The Darkest Angel (Lords of the Underworld #4.5)(12)
Author: Gena Showalter

He ground his teeth. “Return to your cloud,” he threw over his shoulder. “I will meet you there.”

He was going to meet another girl? At her cloud? Alone, private? Oh, hell, no. Bianka hadn’t worked him into a frenzy so that someone else could reap the reward.

Before she could inform him of that, however, he said, “Give Bianka whatever she wants.” Talking to his own cloud, apparently. “Anything but escape and more of those…outfits.” His gaze intensified on her. “That should stave off the boredom. But I only agree to this on the condition that you vow to keep your hands to yourself.”

Anything she wanted? She didn’t allow herself to grin, the girl forgotten in the face of this victory. “Done.”

“And so it is,” he said, then spun and stalked from the room. His wings expanded in a rush, and he disappeared before she could follow. But then, there was no need to follow him. Not now.

He had no idea that he’d just ensured his own downfall. Whatever she wants, he’d said. She laughed. She didn’t need to touch him or wear lingerie to win their next battle. She just needed his return.

Because then, he would become her prisoner.

CHAPTER FIVE

HE’D ALMOST GIVEN IN.

Lysander could not believe how quickly he’d almost given in to Bianka. One sultry glance from her, one invitation, and he’d forgotten his purpose. It was shameful. And yet, it was not shame that he felt. It was more of that strange disappointment—disappointment that he’d been interrupted!Standing before Bianka, breathing in her wicked scent, feeling the heat of her body, all he’d been able to recall was the decadent taste of her. He’d wanted more. Wanted to finally touch her skin. Skin that had glowed with health, reflecting all those rainbow shards. She’d wanted that, too, he was sure of it. The more aroused she’d become, the brighter those colors had glowed.

Unless that was a trick? What did he truly know of women and desire?

She was worse than a demon, he thought. She’d known exactly how to entrance him. Those naked photos had nearly dropped him to his knees. Never had he seen anything so lovely. Her br**sts, high and plump. Her stomach, flat. Her navel, perfectly dipped. Her thighs, firm and smooth. Then, being asked to lie beside her and think of what he disliked about her…both had been temptations, and both had been irresistible.

He’d known his resolve was crumbling and had wanted to rebuild it. And how better to rebuild than to ponder all the things he disliked about the woman? But if he had lain next to her, he would not have thought of what he disliked—things he couldn’t seem to recall then or now. He might have even thought about what he liked about her.

She was brilliant. She’d had him.

He’d never desired a demon. Had never secretly liked bad behavior. Yet Bianka excited him in a way he could not have predicted. So, what did he like most about her at the moment? That she was willing to do anything, say anything, to tempt him. He liked that she had no inhibitions. He liked that she gazed up at him with longing in those beautiful eyes.

How would she look at him if he actually kissed her again? Kissed more than her mouth? How would she look at him if he actually touched her? Caressed that skin? He suddenly found himself wanting to watch mortals and immortals alike more intently, gauging their reactions to each other. Man and woman, desire to desire.

Just the thought of doing so caused his body to react the way it had done with Bianka. Hardening, tightening. Burning, craving. His eyes widened. That, too, had never happened before. He was letting her win, he realized, even though there was distance between them. He was letting his one temptation destroy him, bit by bit.

Something had to be done about Bianka, since his current plan was clearly failing.

“Lysander?”

His charge’s voice drew him from his dark musings. “Yes, sweet?”

Olivia’s head tilted to the side, her burnished curls bouncing. They stood inside her cloud, flowers of every kind scattered across the floor, on the walls, even dripping from the ceiling.

Her eyes, as blue as the sky, regarded him intently. “You haven’t been listening to me, have you?”

“No,” he admitted. Truth had always been his most cherished companion. That would not change now. “My apologies.”

“You are forgiven,” she said with a grin as sweet as her flowers.

With her, it was that easy. Always. No matter how big or small the crime, Olivia couldn’t hold a grudge. Perhaps that was why she was so treasured among their people. Everyone loved her.

What would other angels think of Bianka?

No doubt they would be horrified by her. He was horrified.

I thought you were not going to lie? Even to yourself. He scowled. Unlike the forgiving Olivia, he suspected Bianka would hold a grudge for a lifetime—and somehow take that grudge beyond the grave.

For some reason, his scowl faded and his lips twitched at the thought. Why would that amuse him? Grudges were born of anger, and anger was an ugly thing. Except, perhaps, on Bianka. Would she erupt with the same amount of unrelenting passion she brought to the bedroom? Probably. Would she want to be kissed from her anger, as well?

The thought of kissing her until she was happy again did not delight him.

Usually he dealt with other people’s anger the way he dealt with everything else. With total unconcern. It was not his job to make people feel a certain way. They were responsible for their own emotions, just as he was responsible for his. Not that he experienced many. Over the years, he’d simply seen too much to be bothered. Until Bianka.

“Lysander?”

Olivia’s voice once more jerked him from his mind. His hands fisted. He’d locked Bianka away, yet she was still managing to change him. Oh, yes. His current plan was failing.

Why couldn’t he have desired someone like sweet Olivia? It would have made his endless life much easier. As he’d told Bianka, desire wasn’t forbidden, but not many of their kind ever experienced it. Those that did only wanted other angels and often wed their chosen partner. Except in storybooks, he had never heard of an angel pairing with a different race—much less a demon.

“—you go again,” Olivia said.

He blinked, hands fisting all the tighter. “Again, I apologize. I will be more diligent the rest of our conversation.” He would make sure of it.

She offered him another grin, though this one lacked her usual ease. “I only asked what was bothering you.” She folded her wings around herself and plucked at the feathers, carefully avoiding the strands of gold. “You’re so unlike yourself.”