Into The Dark (Lords of the Underworld #5.5)(54)
Author: Gena Showalter

“Woman, you cannot escape me. I have your scent in my nose.”

How had he gotten ahead of her? How, how, how? With a gasp, she jolted to her feet and bolted in the opposite direction, the same way she’d come. Before she managed three steps, he was blocking her path.

Eyes widening, she ground to a halt. How was he doing that? “Who are you?” she managed to squeak out.

“King Maddox. Violence, as I told you.” He paused, peering at her with determination. “The man who is going to know the taste of you.”

King? Violence? Shaking her head, Farrah backed away from him. “You’re crazy. I’m crazy. This is crazy. Just…leave me alone.” With that, she spun on her heel and ran as fast as her feet would carry her. Again.

MADDOX WATCHED HER GO. He didn’t materialize in front of her this time, for he knew that at any time, with a simple snap of his fingers, he could find her. Oh, yes. Wherever she went, he could—and would—find her. He hadn’t lied. Her erotic scent, a fragrance of wild passion and sweet female, would instantaneously lead him to her location. The beast’s magic gifted him with the ability.

He was hard for her, his blood a molten river inside his veins. For a moment, one breathless moment, she had looked at him and there had been desire in her eyes. Stark, needy desire that had intensified his own.

He could find another woman to slake his body’s centuries of denied desires—he smelled several nearby—and maybe he would. Soon. Right now, he wanted that one, with her silky fall of midnight hair, with her dark eyes and lush, red lips. With her delicate curves and siren’s voice. Her br**sts and their hard little ni**les had been made for his mouth. The long length of her graceful legs had been made to wrap around his waist.

At the moment, no one else would do.

Farrah, she was called. An elegant name for a woman of many contradictions. In the time span of a few hours, he’d heard her angry, fierce, tender, teasing, incredulous and afraid. He’d liked the fierceness best. Had wanted it directed at him. In bed.

She’d stolen his box with a skill that surprised him. Tempted and aroused him. He wanted those expert hands on his body, stroking him to full awakening. Yes, he mused again, he would have that woman. Under him, over him, a part of him. But he would have her a little later. Outside now, he simply reveled in the fact that he was free. At last, he was free from the constrictions of that hated box.

He was Pandora’s prisoner no more.

He breathed deeply of the night air, its crisp coolness a caress to his skin. And still rage filled him, consumed him. Such rage. How long had he wished for a moment such as this? How long had he prayed to gods who had refused to listen? Eternity, it seemed.

A roar gusted past his lips. Fists tightened, he pounded on the closest wall. The entire structure shook. He kicked metal bins and bent the bars of a staircase. He was glad Farrah was not here to witness his tantrum. But he wanted to destroy everything around him. Everything except, perhaps, the woman. Her, he wanted to f**k. Hard and long. Until the rage was spent.

When he calmed, his eyes closed and he tried to savor the night. He did not know where his men were or what Pandora had done to them when they’d escaped. Were they still alive? He must know, for he was responsible for them. No matter where he had to look or for how long, he would find them.

“Free,” he shouted to the heavens. Pinpricks of light winked down at him. “Free.”

Locked away these many years, with no one but the beast inside of him for company, he had finally learned to control his need for blood and retribution. He was still dangerous, still more of a weapon than a man, but he could operate in this modern world. He could, at last, forge a life for himself and his men. A life they had been denied because of one foolish mistake. His mistake.

He strode back to the room he’d abandoned. As the walls closed around him, he mourned the loss of the outdoors. He hurriedly gathered the box, the material Farrah had covered it with, and her bag. He grinned. She would want that back, he was sure.

“I’m coming for you,” he said, knowing she could not hear him. But perhaps she would feel the warning in her bones.

He did not know where Pandora was, but he would find her, too. She would know the taste of his beast at long last. He would kill her as he’d dreamed all these years, without thought, without hesitation, heaping yet another sin upon his already heavy shoulders—a sin for which he must atone when the guilt invariably hit him. But he did not care.

Go. Find the little thief and sate your desires. Afterward, he would begin to hunt down Pandora and his men. One by one.