensure she suffered. But she said, “Soon as I stretch, I’ll take you up on that offer and run. Thanks for the suggestion, by the way. I never would have thought of it on my own.”

He growled with frustration and anger, all hint of casualness gone. “I was cruel to bring you here. You don’t owe me a favor in return, so you had better not stay put.”

“We’re in agreement. You’re cruel, and I don’t owe you anything, so I won’t feel obligated to remain.”

Another growl. She tried not to laugh. Damnation, he was still fun to tease.

Fun? Her grin faded a second time. She should hate that he could only speak in lies, not enjoy it. That deceitful tongue of his had once shattered her already fragile heart.

“That’s so not enough from you,” he sniped.

“Wow. Already begging for more.” Once, she’d thought him special. But he’d proven himself exactly like the others. Her mother, her king, her supposed friends. They should have cared about her, but they had betrayed her, each and every one of them.

They’d been criminals, sure, but even criminals could love. Right? Right. So why couldn’t they love me?

She’d spent her entire life locked inside Tartarus because her mother, Rhea, wife to Cronus, had had an affair with a mortal just before the queen’s imprisonment and had eventually given birth to Scarlet inside her cell. A cell she’d shared with several other gods and goddesses.

Scarlet had been raised among them, and at first, they’d liked her. As she’d aged, however, jealousy had sprouted in some. Lust in others.

Captivity, hatred and bitterness had soon become her only trusted companions.

Until Gideon.

He’d once been an elite guard to Zeus and every time he’d brought in a new prisoner, their gazes had met. She’d waited for those moments, desperate for them. He’d enjoyed them, too, because he’d begun to visit Tartarus regularly. Not to lock up another criminal but simply to see her, to talk to her.

Don’t think about your time with him. You’ll soften toward him. And you can’t soften, you idiot.

After gaining her freedom, she should have stayed in Olympus, which was now renamed Titania, thanks to Cronus, and found a nice god to settle down with. But nooo. She’d had to see Gideon one last time. Then, having seen him, she’d had to remain near him. Then, having decided to remain, she’d just had to convince herself to warn the Lords away from her, since she’d heard that they were tracking every immortal paired with a demon from Pandora’s box, with the intention of recruiting them…or killing them.

Bastard, she thought about Gideon again. Excellent. That’s more like it. He’s a filthy liar, a cold-blooded killer, and you hate him. He still planned to kill her after he got his answers; she knew he did. Because she would never aid him, and that made her a liability.

“This silence is awesome,” he remarked.

“Glad you like it,” she replied. Annoyance bloomed over his expression, and she had to fight another grin. “’Cause I’m willing to give you a lot more of it.”

Another growl.

“Oh, and for your peace of mind, you should know that I’m not going to run.” Yet. She wanted to talk, too, though not to satisfy his curiosity.

For too long, she’d wondered if he’d found someone new. Someone permanent. And it was past time she knew. Of course, if he had, Scarlet would have to kill the bitch. Not because she still cared about Gideon—she didn’t, she reminded herself—but because he didn’t deserve such happiness.

That wasn’t vengeful of her. As his scorned ex, that was simply her right.

“No thanks for staying put,” he said with a relieved sigh.

Thanks, he was saying. “You’re not welcome.” Fuck you, she was saying.

Eyes narrowing, and making him look as if he wanted to stomp his foot in vexation like a child, he traced his tongue over his teeth. Score one for Scarlet. “How is it possible that we didn’t marry, yet my friends know everything about it?”

How had they married without anyone knowing? Easy. “We married in secret, dumbass.”

This time, he didn’t react to her taunt. “Was I not ashamed of you?”

Oh, she could slap him for that. Of course he thought he’d been ashamed of her rather than the other way around. She’d been the prisoner, after all, and he the free man. Not that he remembered even that slight detail, but clearly he still thought very highly of himself.

Bastard was too kind a word for him.

“You weren’t ashamed of me, but you would have been killed if you’d been caught associating with me,” she gritted out.

He nodded, as if he now understood she was a Titan who had been locked in Tartarus by the Greeks, rather than an actual criminal. As if he now understood that those Greeks, the very ones who had created him, would have punished him in the worst possible way for “dating” one of their reviled enemies.

“So. If we haven’t been married all this time, what name have you not been using?”

Uh, what? He’d already forgotten her damned name when she’d told him the first time he’d visited her in the dungeon? Only a few weeks had passed since then. “My name is Scarlet.” You ass! “But I already told you that.” Ass, ass, ass. Her hands fisted the cotton beneath her.

He waved in dismissal. “Didn’t know that already. What I don’t want to know now is your last name.”

That failed to calm her. Her grip tightened, and her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. Clearly, this was part of his excavation for information, not intimate curiosity, and he considered her dumb enough to fall for it.

He wasn’t sure if she was a god or one of their servants. As a god, she wouldn’t have a last name. As a servant, she would, for last names lowered status, as if you couldn’t be distinguished by your first name alone. Like a human. Gideon was doing the process of elimination thing. Not that it would do him any good, for she was neither god nor servant. Nor human, for that matter. She was something in between them all.

“My last name changes pretty much every time I watch a movie and find new man candy,” she said in a sugar-sweet tone that matched her earlier grin.

Now he popped his jaw, lip ring glistening in the lavender light. Irritated by that, was he? Didn’t like the thought of his supposed wife eating up other men with her eyes, huh?

“Man candy? Like something you’d buy from a bakery?” His tone was sneering, intent on shaming her.

“Hell, no.” And he clearly didn’t think so, either, because he hadn’t passed out from his words. He was irritated, then. Good. Finally. True satisfaction. Score two. “You know. Man candy. Men to lust after, men you want to lick, men you want to suck on and take a bite out of. Well, not you, but me.” No way did she want Gideon thinking she’d pined for him all these years. That she’d lain awake, wishing for him, desperate for him.

No matter how true that was.

Those eyes narrowed farther, his lashes fusing together and obscuring the bright blue of his irises. “You’re not a Lord. Not like me. You shouldn’t call yourself Scarlet Lord.”

“You call yourself Gideon Lord?” she asked. She hadn’t known that.

“No.”

Yes. “Well, then, I will never call myself Scarlet Lord.” She wouldn’t travel down that road with him again. She would not proclaim to this world and the heavens that she belonged to him.

If she shared anything with this man, it would be the tip of her dagger. Right through his black, forgetting, abandoning heart.

He bared his pearly whites in a fearsome scowl. “I’m not warning you to tread carefully. I’m not dangerous when I’m riled.”

“Hey, stop me if you’ve heard this one. But…wait for it…go fuck yourself.”

For some reason, the anger drained right out of him and his lips quirked into the semblance of a smile. “No spirit. I can’t see why I would have chosen you.”

Do. Not. Soften.

“I don’t want to know who you’ve named yourself after.” He straightened from the door frame, though his arms remained crossed over his chest. “Please don’t tell me. Please.”

Casually asked, with that hint of amusement, yet there was now a sharp gleam in his eyes, as if he would close the distance between them, if necessary, and shake the answer out of her.

If he touched her, if those strong fingers closed around her arms…No, no, no. She couldn’t allow it.

She shrugged as if the information didn’t matter. “Well, I’ve been calling myself Scarlet Pattinson for several weeks. Have you seen Robert Pattinson? Hottest. Man. Ever. And no, I don’t care if that makes me a cougar. He sings with the voice of an angel. Gods, I love when a man sings to me. You never did because your voice is terrible.” She shuddered in distaste. “I swear, it’s like a demon running its claws over brimstone.”

His fingers were digging into his biceps so savagely, bruises were already branching from under them. “And now you’re not going to tell me who you were before that.”

He’d dropped the “please.” Excellent. She was getting to him again. But how far could she push him on this point? How much could his stupid male pride take before he did stomp over to her? Before he did shake her? And not for answers, but for an apology.

Once, she’d known the answer to those questions. He would never touch her in anger. But he wasn’t the same tender man she’d fallen in love with. A man who had shown her that first taste of kindness. He couldn’t be. She and all the other prisoners had heard stories about the Lords of the Underworld and their exploits. The innocents they’d killed, the cities they’d destroyed.

Besides, she knew what her own demon had done to her upon their pairing. The darkness, the terror, the absolute loss of control. She’d been consumed, no longer human in any way. And that had lasted for centuries, she’d been told, though there were gaps in her memory, the time seeming to have passed in a matter of days. Still. She was no longer the same person, either.

“I was Pitt for a while,” she said. “Then Gosling. Then Jackman. Then Reynolds. I always go back to Reynolds. He’s my fave. That blond hair, those muscles…” She shivered. “Let’s see, who else? Oh. I’ve been Bana, Pine, Efron and DiCaprio, as well. DiCaprio is another fave. And another blond, for that matter. Maybe I have a thing for blonds.”

Hopefully the barb cut its mark. Gideon had black hair underneath all that blue.

“Oh, and I’m not into girls,” she continued, “but Jessica Biel could change my mind. Have you seen her lips? So yes, I’ve even been Scarlet Biel.”

Gideon did that jaw-popping thing again. And if she wasn’t mistaken, the anger had returned full force, burning away the last vestiges of amusement. “So very few pieces of candy,” he remarked.

Apparently, she could push him pretty far. How had she thought him merely angry before? That was suppressed rage she was hearing in his voice…as well as deep thrums of arousal.

The latter was a sound she’d once known well and never thought to hear again.

Do not smile. “I like variety, what can I say? Maybe one day it’ll even be my mission to bag and tag each and every one of them.”

Steam practically curled from his nostrils. Yep, rage. He straightened, stepped forward, stopped himself, and retreated back into the doorway. “We aren’t done with that topic for now,” he snapped. He turned as if to leave.

“Wait.” She wasn’t ready to end the exchange. Not yet. “What about you?” she asked, shifting the focus off herself. Careful. “Any girlfriends I should know about? Or better yet, another wife? If so, I’ll have to have you incarcerated for polygamy.” There. No way he could guess at her desperation. At her clawing need to know.

Slowly he spun back around. “Yes,” he said through clenched teeth, the word barely scraping its way free. Meaning no, he had none. “I have a girlfriend, and I’m married to someone else.”

Scarlet released a searing breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Gideon was single. A male whore who tapped any ass he could get his hands on, yes, but he was still unattached. She began shaking. Not in relief, she was sure, but in disappointment that she wouldn’t get to murder someone he loved right in front of him.

So…we’re done here.

She now had the info she’d wanted; she could ditch him. Except, she threw her legs over the side of the mattress and stood. Without knocking him down and running away. Idiot. “I’m taking a shower and you’re getting me food. Don’t even think about arguing or I swear to the gods I’ll fill your next dreams with countless spiders.” At least, she thought she would.

For some reason, Nightmares didn’t like to torment him. She’d had to beg to get the demon to do so the first and only time, and the stupid beast had protested and whined every single moment. That had never happenedbefore. Her demon was an equal opportunity tormentor.

Why did Nightmares like him? Him, of all people. Her demon didn’t even know him, since she’d become possessed after Gideon had abandoned her. But her demon had endured her constant complaints about him, so she would have placed good money on Nightmares wishing Gideon was dead, just so Scarlet’s complaining would stop.

“Well?” she demanded. “Why are you just standing there? Get moving.”

Gideon’s lips did that adorable twitching thing again. Trying not to grin? Odd man. Anyone else would have stomped away in irritation. Or threatened to stab her for such a haughty, commanding tone.

“Whatever you desire, my sweet.”

Which meant he’d be doing nothing. She’d figured. He’d always been stubborn and had never taken orders well, and that was something she used to like about him. Still. She couldn’t leave him feeling satisfied with the conversation.

Satisfaction belonged only to her.

Which meant it was time to throw him for another loop.

As she strolled to the bathroom, stripping along the way, she said over her shoulder, “Oh, and, Gid. I’ve been lying to you all along. We were never married.”



DAMN IT, damn it, damn it! Gideon still couldn’t detect when Scarlet lied, and that was really starting to annoy him. For some reason, every word out of her lovely lips still caressed his ears, and worse, that audible stroke was spreading to his entire body. How?

Fact: truth usually made his demon hiss. Fact: lies usually made the demon purr. With Scarlet Pattinson—he nearly punched a hole in the wall of the hotel room as Strider had done at the fortress as his annoyance escalated—it picked up only on her raspy voice, too lost in pleasure to care about truth or lie.

He was going to have to stop that. Otherwise, he might never get his answers.

Leave her, Lies demanded.

Go get her? Hardly. I like my balls where they are, thanks. The kind of woman who would punch you for trying to kiss her awake would knee your testicles into your throat for peeking at her naked curves while she washed.

Naked…curves…Hello, hard-on.

The bathroom door clicked shut, blocking every last inch of her from his sight. Bad, uh, good thing, too. She’d been down to her bra and panties. Black, both of them. With lace. The bra had clasped in the front, just asking to be separated. That testicle ascension might be worth it, he thought, already striding forward.

His mouth watered, a lick of flame dancing over his body, heating his blood to scalding. Somehow, he stopped himself before hitting the door. Show some restraint, for gods’ sake. It was just, holy hell, she was beautiful. Like a portrait come to life, all pale, rose-dusted skin and a fall of silky black hair. All dangerous curves and lean muscle, two things that didn’t normally go well together. On her, however, they did. And exquisitely so.

Exquisite. The perfect word for her back and its tattooed canvas. Around her waist were the words TO PART IS TO DIE, and around the words were flowers. Lots and lots of flowers. Flowers of every color, shape and type, and he wanted to trace each of them with his tongue. Below the blooms, on her thighs, was a butterfly tattoo laced with all the jewel tones of a rainbow, glitter-bright and caught midflight, as if heading into those flowers.

Ex-qui-site.

That wasn’t what had caught the bulk of his attention, though. TO PART IS TO DIE. He’d had those very words and the flowers surrounding them tattooed around his own waist. Why had he done something so girly? That’s what all his friends had wanted to know after laughing their asses off at his expense. He’d told them he’d wanted to prove that nothing could lessen his appeal.

The truth was he’d done it because he’d seen those words and flowers in his mind, over and over again. They’d plagued him, and he’d known, known they meant something, but not what they meant. Now he knew he’d seen them on this woman. Which meant whether they were married or not, they had spent time together.

Why can’t I fucking remember it?

I know, Lies replied, as if he’d asked the demon.

Shut up. I like you better when you’re quiet.

The sound of water hitting porcelain suddenly reverberated through the hotel room. Scarlet was probably naked now, he thought. Probably soaked in that water and moaning as it slid down her luscious body.

He moaned, scrubbing a hand down his face and hoping to wipe away the naughty images flashing through his head. Didn’t help. He closed the rest of the distance, arm extending for the knob. Goodbye, testicles. We had a good run.

Just as before, he caught himself in time. He growled, backed away and planted his feet more firmly in place. No, no, and no.

At least he didn’t have to worry about her escaping. Not successfully. While she’d slept, he’d placed tiny sensors on all the doors and windows and wired them to his phone. He’d know the moment she tried to leave. And she would. Soon. She wouldn’t be able to help herself. Fighting was clearly part of her nature.

So was annoying him.

How was he supposed to handle a woman who picked her last name based on who she was currently lusting after? Which was fine when she was lusting after other females. Sexy, even. Something to be encouraged, too. But the males? Hells. No. Not if there was a chance they were hitched, and not until they had things settled between them.

Still. He knew how he wanted to handle her. Skin-to-skin. Every part of him longed to step into that shower, lick her all over, tasting her. Then, oh, yes, then, he’d sink deep inside her, feel her tug his hair and scratch his back. Feel her legs wrap around him and hold on tight. Hear her gasp his name and beg him for more.

Mini Me, his most beloved appendage, started weeping, and the twins begging, uncaring about potential loss.

Not gonna happen, men. Not yet, at least. She’d resisted him more intensely than he’d expected. Not that he’d tried very hard. Hard. Ha. But maybe that was a good thing. As Strider had reminded him, Hunters were in Budapest and out for blood. Now that they could kill the Lords and pair the demons with people of their choosing, now that the Lords were close to victory, the Hunters were more determined and vicious than ever. If Gideon seduced Scarlet, he would forget about guarding her.

He could have taken her to another city, he supposed, and seduced her there. That would have been safer. But, no. He couldn’t leave his friends like that. They needed him more than ever. Maddox was consumed with easing his pregnant wife; Lucien’s girlfriend was planning their wedding; Sabin’s wife was visiting her sister in the heavens, so the warlord was pretty much operating on a hairtrigger of emotion; and Reyes’s woman had enough shit to deal with. As the All-Seeing Eye, she could peer into heaven and hell, and the things she saw were often far worse than anything Scarlet could manufacture in her dream-world.

Not to mention, Aeron, until recently the keeper of Wrath, was still recovering from his interlude with death. For the first time in centuries, his mind was his own, his demon no longer a part of him. As expected, he hadn’t yet acclimated to the change.

Gideon wasn’t envious as some of the warriors were. He actually liked his other, darker half. Together, they were more powerful. Together, they were stronger, smarter, and no one but Scarlet could lie to him. Okay, fine. A few others could, but only when he let his emotions get the better of him. Which wasn’t often.

But speaking of being unable to tell truth from lies…I’ve been lying to you all along. We were never married, Scarlet had said.

Damn her and her seductive wiles. Were they or weren’t they? He had those flashes of her, yes, as if he had taken her to bed before. As if he had savored every inch of her and had already done all the things he now wanted to do. But those could very well be urges he’d had, mere fantasies, rather than reality.

Gideon sighed and strode to the bed where Scarlet had lain. He lifted the sheets and pressed the still-warm cotton to his cheek, the scent of midnight orchids wafting to his nose. Had he experienced this warmth skin-to-skin? Did he know that scent?

Scowling, he dropped the sheet as his cock wept a little more. Get out of here before you forget your good intentions and storm into that bathroom.

His demon liked the thought of storming. Don’t enter the bathroom. Don’t enter the bathroom right now!

Seriously. Shut it. Even though Gideon had told Scarlet in his roundabout, deceitful way that he wouldn’t be fetching her any food, which he’d meant at the time, he left and locked the room, rode the elevator downstairs, wrote out what food he wanted, then handed the receptionist the note.

Lies prowled angrily through his head the entire time, hating the distance from Scarlet. Completely surreal.

The receptionist smiled and began typing. “Give us an hour, Mr. Lord.”

He almost corrected her and said Pattinson. Anything to connect him to Scarlet. Instead he nodded and returned to the room. Scarlet was hungry. Therefore he would feed her. Wife or not. Because bottom line, he still had questions for her and she still had answers.

How he proceeded after this, as caveman or seducer, would be up to her.




Chapter Three


HAD SHE EVER felt this fantastically clean? Scarlet marveled as she brushed her hair.

Gods, this was nice. Not a speck of dirt marred her. She now smelled of the same apples-and-vanilla fragrance that coated the air, along with the usual floral scent that coated her skin. Courtesy of her father? She’d always wondered.

Her sore muscles felt revived, her spirits restored. Well, kind of. Why was she still here? Why wasn’t she running, as she’d promised Gideon she would?

Nightmares didn’t reply, the water having lulled the demon into a peaceful sleep.

Didn’t matter. She already knew the answer. Gideon still intrigued her.

How many times do you need to be told? You can’t let yourself develop feelings for him again.

Easy to think. Hard to actually prevent. Gideon had seen to everything. He’d placed a toothbrush, toothpaste and hairbrush on the sink. Oh, yeah. And a freaking blue bow for her hair. Clean clothes had rested on the toilet lid, though they weren’t what she would have chosen for herself. He’d picked a flowing, barely there blue dress rather than pants and a T-shirt. High heels rather than boots. He hadn’t given her a bra. Just blue panties.

Clearly, he had a fascination with blue. Why?

She should know, and hated that she didn’t. Was this a recent development?

Wasn’t like it mattered, she told herself next. His thoughts and reasoning weren’t her concern.

“I’m so happy waiting for you,” he called through the door.

The sound of that rumbling voice caused goose bumps to break out over her entire body. She imagined him pacing back and forth in front of the door, and she wanted to grin. Patience had never been his thing. She’d always liked that, mostly because he’d been so eager to be with her.

He used to rush to her cell after every mission, kiss her face, hands roving, desperate to relearn her curves.

“I missed you so much,” he’d said. Every damn time.

“Don’t leave me again.” Always her reply.

“I’d stay in this cell with you if I could.” A fleeting, sad smile, offered the very last time they’d had this exchange. “Maybe one day I will.”

“No.” She hadn’t wanted that for him, no matter how much she craved being with him. “Just…make me forget you were ever gone.”

And he had. Oh, had he.

If he could have removed the collar that had been permanently anchored around her neck, he’d always said, he would have done so and run away with her. But he hadn’t possessed the ability. Only a few of Zeus’s chosen had. So the golden collar had remained, seemingly glued to her skin and keeping her weakened, her demon’s powers muted.

Besides, only a select group of immortals were able to flash—to travel from one location to another with only a thought—in and out of Tartarus, and Gideon hadn’t been one of them. He would have had to sneak her through the entire realm, past the guards and to the gate. One, on its own, would have been difficult; together, they were impossible, even without the collar. But he’d still wanted to try.

With the thought, she felt herself softening. Damn it! Fight it. You can’t survive another heartbreak, and that’s all he has to offer. Heartbreak.

She dropped the brush on the sink and as it clattered ominously, tugged the dress over her head. The soft material stroked her skin, and she moaned. She’d never dressed herself this way, but maybe she should have. So decadent…The panties were equally soft, which elicited another moan. The heels, she left alone, donning her old boots instead. Better to beat a heartless man into submission with.

Finished, she turned, shoulders squaring, determination rising. One last encounter with Gideon, and then she was ditching him. But that was it, the end. She’d finally have closure. For surely that’s what she needed, what she lacked. Once she had it, she would return to the life she’d begun building for herself. A life as a human mercenary. Or rather, a jack of all wicked trades.

Do it. Get it over with.

“Are you kidding me with this?” she said as she stomped from the bathroom and held out the bow. A cloud of sweetly scented steam followed her.

Immediately his electric gaze raked her, lingering on his once-favorite places. Something dark entered his eyes, and he gulped. “What?” The word was a croak. “I thought it was ugly.” Meaning he thought it was pretty.

And he wanted her to have pretty things. How…sweet.

Damn him!

He stood in front of a wheeled square table that hadn’t been there before, arms once again crossed over his chest. To keep from throttling her?

“So you like women who dress like schoolgirls.” She ignored the thundering of her heart and the heat spreading through her veins. “I didn’t realize you had such innocent fantasies,” she said, then wanted to curse. She’d sounded breathless. Maybe because her statement had raised a very naughty question. What did he fantasize about nowadays?

How did he like his sex? As gentle and consuming as he once had?

How did he like his women? As sweet as she’d once been? Most likely.

He’d shown only a few signs of attraction to her since discovering her inside his dungeon, and she was as hard as stone.

She had to be. Her life didn’t allow for dresses like this one. She had to be prepared to fight, always. She was a child of Rhea, the god queen, and she would make an excellent hostage to ransom. Not that her mother would pay it. More than that, she had many enemies, for killing her would remove her half-mortal self from the line of succession.

The scent of fresh baked bread, chicken and rice suddenly hit her nose and her mouth watered. Forget the bow. Forget closure. Her hand fell to her side. “You brought me food,” she said, dazed.

Another sweet gesture, the jerk.

“Nope. It’s all for me.” He eased into the chair behind him. Steaming plate after steaming plate littered the surface of the table, that steam wafting around him and creating a dream haze. “That color looks terrible on you, by the way.”

She licked her lips. Over the food, she told herself. Not because he liked the way she looked. Which was good. “Payback is a bitch, you know. And you can count on the fact that I’ll put you in this dress sometime soon.”

He shrugged, drawing attention to the wide girth of his shoulders, then held out one of the plates. The one with chicken, rice and veggies. She was walking to him, hands outstretched, before she realized what she was doing. After she claimed the plate, she plopped into the seat across from him and dug in.

So. Good.

“So…why don’t you sleep during the day?” he asked. “When the people here aren’t awake.”

That, she didn’t mind sharing. Even though she could guess his plan. Start her off with something light. Get her talking while she was distracted with food. “Somewhere in the world, people are asleep when I am, and the demon finds them. Besides that, every day I fall asleep a single second later. And every night I awaken a single second later. The time always varies ever so slightly, ensuring we’re able to target everyone at some point.” In other words, fear us.

“Not good to know.” A pause, then, “I don’t want to know why you got the tattoos. I don’t want to know who gave you those tattoos. And I most definitely don’t want to know how things ended between us.”

Yep. She’d been right. “I told you we weren’t really married.” She chased a deliciously flavored bite of buttered carrots with a glass of red wine. Even. Better.

“And I believed you.”

She shrugged, mimicking his nonchalance. “I’ve answered enough of your questions tonight. And I know that’s why you brought me here. To relax me, lower my guard and find out everything you’re dying to know so you can lock me back up.” And worse.

“You’re wrong,” he said, reaching out and cupping her hand with his own. He brought it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss into her suddenly burning flesh. “I just wanted to spend time with you, to get to know you, the world around us forgotten.”

Softening…again…They were words she’d longed to hear so badly she’d often ached physically. Hearing them now…

And realizing they were a lie…

The softening instantly ceased. Suddenly she wanted to remove the invisible knife he’d left in her back and stab him with it. Since he wasn’t crumpling into a heap of pain, as she’d heard he did when he spoke the truth, she knew he’d just told a whopper.

He was playing her, and she’d almost let him. Harden up. You’re a bitch. Act like it.

“That’s easy for you, isn’t it? Forgetting the world around you, I mean.” Bitterness crept through her tone, and there was nothing she could do to defuse it. “Your poor, sad memory.”

He frowned, and his hand fell away.

She wanted to shout. With frustration. With a demand that he touch her again. With fury that she wanted him to touch her again. Instead, she remained quiet and finished her meal, consuming every last crumb, every drop of wine, and leaving nothing for the man across from her.

“Why are you so…not stubborn about this?” he asked with what seemed to be genuine curiosity. “About keeping me in the light?”

Because she’d spent thousands of years wondering where he was, what he was doing and who he was doing it with. Wondering if he ever thought of her, wondering why he never returned for her. Wondering if he was even alive. Each day had been worse than the last, a constant churning in her mind, her emotions rolled out, flayed and left raw.

But she’d known with gut-wrenching intensity that he loved her, so she’d finally had to accept that he hadn’t returned because he’d been killed. Death was the only thing that could have kept him away. So she’d mourned him, crying so forcefully, so intensely, she’d actually shed tears of blood.

And when she’d finally discovered that he lived…Oh, the pain. Pain that still haunted her, a constant shadow in her heart.

In contrast, he’d been wondering about her for a few weeks. He didn’t cry himself to sleep about it. He didn’t throw up because the worry and the heartache were too much to bear.

Her hands clenched so tightly, the glass she held shattered. Beads of crimson sprang up all over her palm, but she didn’t flinch at the ensuing sting. This was nothing compared to what she’d once endured. Nothing. She no longer cried about anything.

Gideon sighed and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, inspecting the damage. “Love to see you injured. Don’t want to make it all better.”

Truth.

When he had strode into his fortress’s dungeon and she’d seen his beautiful face, the only thing she’d truly felt at the time was awe. He was alive. He was with her again. But then the anger had sparked. Followed by the resentment and the consuming urge to hurt. None of those compared to what she felt just then, however.

Rage. So much rage.

How dare he. How fucking dare he care about such paltry wounds! He was sitting there, calm as could be, poking at her emotions like a child with a stick because he could. Because she was a big, fat question to him. That was all. He wanted answers. Not her. Not her forgiveness. He couldn’t care less about easing her real injuries and making her “all better.”

Had she been nothing to him, even all those centuries ago? Yes, he’d wed her, but he’d left her soon after. Left her, she now knew, to steal and open Pandora’s box. She also knew he’d been paired with his demon and shoved out of the heavens soon after that. But she’d been possessed that same day, still locked inside her cell.

After those centuries spent in darkness—what oddly seemed like a mere blink of time for her whenever she looked back—had passed and she’d once again had control of her mind, she’d remembered Gideon. Realized he’d been given a demon, too, and figured he had gained control of himself, as well. So she’d waited for him to return for her. And waited. And waited, for so damn long. Then all those questions began swirling in her head. And then the worry had set in, followed by the grief that he hadn’t survived.

And in that grief, she’d done things that had shocked even her demon. Terrible things. None of the gods and goddesses sharing her cell—the one she’d been moved to, away from the tender hand of her mother—had survived her rampage.

The Greeks had nearly executed her for those actions, but in the end, Zeus had preferred to parade her in front of Cronus, his own father and greatest foe, enjoying the fact that she was proof Rhea had cuckolded him. Anything that tormented the deposed Titan king was worth keeping alive, the Greek sovereign had said, no matter how dangerous that thing was.

And then the Titans finally won their freedom. Cronus and Rhea would have liked to leave her behind, she knew, but they’d needed her skills to help defeat the Greeks.

Once the screams had faded and the blood had stopped flowing, she’d scoured ancient scrolls for information about the Lords of the Underworld, hoping to find them and ask how Gideon had perished. Where his bones rested. She’d intended to give him a proper burial, pray over him, say goodbye.

Instead, she’d discovered her husband was still alive.

Her relief had known no bounds. But then, neither had her upset, for that’s when other questions had begun plaguing her. Why hadn’t he come back for her? Why hadn’t he sent word that he’d survived?

She’d sought him out to ask him. And yes, to throw herself back into his arms. To feel him surrounding her, sliding in and out of her, once again. Finally. The way she’d been dreaming about for so many years.

She’d found him in that bar in Buda. She’d walked past him. Except, he hadn’t noticed her. Glanced at her, yes. Moved his gaze away as if she were of no consequence, yes, that, too. He’d been too busy crooking his finger at a human female, and then having sex with that female right there in the club.

Scarlet had left, heartbroken all over again. As she did her best to learn about modern human society by watching TV, all the while secretly hoping Gideon would find her worthy when she did so—her, a woman who had been raised among criminals, who had never been wanted by her mother, had never known her father, and who had a wretched demon trapped inside her—she’d kept her ear to the ground, always curious about Gideon and what he was doing.

Maybe she’d purposely allowed the Lords to capture her. Without consciously admitting that she craved a moment like this. A moment to see what a shit Gideon truly was. A moment to finally, blessedly cut him from her thoughts. Which, even now, was completely against her nature and something she’d sworn never to do. Captivity was something she despised. Yet she’d stayed in that fucking dungeon and hadn’t tried to escape. For this man who didn’t remember her. A man who had no problem using her. Hurting her. Tearing her down.

He. Needed. To. Suffer.

Scarlet jumped to her feet, plate in hand. A plate she tossed at Gideon without warning. It crashed into his face and shattered just as her wineglass had done. And just as her hand had beaded with blood, so did his face.

Not enough.

Scowling, he jumped up, as well. “That was nice. Thanks!”

She’d already launched another plate, and this one slammed into his chest. It, too, broke apart, slicing past his T-shirt.

“What don’t you think you’re doing?”

“I’m not kicking your ass. I’m not hating your guts. I’m not thinking you are the biggest ass the gods ever created. How’s that? Did I speak a language you can understand?” Kill him. She wanted to kill him.

“I may remember you, Scarlet,” he bellowed, backing up when she grabbed her fork and held it out like a dagger. She’d murdered men with less. Even immortals. “But you haven’t haunted me.” Motions stiff, he raised his shirt. Amid the cuts, above his heart, was a tattoo of eyes. Dark eyes. Like hers. “Don’t you see? You…haven’t…haunted…me.”

It was a lie, like him. It had to be.

“That proves nothing! Thousands of people have dark eyes.”

He slanted his head and brushed the hair from the back of his neck. There, she found a tattoo of bloodred lips in the shape of a heart. Like hers. Then he turned and raised his shirt again. On his lower back were flowers, all kinds of flowers, and the words TO PART IS TO DIE.

It was an exact replica of her own tattoo. He’d shown it to her once before, the first time he’d entered the dungeon, but seeing it again was still like being punched in the chest.

“I just want to make no sense of this,” he added softly. He pivoted, facing her once again. “Don’t help me. Please.”

Seeing those tattoos didn’t lessen her fury. No, seeing them increased it. He’d imagined her, but he’d still slept with all those other women. He’d still continued on with his life, not seeking out the source of those images.

“You think that makes everything better, you uncaring bastard? While you were down here whoring around, loving life, I was in Tartarus, a slave to the Greeks.” One step, two, she eased around the table and approached him. Warrior that he was, he remained in place. “What they wanted me to do, I had to do. Whether I wanted to or not.” Parading around naked for their enjoyment. Fighting with other prisoners while they bet on the winner. Scrubbing other people’s filth on her hands and knees. “Yet you left me there. You never came for me. You promised you’d come for me!”

Seething, panting, she stabbed the fork into his chest and twisted with all her strength.

Surprisingly, he didn’t try to stop her. Didn’t try to defend himself. Rather, he stood there, his eyes narrowing. In his own fury? And if it was in fury, who was he pissed at? Her? Or the Greek gods who had forced her to do those vile things?

Didn’t matter. This was just the beginning of his punishment.

“And do you know what else?” Her fingers clutched the fork so tightly, her knuckles screamed in protest. “After I came here and saw you with another woman, I gave myself to another man. Willingly this time. And then another.” Lies, all lies. She’d tried. She’d wanted to hurt him that way, but she hadn’t been able to follow through.

And oh, how she hated herself for that failure. More than wanting to hurt him, though, she’d needed someone to make her feel as he once had. Protected, loved, cherished. Like a treasure. That, too, had failed miserably. She’d walked away from both encounters feeling hollow and sad.

Gideon’s shoulders slumped, and all that dark emotion seemed to drain from him. “I’m not sorry. I love that you felt the need to do such a thing. I don’t want to kill the men you were with. Even though I remember everything about our time together. You still somehow do not affect me.”

He was sorry, he loathed that she’d done such a thing and wanted to destroy the men. Pretty words. For him. But she was having none of it. He was far too late. With a snarl, she jerked the fork out of his chest, the prongs dripping crimson, then stabbed him anew and twisted.

He grunted.

“Again,” she snarled, “do you think that makes everything better? You think the fact that you’ve forgotten me makes your actions any less painful?” Shut up, shut up, shut up. She didn’t want him to know how much he’d damaged her.

“I don’t—” He frowned. Then he reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew his phone. His gaze quickly scanned the screen, and when their eyes next met, there was smoldering rage in those electric depths. “We don’t have visitors.”

“Friends of yours?” She didn’t ask how he knew. She could guess, loving modern technology as she did.

“Yeah. I adore Hunters.”

She could have struck him again, quickly jabbing both of his eyes, leaving him to deal with the uninvited guests injured and blinded. But he was hers to hurt, not theirs.

“How many?” she demanded, removing the utensil and switching the focus of her rage. Wake up, Nightmares. Your skills might be needed.

The demon stretched and yawned inside her head.

“I know,” Gideon said.

So he was as clueless as she on that score. “Which door did they enter?” she asked.

“Not the front.”

She performed a quick inspection. There was a doorway that led out of the bedroom-slash-kitchenette into a vestibule. That vestibule branched into three hallways. No matter which direction the intruders came from, they’d have to enter it. Perfect.

You ready, baby? Because Mama was wrong. No maybe about it. You’re needed.

A purr of anticipation rumbled through her. Gonna be fun.

I’ll handle the final blow. Okay?

Greedy.

Yes. But then, she needed some outlet for the growing darkness inside her. And leave Gideon alone. I don’t want him to see the things you show his enemies.

That earned her a growl. I would never hurt him.

It was a declaration she’d never thought to hear, even with the creature’s reluctance to scare the warrior in his dreams. Had the circumstances been different, she would have demanded to know why. Not that it would have done her any good. Nightmares was as generous with answers as she was.

“Get on the bed,” she commanded Gideon. “I’ve got this.”

“Hell, yes,” he said, unsheathing a sharp, gleaming knife and a small revolver from the waist of his pants. He’d been armed this entire time, yet he hadn’t defended himself against her. “I relish the thought of you battling such sweethearts alone.”

Macho men. They considered women a liability in situations like this. But this one would soon learn. She wasn’t the same girl he’d known in prison. Or rather, the same girl he couldn’t recall.

“They’re here. I know they’re here,” someone whispered. A whisper, yes, but her ears registered every word as if the person were right beside her. A skill she’d developed in prison. A skill that had saved her life on countless occasions.

“If we take him the girl, they’ll have to let us in,” another said.

“And the guy?” Yet another.

“Dies.”

As Nightmares laughed, more than ready to begin, Scarlet shoved Gideon back into his chair. He landed with a huff as she lowered her internal guard and unleashed her demon. Darkness exploded from her, thousands of terrified screams threading through the impenetrable thickness. Even Gideon, powerful immortal that he was, wouldn’t be able to see through it. She, however, would have no trouble drinking in every sparkling detail.

“I’d cover your ears, if I were you,” she suggested.

“Scar,” he began, as close to her name as his demon would apparently let him get, a hint of anger in the undertone. And oh, was his expression stony. He hated this. But whatever he meant to say was cut off as Scarlet pressed a finger against his lips, a silent command for no talkie-talkie. The enemy would hear.

A moment passed. The stiffness never left him, but Gideon nodded. He was graciously bowing out of the fight and letting her handle things. His surrender was completely unexpected. Why hadn’t he jumped to his feet and foolishly demanded to help her?

Ponder it later. Frowning, she turned to face the intruders. There were four of them, all male, and all holding weapons.

Only four? They must think themselves stronger than they actually were. Or consider her and Gideon weaker than they really were. Or perhaps this was just the beginning. Most likely others were posted throughout the hotel, watching, waiting for the right time to strike.

As the men entered the bedroom, they encountered the darkness and the screams and stumbled to a halt, trying to orient themselves and figure out what was going on. But it was too late for that. Nightmares wove around them, a swirling, dark dancer, as graceful as he was lethal, holding them in place, even floating to their ears and whispering their deepest fears.

Pain.

Blood.

Death.

Soon they were clutching their heads, moaning, images of the Lords of the Underworld strapping them down, torturing them as the Hunters had often tortured others, becoming all that they could see.

One of Nightmares’s talents was sensing hidden fears and exploiting them. That’s how they’d known about Gideon’s fear of spiders. Only problem was, they had no way of knowing what had caused those fears. And she was beyond curious about Gideon. He hadn’t seemed to care about the bug while with her in Tartarus. He’d even flicked the creatures off her when they’d invaded her cell.

“Make it stop, please make it stop,” someone pleaded.

“Enough!” someone else shouted.

No. Not nearly enough. Cold, uncaring. That’s how she had to be. And really, she enjoyed this as much as her demon did. Enjoyed hurting those who thrived on suffering. For too long, she’d been a victim herself. But no longer. Never again.

Smiling, she strolled toward the men, fork still in hand. She reached the nearest, his terrified moans like candy to her ears, and brushed his hair from his face. The soothing touch startled him, yet he leaned into it, as if seeking comfort anywhere he could find it. As if he assumed she was a friend.

Without any more warning, she jammed the fork into his jugular. He screamed, but that scream blended with all the others floating from her. A chilling but welcome music. Warm blood spurted from him, coating her hand as he collapsed. She eased to the next man, gifted him with that same gentle touch, the calm before the storm, then stabbed him, as well.

More blood sprayed, a river of the deepest scarlet, the very essence of her name.

She finished off the other two just as quickly and efficiently. Just as ruthlessly. Perhaps she should have played with them a bit. Oh, well. Next time.

Once the moans and movement ceased, she closed her eyes and tugged the shadows and screams back inside her. There they whirled like a tornado until she blocked them from her awareness, something she’d learned to do over the years. Otherwise, she would have tumbled into insanity a long time ago.

Perhaps it was a blessing that she and Gideon would never be intimate again, she thought then. When she lost control of her body’s sensations, she lost her hold on her demon, allowing the beast to have free rein even though she was awake. What she’d done to those boys—Hunters?—would be done automatically to her lovers. Not the cutting, but the absolute dissolution of light, the cries of the damned ringing in their ears.

For a man, it was hard to stay, well, hard during something like that. Watching fear and disgust contort Gideon’s features while his cock was buried deep inside her might just end her. Her pride, surely. Her will to live, maybe. Already, she existed on only an instinctual level. Breathe, eat, kill. That was it.

Mind on the task at hand. Gideon was sitting exactly as she’d left him. Only, his expression was blank, a guarded mask as his gaze raked her, taking in the blood coating her hands. He traced his tongue over his teeth before looking at the men.

“Harmed?” he asked, still without any hint of emotion.

“Dead,” she replied. “You’re welcome.” Would a thank-you have been too much to ask? She’d saved him from suffering a single injury. Well, besides the ones she’d given him.

Blue eyes snapped back up, pinning her in place. “Yeah, I was talking about them. Not you.”

Oh. He wanted to know about her? Shocker. No softening. “I’m fine. Not a scratch on me. But we should probably go.” Our separate ways, she silently added, ignoring the pang in her chest. “I’m sure more Hunters are on their way.”

He offered no reply.

Do it. Leave, she commanded herself. She didn’t. She remained in place like the idiot she was. Closure must not have been achieved yet. Not really.

What would it take?

“Are you just going to sit there?” she threw at him.

He stood, but still he didn’t sheath his weapons. “You and utensils make a bad team.”

Another pang speared her chest. “No more compliments, or I’ll give you another firsthand demonstration.” Just to taunt him, she held up the dripping fork and waved it through the air.

“Yes, please. Another demonstration would be nice.” He bypassed her, unafraid, and crouched in front of her victims. With quick proficiency, he searched their bodies, even under their clothing. “All of them are marked.”

Her arm fell heavily to her side. Hunters tattooed themselves with the symbol of infinity, their way of proclaiming they wanted a forever without evil. That these boys didn’t bear the mark…Huh. “Maybe they’re just recruits. When they entered, one of them said something about being let in. Maybe he meant being let in to the Hunters Are Assholes club.”

Gideon nodded as he stood, a lock of cobalt falling over his brow. “That makes no sense.”

“Because I’m smarter than you are.” She fought the urge to smooth the hair into place. Still no closure, but she forced herself to say, “I guess we’re done here, then.” For real, this time.

“Sure.” He closed what little distance there was between them, putting them nose-to-nose, his heat enveloping her, his musky cologne fuzzing her senses. “Don’t listen carefully. I’m upset you’re okay.” His lashes fell, oh, so slowly, before stopping, lingering, and she knew he was peering at her lips.

Thinking of kissing her?

She gulped. No. No, no, no. “Gideon.”

“Keep talking.” Slowly, still oh, so slowly, he leaned toward her, as if he did intend to kiss her.

No. No, no…yes. Yes, yes, yes. Every muscle in her body tensed, waiting, ready. The blood inside her veins sizzled and snapped. Would he taste the same? Feel the same? She had to know. Then she could leave him. Then she would have closure and wouldn’t ever have to look back and wonder.

But just before their lips touched, his fingers circled her wrist with a soft clink. No, not his fingers. Too stiff, too heavy and too cold. Frowning, she glanced down and saw that he’d handcuffed them together. Understanding dawned.

That…bastard…

A red haze shuttered over her vision. Not dots, but a full-on cloud. Tricked. The bastard had tricked her. Had never meant to kiss her. Had used her obvious desire for him against her.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.” That was all the warning she gave him. She jabbed the fork into his chest and rather than twist, she slammed her palm into the handle, pushing it deeper. This time, he couldn’t contain his grimace. “And I hope you know this will seem like child’s play when I’m done with you.”

“As long as we’re apart,” he gritted out, “I’m happy.”

As long as…as long as…He needed to be together to be happy? Though part of her suddenly wanted to grin sheepishly, perhaps bat her lashes, she scowled up at him. Stupid softening heart. He’d just betrayed her, and she almost melted when he tossed a few flattering words at her. Flattering words that meant nothing, because he still only wanted answers.

“Tell me. Does this make you happy?” She kneed him in the balls.

He hunched over, gasping, but amid those gasps, she managed to make out a single word: “Yes.”

Good. “So where are you taking me?”

“Heaven.” Another gritted admission.

Still. She easily translated. He planned to take her straight into hell.




Chapter Four


AFTER THE swelling went down in his balls, Gideon phoned Lucien, keeper of Death, asking for cleanup at the hotel, then dragged a protesting Scarlet outside, through the glass-covered atrium and along the brightly lit city streets to the Escalade he’d hidden in a parking garage a few blocks away. Night was in full swing, the star-sprinkled sky framing the golden half-moon. Though he was prepared for anything, there were no other Hunters—or recruits, as the case may have been—waiting to attack.

He wasn’t sure how those four kids had followed him. Especially if they’d had no training. He’d made damn sure he’d lost any tails. If there had been tails, that was. Which he would’ve bet every cent of his, uh, Torin’s money that there hadn’t been. So either a god or goddess was watching him and reporting his whereabouts or the boys had simply gotten lucky and had happened to be at the hotel when he checked in.

He didn’t believe in coincidences, so the first was most likely. Cronus was helping the Lords and Rhea, the god queen, who was at war with her husband, had teamed up with the Hunters. But why would she send recruits to fight him, rather than actual Hunters? And would Gideon’s location be compromised no matter where he went?

Probably.

His hand clenched on the steering wheel as he threw the vehicle into Reverse, Scarlet’s arm moving with him.

“What’s got your panties in such a twist?” she asked conversationally.

He wasn’t fooled. She was still pissed as hell at him.

Silent, he maneuvered them through the gloomy garage and back onto the city streets. Late as it was, traffic was light. His gaze kept returning to his rearview mirror, though, just in case.

“You’re begging for another fork in your chest,” she muttered.

Again ignoring her, he shouted, “Cron!” Stop. You’re ticked at him. There has to be another way. But Gideon knew better, and wouldn’t lie to himself. Not now of all times. “I don’t need you!”

In the passenger seat, Scarlet stiffened. “Cron. As in Cronus?”

He nodded.

She hissed in outrage and jerked at the cuffs. “What the hell do you want with him? I hate him!”

Did she have a beef with everyone? “Not answers, okay?”

“Well, you can let me go and then chat with him.” There was an edge creeping into her voice. One he’d never heard before, even when she’d stabbed him. Her struggles increased, and then she was kicking at the passenger door to pop it open.

Was she…scared of the god? Couldn’t be. Scarlet had faced down four potential Hunters without any hesitation.

“My reasons for…avoiding him are…not urgent.” His stomach twisted. He’d almost spoken the truth. Had almost told her that his reasons for summoning the god were indeed urgent. He’d had to force out the lies. “And those reasons aren’t life-and-death.”

“I don’t give a shit!” Slam, slam, boot against plastic. Crack. “I don’t want him here.”

Oh, yes. She was scared. Why?

Rather than ask—he knew she wouldn’t tell him if he did—he changed the subject to give her a moment to calm down. If she kept pulling at him, he was going to lose a limb. Again. “Did you have to leave those kids alive?” She’d killed them without any hint of mercy.

He would have done the same, sure, but he was a guy. Weren’t girls supposed to be softhearted and shit? Well, besides Cameo, keeper of Misery. She could kill an enemy while filing her nails.

“Yeah.” Scarlet’s frantic bid for freedom slowed, then ceased altogether. She peeked at him over her shoulder. “So?”

“Why? We could have pleasured them for information.”

Her lips twitched as if she were suddenly fighting a grin. “Why, Gideon, I didn’t know you swung that way. They were cute, though, weren’t they? Especially the blond. Is that who you were imagining sexing up?”

Now that tone he recognized. Sugar-sweet and irritating as hell. But yeah, the blond had been cute from what he’d been able to tell, and he hated that she’d noticed. Actually, he hated that she preferred blonds. His wife should—You don’t know that she’s your wife.

Not mine, Lies piped up. Not mine.

Meaning Lies was claiming her? Hardly. If anyone claimed her, it would be Gideon. If they were married.

And then what? he wondered. He still planned to return her to the dungeon, no matter what. Which meant she was going to hate him. As if she didn’t already. As poorly as she’d treated his man-parts, he suspected that she did.

His guilt returned, filling his nose, his lungs, then sweeping through his bloodstream. Has to be this way.

Yes. She’s not mine.

Zip it.

“Why did you leave them alive?” he insisted.

Scarlet’s seemingly delicate shoulders lifted in a negligent shrug. “They were there to hurt us. If I had let them live, they would have had the opportunity to come back for us. To poison others against us. And their determination would have been greater than ever.”

What she said made sense, but it also caused his stomach to clench. The absolute conviction in her voice had given him a searing glimpse inside her psyche. One she would undoubtedly prefer he not have. Once, she’d let an enemy go rather than kill him and that enemy had returned for her. Had hurt her. With others in tow.

How had the bastards hurt her? Raped her? Beat her? The steering wheel whined as it bent, nearly snapping in half, and Gideon forced himself to loosen his hold. If, after he’d been kicked out of the heavens, he’d gone back for her, as he once might have promised her, would such a fate have been prevented?

Gods. His guilt became a cancer, eating at him, leaving him raw and agonized. Again, he wanted to ask her for an explanation, but again, he knew she would tell him nothing. Until they reached their destination and he seduced her. Which he would do, guilty or not. Before their uninvited guests had arrived, she’d looked ready to accept his kiss. Hell, she’d looked ready to return it with equal passion.

He wanted that. Needed it.

“Nothing to say?” she asked. “No lame reply?”

Lame? He did the best he could, damn it. She’s just frustrated, lashing out. But really, this wasn’t entirely his fault, he reminded himself. Something had happened to his memories. Not that the knowledge eased his guilt.

Actually, his memories were another thing to discuss with Cronus.

“Cron!” he found himself shouting a second time.

And just as before, Scarlet began struggling for freedom. “I told you I don’t want him here. I told you—”

But the rest of her words were lost to him. One moment Gideon was at the wheel, cuffed to Scarlet and motoring down the long, winding roads, the next he was in the heavens, puffy white clouds surrounding him, Scarlet nowhere to be seen.

Trying not to panic, he spun, wild gaze searching for her. Only more of those clouds greeted him. There were no roads, no buildings and no freaking people. “Scar,” he shouted, heart ready to burst from his ribs. He had to find her. Couldn’t let her—

“Rest easy, Lies. Time has momentarily ceased for your female. When I return you, all will be as you left it.”

Another turn, and he was peering over at Cronus. His heartbeat slowed, even as he tried not to gape. The king looked younger every time Gideon saw him, but this…this…Too young, he thought with a shake of his head.

Gone was the silver hair. In its place were startling locks of honey-brown and pale gold. Gone was the wrinkled skin. Now he was unlined, his complexion smooth and sun-kissed.

A white robe that appeared as soft as the clouds draped him, and sandals wrapped around the veined, scarred feet of a warrior. He exuded so much power, Gideon felt the weight of every compelling wave hammering at his shoulders. Remaining standing required power of his own. A lot of it.

“Why did you summon me?” the king asked.

“Lastly—” first off “—I don’t want your vow that all will be as you didn’t say.” Confusing, even to him, but important.

Like Scarlet, Cronus knew him well enough to discern what he was truly saying. Confusing or not. “You have my word. She isn’t going to crash. She isn’t even going to know you were gone unless you tell her.” And, thankfully, Cronus wasn’t upset by his demand. “Happy now?”

A little irritated, perhaps, but not upset. Good. “No. Not happy.” Every muscle in his body released its vise-grip on bone. “No, thank you.”

“Does this mean you’ve forgiven me for not telling you how to find Aeron’s spirit?”

No. Never. Rather than admit that to the king, however, he remained silent. Better silence than punishment. Even he was smart enough to know that. But the question explained the king’s sudden patient benevolence.

“What I did,” Cronus said, a little stiff now, “I did for your own good.”

Making Gideon beg and then denying him what he begged for had been for his own good? Yeah. Right.

“You are an immortal, not a god, so your understanding is limited. One day, however, you will thank me.” As the words echoed between them, Cronus’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “I cannot believe I’m explaining myself to you. It’s sickening, really, the way I must baby you. Where is the fearsome warrior I was told to expect?”

Gideon barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Baby him? Ha! “You are not a—”

“Watch your tongue, Lies.” Eyes of the darkest obsidian sharpened. How odd. Usually those eyes were the purest gold. “Otherwise, you’ll lose it.”

He gave a rigid nod. Perhaps he wasn’t so smart, after all.

“Better.” Cronus clicked under his tongue, clearly satisfied his charge had been properly subdued. “Now, I ask again. And for the final time. Why did you summon me?”

To demand your wife’s head on a dinner platter. No need for silver, either. Any metal will do. Not that he could say such a thing aloud. “Just so you know, your wife…she’s a real prize.” He braced himself, expecting immediate punishment. Though he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for a dagger. Instinct allowed nothing less.

“If you prize garbage,” the king replied dryly, “then, yes. We agree.”

A truth, even spoken in so disparaging a tone. Lies spat in distaste.

Gideon returned the dagger to its sheath. Astonishingly, he and the king were on the same page. “This isn’t the thing. I don’t suspect she’s watching our every move. I don’t suspect she’s having us followed. And I don’t suspect she’s sending humans to kill us.”

“I know. I’ve known for a while.” Again truth. Cronus pinched the bridge of his nose, a man at the end of his rope—without a blade. “Damned female. She’s always been more trouble than she’s worth.”

“How can we encourage her?” To stop, he silently added, wishing like hell he could just say what he wanted. “She’s not causing all kinds of grief, and she’s not going to have us murdered before we can save your ass from Gal.” Or rather, his head from Galen.

Danika, Reyes’s woman and the All-Seeing Eye, could do more than peer into heaven and hell. She could predict the future. She claimed Galen was going to behead Cronus. Which was the only reason Cronus was helping the Lords.

No, not true. There was another reason, one Gideon had only recently learned. Cronus was possessed by a demon. By Greed. Like Scarlet, he’d been a prisoner of Tartarus and one of the lucky few chosen to host the “extra.”

Back and forth Cronus paced in front of him, the power he emitted intensifying, crackling the air. “After what happened to your cohort Aeron, I had amulets made. One for each of you. When worn, they will prevent her from watching you.”

Truth. And wasn’t that just a little bit of awesome? “Don’t give me.” Now, now, now.

The pacing continued without pause. “Only problem is, they will prevent all gods from watching you.”

Meaning himself. Bastard had to have his fingers in everything. “Here’s an unworthy news flash. The cons far outweigh the pros. So, don’t give me,” he repeated, holding out his hand and waving his fingers.

A portion of his impatience stemmed from a desire to be hidden from the Powers That Be. Finally. But mostly, he just wanted to return to Scarlet. He didn’t like being away from her, he realized.

Still the pacing continued, even gaining speed. “Wait just a minute. If I do this, I’ll need daily reports. And if a single day passes without someone telling me what’s going on down there, I will personally raid your fortress and remove the amulets from around your necks. After I remove your heads.”

Gideon didn’t point out that taking their heads would free their demons, possibly sending the crazed fiends on a ferocious rampage, something even Cronus would be cursed for doing. Which was why the king had let the warriors live when he’d first assumed control of the heavens. Even though he’d desperately wanted to destroy them.

And it was weird, thinking of the king of kings as being curseable. But, yes, it could be done. Apparently, Cronus wasn’t the most powerful god in town. That honor belonged to the mysterious being who had saved Aeron’s life. The being that had long ago defeated even death. The “One True Deity,” Olivia called him.

Although, there was a chance Cronus wouldn’t be punished for freeing the demons from their hosts, for they now knew a new pairing could be made. That’s what had happened to his friend Baden’s demon, Distrust. A new pairing.

Baden was dead, and Distrust now resided inside a Hunter female. A female Gideon wasn’t sure he’d be able to kill, even if she had a dagger pressed to his throat. Not that he minded killing women. He’d done it before. Under Sabin’s leadership, it was kind of mandatory to treat females as equals. In all things, even war. What bothered him was that a part of Baden swam inside that woman’s body.

How could he play a role in his good friend’s second defeat?

“Lies! Are you listening to me? I asked if you understood.”

Wait. What? Gideon pulled himself from the dark mire of his thoughts. “Please don’t repeat yourself.”

Red suffused the god’s cheeks, and the color wasn’t from embarrassment. No, it was fury that decorated his expression. “I will not repeat myself. You will either give me the daily reports I demanded, or you will not receive those amulets. Do you—” black eyes blazed “—understand?”

The reports, the amulets. Of course. Was the temper tantrum really necessary?

“No, I don’t understand.”

Finally Cronus stilled, nostrils flaring as he tempered his breathing. His golden gaze locked on Gideon. Gold again, he realized. Why the continual change?

“Very well.” Cronus held out his hand, empty palm up. Azure lights sparked, pinpricks that dotted the endless expanse of white, before something began to crystallize against his skin. Two somethings, actually.

Gideon leaned forward for a closer look. He saw two silver chains, both with a butterfly dangling from the center. Studded throughout those jagged wings were small rubies, sapphires, a piece of onyx, ivory and even an opal. Each jewel or stone seemed alive, swirling with an inner fire he usually saw only in his dreams.

Pretty, but…“I’m gonna look so manly.” The words were out before he could stop them.

A growl escaped the king, far more menacing than any that had come before. “Is that a complaint, Lies? Because I can—”

“Yes, yes. No apologies. I don’t want them.” He snatched the necklaces before they could be taken away and anchored one around his neck. The metal was hot—hot enough to blister his skin—but he didn’t remove it. The other he stuffed into his pocket. Somehow, he would trick Scarlet into wearing it. “What about my enemies?” My friends.

“I’ll visit the fortress and hand them out.”

Truth. How accommodating the usually morose god was being. There had to be a reason, one that didn’t bode well for Gideon. Still. He’d take what he could get. “No, thanks,” he said again.

“If that’s all—”

“Don’t wait.” The king had given him an opening, intentionally or not, and he jumped on it. “Scarlet didn’t tell me that we were wed and I wasn’t wondering if—”

“Scarlet?” The gold once again disappeared from his eyes, the obsidian like a living entity. “Rhea’s daughter?”

Gideon blinked. She was Rhea’s daughter? She was a fucking royal princess? Did that mean…“Are you not her father?” he croaked out. That might explain their matching black gazes.

“No!” So much disgust poured from that single word, Gideon could have drowned in it. “Never speak such a blasphemy again or I will unleash a torrent of suffering the likes of which you’ve never known.”

Why the disgust? Why the warning? She was a beautiful, intelligent, brave female, damn it, and the bastard should be proud to call her daughter. Gideon’s hands fisted, even as he told himself he wasn’t angry. He was relieved that Cronus wasn’t his father-in-law. Possible father-in-law, he hastily added.

Sabin’s wife was Galen’s daughter, and Gideon had seen the problems that little family connection had caused. No, thanks.

“Her father was mortal, and her mother is a whore,” Cronus continued, the disgust far from waning. “That’s who’s in your vehicle? Seems I haven’t been paying enough attention to you lately, Lies. I knew you had the girl in your dungeon, but had not realized you had taken her out. Without my permission. I should punish you.”

Again, truth. Careful.

She’s not mine, his demon suddenly piped up. A warning to the king. One Cronus couldn’t hear, thankfully.

Not now. Don’t push. “No apologies, Great One.” That he wasn’t bombarded with pain for the “great one” comment shocked him. Cronus had to know he meant the words as an insult. “As I wasn’t saying, she didn’t tell me that we’re wed. Something I remember. I didn’t want to trick her into thinking I was softening toward her so that she would tell me more. And I didn’t plan to return her to the dungeon once I had those answers.”

“Wed? You and Scarlet?” Cronus frowned, head tilting to the side as he pondered. “Everyone knew she was interested in you the first moment she saw you, but there was no hint that the two of you were seeing each other. Much less willing to wed each other.”

She’d always been interested in him? Suddenly he wanted to puff out his chest and bang on it like a damned gorilla. She liked the look of him, and always had. Despite her purported adoration of blonds. Thank the gods.

Surely he could sneak past her rage and ignite that interest again. Somehow, some way. “Do you know of anyone who didn’t have the power to erase thoughts of her from my mind?”

A pause, almost oppressive in its intensity. Cronus licked his lips, suddenly uneasy. Then uttered a hesitant, “No.”

Gideon’s demon purred. A lie. Cronus had just told a lie. He did know someone who possessed that kind of power. Who? “Why—”

“No more questions.” The command was snapped, his tone aggravated now. “Just…be careful with her. She’s feral. Otherwise, I would have taken over her care myself.”

You will not touch her, he wanted to scream, even as his demon gave another purr. Another lie. What had the king lied about this time, though? That she was feral, or that he would have taken over her “care”? Or both?

Didn’t matter if she was feral. She was Gideon’s wife, for gods’ sake. Maybe. But either way, he was going to bed her. If that didn’t return his memory of her, nothing would. At least, that made sense to him. And what if, afterward, she was willing to help him and his friends in their ongoing war with the Hunters?

Yes, of course. If she would help, he wouldn’t have to return her to the dungeon, even though he’d told Cronus he would. The king wanted to win the war, didn’t he? Scarlet could destroy the enemy while they slept, eradicating the need for bombings, stabbings and gunfights.

That would be total win-win. No downside. Well, except for one, but it was minor, so it hardly bore mentioning. Thought you never lied to yourself. Gideon bit his tongue until he tasted copper. Fine. The downside was huge. Devastating. He would never be able to trust Scarlet because his demon couldn’t read her. And after what he’d done to her, she would never want to help him.

Therefore, she had to return to the dungeon no matter how much she softened toward him.

“I grow tired of your wandering mind,” Cronus said on a sigh.

So did Gideon. The results sucked. “Don’t have one last thing.” Hopefully the god realized he had something else to discuss after this. “In prison, did anyone not…hurt her?” The last was croaked from him.

Something hard shuttered over the king’s eyes, not just erasing their color but shutting down his expression and blocking all hint of his emotions. “We’re done here. You have things to do. I have things to do. So…”

Clearly, he wouldn’t discuss Scarlet anymore. Damn him. Though everything inside Gideon screeched in protest—including Lies—he quickly switched the subject before he was sent away. “There wasn’t something else I needed to know. Olivia didn’t mention that you have Sienna.” Sienna was Paris’s woman. A woman who had died in the man’s arms. A woman he still craved, apparently.

Gideon felt like he was always the last one to know these things. Paris certainly hadn’t told him. But Olivia loved sharing the details of her life, as well as the details of everyone else’s, and Gideon adored spending time with her. She had mentioned that Cronus had taken Sienna’s spirit, kept the girl near him, and then, when Wrath was split from Aeron’s body, the god had placed the demon inside the girl.

The pain she must be in right now…the utter mental agony. That demon was probably urging her to do all kinds of despicable things. Things she would do; she wouldn’t be able to help herself. Things that would haunt her for the rest of eternity.

“I have her,” Cronus admitted reluctantly.

Truth. Lies hissed.

Tread carefully, he reminded himself. “May I not look upon her?” And report to Paris.

“No.” No hesitation. “You may not. And now, we truly are done. I have shown too much leniency already, and look what it’s gotten me.” Cronus waved his hand through the air, and the next thing Gideon knew, he was back at the wheel of the Escalade, Scarlet cuffed to his wrist.

The change was so jarring, he accidentally jerked the wheel. The car swerved to one side, tires squealing. Another car was approaching from the other lane, headlights bright. Another quick swerve, and the car missed his. Barely.

Scarlet gasped. “What the hell are you doing? Our conversation wouldn’t be over just because I went flying through the windshield, you know.”

His demon gave a contented sigh. Not mine.

Gideon evened out, but didn’t mention what had just happened in the heavens. As much as she disliked Cronus—why?—he couldn’t be sure of her reaction. However, every woman liked receiving gifts, and now seemed the perfect time for a distraction.

Don’t mess this up. “So, uh, I would hate if you reached into my pocket.”

There was a suspended beat of silence. Then a dry, “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t have a present for you.”

Interest lit her dark eyes, but she remained still. Even suspicious. “The present wouldn’t happen to be a hard cock, would it? Because if it is, I would have to return it. Minus a few inches.”

His lips twitched as he fought his amusement. And yes, his cock hardened. He only had to be near her for an erection to happen. Or hell, think of her. He liked her dirty sense of humor. “Yes, it is, but you won’t find that, too.”

Now her lips twitched. That had happened before, yet he’d never seen her smile.

Truly smile. And he wanted to, desperately. She would glow. He knew she would, could see her beautiful, smiling face inside his mind, lush red lips curved at the corners, teeth straight and white. Her eyelids would dip a little, but the wicked glint in her irises still would be visible.

He sucked in a breath. Was that a memory? A memory of her smiling over at him? Happy with him? Well-loved?

“Fine,” she grumbled, but she couldn’t hide the trembling in her hand as she reached into his pocket, careful to avoid the very thick length of him. Another gasp left her as her fingers clasped the too-hot metal. She even jerked.

Gideon had to press his mouth into a tight line to cut off his moan of pleasure. Her touch…She was so close to Mini Me, she had only to angle her wrist to reach it. And he wanted her to reach it as desperately as he’d wanted to see her smile. But all too soon, and without angling her wrist, she removed her hand and studied the amulet.

“What is it?” Was that disappointment in her tone?

“Not a match to mine, that’s for sure.”

Her gaze moved to him as he flicked his own amulet out from under his shirt.

“Oh.” The disappointment, if that’s what it had been, disappeared. “Wh–why do you want us to have matching necklaces?”

Now he couldn’t tell if she was happy, upset or wistful. Or maybe she was simply a combination of all three. Like, the gift made her happy because it meant he’d been thinking of her. Like, the gift upset her because he was giving it to her now, when he didn’t remember her. Like, the gift made her wistful because he seemed hopeful of a future together.

“Well?” she prompted gruffly.

He forced a shrug, because he couldn’t answer. Not without hurting his cause. To admit—in his way—that he hadn’t bought it for her would hurt her. To admit that it wasn’t a symbol of what they’d once shared and could maybe share again would, what? Hurt her.

“When did you get it?”

Again, he shrugged.

Angrily, she hooked the necklace around her neck and he wanted to shout with relief. There. Done, it was done. She was protected from prying eyes, and he hadn’t had to force the issue. The night suddenly seemed brighter.

“You look stupid wearing yours, by the way. In fact, you look like a girl.”

Or not. The words confirmed his earlier fears, but deep down he knew that she was merely lashing out, again, because she didn’t understand him. How like her.

You know her so well, do you? He didn’t have an answer for himself, either.

“So where are we going?” she grumbled.

Yet another shrug. He honestly didn’t know. He had three and a half days—no, nights—left to woo and win her. To learn about her and his past. So, someplace romantic would be best. But where?

Clearly, he didn’t know her, because he had no idea what she would find romantic. A secluded cabin? A fancy hotel? He sighed. “Don’t tell me about someplace you’ve always wanted to go but haven’t—”

“Oh, you want to talk now?” she said, cutting him off. “I don’t think so.” Eyes narrowed, she turned on the radio and cranked up the music, a hard, pounding rock, before settling back in her seat and facing the window.

Message received. He could suck it. And not the good way.




Chapter Five


HOURS PASSED in silence. Well, not silence. The radio continued to blast Scarlet’s favorite heart-pounding rock. Gods, she missed her iPod. With the buds in her ears, she could have closed her eyes and pretended she was at home. Not that she had a permanent home, but anyplace was better than such close quarters with the man she’d both loved and hated for centuries. A man she still craved with such intense longing she couldn’t deny it anymore.

Almost didn’t want to deny it. But she would. No way would she give him another chance to shatter her so completely. To pleasure her and forget her.

Shamefully, she had almost caved, though.

He’d given her a gift. The most beautiful butterfly necklace she’d ever seen, and one that matched his own. When she’d first reached into his pocket, she’d been disappointed that he hadn’t really wanted her to fist his cock. Then she’d seen the necklace, and well, she’d wanted to leap into his lap and kiss every inch of his beautiful face. She’d wanted to lick each of his piercings and thrust her tongue against his. Wanted to feel his arms wrap around her and hold her tight. As if she meant something to him again. Wanted to hear him gasp his version of her name.

But he’d seemed almost…uncomfortable about the whole thing. Guilty, even. Why? Only reason she could think of was that he hadn’t wanted her to read too much into the gesture. Hadn’t wanted her to leap into his lap and kiss every inch of his beautiful face.

That seemed likely. Especially since the bastard hadn’t tried to turn down the music and talk to her again. Maybe he was even relieved that she’d closed their channels of communication. Which was dumb. He’d sprung her from prison to talk to her, hadn’t he? He should try harder. Not that she’d cooperate. The moment she did, he’d try to take her back to the dungeon and she’d have to ditch him as planned.

Actually, she’d do that tomorrow. His friends would probably be pissed that he’d lost her, but that wasn’t her problem. He’d also have to make it back to a city littered with Hunters without her aid, but again, that wasn’t her problem.

She had enough problems to deal with.

One of which was fast approaching.

Gideon was still driving when the sun began to rise. She stiffened in her seat, dreading what came next but helpless to stop it. First, lethargy beat through her, draining her strength, making her limbs feel heavy and her head loll. Then her eyelids closed of their own accord, her lashes seemingly glued together. Then darkness wove through her mind, an incessant spiderweb—spiders, Gideon hated spiders, funny that she thought of them now—followed quickly by dissonant screams that overshadowed all else.

Her demon took over from there.

Laughing gleefully, Nightmares propelled her into a dark, misty realm where human and inhuman minds were like doorways. When a door was open, that meant the person was asleep and the demon could enter at will. Location didn’t matter. Distance didn’t matter. Time zone didn’t matter. Adults, children, male, female, that didn’t matter, either. Nothing mattered to the demon but feeding on terror.

With only a glance, she and the demon would know who each doorway belonged to, what kind of person they were and what they feared most. Like with Gideon and his silly fear of spiders, she thought, smiling again. He was a big, bad warrior who had killed thousands of people without a jump in his heart rate. But he almost peed his pants when an insect scampered toward him.

She supposed she couldn’t blame him. She hated the creepy little bugs. They’d constantly invaded her cell in Tartarus, crawling from every shadow and wall crack. And every time she’d awoken from her impenetrable sleep, she would find herself covered with bite marks.

Not to mention the bruises her cellmates had left behind. Until she’d started invading their dreams.

Whatever she’d done to them in this dark realm, real life had parroted, and they’d awoken in puddles of their own blood, often missing limbs. Some had never awakened at all.

Who do we want? the demon asked her. The most frequently asked question between them.

Over the years, they’d learned to work together. They even liked each other, relied on each other. At times, the demon had been her only friend.

“A Hunter would be nice,” she replied. Maybe they could scare the guy to death. That always put Nightmares in a stellar mood. Besides, she owed the Hunters. Not because she cared that they wanted to hurt Gideon, but because they’d ruined a perfectly good meal for her.

This will be fun. More gleeful laughter as the demon whisked them forward, the doorways blurring at her side.

When they stopped, they stood in front of an open doorway that was far larger than any she’d seen before. Moans of pleasure echoed from inside, a decadent mix of male and female. There was a slap of flesh against flesh. Murmurs of “more” and “please.”

An erotic dream, then.

“Who is this?”

Galen. Leader of Hunters. Keeper of Hope.

Galen. She scowled. The warrior had led his army against the Lords because they were demon-possessed, and yet Galen himself carried a demon. The contradiction was baffling, but it didn’t surprise her.

Galen had always struck her as more snake than man. A few times, he’d helped Gideon bring a prisoner into Tartarus, and he’d been all smiles while Gideon faced him, but the moment Gideon had turned away, Galen’s glower had bored into his back.

When Gideon had told her that he’d found a way to curry the gods’ favor thanks to his pal Galen, and that for his reward, he would request her freedom, she had begged him not to do it, whatever he planned. Of course, he hadn’t listened. He’d been too assured, too hopeful, of his success.

She’d wanted to “thank” Galen for his part in Gideon’s failure for a long, long time, but hadn’t allowed herself to do so. That would have helped Gideon, and she hadn’t wanted to do that, either.

Now, however, with that necklace burning against her chest, she no longer minded the prospect quite so much.

Ready?

Slowly she grinned. “Let’s do this.”

They stepped through the entrance, a phantom unseen by the dreamer, and suddenly Scarlet was viewing the evidence of what she’d heard. Galen was tall and muscled, with blond hair and blue eyes. Eyes that were peering down at a beautiful, pale-haired female. A female he had anchored against a bathroom sink, his majestic white wings outstretched, enclosing her in a feathered haven.

The woman’s shirt was pushed to her chin, bearing her large—really large—breasts. He feasted on them eagerly. Her pants were around her ankles as Galen pounded inside her, hips shifting to produce maximum pleasure.

His pants were merely opened at the waist, so Scarlet saw very little of him. Too bad. She could have taunted Gideon with the size of his enemy’s cock and the hardness of his ass.

So many fears, Nightmares said with awe.

“Tell me.” She spoke aloud, knowing dream Galen couldn’t hear her unless she wanted him to.

Being alone. Being defeated. Helpless. Ineffective. Overlooked. Forgotten. Dead.

Weird. He carried the demon of Hope. Shouldn’t he be more optimistic? No matter. Scarlet walked through the dream bathroom, Galen as oblivious to her presence as he was to her voice, and allowed Nightmares to repaint the scene.

“Make him sorry he was ever created.”

My pleasure.

Suddenly, the writhing, moaning girl became a man. A human.

Galen stopped pounding. Even yelped and jumped away, wings shuddering with the movement.

Scarlet laughed. Oh, this was going to be fun. “More.”

The bathroom was replaced by a long, dark tunnel, and the human disappeared. Galen spun, wild gaze searching his new surroundings, the tips of those wings grazing the walls and scratching.

“What’s going on?” he rasped. “Where am I?”

His words echoed, but that was it, the only sound. Desperate for answers, he kicked into gear, racing forward. The tunnel stretched forever, no end in sight. His panic doubled, tripled, hot breath rasping from him and sweat pouring from his body.

Delicious. Nightmares laughed. Tastes so good.

“More,” she said again.

Do you want the honors?

Sharing was caring, she thought. “Yes. Please.”

Lead him to the edge, and I’ll show him what might one day happen to him. Oh, his fear…none of the others will compare.

Scarlet allowed herself to materialize, though she didn’t show the formidable warrior what she truly looked like. The image she projected was one of a little girl she’d met inside Tartarus. For the single day the child had been allowed inside a cell. A little girl named Fate.

Everyone had been frightened of her, because everything Fate had spoken had come true. Everything. That’s why the Greeks had so quickly put her to death, the poor thing.

But for that one day, she had been Scarlet’s friend.

“If you believe what you see, you’ll lose your husband,” Fate had told her during their only conversation.

Of course Scarlet had believed what she’d seen—Gideon’s absence—so of course Scarlet had lost him.

Many, many years had passed. Perhaps Galen would recognize Fate, perhaps not.

Either way…let the games begin.

As Fate, Scarlet wore a robe streaked with dirt, had big blue eyes, so innocent, and a mouth forever dipped in sadness. Red hair hung in tangles all the way to her ankles.

She appeared a few feet in front of him. “Come,” she said gently, and held out her small, mud-caked hand. “You must see what awaits you.”

He tripped over his own feet but stopped before he hit her, still panting, still sweating. “Who are you?”

As forgetful as Gideon, then. But sometimes ignorance served her best. What people imagined was often far worse than anything she could tell them.

“Come,” she repeated. “You must see.”

“I—Yes. All right.” Galen shakily placed his palm against hers.

Down the corridor she ushered him, Nightmares practically jumping around in her head. Finally, because she willed it, a light appeared, and the significance of that light was not lost on him. Once again, his fear spiked.

He even tried to pull away from her, but she tightened her grip, stronger than she appeared. “You must see,” she told him. “You must know.”

They reached the light, which just happened to be a cliff ledge that overlooked a battlefield. On that battlefield was man after man, woman after woman, an ocean of death and destruction, for each body was bloody, motionless. And on each of their wrists was a tattoo of infinity. The mark of the Hunter.

There, in the center, was Galen. He was still standing, though he, too, was bloody and wounded. His white-feathered wings were outstretched but clearly broken. His strength was drained, his knocking knees threatening to give out.

“No. No!” Beside her, a shaking dream Galen did drop to his knees, dust pluming around him.

On the battlefield, Gideon strode toward him, as menacing as ever. His blue hair danced around his face in the strong wind, and his piercings gleamed in the sunlight. There was a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth where his lip ring had been ripped out. In one hand, he gripped a long, sharp sword. In the other, he clutched a gun.

Laughing, he pointed the latter at Galen and fired. The leader of the Hunters flew backward, landing on his ass, unable to rise as Gideon continued to bear down on him.

“No!” the Galen beside her shouted again. “Stand up. Fight him! I didn’t survive that demon girl’s poisonous bite only to die at the hands of my enemy.”

He didn’t, allowing Gideon to raise his sword and strike. Galen’s head detached, leaving his body behind.

“No! No!” Sky-blue eyes found her, a well of despair. His face was pale, the blue veins underneath his skin arrestingly evident. “Tell me I can change this. Tell me this isn’t my fate.”

“You wish me to lie?” she said in that sweet little-girl voice.

His hands fisted at his sides, useless weapons against what awaited him. “Why did you show me this, then? Why?”

“Because—”

Scarlet came awake with a jolt, sitting up, panting as Galen had done in the dream realm. Damn it. She hadn’t finished with him, but her time there had ended. And there would be no going back for twelve hours.

At least Nightmares was satisfied. The demon had fed on Galen’s terror, terror so much more intense than what humans experienced, and now retreated to the back of her mind.

“Not good. You’re asleep.”

Gideon.

His voice floated over her, into her, burning her up. With anger, with lust. Goodbye fun dream world, hello hated reality.

“Where are we?” she demanded, studying her new surroundings. She’d fallen asleep in his presence—again—and he’d clearly taken full advantage of the situation.

“Someplace shitty.”

Rather than a hotel room, she found herself in a forest, the sun setting in a violet sky. She rested atop a cool bed of moss, and there was a natural, bubbling spring beside her. She still wore the dress he’d given her, but at least he’d removed the cuffs.

Before she’d jacked up the music in the car, he’d tried to ask her what she found most romantic. She hadn’t replied, so he’d obviously taken a guess. And to her consternation, the bastard had guessed correctly. This was amazing. Night birds were chirping, the scent of wildflowers saturated the air and Gideon was gloriously bathed in that violet-tinted light.

Right now, he was sitting in front of her, only a few inches away, leaning against a tree trunk. A lock of hair had fallen onto his forehead, and just as before, she had to curb the urge to brush the strands back in place. His baby blues were all over her, perusing, lingering, savoring. Trying to remember?

His hands were fisted on his lap. Was he trying to stop himself from reaching for her?

Gods help her, but she knew exactly what this man could do to her body. With his hands, his tongue. He could have her writhing, begging, in seconds.

Fight his appeal. “You might as well let me go.” Or you yourself could, I don’t know, finally ditch him. “You’re not going to find any pleasure with me.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

Sweet heaven. He truly thought to bed her. Was utterly confident in her capitulation. Why, oh, why was that so damn sexy?

She narrowed her eyes, lest he see the desire surely banked there. “You sprang me for answers, so why are you trying so hard to soften me romantically? You’d have better luck working me over with your fists.” Good. She’d sounded angry rather than breathless.

“Didn’t think about that already.”

He’d thought about hitting her? That—that—

“And I could absolutely bring myself to do it.”

Sweetheart.

Gods, she really was an idiot, melting like butter because he’d decided not to beat her up. Next she’d be hearing angels sing because he decided not to fork her jugular. “No matter what you do, you’re going to fail.” Fingers crossed that wasn’t a bluff.

“Even if all I want us to do is relearn each other?”

Yes. No. Argh.

Hey. No more softening. “Nothing wrong with forgetting each other, either.”

He was grinding his teeth as he moved his legs, trapping her knees with his ankles and placing her feet dangerously close to his—hard, growing—penis. Tragically—er, thankfully—his pants prevented her from experiencing skin-to-skin contact. Therefore she despised—loved, damn it—those low-slung jeans.

“So who aren’t you today?” he asked, wisely changing the subject.

Hurt him. Make him stop this slow seduction. “Scarlet…Reynolds.” She shivered as if the thought delighted her. “Yes. I’m in the mood for a little Rye-Rye today.”

Gideon popped his jaw, teeth bared for a second. “Are we not married?”

“Sure we are,” she said. “But in my mind I’m cheating on you with Ryan.”

Now the pink tip of his tongue peeked out from his lip, as if he meant to chew it off. “You’re so freaking funny.”

“Who said I was joking?”

Before she could blink, he was on her, pushing her into the moss, his chest pressed against hers, his weight pinning her. “You do not annoy the shit out of me.”

A tremor skipped down her spine, her nipples straining against her dress, trying to reach him. She could have knocked him off; she was strong enough, skilled enough, but she didn’t. She fisted the collar of his shirt, holding him in place. Craving…“Well, if you hadn’t guessed, you do annoy the shit out of me.”

In and out he breathed, nostrils flaring. “Keep talking, I don’t dare you.”

Shut up, he meant. “Or what?” He smelled so damn good, like musk and alluring spice. Warmth radiated from him and enveloped her, slinking around her in a sly embrace.

“Or…” His gaze dropped to her lips. The anger seemed to drain from him, something hotter, sultrier taking its place. Those rasping pants never slowed, and in between them, he said, “You’re so unbelievably…ugly.” The last was offered hesitantly, as if he feared she wouldn’t understand what he was trying to tell her. “You don’t make me ache. You don’t make me hunger for so many things. Dirty things. Wicked things.”

Kiss him.

No, don’t you dare.

A war raged between body and mind. If she kissed him, she wouldn’t be able to halt what was sure to follow. Once his lips met hers, she would be lost. His taste drugged her, his body addicted her. That’s the way it had always been with him.

And now, she would want but she couldn’t have. Not truly. But for one blissful night, she would belong to him again. Any price was worth that. Added bonus: she could forget her troubles, forget the lonely future that awaited her.

Forget. Wrong word. She stiffened, no longer having to talk herself into resisting. “Get off me.”

“I want to hurt you,” he whispered, heated breath dragging over her skin. “Tell me to stop.”

Meaning, he wanted to pleasure her and all she had to do was give him the go-ahead. She shook her head in a desperate attempt to prevent what she still wanted, needed, but could never afford. “No. I won’t.”

Wait. No, she wouldn’t tell him to stop? Argh!

Slowly he smiled—so wicked—as if that’s exactly what he’d hoped she would say, no matter her meaning. “Too bad,” he said. And then he fed a sizzling kiss straight into her mouth.




Chapter Six


SWEET GODS ABOVE, Gideon thought, dazed. This woman—his woman—tasted like perfectly ripe berries, felt like caged lightning against him, and the sounds she made as his tongue rolled and thrust against hers, those little catches of breath, were like heroin mixed with ambrosia. Addictive, mind-fuzzing, overwhelming.

He had her pressed into the ground, his legs between hers, his erection resting against the apex of her thighs. He wanted to knead her breasts. Gods, did he want to knead her breasts. But that would be too much too fast. For her, at least. So he did the only other thing he could. He captured her wrists and pinned them over her head, effectively pinning his own movements, as well.

Mistake. That, of course, arched her lower back and closed all hint of distance between their chests, muscle to soft, luscious breasts. Her nipples were hard, so wonderfully hard, and they created the most delicious friction against his chest, catapulting him to a new level of awareness.

A dangerous level where her enjoyment and happiness were more important than his own.

He didn’t release her, though. It was too late for that. He had to have more. So if he couldn’t roll those nipples between his fingers, if he couldn’t tongue them, he’d have to settle for continuing to rub himself against them. As an added bonus, every little movement rammed his shaft into her core, causing them both to shiver and groan.

Kissing usually did nothing for him. Maybe because he could never ask for what he wanted; he had to lie and demand the opposite. He had to ask for sweet, innocent. He had to ask for gentle, tender. Yet, with Scarlet, he didn’t have to ask for anything. She simply gave him hard and wet. Deep and intense. She bit at him, sucked on his tongue, scraped at his teeth. And he couldn’t get enough.

He kissed her forever. He kissed her while the insects sang and the moon fought for its place in the sky. He kissed her until he lost his breath. Kissed her until she was writhing against him, her legs wrapped around him, squeezing him, her teeth nipping at him as she silently begged for more.

And yet, through it all, she seemed distanced. As if she weren’t truly there with him. As if she held a part of herself back.

Hell. No.

Distance, he wouldn’t tolerate. He might not want to push her too far, but by the time this kiss ended, she would think of no other man but him. She would be happy she was wed to him. She would dream of him, crave him more than any other.

Was this what it had been like between them, all those centuries ago? Consuming need dipped in fervent heat then twined with unquenchable aches?

He released one of her hands, and she immediately tunneled her fingers through his hair, nails digging into his scalp. Enough to make him bleed. Yes, yes. More. Maybe he could push her a little further. But to do so, he’d have to sacrifice the kiss. With their mouths pressed together like this, he couldn’t think properly.

Moaning, Gideon wrenched himself away from her lips. She had her eyes sealed shut, as if she were in pain. Those lips were swollen and red, moist. Unable to help himself, he licked that moisture away before hiking her dress up to her neck, baring her panties, her stomach and lastly her breasts. He hadn’t given her a bra. Too much had he liked the idea of her sitting next to him, a thin piece of cotton all that rested between his skin and her nipples.

Her breasts were perfectly sized, a little less than a handful, and those nipples were as red as her lips. His mouth watered as he lowered his head. And dear gods, sucking one of those little berries into his mouth was a religious experience. The moment his tongue made contact, his entire body felt as though it went up in flames from the inside out. His blood turned his organs to ash. His ashed organs liquefied his bones, and those liquid bones scorched his skin, leaving blisters.

She must have experienced the same melting sensation, because a scream of pleasure exploded from her. An honest-to-gods, I’m-losing-my-mind scream of pleasure. He loved it, reveled in it. Except a thousand other screams followed hers. And those weren’t forged by pleasure. Those reeked of fear and pain.

“Gideon,” she rasped.

Once again, he raised his head. Her eyes were still sealed shut, only now her mouth was pulled tight in an agonized line. Thick black shadows were seeping from her ears, her mouth, and swirling around her head.

Her demon, he realized.

Since Gideon had gained control of his body and his actions all those centuries ago, Lies had been like a ghostly companion. There, but hardly noticeable. Well, until recently. Before Scarlet, the demon had rarely spoken to him outright or asserted its presence physically. Rather, his demon had mostly led him through compulsions.

This wasn’t a compulsion for her. This was an all-out manifestation. And he had no fucking clue what to do.

“How can I make this worse, devil?” He tried to pull away from her, to ease her in any way he could, even if that meant no longer making out with her. But her eyelids at last popped open, her irises glowing bright red, and she grabbed his shirt, jerking him back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The words were a harsh growl, and all those discordant screams layered the undertone, a tide of malevolence. “Hear us well. If you dare stop, we will punish you.”

Us. We. Her demon was that involved? That much a part of her? O-kay. Not his first three-way, but certainly his strangest. There was no time to marvel, however.

Scarlet dragged a finger down the center of his shirt, ripping the cotton, exposing his chest. She flattened her palm against his pierced nipple and licked her lips. “More,” she moaned, arching into him.

Her cleft brushed his shaft, and the rest of the blood left his brain. The moist tip of his cock even pushed past the waist of his pants. The fact that the shadows were still drifting from her, the fact that those screams were still echoing between them, failed to faze him. His desire for her was simply too great. He, too, had to have more.

Not sex, he told himself. Not yet. He still thought it would be pushing her too hard and too fast. And he wouldn’t have her crying foul later, claiming he’d taken advantage of her and using that as an excuse to distance herself further.

“You’re just sitting there. Hurry!”

Complaints about his performance already when she was clearly passion-drunk. He’d like to say that was a first, but couldn’t. Many women had complained about his get in as fast as you can, get and give an orgasm and leave mentality.

“Gideon! Obey.”

“Sure, sure. Don’t show me what you want first.” He didn’t leap into action, of course, but watched as Scarlet began kneading her own breasts, exactly as he’d yearned to do. Strands of her silky black hair fell down her shoulders and curled around her fingers, as if tickling her.




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